Rosemary found herself some tea at a kiosk, and sat down in the shadows of the Berberis Dell, with the aim of blanking her mind for a half hour break and then tackling the questions she still had to answer about her own next steps in life. But no matter how she tried to relax into a meditative state, it was useless; memories of Freddie and how he'd kept forcing the issue of meeting Patrick or her artist friends kept intruding. She gave in, and surrendered to the flow of reminiscences, realising that she had to lay these scenes to rest before she could move on with her own life.
She recalled with total clarity the time she'd been given two tickets to Tony Richardson's production of Hamlet at The Roundhouse. She had offered her extra ticket to Freddie, who had arrived very late, well after the second act had started. He'd been ushered in between scenes to the saved seat at the front, gasping '...Sorry I'm late...I actually got to speak to Hendrix after the gig last night...tell you about it later'. Then he looked round the whole auditorium and whispered, 'T can't believe this production style...that acting around the whole theatre at the beginning...they wouldn't let me through because of it...it's unbelievable...I'm stunned.... didn't know Shakespeare could be so mind-blowing!' They continued to watch the play in silence and he had squeezed Rosemary's hand warmly. Patrick Woodcock too, who was sitting the other
side of Rosemary, was in awe of the whole production. 'Wasn't Marianne brilliant as Ophelia?' he put in later, looking over Rosemary towards Freddie, who appeared not to hear him and stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. Rosemary had got the tickets from Patrick, who, after what seemed like weeks of arrangements, had agreed to be introduced to Freddie, away from the 'dinner party' setting.
Rosemary felt again the embarrassment of that evening, when Freddie had acted as though Patrick wasn't even there, and had brashly asked her: 'How many times has ftp seen this?' Patrick had tried to take the lead that time, although Rosemary knew they shouldn't have been talking at all in the front seats, when he whispered towards Freddie very discreetly, "This is my third performance in two weeksNicol Williamson always provides the tickets, gratis.' The play ended, the applause had begun, followed by the encores and more bows, with flowers for the actors, without further conversation between Rosemary and the men on either side of her.
They stood and waited to leave the theatre; in an attempt to avoid open acknowledgement of the fact that Freddie had managed to shun Patrick's comments on the play and even his gaze, Rosemary made another open-ended comment, in the hope that it might spark off a two-way communication that needn't directly involve her: '...Each scenario seemed like total improvisation...not worked out speeches at all!' she put in flippantly. But it failed utterly! Whispering to her coyly, still avoiding Patrick, Freddie commented '...yeah, a lot of it was like song lyrics to me...but why do women always go mad in Shakespeare, you know, like in Macbeth?' Rosemary had been completely at a loss as to how7 to proceed. Perhaps it would be better once they were outside the theatre, when she could formally introduce them to each other? Meanwhile, she remembered reflecting on Freddie's question: 'Why did so many women go mad in Shakespeare's tragedies?' It was probably just the way the Renaissance, and of course Patriarchy, had panned out! Women, Rosemary had learned, always needed to follow, not to lead! Did this mean that deviancy had had to become part of their natural territory, as it had in her own mother's life? She secretly shuddered. Any 'initiative" seemed to land women in deep trouble, long before concepts of feminism even existed. So, addressing Freddie openly, once they had moved out of the auditorium, she said ironically: 'Oh, men couldn't cope with women in those days!' But Freddie cut Rosemary short, whispering defiantly into her ear: 'Men have only ever been concerned with their own egos! 'his final words on the subject. 'So everyone just uses everyone else?' she retorted hotly, knowing this was not the place to be going into issues of social morality. Nor was it the time to be holding a private, intense conversation of their own about complex issues of any sort. 'Anyway, why talk about the women thing here?' was the thought passing obliquely through her mind.
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Rosemary had no intention of alienating him further; he was so obviously becoming extremely anxious. Patrick, sensing the exclusivity of that barely audible conversation, had lucidly spotted someone he recognised in the distance across the crowds in the Roundhouse foyer, and was moving quickly towards him. Freddie had always been particularly swift to respond to issues of betrayal in friendship, although he never alluded directly to this in terms of the present. 'I thought Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were meant to have been Hamlet's old school mates?' he continued, after a few tense moments, as they slowed down on the way to the Exit. 'It didn't stop them from spurring him on....'he continued. Rosemary secretly thought the whole character of Hamlet to have been appallingly sexist, but didn't feel it safe to say so. She had studied the play at 'A' Level; she knew her opinion about the play to be unconventional, seeing Hamlet as unhealthily obsessed by his fatherbut that was another story. But then, Freddie voiced some conclusions too: 'Hamlet's really a sad bastard who worshipped his dad and hated his mother...he couldn't live with reality.' He obviously knew the play well, too! The whole tragedy of it seemed to appeal to him.
