by Georgia Hill
Mike was still speaking and trying to usher Biddy to one side. ‘And thank you for those kind words about the theatre. Joe would indeed be proud.’ He looked over to Millie. ‘Could I add my thanks to Millie for hosting our first night party here.’ He grinned when he saw her exhausted face. ‘I know there’s a one a.m. curfew for parties on the beach, so maybe we should begin to get to our beds. It’s been a long day and I, for one, am very weary.’
‘He’s so lovely,’ Millie sighed.
Dora gazed at Mike. She was sure her heart was visible on the outside of her breast and was pulsing red with love, cartoon-like.
He began to encourage guests gently off the terrace and looked back at her. He smiled and the cartoon heart swelled, threatened to pop off and head skywards. ‘He certainly is,’ she whispered, smiling back at him. ‘He certainly is.’
As they moved towards each other, the first fat, hot drops of rain fell.
Chapter 44
The rain and thunderstorm dispersed the party-goers. Even Biddy took herself off, muttering darkly that no one in the town knew how to party properly. Soon the only people left in the café were Millie, Mike and Dora.
Millie took one look at the expression on Mike and Dora’s faces, made her excuses and disappeared into the kitchen. She was sure neither had heard her plea that she needed to begin doing the washing up.
Dora sat at the table in the window and watched the rain chase wild dusty patterns in the glass. She flinched as thunder hit hard.
‘You never liked thunderstorms, I remember.’ Mike joined her and took her hand in his.
‘True.’ She could hardly breathe at his nearness. Or maybe it was just the stormy atmosphere.
‘Dora, can I ask you something?’
She turned to him. The rain had teased his hair into curls. With his sun-darkened skin he looked more the rogue than ever.
He took her chin between tender fingers. ‘Will this take your mind off the storm?’ he whispered and kissed her.
‘Is that what you wanted to ask me?’ She said when it was over. She’d hardly noticed the flash of lightning and the thunder that followed. Maybe it had actually happened, or maybe it was the sparkling lights and roar in the blood that invaded her when he kissed her.
He shook his head and smiled. ‘Not quite.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I realise I wasn’t meant to hear, that night out on the terrace when you and Millie were talking, but I just have to know.’ He gave her the full force of his penetrating gaze. ‘I want to know. No,’ he corrected himself, ‘I need to know, if there’s a tiny piece of your heart that’s still mine?’ He took a breath. ‘I need to know if you still love me, Dora.’
Dora gasped. He had heard that night, then. She went rigid. ‘Why, so you can have a good laugh at my expense when you go back to all your women in London?’
‘Dora,’ he laughed quietly. ‘Dora, my love. Always so prickly. I need to know because I’ve never stopped loving you.’
The storm began in earnest. Wind hurled rain at the café’s windows and a smattering of pebbles whip-cracked against the glass.
Dora didn’t move. She focussed on Mike’s face. On his blue eyes, so warm and loving. On the mouth she longed to kiss again.
‘Those words I say as Wentworth,’ he continued, ‘They may have been Austen’s, but they could be mine. I meant every last one of them. I loved you ten years ago; I love you now. I’ll never stop loving you, Dora. Although,’ at this, he sat back and rubbed a frustrated hand over his face, ‘Sometimes you make it extremely difficult.’
‘You never came after me. You must have known where I was. You never came looking.’ It was a croak. It came out of a throat constricted with emotion, swollen with too many unshed tears. Tears she held for him.
Mike gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Your father made it very clear what would be done to me if I ever wanted to see you again. Joe got me out of Berecombe as soon as he could and helped me get into theatre school. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t.’
A flash of lightning daggered across the café and lit him up. It revealed the lines put around his eyes by laughter, the creases from mouth to nose exaggerated by tiredness, the silver threads in his dark hair. Was it possible he really did love her?
He shrugged wearily. ‘Booze took over for a while once I’d got to London.’ He glanced at her from under dark lashes. ‘I knew you were in the city, I just didn’t have the guts to look you up. And, after all, I’d been told you weren’t interested any more.’ To answer the query in her eyes, he added, ‘Your wonderful father again. I rang your home number. Once I’d got myself sober, you’d gone to the States and your dad proved himself right.’ He laughed. ‘You were definitely out of my league then.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘I tried your mobile too. No answer.’
