The Summer Theatre by the Sea

by Tracy Corbett

  Charlotte gave up talking to her sister. No one could hear above the noise of the drums. They waved goodbye, signalling they’d catch up later.

  Barney and Charlotte walked in companionable silence by the sword school, pottery-making tent, and knight’s tavern before the sound of drums faded into the distance, enabling them to hear again. They came across the axe-throwing competition.

  Glenda Graham was joyfully taking money from queues of people, stuffing the notes into a leather purse strapped around her middle. A small part of Barney’s brain wondered if all the cash would find its way into the RNLI fund. He’d never voice his concerns, as ruining someone’s reputation without proof wasn’t something he was keen to do. But he did wonder if he should mention Glenda’s extracurricular activities to Charlotte. Especially as Nate was convinced that Lauren was indebted to Glenda. There was also the issue of Glenda’s two sons, Quentin and Vincent, who sounded like Eton graduates, but looked like a cross between the Krays and the Krankies. Big, dumb, and the muscle behind Glenda-the-Lender’s business venture. He wasn’t about to get on the wrong side of them. He liked his teeth too much.

  He glanced at Charlotte. She’d climbed onto the fence, and was watching a battle re-enactment in the neighbouring field. People of all shapes and sizes were dressed in suits of armour and chain mail. A canon fired, signalling the first charge. The two sides raced across the field. She laughed when a line of arrows launched into the air and the charging army’s general had to duck when a rogue missile nearly landed on his helmet.

  Maybe he’d tell her about Glenda another day. He didn’t want to ruin her good mood.

  When she turned and smiled, he noticed strands of gold highlighting her dark hair. There was a softness in her expression that he hadn’t seen before, and he suddenly felt a little light-headed. Must be the hangover. ‘Do you want to carry on watching?’

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘Not really, too much testosterone. What’s over there?’

  He looked to where she was pointing. ‘I’m glad you asked.’ He helped her down from the fence. ‘Are you feeling brave?’

  She looked wary. ‘Not in the slightest. Why?’

  ‘How do you feel about a spot of mud wrestling?’

  Her wide-eyed expression made him laugh. ‘No way. Under no circumstances.’ The vehement shake of her head made her hooped earrings swing.

  He placed his hand on her shoulder. Her skin was smooth and warm. ‘But it’s fun. All that rolling around in the mud.’

  Her fingers searched for a button on her top. ‘Not going to happen.’ When he took her hand, she resisted being edged towards the mud pit. ‘Think again, pal.’

  ‘Okay, but if it’s a no to mud wrestling, then at least say yes to jousting.’

  ‘Jousting? Are you kidding me?’ She backed away. ‘I’m not getting on a horse!’

  He laughed. ‘It’s not on a horse. This is a static version.’ He led a suspicious-looking Charlotte over to where a large circular tube, painted to look like a log, straddled two sturdy ladders. ‘Look. You climb into the middle of the log, each armed with an inflatable lance, and try to knock the other person off.’ He pointed to the bouncy cushioning below. ‘You won’t get hurt.’

  She didn’t look convinced. ‘I’m not sure. And I’m wearing a skirt.’

  ‘Are you wearing knickers?’

  She glared at him. ‘Of course I am.’

  Shame. ‘Then your dignity will remain intact.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘Plus, you get to hit me with a stick.’

  Her interest grew. ‘This is true.’

  ‘And I promise I won’t hit you back.’

  She chewed on her lip, considering his proposal. Finally, her beautiful face broke into a mischievous grin. ‘What are we waiting for?’

  He’d fibbed, of course. Once they were on the log and armed with their inflatable lances, he teasingly prodded her, enjoying the look of outrage on her smiling face. She sucked in her breath and clouted him around the head. ‘Cheat!’

  He retaliated by jabbing her again, making her wobble. She gripped her knees, trying to stay upright – and no doubt trying not to flash her underwear, which was oddly distracting. So much so, that when she whacked him again, he was caught off guard. Her inflatable stick glanced off his head. The blows didn’t hurt. The bigger challenge was staying balanced on the log, which became all too apparent when he tried to unseat her with a side blow and ended up falling onto the bouncy cushion below. She’d beaten him twice now.

