Synopsis

Mary Lennox is a very troubled, sickly and unloved 10-year-old girl who was born in India to selfish, wealthy British parents who never wanted her and were too wrapped up in their own lives to love or care about her. She was taken care of primarily by servants, who pacified her as much as possible to keep her out of her parents' way. Spoiled and selfish, she is aggressive, surly, rude and obstinate. Later, there is a cholera epidemic which hits India and kills her parents and all the servants. She is discovered alone but alive after the house is empty. She briefly lives with an English clergyman and his family and is then sent to Yorkshire, England, to live with Archibald Craven, an uncle she has never met, at his home called Misselthwaite Manor.

At first, Mary is her usual self, sour and rude, disliking her uncle's large house, the people within it and most of all the vast stretch of moor, which seems scrubby and grey after the winter. She is told that she must stay confined to her two rooms and that nobody will bother much with her and she must amuse herself. Martha Sowerby, her good-natured maidservant, tells Mary a story of the late Mrs. Craven, and how she would spend hours in a private walled garden growing roses. Later, Mrs. Craven was killed by sitting in a tree and the branch broke, and Mr. Craven had the garden locked and the key buried. Mary is roused by this story and starts to soften her ill manner despite herself. Soon she begins to lose her disposition and gradually comes to enjoy the company of Martha, Ben Weatherstaff the gardener, and also that of a friendly robin redbreast to whom she attaches human qualities. Her appetite increases and she finds herself getting stronger as she plays by herself on the moor. Martha's mother buys Mary a skipping rope to encourage this, and she takes to it immediately. Mary's time is occupied by wondering about the secret garden and a strange crying sound that can sometimes be heard around the house which the servants ignore or deny.

As Mary is exploring the gardens, she is alerted to some turned up soil by the inquisitive robin, and finds a key belonging to the locked garden, and, next day, the door into the garden. She chances to ask Martha for garden tools, which Martha has delivered by Dickon, her twelve-year-old brother. Mary and Dickon take a liking to each other, as Dickon has a soft way with animals and a good nature. Eager to absorb his gardening knowledge, Mary lets him into the secret of the garden, which he agrees to keep.

That night, Mary hears the crying again. She follows the noise and, to her surprise, finds a small boy her age, living in a hidden bedroom. His name is Colin and she discovers that they are cousins: he is the son of her uncle; his mother died when he was a baby, and he suffers from an unspecified problem with his spine. Mary visits every day that week, distracting him from his troubles with stories of the moor, of Dickon and his animals and of the garden. It is decided he needs fresh air and the secret garden, to which Mary finally admits she has access. Colin is put into his wheelchair and brought outside into the garden, the first time he's been outdoors in years.

While in the garden, the children are surprised to see Ben Weatherstaff looking over the wall on a ladder. Startled and angry to find the children there in his late mistress' (Colin's mother's) garden he admits he believed Colin to be a cripple. Colin stands up out of his chair to prove him wrong and finds that his legs are fine, though weak from not using them for a long time.

Colin spends every day in the garden, becoming stronger. The children conspire to keep Colin's health a secret so he can surprise his father, who is traveling and mourning over his late wife. As Colin's health improves, his father's mood does as well, and he has a dream of his wife calling him into the garden that makes him immediately pack his bags and head home. He walks the outer wall in memory but hears voices inside, finds the door unlocked and is shocked to see the garden in full bloom with children in it and his son running around. The servants watch as Mr. Craven walks back to the manor, and all are stunned that Colin runs beside him.

((Here it is, my lovelies, the place where you may post your own experiences of the production! As always, please respect the setting, but have fun with it!))

Kruger had managed to stay away from the after activities, he honestly wasn't interested in them this time. The part he'd been given for this play was significantly smaller than the last, he didn't mind that really. It was a much more difficult role for him to play though.

"You did well, why are you not celebrating with the others?" The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Kruger turned to look over his shoulder and found Hortense looking his way. It had been some time since he'd seen her, but he figured she was likely busy with other aspects of the theater.

Looking up at the balconies he considered the responses he could give. Was it always best to be honest' "I wasn't too fond of this role, not because of anything normal people would think about. Understand something about me, I love children, to play a position where even for the shortest of times I am disliked, or even hated by a child is heartbreaking for me."

Kruger dropped his gaze to the bare wood of the stage, his hands clasped behind his back as he began to walk the edge overlooking the orchestra pit. "I understand the need for the role, it really does fit well into the play, and I would never refuse a role given to me. But the scene where Dr. Craven was asking why Colin hated him....it was hard to keep my real feelings from seeping through. I'm not overly sure how successful I was.

"Do you believe that there are roles that others identify with to the same degree" Perhaps it is that very aspect of you that made you perfect for the position. Maybe it was the main factor in casting you." Hortense moved along with him, though he noted that her footfalls made no sound at all. His own echoed hollowly in the darkness. "Emotion is key to being believable in a character. Yours made the performance real. That isn't something to be ashamed or afraid of. It is something you should use to its fullest potential."

The voice seemed to be diminishing, Kruger looked over his shoulder but Hortense was nowhere to be seen. He stood alone to face his demons. He would join the cast and crew eventually, as soon as he could put on the mask he wore that kept people from knowing him as he really was.

The smell of the greasepaint, the roar of the crowd. Maggie had read that line in a book, but never really understood it until she started taking part in the productions at the Shanachie. She enjoyed it so much that she considered a change in her plans to, one day, become a teacher. It was then that she realized that everyone that she had worked with on the stage had been a teacher of sorts. It had been the members of the company had taught her that butterflies in the stomach were perfectly normal before a performance. They helped her be comfortable playing pretend in front of an audience. That's what acting was in its basic form, pretending. The difference between playing such games with her siblings was that there was a script to memorize. Stage directions needed to be learned.

While Maggie enjoyed having time in the spotlight, she also enjoyed the other roles she had played. It was the camaraderie and warm atmosphere that lived in the theater that had made the child feel like she had always belonged there.

"No, I didn't see anyone," Jon replied, frowning. Of course, he had heard talk of the theater ghost, but he'd never met her personally and was unsure whether she was real or merely a myth. In all honestly, he didn't really want to know. He'd had his fill of paranormal experiences and was perfectly happy these days to leave that sort of thing to the professionals.

Jon fell silent as Kruger explained further, smiling a little as he realized the two of them weren't all that different really. He'd been volunteering at Rhy'Din General for a few years now, playing Santa, among other things, and doing what he could to bring a few smiles to the children infirmed there.

He arched a brow as Kruger shared a little more about himself, about the fact that he had a son and a couple more children on the way. It seemed they had that in common, too - both of them knowing what it was to be a father.

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts," Jon quoted Shakespeare. He had often thought the quote more than a little accurate, especially with regard to the life of an actor. Maybe a quote from Chaplin would have worked better: Life is a play that does not allow testing. So, sing, cry, dance, laugh and live intensely, before the curtain closes and the piece ends with no applause.

"Being a father is the most important job you'll ever have," Jon added. "Far more important than being an actor." He wished his own father would have thought so, but though it was too late for his father, it wasn't too late for Jon and his children or for Kruger and his.

"Come on, Aris," Jon said, squeezing the other man's shoulder reassuringly. "One drink to bid good-bye to Dr. Craven. He's not you, and you're not him. He's just a part in a play, but maybe we can learn something from him about who we don't want to be." It was worth a try anyway.