‘Oh my God,’ Dora said slowly. ‘Mum and Dad gave me a new one just before I left for Central. They boasted it was top of the range, all set up with the numbers I’d need.’
‘Have to hand it to your father, if he’s determined to do something, he certainly succeeds.’
‘Oh Mike, I didn’t know all this, I swear.’
‘Why should you know?’ Mike shoved a hand through his hair again as a clap of thunder hit the building. ‘God Dora, I tried to forget you, I really did. Alcohol, hard work, other women. Nothing did it. When the job came up in Berecombe I could hardly believe it. And when you walked past me in the pub, dressed as a duck, I really thought I was hallucinating, even though I was stone-cold sober.’
Dora winced at the memory. ‘You haven’t always been very nice to me.’
Mike edged his chair nearer her. Placed a gentle hand on her neck to bring her closer. To kiss again. His eyes were focussed on her lips as if he couldn’t look away. ‘Self-preservation, my lovely. You haven’t exactly been forthcoming with your feelings about me.’
As they kissed again, the storm raged around them, through them, in them. And then quietened into acceptance.
Mike rested his forehead against hers. In the distance, piercing through the sound of the rain, which was still hammering down, a telephone could be heard.
Millie peered around the kitchen door. ‘Sorry, you two. I hate to interrupt, but it’s Kirstie on the phone for you, Mike. She said she’d tried your mobile but it’s dead.’
Dora felt laughter ripple through Mike.
‘One day,’ he said, ‘I’ll explain all about Kirstie.’
‘Mike, I really hate to do this,’ insisted Millie, as they hadn’t moved. ‘But she said it was urgent. There’s something going on at the theatre.’ As he shot up, alarmed, she added, ‘And don’t go along the prom. It’s flooded. The local radio’s just said we’ve had a month’s rain in an hour.’
Chapter 45
‘Oh shit.’
‘For once, my darling Dora, I happen to think your language is appropriate.’
Dora went to where Mike was standing in the middle of the theatre, surveying the damage. She put her arms around his waist and willed him some strength. ‘I thought the roof had been fixed.’
Mike gave a gutsy sigh. ‘Turns out it wasn’t only a heating pipe. According to the loss adjustor over there,’ he nodded to where a man in a gilet and corduroys was talking into a mobile, ‘There was a problem with a gully on the roof. Looks like it’s been dodgy for a while. Last night’s rain finished it off. And, with the place being right on the seafront, it’s been bearing the brunt of every storm for a long time.’
Dora looked around. She could hardly recognise the place from last night. All traces of their triumphant first night had been obliterated. The stage and kitchen had escaped any damage but nearly all the stalls area was completely ruined. Water still dripped despondently from the roof and the smell of wet plaster made her nose itch and her throat close. The first ten or so rows of red velour seats were soaked through and unusable, certainly in the short term. Most were also under heaps of sodden, broken ceiling tiles.
&n
bsp; Mike had gone straight to the theatre when he’d left her. He’d insisted he could cope with Kirstie’s latest crisis and that she should go home to her parents.
His call that morning had come halfway through her bitter recriminations with them over breakfast. Their reaction to it being Mike on the phone had decided her. Having packed her bag in the night, she’d called Millie and had taken refuge in the flat. Dora wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to have any kind of relationship with her parents again.
The horror of the conversation with her parents, though, fled in the face of this. ‘Oh Mike,’ she said. ‘It’s awful.’ She felt tears threaten. ‘All our hard work!’
Some of the others were beginning to trickle in. Maria stood, her mouth open at what she was seeing. Albie was consoling a weeping Ellie and Josh had his arms around Lily. Their shock was palpable.
‘Well, there’s literally no way we can put a show on tonight.’ It was Kirstie, as crisply efficient as ever. ‘The place is ruined.’