  A few seconds later, she fell too, bouncing a few feet away from him, before landing on his midriff, knocking the wind from his lungs.

  ‘You said you wouldn’t hit back.’ She tried to climb off him, her laughter and instability sabotaging her efforts.

  ‘I lied.’ He poked her in the ribs, making her collapse on top of him again. It was a cheap trick, but he didn’t care. He liked seeing her unravel. No other reason, obviously.

  She squealed, her body entwined with his like they were playing a bizarre version of Twister. Their close proximity meant that he could savour the full impact of her big brown eyes and soft glossy lips. His arms instinctively tightened around her, setting off a buzz in his blood that immediately travelled south.

  And then he was hit by a realisation. Just because he and Charlie Saunders were completely incompatible, there was nothing to stop them enjoying a summer fling, was there? After all, she’d be going back to London in a couple of months and they’d never see each other again. What could possibly go wrong?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  … A few moments later

  Charlotte had to admit she was having fun. Even if she was completely shattered. Her eyes were running from laughing so hard, her skirt had ridden up over her thighs and her top was full of creases. She probably looked a complete mess, but who cared. Lauren was right, physical activity was indeed good for releasing tension. Plus, Barney Hubble was looking at her in such a way that it didn’t leave much to the imagination. His pupils were dilated, his mouth was slightly open and he was breathing heavily – although that might have been because she was lying on top of him.

  ‘That’s twice I’ve beaten you today.’ Her elbow connected with his ribs, making him groan, as she tried to get off him.

  ‘I let you win.’ His arms tightened around her waist.

  ‘Oh, really?’ She smiled down at him, rather enjoying teasing him for a change. ‘Admit it. You lost.’

  His grin turned roguish. ‘It doesn’t feel like I lost.’

  She realised he was looking down her top. ‘Are you planning on letting me go anytime soon? There are other people waiting to joust.’

  He sighed. ‘Shame. It’s quite comfy down here … when you’re not kneeling on my nuts. Ouch.’

  She rolled off him. ‘I was aiming for your head. Easy mix-up.’

  He laughed. ‘Harsh.’

  They crawled to the side of the cushion, the inflatable contraption bouncing beneath them.

  It was a relief to get back onto solid ground. The grass had never felt so welcome. She took a moment to straighten her skirt, noticing a smudge of dirt on her top. She gave it a quick rub, but it wouldn’t come off.

  ‘Charlotte?’

  She rubbed harder. Damn thing. What was it, soil? Chocolate?

  ‘Charlie?’

  She looked up.

  ‘I thought that’d get your attention.’ He stepped closer, invading her personal space again. Was he going to kiss her? He took her hand. ‘Are you having fun?’

  She gave a short nod. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Then relax and stop worrying about your top.’

  ‘But I …’ His finger covered her lips.

  ‘No buts.’ He removed his finger. ‘The world will not stop turning because of a mark on your top. You look fine. Better than fine. Beautiful, in fact.’ His eyes dipped to her mouth. ‘Forget about how you look. Focus on how you feel.’

  How she felt? Good question. How did she feel?… Warm. Her skin was tingli
ng. It must be the sun. Had she applied sun cream?

  ‘Are you overthinking again?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Let’s keep busy. What’s next on the schedule?’ His hand slipped into hers. ‘Shall we check out the real jousting? Nate’s taking part.’

  ‘I didn’t know he could ride a horse?’ She decided it was pointless to keep resisting, and resigned herself to holding hands. It wasn’t a huge compromise. The warmth of his fingers threaded into hers was quite comforting. Nonetheless, she didn’t want him to get any ideas.

  ‘He doesn’t, but he rides a motorbike.’

  She frowned. ‘I’m not sure that’s the same thing.’

  ‘He’s one of those people that adapts easily.’

  The feel of his shirt brushing against her arm as they strolled along was extremely pleasant. He’d rolled up the sleeves, revealing tanned forearms that she was struggling not to stare at. ‘I think he likes my sister.’

