The Gang:
Mary Hutchings [nee Newman], Mary Gray [nee Johnson], Margaret Sampson and Peg Lowe. This gang still exsists.

In early 1965, Sir Michael Redgrave asked Ingrid if she would star in the opening production of "A Month in the Country" at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre, Guildford. The season was a sell out, but I managed to obtain a ticket - I was in Row Q! - but at least I was seeing Ingrid in real life for the first time. It was June 5th 1965.

But better things were to come! The production transferred to The Cambridge Theatre, London in September. By that time a little group of fans had got together and we decided to see the play as often as possible and to wait at the stage door for Ingrid to arrive. We wanted to be like the Alvin Gang, Ingrid's loyal fans in New York, who had formed when she starred in "Joan of Lorraine" at the Alvin Theatre. Sometimes our group did not consist of the whole gang - some Saturdays my mother and Margaret's mother would come along and it would be just us four, other times it was the gang, sometimes one of us went alone - it just depended on the circumstances. I was in my final undergraduate year at Exeter University [so could only go to London at weekends] and the other three were working. Peg lived in Wolverhampton, Mary lived in Torquay and Margaret was nearest to London, in Kent. Mary sometimes drove from Torquay to Exter, collected me in her car and off we sped to London up the A303, with the radio playing The Beatles - "Yesterday" was the hit of the moment.

So - the next time I saw Ingrid, she was arriving at the Cambridge Theatre! The stage door was in a dingy street at the back and we had a good view of the road along which her taxi would come - she used ordinary black london taxis. As soon as the taxi came into sight we somersaulted inwardly. Ingrid was always gracious, signing our stills and talking about the films. We had "adopted" a little Tibetan boy, who was being cared for by the Ockenden Venture [a charity for refugees, with which Ingrid became involved after "The Inn of the Sixth Happiness"] and we showed her a photo of him. She was always willing to chat for a few minutes. One day she surprised us - she arrived on foot, walking down from the front of the theatre, clad in a raincoat, scarf and boots. Another day, Fay Compton, who was also in the play, arrived before Ingrid. She said to us "Don't bother Miss Bergman today - she has a cold". Well, when Ingrid's taxi arrived she was as gracious ever [Peg had just managed to stop Margaret and me raiding the local chemist shops for all the best cold remedies, with which to shower Ingrid as gifts!!], we asked about her cold and she was so sweet, saying it was "all better".

With Christmas looming, we plucked up courage to buy her a gift. We decided on a fountain pen - a good one, Parker 61 - and agreed that Peg should buy it and gift-wrap it. She also bought a card, which we were all to sign. The reason for the gift was that, often, Ingrid said that ballpoint pens didn't write well on the shiny stills. We could not think of anything else that would be suitable without being silly!

The great day came - December 4th 1965. It was a Saturday, the day of the early performance at 5 p.m. Instead of waiting for Ingrid to arrive, we decided to ask the doorman if we could go up and meet her in her dressing room. We felt very bold, but also shy. I was chosen [being somewhat less inhibited than the others], to ask him. The moments while he phoned up to her dressing room and told Ingrid about us seemed like hours. Then came his reply: Ingrid said we could see her if we came back at 4:15. That gave us just under an hour to wait. We went to Cambridge Circus and found a coffee shop and sat there, feeling....well, I don't know what....but certainly apprehensive. Peg, being the oldestadvised caution. Margaret and I were just plain daft - our great moment was about to come. I think the other Mary was calm: she usually was. Time to return to the theatre - the stage door - a word with the doorman - his phone call - then he told us to go up. the dressing room was No. 4. I remember the stairs were stone steps - we only had to go up one flight and there was the door with "4" on it. One of us knocked - I can't remember which one. The door was opened by a little lady, who, we found out later, was Louie, Ingrid's dresser. She ushered us into a small sitting room with a sofa and not much else....then INGRID appeared from the inner room. She was absolutely amazing, in a bright scarlet robe with silver embroidery down the front, her fair hair loose. I have no recollection of how we introduced ourselfs....but somehow we gave her the present and she opened it. I remember saying that now she would be able to sign photos better - and she gave me a smile. I also asked her whether she would be spending Christmas with her children - to which she replied that, yes, she would be doing that. We then just wished her Happy Christmas and best wishes for the play in the New Year. Then she shook each of us by the hand and we left. I honestly can't remember what happened next! I know we saw the play, because I still have my ticket for the 5 p.m. performance on that day. But you could say we were on Cloud Nine....if not Cloud Eighteen!

January, February, March 1966....we went to see the play and Ingrid several more times. On the last night we went to the final performance, but we didn't wait at the stage door afterwards. I don't know why not, except that we had achieved our aim and one thing we were determined not to do was annoy Ingrid in any way.

Margaret wrote out a copy of W.B. Yeats's poem "The Cloths of Heaven" and thrust it into my hand that night:

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths.
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams".

Well, we did tread softly and we had been careful. There was so much more that we would have wished to say to Ingrid, but we, being poor, had spread our dreams beneath her feet....we still had and still have our dreams to this day.

Mary Hutchings -August 1998-