Mike toed away a wet piece of plaster and agreed. ‘Can you get the box office to organise refunds as soon as possible. Oh and try to keep the press out, will you? They love a disaster.’
Dora gazed at them. They had all worked so hard for this. Had endured nerves and tantrums, Greg’s departure. She thought of old Joe Latham. Of the blood, sweat and tears Mike had poured into it. Of how much she, despite everything, had loved working with them all. So much was riding on Persuasion being a success. Surely, there was something they could do to save it? An image of the gorgeous cobbled square in front of the theatre rose in her mind. With its backdrop of the sea, it could be perfect. The beginnings of an idea formed. It might, might, just work.
‘Actually, maybe we could let them in. You’re right, they do love a disaster,’ Dora said suddenly, detaching herself from Mike’s embrace. ‘And it might work in our favour. I think I’ve got an idea.’
Mike looked at her with interest. ‘What?’
Dora turned to Kirstie. ‘What’s the weather forecast like?’
‘The weather forecast? How should I know?’ Kirstie muttered, looking startled. ‘Hang on, bear with,’ she tapped her phone with her French-manicured nails. ‘Returning to warm, dry and sunny, but less humid,’ she recited. ‘Does that answer your question?’
‘Wonderful. That should do. Maria, are the costumes all okay?’
‘Yes, fine. Might smell a bit but everything at the back of the theatre is still dry. I’d have to air them out, though.’
‘Albie, could you run some lighting cables outside?’
‘Don’t see why not,’ he shrugged. ‘The main rig is unaffected. Trust me, that’s a good thing. You don’t want to mix water and electricity.’
‘Quite.’
‘And if I can’t get them to reach, I know a bloke over at the Northcott. He might be able to help.’
‘Fab.’ Dora eyed the stage. It was dry and still in one piece. The set was simple: just a few pieces painted blue and gold and carefully chosen to hint at a Regency drawing room. The whole stage set wouldn’t take much to move. If what she had in mind worked, they wouldn’t even need the heavy velour stage curtains.
But what would people sit on? She looked at the ruined seats in despair. An audience couldn’t sit on cold cobbles. ‘Have we any spare seating? she asked.
Josh, forgetting he wasn’t still at school, put up his hand. ‘Yes,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘There are a whole load of wooden fold-up chairs in the underground store.’
‘Usable?’
‘Yes, Miss Bart. Not very comfortable,’ he admitted, ‘But you can sit on them. Just need a bit of muscle power to haul them all out and give them a good clean.’
‘Okay.’
‘Dora, what’s going on?’ Mike came nearer. He gave a tired grin. ‘You’re all fired up.’
Dora swept the little group with a wide smile. ‘All may not be lost, my little band of not-so-merry players. We may not be able to put on a show tonight but, with a wing and a prayer and a minor miracle, we’ll be able to perform tomorrow.’
‘How the hell are we going to do that?’ Kirstie asked.
‘Yup, my lovely. How do you propose to put on the play in this mess?’ Mike spread his hands to the ruined theatre.
‘Ah. We won’t perform inside, Michael,’ Dora said, with a slightly manic gleam in her eye. ‘We’ll put it on outside. Haven’t you always wanted to do open-air theatre?’
Chapter 46
They did it.
Somehow.
Dora dragged in everyone she could think of to help and, with her star pulling power, most were willing. A hung-over Biddy helped Maria out with airing and ironing the costumes. Josh got together a band of schoolmates and, along with Sean Tizzard, retrieved the haul of chairs from the dungeon-like store. Albie made repeated trips to his pal at the Northcott to borrow some longer cabling and then began assembling a new lighting rig, suitable for an outside space. Kirstie organised the box office and then master-minded the publicity. Even Millie, with a busy café to run, found time to provide sandwiches and cold drinks.
Everyone worked until they dropped, but the real revelation was Jed. He drove Albie into Exeter, sourced a jet-washer to wash down the chairs and collected the food from Millie Vanilla’s. If this wasn’t enough, he began to build the rough wooden platform that would become their stage. Dora wondered what he was trying to prove. Or to whom. She also wondered if Millie really knew what she had in him.
