She turned in his arms. ‘Thank you for pushing me out of my comfort zone.’
‘My pleasure.’ Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was wild, and he’d never wanted a woman more in his life. But she broke free from the embrace, taking all warmth with her.
Right, yes. He needed to direct a show. The sound of the SM’s voice telling him they were ready to set the cues for the fog machine brought him to his senses.
He returned to the stage and called the cast to join him. When they’d run the fight scene on Thursday, it had been a mess. Partly because Daniel still wasn’t comfortable touching Paul, but mostly because the tension between Lauren and Nate was at breaking point. All he knew was that an argument had taken place following a visit from the authorities regarding Glenda, and Lauren hadn’t taken the interference well.
Barney looked at the four unhappy faces in front of him. It was going to be a long afternoon. ‘We’ll start from when Hermia runs on stage. Nate, can you give Lauren her cue?’
Nate glanced at Lauren, who wouldn’t look at him and disappeared into the wings. A despondent Nate took up his position at Paul’s feet.
Barney moved in front of the stage. ‘Ready when you are.’
As directed, Nate tried to divert Daniel’s attention away from Paul. ‘“Look where thy love comes, yonder is thy dear.”’
Lauren ran onto the stage and flung herself at Daniel, who, being a bit of a weakling, staggered backwards and nearly fell off the side of the stage. Regaining his footing, he shoved her to the ground, a little too forcefully, making her yelp when she hit the stone floor.
Nate jumped up. ‘Mind what you’re doing. You don’t need to push her that hard.’
Lauren ignored Nate’s offer to help her up. ‘I can fight my own battles, thank you.’ She brushed dust away from her shorts, refusing to look at him.
‘I know you can.’ Nate looked stung. ‘I thought you might be hurt.’
‘Well, I’m not.’ She resumed her position by Daniel. ‘Can we get on with this, please? I don’t want to be here all day.’
Barney forced a smile. ‘Pick it up, guys.’
Paul marched over to Lauren. ‘“Will you join with these men in scorning your poor friend?”’
Lauren looked genuinely confused. ‘“I understand not what you mean by this.”’
Paul towered over her. ‘“Tis partly my own fault, which death or absence soon shall remedy.”’
Daniel scurried over and blocked his exit, one eye warily on Nate, as his nemesis grabbed Paul around the waist. Paul’s next move should have been to push Daniel into Lauren’s arms. Unfortunately, Lauren ducked at the wrong moment and Paul fell over her, landing on Daniel, taking Nate down with him. All four lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.
‘Ow! Get off my hand,’ cried Daniel.
‘Then let go of my arm, you idiot.’ Paul tried to roll off Daniel, but his foot connected with Nate’s head. ‘Sorry, mate.’
Nate was too busy trying not to squash Lauren, who’d landed under him.
A sudden burst of fog shot from the wings, covering all four of them.
‘Not yet, Sylvia!’ Barney pressed the button on his headset. ‘Sylvia, cut the fog. You’re too early.’
Another burst of fog engulfed the stage.
Daniel crawled out from the fog, coughing. ‘“Helena, I love thee. By my life, I do.”’
Sylvia’s voice came over the headset. ‘Sorry!’
‘It’s okay, Sylvia. That’s what technicals are for, so we can iron out any wrinkles.’ Barney rubbed his temples. Keeping up such positivity was draining. ‘We’ll come back to this scene once the fog has cleared. Can I have the principals down the front so we can block the finale.’
When everyone had gathered, he outlined his ideas for the end of the show. ‘Instead of a traditional curtain call, I’d like to set a tableau depicting the various relationships throughout the play. I thought we could call it, Unrequited Love.’
A series of blank expressions stared back at him.
‘It’ll make more sense when you’re in position. Nate, if you could come to the front and lie down.’ Nate did as he was asked. ‘Lauren, if you could kneel in front of him, but with your back to him. The idea is that Demetrius is pining after Hermia.’
He only realised the significance of this scenario when several people raised their eyebrows.
