We parked outside the stage door, temporarily with permission, and Pez hefted the flowers in while I held the door. At the same time a group of 'luvvies' (theatre folk) were exiting. "Oh, you shouldn't have," one kidded, "you really shouldn't have." "We didn't, sorry," I returned with a sly smile. The stage manager, a young lad seated behind a counter, was agog as we set the flowers down in front of him. I whipped out the card with 'Charles Dance' written across the envelope. "These are for Charles Dance," I said, and Pez continued, "Will you make sure he receives them?" Still looking shocked, the stage manager smiled and nodded. We then retreated to the nearby Copthorne Hotel for a drink before the play.
After the show (more on that below), we made our way directly to the stage door again. No other members of public were there...not a one. We stand out like a sore thumb! I thought, making myself so nervous that all my tricks to distract myself were failing. Pez cracked up beside me as I kept repeating, "Rene Auberjonais, Rene Auberjonais," as a charm, hoping that invoking the name of another actor I liked might make my butterflies disappear. I stood with my back to the door, while Pez kept one eye on it. Every time it swung open my heart lurched. Finally Pez said, "Here he is. Oh, and that's his wife." Unable to bear it, I swung around to see a blond lady holding open the door, and a moment later out came Mr. Dance wearing jeans and a couple of layers on top and carrying a bag. The woman, probably not his wife, walked over to a car, got in, and drove off, leaving us and Mr. Dance, who was concentrating on getting to his own car.
The next thing I knew, Pez was gone from my side and had approached our quarry. "Mr. Dance," I heard him say, "could I ask you to sign this?" "Yeah," came the reply, as I found myself gravitating to Pez's side. (So much for courage, eh?) "We thoroughly enjoyed it," Pez went on. "Oh, did you? Good," Mr. Dance replied. "And this quivering wreck beside me," Pez turned to me, "is my wife, Mary Downes, who runs the Charles Dance Homepage." Those bright bluey-green eyes fixed on me. "No -- get away," he said in disbelief (it wasn't a command, though I hesitated at it!). I vaguely remember laughing; and then, smiling and sticking out his hand to me, Mr. Dance said, "Hello, it's very nice to meet you." Then he said, "Are you responsible for that, uhm...?" pointing back to the stage door. "That?" I repeated -- the flowers! -- "Uh, yes." "Thank you very much," he said, and leaned down to kiss me on both cheeks. "It's very, very kind of you and I'm flattered, I really am." This was where some of my starry-eyedness began to fade; he was clearly moved by what we had done, and deeply appreciative, as anyone might be. "Well, I don't really have much control over it," I said. "The girls on the site get together and we decide what we want to do. It's all very impromptu." "Well, thank you," Mr. Dance said.
Pez then moved us on: "We just thought we'd better warn you that for closing night there are several flying over from the U.S." "Get out of here," Mr. Dance said again, bowled over by this news. We had a very brief discussion about the Preview, and it became clear that it hadn't been so easy as it looked. Mr. Dance said something like, "We ran out of time and didn't have a dress rehearsal. We went on cold tonight. It was like a roller coaster ride in the dark, Space Mountain, one of the most nerve-racking experiences of my life." We all laughed a bit, but we did our best to assure him the Preview had been wonderful. (Looking back I wish I had said how polished I thought it was, but I think we got our enjoyment of it across in any case.)
Mr. Dance then asked us about the music used in "Sisters" (by John Tams), which was still playing in my head at that point, it was so evocative and lovely. He's obviously a fan of Tams as well. "It makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck to hear it," he said. He also said that the play is in fact still due to open in Richmond as part of its transition to the West End. They'll spend their time in Birmingham working the kinks out and tightening it up.
At this point he was clearly in a rush to get somewhere, and put his bag in his car. He said the cast and crew were having a drink nearby. He shook Pez's hand, then thanked us again and gave me another kiss on both cheeks. Only as we were walking away did we realize we hadn't asked for a photo, but Mr. Dance was already running off around the corner towards the appointed watering hole and we didn't want to keep him from that badly needed drink. Sorry about that -- but see below for recent photos from rehearsal!
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