But she didn’t have time to think about Jed and Millie’s relationship. She didn’t have time to even think about her own. Mike had drawn up a punishing rehearsal schedule.
Ken Tizzard offered them the Arts Workshop to rehearse in peace and the cast battled to make the play work in a different way. They rehearsed into the early hours and Dora and Mike collapsed on Millie’s sofas, too exhausted to even speak. It would be a completely different, pared-down production but, with Lyme Bay as an inky background, it might just work.
And it did. It was a triumph. Everyone said so. As the sun bled from the sky and darkness gathered around them, the audience magically hushed and hung on every word the actors uttered. It gave the play an intimate feel it lacked before. Even the seabirds knew their cue. When Ellie, as Mary Musgrove, announced ‘Oh I am wild to see Lyme!’ a gull sounded its mournful cry in response.
The press had gone wild as well. After the seventh curtain call and when the audience had finally dispersed, Millie hosted an impromptu press conference at the café. The journalists were desperate for interviews. The phoenix-from-the-ashes quality of it had them excited. National and international television had been at the performance and Kirstie reported that two well-known US show-biz vloggers had featured the story too. She’d nagged Phil into providing yet more champagne and the fizz added to the intoxicating atmosphere.
When Dora had batted off the last of the reporters – she’d been the one most in demand – she looked around for Mike. He was talking to Millie at the other side of the terrace.
‘Can I borrow him for a moment, Millie?’ she said, without taking her eyes from his face. ‘We have something very important to discuss. In private.’
Millie, looking from one friend to another, smiled and melted away.
‘You’ve made your feelings clear, Mike,’ Dora said, hardly believing she was about to say the words, ‘But I don’t think I have. As she reached up to kiss him, her mobile shrilled.
Mike’s mouth quirked. ‘We seem doomed to be interrupted by phone calls.’ He nodded over to where Kirstie and Phil were bickering. ‘At least it can’t be Kirstie this time. You do know there’s nothing going on between her and me, don’t you?’
Dora touched her fingertip to her lips and then to his. ‘I’ve known about her and Phil for a while,’ she said as she answered the call. ‘I’m really sorry, I’ve got to take this, it’s my US agent.’ She made an apologetic face, which changed to shock as she listened. ‘They’ve offered me what? Back in the States?’
Chapter 47
She found him sitting on an abandoned deckchair on the beach. He’d dragged it to the water’s edge. After hunting along the promenade, she’d only spotted him because of his white shirt glowing dully in the dark. As she took off her shoes to walk barefoot across the sand, a firework shot across the sky and soared out to sea.
‘Hi Mike,’ she said softly.
‘You’re going back to the States, then?’ he asked, without preamble.
She sat down on the sand next to him. Another firework blew the night sky into a thousand yellow and red stars.
‘Nice fireworks,’ she said evenly. ‘Sea cadets are having a party, apparently. Putting on quite a show.’ When he didn’t answer, she added, ‘Why did you disappear?’
‘Thought I’d leave you to your phone call.’
‘I’m sorry. It was rude of me to take it, but I hadn’t spoken to Cassie for months.’ Dora squeezed some sand between her fingers, enjoying its cool silkiness.
‘Has she got some work for you?’ Mike’s voice was strained.
‘She has, actually. The same studio that made The English Woman has a pilot they’d like me to try for. Sure-fire hit, they said. News of our success in Berecombe has even found its way over the pond, it seems, and I’m in demand.’
‘Naturally.’
‘And yes, it would take me back to the States, of course.’
‘Of course.’
‘Except there’s a problem.’
She felt Mike shift. ‘What’s that? Not enough money?’
‘Oh, they’re offering plenty of that,’ she answered, deliberately not rising to the bait. ‘It’s just that I think I’ve decided I don’t want to work in American television any more. Well, to be honest, American TV had rather decided it didn’t want me. They pulled The English Woman, did you know?’
Mike turned to her. In the light given out by a rocket shooting orange into the sky she could just about make out his wary expression. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’