He quickly moved on. ‘In front, we’ll have Glenda. If you could adopt a seated position here.’ Again, he hadn’t though this through. Lauren refused to look at Glenda. ‘Next, we have Sylvia and then Tony.’ He guided them into position. ‘Paul and Daniel, if you could come to the other side and form a circle. Finally, myself and Charlotte will finish the loop.’
He stood back to assess the impact.
Talk about awkward. You could cut the tension with a knife. It wasn’t quite what he’d envisaged. ‘At the moment, you all look a little detached. The idea is that each of you is in love with the person in front of you, but they’re in love with the person in front of them. Does that make sense?’
A few murmured responses.
‘So, if everyone could get into character and, on the count of three, adopt a pose that depicts “unrequited love”. After three. One … two …’
Glenda scowled. Lauren looked close to tears. Daniel overplayed it, and Paul’s expression conveyed sarcasm. Only Nate and Sylvia pitched it right, their faces showing the pain of a hopeless cause – but then Barney guessed that they didn’t have to act much.
He moved into position next to Charlotte, wondering how to depict Oberon’s emotions. He didn’t have to try very hard. One look at Charlotte in her white plimsolls, looking relaxed, happy, and a total contrast to the woman who’d bitten his head off the first day she’d arrived in Cornwall and the bottom dropped out of his stomach.
She was frozen in her pose, reaching for him, suspended in animated desire for her master. It was oddly arousing. Not helped when she mouthed, ‘Highly suspicious relationship,’ making him laugh.
He liked her, didn’t he? As in, really liked her.
He was in big trouble … and not just with the play.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Isolde Players present A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Lauren usually loved the opening night of a show. The mixture of excitement and nervous energy bubbling through the cast created a buzz of anticipation. The communal dressing area was a bustle of noise, with people warming up their voices or going over their lines, convinced they’d forget them the moment they stepped on stage. Hanging rails were crammed full of costumes, with people’s discarded personal belongings creating trip hazards on the floor. Cast members walked about in various stages of undress, some made-up, some waiting to have their wigs fitted. Bright spotlights surrounded the large dressing mirrors, even though dusk had yet to descend on the amphitheatre and the stage glowed in the early-evening sunlight.
But, despite the smell of greasepaint and the sight of her children dressed in their respective costumes, looking both mischievous and angelic, she didn’t want to be there. A pastime that was normally so joyous had become torturous.
Slipping her dress off its hanger, she took it into one of the loos to change. She didn’t want to undress in front of people and invite stares or questions as to why she’d lost more weight. It had been nearly two weeks since the woman from the IMLT had called at her house. Lauren wasn’t sure she’d slept a wink since. She kept expecting Glenda to burst into her flat and accuse her of contacting the authorities, using her sons to inflict some sort of physical punishment. Living under the constant threat of being ‘outed’ was shredding her nerves to pieces. She’d become forgetful at work, snappy with the children, isolated from her friends. Not to mention she’d been crying all the time. It was exhausting.
She zipped up the hire dress. It fitted better than the dress Glenda had made, but it was still loose around the middle. She sat down on the closed loo seat, dropping her head in her hands, tired bey
ond belief. Every night, she lay in bed staring at the cracked ceiling, praying for a way out of her predicament. Numerous times she’d been tempted to tell Charlotte what was happening, especially as she suspected that her sister had guessed something was up. Why else would she have paid her catalogue bill? But something always stopped her. Shame? Humiliation? Guilt?
And she had a lot to feel guilty about.
She tugged on the loo roll and blew her nose, wiping away tears from under her sore eyes. She’d been so quick to criticise her sister’s failings when she’d arrived in Penmullion, untactfully pointing out her compulsive tendencies, lecturing her on how she needed to ‘live a little’. As a consequence, her sister had made a real effort to change. Her set designs for the show were magnificent, and she was ingraining herself into community life. Seeing her smiling and joining in with the production was a true delight. There was no way she could ruin that for Charlotte, not when her sister was finally learning how to be happy.
She got up and flushed the crumpled loo paper away. Her make-up would need touching up, she probably had mascara smudges running down her cheeks. Exiting the loo, she headed back to the dressing area, spotting Barney giving last-minute instructions to the front-of-house team. He was already in costume, his dark-red and gold velour slashed top and trousers making him look like a Shakespearean Ziggy Stardust.
