ROMEO’S FIRST APPEARANCE was applauded; his first line – ‘Is the day so young?’ – cheered. His discussion with Benvolio about love was greeted with much hilarity; when he reached the line, ‘In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman,’ many voices called back, ‘No, you don’t!’ and ‘Liar!’ Juliet’s first appearance received the expected whistles but, alongside the rotund and embarrassed Goffe making his debut as Nurse, Joe was all poise and delicate grace.
When Nurse said, ‘Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days,’ they left the stage to rapturous applause. By the time King Dick entered the stage as Mercutio, the mood in the cockloft had changed – the play was working. The fights of the opening scene had calmed, a truce engineered by comedy, intrigue and the promise of doomed love.
Backstage, Joe and Habs drank swiftly from a water jug.
‘They’re lovin’ it!’ said Habs.
‘I was watching the Shortlands when you were on with the King,’ whispered Joe. ‘Slightly less miserable, I thought.’
‘Kiss next, then.’
‘Imagine. The whole place’d go crazy.’ He knew Habs was joking but made his point anyway. ‘Nothing stupid, Habs. You know it’s not worth it.’
‘Ain’t it?’
‘Not if I kick you in the balls, it isn’t.’
Joe felt sure that Habs would never disobey the King, especially now, especially here. He walked on stage with Lord and Goffe and some of the Requin extras. Two fiddlers stood at the side of the stage and began playing a reel, ‘The Female Cabin Boy’. Some of the crowd recognized the tune, laughing and clapping in delight at the joke. On stage, Joe stepped and weaved with the others, everyone making it up as they went along.
The dance over, Romeo spotted Juliet and the crowd started to buzz. When he asked, ‘What lady’s that?’ a few even applauded. A shiver of dangerous expectation ran through the cockloft. The players felt it, too, all eyes switching between Habs and Joe then back again. When Romeo finally approached Juliet’s bench, there was a shout of, ‘Aye-aye! Here we go!’ before the man was roundly shushed. Joe saw that Habs was enjoying himself; his nerves had gone, the audience was his and there was a swagger to his performance that Joe hadn’t seen before. He sensed danger. He knew that when Habs’s blood was up, anything was possible. He noticed Elizabeth Shortland staring at him, eyebrow raised. Joe thought he understood. If the play was to get to its end, Juliet would need to be in charge of their imminent first encounter.
Habs finally sat next to Joe, and the cockloft held its breath. Fixing him with a glare, Joe swung his legs to form a barrier between them. He wanted to scream, ‘This is a statement, not a challenge!’ but hoped his body language would do that for him. Habs grinned, flattened some out-of-control curls behind his ear and took Joe’s hand in his. An audible gasp from some in the crowd lit the fuse.
Romeo spoke. ‘If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this. My lips, my two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.’
Joe, eyes on Habs, slowly and deliberately shook his head. Then Juliet spoke.
‘Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this. For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.’
The cockloft fell silent. They all knew – they had all heard the stories – that in rehearsal a black Romeo had kissed a white Juliet. That it wasn’t a prim little peck on the cheek but a full-blooded, open-mouthed embrace, and that the Agent had banned it. They knew all that, yet here were the two men, one black, one white, speaking of nothing else. Lips, hands, holy oil, touching. It was manifest to all that the fuse was still burning.
Joe noticed Captain Shortland shift awkwardly in his seat, saw the King strain for a better view; he cast his eyes to the floor.
Juliet again. ‘Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.’ Joe tensed. Every nerve, every fibre, was alive to the dangers of the moment. Unwanted, the memory of that first, thrilling kiss returned and Joe dug his nails into his palms to clear it.
Romeo again. ‘Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.’
The men in the cockloft held their breath. Joe and Habs stared at each other, their faces frozen. As Habs began to lean closer, Joe pushed their still-held hands in front of Habs’s mouth. A flicker of a smile, and Habs kissed Joe’s hand. The collective release of breath was so loud it generated its own embarrassed laughter, drowning out Romeo’s ‘Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purged.’ When the second kiss was due, Joe again blocked with his hand and the fuse was out. The applause to mark the end of Act One was deafening. In the brief respite, Habs waited for Joe, his eyes dancing with delight.
‘You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you? And in front of Shortland!’
‘Tell me you weren’t tempted,’ said Joe, unconvinced. ‘I saw it in your eyes, Habakkuk Snow.’
‘A trespass sweetly urged,’ said Habs.
‘And sweetly denied,’ said Joe.
The King strode over, his expression sombre. Habs raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘I know what it looked like, King Dick, but, really, I was just teasin’. I would never go against—’
‘That ain’t what I saw, Mr Snow,’ said the King, cutting across him. ‘I saw Mr Hill here rescue a dangerous situation with great cunning – thank you, Mr Hill.’ The King looked around. ‘John Haywood here yet? He’s missin’ a fine show. I’m tempted to go down there myself, persuade him to attend.’
‘I think maybe you’re needed here,’ said Joe. ‘I’m sure he’ll be up shortly.’