But that wasn't why Rosemary had offered him the ticket. He was there specifically to meet Patrick, with all his 'gay' world connections, but had behaved as though Patrick wasn't even there. As soon as Patrick had absented himself, Freddie visibly relaxed. 'The Renaissance was full of swaggering aristocrats slandering everyonehow could it have been otherwise?' she rejoined, also easing up from the tension of the last few hours; tension that she'd been powerless to defuse.
But just as they had begun to be at ease, Patrick was at Rosemary's side again: 'Are you finally going to introduce me to your friend, darling?' he enquired, obviously irritated. Freddie looked embarrassed...he swung round suddenly, and, in a flash, departed at a full sprint in the opposite direction, forcing himself through the crowd towards the outer doors. Within a few seconds he'd disappeared from view! This was a moment she could not have prepared herself for: was it possible that at this late stage, after months of cajoling Rosemary to meet her 'homo' friends, Freddie would really lose his nerve and disappear? 'Why couldn't he find it in him to just say 'hello' to Patrick?', she'd thought, feeling very foolish. She had been going on for weeks to Patrick about Freddie wanting to meet a 'queer' crowd; this outcome seemed to her absurd. Perhaps she had been out of her depth in 'mediating' as she had tried to do? 'God, this is really embarrassing...he's just done a runner!' she'd had to admit; she felt quite defeated and wished the floor would open and swallow her up. She had made some excuses and they went their separate ways: it might take Patrick a good long while to recover from that particular social 'slight', which was hardly surprising. And to think Freddie continued to remonstrate that it was she who was 'excluding' him from meeting her friends! He clearly still needed to stay in the closet, and that was all there was to it!
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That had been one of the most painful memories to face up to, and she didn't know if she would be able to relax now and enjoy the beautiful surroundings at Kew; all those contradictions surged through her mind endlessly like a film that played in a loop; she remained desperate to sort out all the paradoxes of their relationship, and much more besides. Despite all the misgivings, Rosemary tried to focus on the positive side of Freddie, the aspects of his personality and character that she felt she really understood. Overcome, she gave in to the need for a short sleep in the Autumn sun: there were still a couple of hours of daylight left before she'd have to leave.
Woodcock's?
Somewhat refreshed by her nap, Rosemary got up and moved towards the far side of Kew Gardens, and the Japanese Gateway, wondering how she had maintained an intimate relationship with Freddie for as long as she had, given the frequent painful episodes he'd brought into her life. She recalled an evening at Patrick's, after another small dinner party, sitting with him and Derek Jar man, after the other guests had departed. She had finally plucked up courage to broach the difficult subject of her intimacy with Freddie, although she'd not spoken about 'personal stuff since the time Freddie had 'done a runner' from the Roundhouse. She was tentative: 'You remember that friend I brought to see Hamlet?... Well, we've been having a 'bit of a thing together....' She had not previously let on that they were anything more than "just friends", because then she would have had to talk about ft is bisexuality and how this had affected her.
Patrick, of course had not forgotten what he later dismissed as Very theatrical behaviour' from Freddie at the Roundhouse. 'How could I forget? Not being formally introduced to your friend? Talk about appalling table manners, darling, I mean, well... anyway, enough about that... what does Albert think about it?' She had decided to be very direct: 'Oh, he's not at all bothered about it...not at all threatened or anything like that...but the point is that Freddie wants very much to meet you, Derek!'
There had been a pause followed by a big grin: 'Then bring him over; get him to come here in a taxi, now'.' enthused Derek, with a grin on his face. Yes, go on, why not...let's give him another chance!' echoed Patrick. Rosemary felt the inherent paradoxes and ambivalence of her situation with Freddie for what seemed like the millionth time: just about to lay claim to him as 'her lover', she was simultaneously in danger of offering him to Derek! Rosemary hadn't expected him to react so fast, and started to back down. 'No, he's all mine, actually...' she put in coyly, with camp undertones, yet also a bit boastfully.
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They had both been informed months beforehand of Freddie's homosexual proclivities, and his desire to 'come out', hence Patrick's willingness to meet him at the Roundhouse, but Rosemary had not let on that it also posed a problem for her. Mien she'd first told Derek about Freddie's insecurity over coming out, he'd been unamused: 'God, another victim of the heterosoc! We are supposed to have experienced a total sexual revolution since'68and what's changed? Nothing at all!' That had been very hard for her to hear, and she'd not pursued the subject of her own sexual involvement with Freddie at that time.