  Barney laughed. ‘I think he does too.’

  A big crowd had gathered to watch the jousting. A man’s voice came over the tannoy, announcing the contestants.

  ‘Which one is Nate?’ She stretched up to see the riders, but they were concealed behind protective armour.

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Is Paul taking part?’

  Barney scratched his head. ‘It’s not really Paul’s thing.’

  She looked around. ‘Is he here today?’

  He looked at her and smiled. ‘He’ll be along later, when Dusty’s boutique closes.’

  Of course, it was Saturday. He’d be working.

  Her attention was drawn back to the jousting. The rider at the opposite end had lifted his visor and saluted. It was Nate. Everyone cheered. And then the joust began. The riders charged at each other, both missed their targets and rode past. The crowd booed. The second time, Nate made contact, but the other rider didn’t. The crowd cheered. On the other side of the course, Freddie and Florence were jumping up and down, rooting for Nate. Lauren was standing behind them, flinching every time the riders met in the middle. When Nate took a blow to the chest, she covered her eyes.

  Watching her sister, Charlotte considered how sometimes it was easier to see the obvious when you were looking in from the outside. To anyone else, Lauren and Nate were a good match. They were like magnets, their attraction palpable. It was just a shame her sister couldn’t see that.

  A cheer went up when Nate’s opponent dropped his jousting stick. Nate had won the bout. The announcer introduced the next riders and the crowd began dispersing, moving onto the next spectacle.

  ‘What’s going on over there?’ Charlotte tried to see past the bobbing heads.

  ‘Mini jousting for kids.’

  They made their way over. A smaller course was set up next to the main one, using bicycles instead of real horses. Freddie and Florence were at the front of the queue, obviously encouraged by Nate’s performance in the adult competition. Unfortunately, neither child was a particularly gifted bike rider and both lost in the first round. They looked a little upset as Lauren consoled them.

  It would probably help if either of them actually owned a bicycle, thought Charlotte, but her offer to buy them both one had been politely declined by Lauren. But at least it was the first time an offer of help hadn’t resulted in an argument, so maybe they were finally communicating better. She hoped so.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Barney nodded to a collection of stalls which formed a market area. ‘They have everything from pigs on spits, to pottage and venison. The finest in medieval banqueting.’

  Charlotte felt herself grimace. ‘Sounds disgusting. What are the chances of me finding a sandwich?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Remote.’

  There was a bread stall, but it only had loaves, nothing pre-made. Next door was a fruit and veg barrow and a stall selling herbs and spices, behind which, her dad and Sylvia were serving customers.

  ‘Charlotte! Over here, love!’ Sylvia nudged her dad, who was measuring out a portion of sandalwood. Her eyes drifted down to Barney’s hand holding Charlotte’s. ‘I think romance is in the air. How exciting.’ Her white cloth cap flopped in her eyes.

  Charlotte immediately let go. ‘No romance, Sylvia. Just friends.’

  The woman winked. ‘Whatever you say, love.’

  Something caught Barney’s attention and he wandered off. Great help he was.

  Her dad unhooked a large bunch of parsley. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here?’

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘Barney invited me. Apparently, the festival is a big deal.’

  He nodded. ‘It is. Probably the biggest event in the calendar. Have you seen your sister?’ His purple tunic and baggy white shirt were tied around the middle with a drawstring.

  ‘She was over by the jousting. How are your sales going?’

  ‘Good. This is the last of the stock.’ He looked happy, and relaxed too.

  Sylvia hung on to his arm. ‘It’s such a lovely thing to get involved in. Brings people together, isn’t that right, Tony?’

  ‘Sure does.’ Her dad moved away, his attention switching to a customer. ‘Enjoy the rest of your day, sweetheart.’

  Sylvia did her best not to flinch when Tony brushed her off, but Charlotte saw the hurt. If her dad wasn’t interested, then he shouldn’t lead her on. It would be kinder not to give the woman false hope. But then, maybe her dad was like Charlotte herself and kept people at arm’s length to avoid getting hurt. Realising she’d done that with Ethan, when Lauren had quizzed her, had been somewhat startling. Another example of how people often didn’t see what was right under their nose. Perhaps her dad had created a protective barrier too?