Avoiding eye contact with him, she hurried through the wings, wishing she could find a quiet place to hide until she was needed. The audience had started to arrive. She could hear murmurs of appreciation filtering through the flats as those new to Penmullion took in the stunning location of the theatre. Tickets for every night had sold out, which only added to the pressure.
No sooner had she entered the dressing area than Glenda appeared like an unwelcome apparition. ‘Sit down, love. I’ll do your hair.’
Panic raced through her. ‘That’s kind of you, Glenda. But I can do it myself.’
‘No need. Always happy to help.’ Lauren wasn’t quick enough to avoid being manhandled into the chair. ‘Plaiting is tricky, it’s easier if someone else does it. Isn’t that right, Tony?’
Her dad, who was standing by the hanging rail buttoning up a gold-brocade waistcoat, laughed. ‘It’s not something I’ve ever tried, Glenda.’ He smoothed back his short reddish-blond hair.
Glenda winked at him. ‘You’d look rather fetching with a few plaits.’
Sylvia glanced up from applying her make-up and glared at Glenda. ‘What nonsense.’
Glenda pulled a face. ‘All right, keep your hair on. It’s just me and Tony having a bit of a laugh.’ Her expression switched to flirtatious. ‘Isn’t that right, Tony?’
Her dad’s eyes darted from Glenda to Sylvia and then back again. He didn’t look like he wanted to get involved.
Nope, telling her dad wasn’t an option either. He was integral to the community, friends with Glenda, part of a tight-knit group. She couldn’t take that away from him. Besides, would he even believe her? Looking at Glenda now, no one would suspect she was anything other than a jolly, kind-hearted woman who ‘wanted to help’. But the woman had threatened to report her to Social Services for being an unfit parent. Maybe not in so many words, but the warning hung in the air. Who knew what else she was capable of? For the sake of her family, Lauren needed to keep quiet and deal with it herself.
Glenda tugged at the knots in Lauren’s hair, showing little consideration for her scalp. After a moment, she turned to Sylvia. ‘Can I help you?’ That was the problem with so many mirrors, nothing went unnoticed.
Flustered at being caught watching, Sylvia resumed applying her lipstick. ‘I don’t want anything from you, thank you very much, Glenda.’
‘Hark at her, all snooty. What’s her problem?’ Glenda angled her body away from Sylvia, before reverting her attention to Lauren. ‘Don’t forget to remove your jewellery before curtain-up, love.’
Lauren noticed Glenda eying up her charm bracelet in the mirror. ‘Thank you for the reminder.’
‘Looks expensive.’ To anyone watching, it was an innocent enough remark, but Lauren sensed a hidden meaning.
Her hand went instinctively to the bracelet. ‘It was my mother’s.’
‘I hope it’s insured. It would be a shame to lose something so valuable.’ Glenda smiled into the mirror.
Lauren felt her insides tighten. Next to her, she could sense Sylvia itching to say something. Whether she would have done, Lauren would never know. The SM’s head appeared around the door, asking Sylvia to come backstage so they could fit her mic.
With a show of reluctance, Sylvia got up and squeezed Lauren’s shoulder as she passed by. ‘Break a leg, sweetheart,’ she said, giving Glenda a look that said she’d like to break her leg, but was far too much of a lady to do so.
Lauren lowered her eyes, hoping Glenda wouldn’t engage in further conversation. Remaining civil was becoming increasingly challenging.
‘I’ve been thinking.’ Glenda checked the top of the plait was straight. ‘I think we need to increase your weekly repayments to seventy-five quid.’
Lauren’s head jerked up.
‘Keep still, love. I’m trying to do your hair.’
Air seemed to get stuck in her lungs, like when she’d been winded falling down the stairs as a kid. She tried to breathe, but her throat wouldn’t work. All she could do was shake her head.
Glenda continued plaiting. ‘It makes sense. You don’t like owing me money.’ Her eyes checked the mirror to ensure no one was listening. ‘I can see it’s stressing you out.’