But now she had, at least, started to put all her cards on the table: 'I've been sexually involved with Freddie myself for well over a year!...Selfishly, I suppose, I don't want to lose him]' Derek grimaced and turned on the sarcasm, saying, 'Well, there you go...life's a bitch...' and poured himself some more wine. Patrick was kinder and came over to offer her a cuddle...but he couldn't be "on her side" either. Derek started to smile and had put in: 'but....is she pretty?', much to Rosemary's irritation. But since she had started the conversation she might as well try to finish it: 'Well, he's Asian; he's a singer and he's got dry skin and he sometimes wears a fur coat with only a scarf on...' It was no good, she had started to cry.
She didn't know why she'd specified that he was Asian; it was irrelevant at this point, as were all the diverse aspects of his personality; she was feeling like a complete fool for having mentioned him at all! Patrick had regained his sense of humour and clearly was bent on turning everything round towards a positive outcome: 'Oh, ring him up anyway and ask him over with some of his friends...why not?' Rosemary decided that she'd better back off and go with the flow, since she was beginning to think this crazy suggestion would not come to anything. 'Oh, you're just too greedy for words, Derekyou'd corrupt him!' she attempted to joke, but it flashed across her mind that androgyny was just an integral part of some people's make-up, and that it was not something to actually fear, although in that moment she was beginning to feel herself in the minority. But God forbid that she should become part of that 'reactionary heterosoc' so often referred to by Derek! Suddenly he became more inquisitive: 'Does he like opera? I've a box booked at Covent Garden for tomorrowyou could come along and bring him to that, perhaps?' Not opera again, Rosemary thought to herself, but, nodding her head and smiling pleasantly, she said nothing.
Freddie had said often that he was seeking a female side to himself, but at the same time he found the potential reality of that idea nothing short of terrifying. He saw his own narcissism as signifying what he needed on his mole sideindeed even thought of it his life's task: to find ways of manifesting the female side of himself through song. All this Rosemary understood in the abstract onlynot being musical herself. Hadn't everyone then had aspirations that could come to fruition only if there was true intent? she reminisced. Looking up to admire the Great Pagoda, having already walked straight past it once because she was so preoccupied with difficult reflections, she realised that that particular evening at Patrick's house might easily have landed her in some real hot water. As it happened, it had turned out alright for everyone concerned; but only by a fluke.
Derek and Patrick had moved to the other side of the sitting room and were chatting together in lowered tones, by the white drinks cabinet. A moment later, Derek had come to sit down beside Rosemary, smiling, "What about the opera idea, then?' 'But you know I don't like opera,' she remonstrated.' But is Freddie going to become a star?' put in Patrick, joining in again...'! hope you've not been wasting your time with a nonentity...anyway, how do you know he's authentic if you 're not musical?' 'I just KNOW IT!' Rosemary had retorted, before leaving the room to find the bathroom, simply because she had become acutely embarrassed by the opera talk. When she returned Derek and Patrick were looking at each other incredulously, and Rosemary had just wanted the whole conversation to end; why had she started it anyway, since it was not likely to benefit her in the least? Perhaps she was being truly altruistic, thinking it time she tried to honour the needs and wants of someone else and to stop being childishly possessive? Rosemary knew Freddie had given her so much just through the sheer exuberance of his personality and she supposed that underneath her selfishness, in not wanting him to stray, she had wanted, paradoxically, to offer him something back! Hadn't he told her so much about musical history that had opened up new worlds to her? He had sometimes liked to quote Plato and he could recite or recall stories about Ancient Greece and how androgyny had been the 'norm', even culturally desirable, in those times! He had loved the notion of ancient cultures treating eroticism as a serious affair, rather than the flirty, superficial thing it had become in the present day. All that type of talk had made it abundantly clear that Rosemary could never be an Apollo to his Dionysus'. Freddie had acerbically mentioned, once, that male homosexuality was part of the 'warfare psychology' of the warrior; this aspect of a warrior's psyche was said to have been core to the making of a great champion! Who could ever argue with that? It was all part of the 'rapturous-bonding' that he, Freddie, knew was something he deeply needed in his life; so who was Rosemary Pearson to stand in his way?
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All that had flashed through her mind that evening at Patrick's, but she wasn't going to share that with him or Derek, so instead she said, 'He's got a really strong voice and he's totally androgynous. He'll do whatever it takes to become a superstar.' 'In that case, we'll all settle down and wait 'til we see him on the telly,' concluded Patrick, sensing that it was time to let her off the hook.
Rosemary needed another strong cup of tea after reliving that particular scene. The sun was beginning to go down, yet she had still not got to grips with the other problem of the day: what was she going to do with her own future?