  Barney reappeared. ‘Right, I’ve checked the whole area and definitely no sandwiches. But there’s a pie stall that looks good.’

  ‘Pie? Won’t that be messy to eat?’

  He grinned. ‘You have two choices. Stay hungry and clean, or enjoy a delicious … tasty … sumptuous pie’ – he tickled her midriff – ‘filled with delectable ingredients and salty jelly …’

  ‘Get off.’ She laughed, wriggling free. ‘Show me the pies.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Isn’t that a line from Jerry Maguire?’

  ‘No, idiot. That was money.’

  ‘Close enough.’ He led her over to where the pie stall was set up. The smells radiating from inside the tent were glorious. ‘What do you fancy?’

  She wasn’t sure her stomach could cope with anything boar-related, so opted for a brie tart and a glass of mead. Barney chose a beef pie and a glass of real ale. The food court was busy, so they moved away from the crowds and found a grassy area by the lake.

  Despite encouraging her to ‘slum it’, Barney produced napkins, paper plates and a sealed wet wipe.

  She was impressed. ‘Where did you get these?’

  ‘I pinched them from the hotdog van.’

  She accepted the offer of a plate. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I didn’t want to risk a meltdown.’ He handed her a napkin.

  She felt herself blush. ‘Am I that bad?’

  He left her hanging for a while, no doubt enjoying the look on her face. ‘You’re all right … when you relax.’

  ‘A glowing endorsement.’ She took a bite of tart. It was rich, filled with cream, and probably about a thousand calories. It was heavenly.

  He took a swig of beer. ‘Have you always been—’

  ‘Highly strung?’ She really shouldn’t speak with her mouthful. She reached for another napkin.

  He smiled. ‘I was going to say, a perfectionist?’

  ‘Oh, right.’ She swallowed and wiped her mouth. ‘Er, I guess so. I think I take after my mum. She was the same.’

  ‘Are your parents divorced? Tony’s never mentioned your mum.’

  She used the excuse of finishing her mouthful as a way of delaying answering. Saying the words aloud still caused a pinch in her chest. ‘She died eleven years ago. Cancer. It hit him pret
ty hard. Well, it did us all.’

  He didn’t reply straight away. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She drank some mead. The warmth of the nectar sliding down her throat was strangely comforting. ‘It was a difficult time. Still, you know what they say, what doesn’t kill you …’

  ‘Makes you stronger?’ He took a bite of pie.

  ‘I was going to say, gives you a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and a really dark sense of humour.’

  He nearly choked on his pie.

  She patted his back, waiting for him to stop coughing. ‘I have issues.’

  ‘You think?’ He grinned. ‘It’s not the most uplifting life motto I’ve heard, that’s for sure.’ There was no cruelty in his words, and his eyes were twinkling, so she knew he was teasing her. He had nice eyes, she noticed. The same blue as his shirt.

  Her fingers were covered in melted brie. No point cleaning them yet, she’d finish her pie first. ‘So, what’s your life motto?’

  He chewed on his pie, seeming to contemplate her question. ‘I don’t know, really. Something along the lines of: do that shit that makes your heart beat faster and your eyes glow – whether it’s painting, acting … sex – do it as often as you can, because that’s what life’s about. Creating as many passionate, happy moments as possible.’ He gave her a knowing look. ‘And don’t let anyone stop you from doing the things you love, not even yourself.’ She hadn’t realised that a dollop of brie had landed on her skirt, until he leant across and wiped it away with a napkin. ‘Are you going to tell me I’m a dreamer? People usually do. My parents especially.’

  She looked down at the mess on her skirt. ‘Perhaps it’s a little unrealistic.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ He laughed. ‘So, what do you want to do now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She tore open the wet wipe and cleaned her hands. ‘What haven’t we covered yet?’

  He checked his watch. ‘It’s nearly five. We’ve got a couple of hours before the parade starts. How’s your stamina?’