Lauren tried to breathe.
‘And that upsets me, because you mean a lot to me. I figure, the quicker we get this debt settled, the better for everyone.’ She smiled, as though she was offering Lauren an all-expenses paid holiday to the Seychelles.
‘I … I can’t.’ Finally, she could speak, albeit in a whisper. ‘I can’t afford to increase the repayments, Glenda. I’m struggling to find fifty pounds as it is.’
Glenda nodded, as if in understanding. ‘You say that, but then I see you wearing flash jewellery, and I think, well, she’s clearly got more money than she’s letting on.’
‘I told you, the bracelet was my mother’s. It was left to me in her will. I didn’t buy it.’
‘No, but you could sell it.’
‘Wh-what?’ A few heads turned at the sound of Lauren’s panicked voice.
‘Keep your voice down, love. No need to involve anyone else. This is a private arrangement.’ Her grip tightened, pulling Lauren’s head back slightly. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
Did Glenda know? Had she found out about the IMLT investigation? A throb thumped in Lauren’s temples. Guilt gave her away, her eyes searching the room until they locked on Nate’s. He was looking over, his expression intense as if he knew what they were discussing.
Sweet, kind, wonderful Nate. Who’d done nothing but be a friend and look out for her and her kids since they’d moved to Cornwall. He was dressed in his Athenian costume, his hair tamed into a neat style, his beard trimmed. She missed him. The kids missed him. But she couldn’t rely on him to rescue her. And besides, she was still mad at him.
She dropped her gaze. Shame burned deep within her as she recalled their argument. But why hadn’t he come to her first with his concerns before reporting Glenda? She could have assured him she was dealing with it. Except she wasn’t, was she? Her life was unravelling, and she had no idea how to stop it.
Glenda’s face lowered next to hers, close enough that Lauren could smell stale coffee. ‘Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said, this is a private arrangement … right?’
Lauren nodded, which was hard when Glenda had hold of her hair.
‘Good girl. Pass me that band.’ Glenda fastened the plait. ‘Perfect.’
‘Please don’t ask me to sell my mother’s bracelet. It has sentimental value.’ She could feel the tears running down her face.
Glenda rested her hands on Lauren’s shoulders, her grip a little
too firm. ‘You don’t need to tell me about family, love. I have boys of my own.’ On cue, the Graham brothers came into the dressing room, blocking out most of the natural light. ‘And they’d do anything for their old mum. Protect me, they do. A little too much, at times, if you know what I mean. You wouldn’t know it to look at them, but they’ve got quite a temper.’ Glenda reached out and chucked Vincent under the chin. ‘But they mean well, and I’d do anything to provide for them. Which is why, sometimes, I have to make tough decisions.’
Lauren heard Nate’s voice before she saw him approach. ‘Cast only in the dressing room, boys. You know that.’
Glenda’s hand left Lauren’s shoulder as she turned to Nate. ‘Since when have you been a stickler for the rules?’
‘There’s not enough room and people are getting changed.’ Nate’s tone remained polite, but firm. He pointed to the door. ‘Leave, please.’
Barney appeared in the doorway. ‘Everything okay in here?’
Everyone looked at Lauren, except for Glenda, who stared at Nate. ‘Someone’s getting a bit full of himself.’
Lauren’s humiliation grew, but Nate wasn’t backing down. ‘You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Glenda?’
Glenda turned to him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? You got something to say?’
Lauren jumped to her feet. ‘Stop it, please.’ Her hands covered her ears like a child trying to block out noise. ‘I can’t take this. Can we just focus on the play?’ She ran from the room, trying to hide the sobs forcing their way past the lump in her throat.
Behind her, she heard Barney say, ‘It’s just first-night nerves.’
If only.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Act One
Charlotte’s ten-minute cue jolted her from her thoughts. She’d been hiding behind one of the large stone pillars, going over her lines, listening to the others on stage, and trying to quash the overwhelming desire to jump in her car and head back to London. But it was too late. People were relying on her. She needed to dig deep, focus, and adopt the role of ‘woodland nymph’.
The Summer Theatre by the Sea Page 24