The Summer Theatre by the Sea

by Tracy Corbett

  Her dad made his entrance as Pyramus, the love-struck hero of the play-within-a-play, and pretended to look through the hole in the wall. ‘“But what see I? No Thisbe do I see.”’ His hand went to his forehead, hamming up the melodrama of the piece.

  Although it was great to see her dad enjoying himself – a far cry from the miserable wreck he’d been in the early months following their mother’s death – she couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed in him. She hadn’t known that Lauren had asked him for money. And whereas she appreciated he wasn’t rolling in cash, surely he could have helped her out. That’s what families did, didn’t they? Made sacrifices, even if it caused hardship. And knowing how proud Lauren was, she couldn’t imagine that it had been easy for her sister to ask for help. Even more reason as to why her dad shouldn’t have refused.

  Further hysterical laughter followed when Nate appeared as Thisbe, wearing a Roman toga dress, his expression forlorn as he acted the reluctant heroine. As he turned around and the audience spotted that the back of his dress was hitched up, revealing his bare backside, they roared with laughter. Nate bent down and pressed his lips against the hole. ‘“My love! Thou art my love, I think?”’

  Glenda ran forwards and unhooked his dress, pretending that ‘mooning’ the audience hadn’t been intentional. The audience rocked with laughter.

  As Charlotte watched Glenda fuss over Nate’s costume, she felt a surge of anger towards the woman who’d extorted money from her sister. A woman who’d threatened, coerced and abused their supposed friendship. A woman who’d appeared sweet, funny and helpful, but was anything but. No wonder Lauren had been so utterly miserable.

  Sylvia appeared high on the raised fairy-grove platform, carrying a lantern. The lights on stage faded, leaving only the lantern aglow. Unlike Glenda, Sylvia was a decent woman, who obviously cared deeply about Lauren as well as her dad. And that meant a lot. So what if she was a bit clumsy? It was nothing compared to Glenda’s crimes. ‘“This lantern doth the moon present!”’

  Freddie roared loudly in his role as Lion. Florence carried on the sword for Pyramus, which was dripping with tomato ketchup.

  Her dad took the sword and stabbed himself, ensuring the tip of the blade poked out from underneath his arm comically. ‘“Now I am dead.”’

  Nate gasped and ran over, tripping on his dress and stumbling to his knees. ‘“Asleep, my love? What, dead, my dove?”’ He picked up the sword, struggling to yank it free from under Tony’s weight and stabbed himself. ‘“Thus Thisbe ends.”’ It took a while for Thisbe to die, mostly because the audience were laughing so much, but eventually the stage faded to black.

  Charlotte prepared for her entrance. She picked up the large donkey head and placed it over her own. During the dress rehearsal, Barney had decided to move the scene where Bottom awakes from his dream to the end of the show. The first thing Bottom would see when he awoke would be Puck wearing the ass’s head, moving spookily about the stage. It was a great idea … in theory.

  In reality, because she’d only had one opportunity to practise wearing the head, which was covered in horsehair and weighed a ton, she hadn’t appreciated how unstable the ruddy thing was. During the dress rehearsal, she’d almost toppled over, only remaining upright through sheer determination and improved core stability thanks to spending the summer negotiating the steep inclines of Penmullion.

  Holding the thirty-inch head steady by its protruding ears, she quietly took up her position behind the backdrop of camouflage army netting. Through the narrow eye-slits, she could just make out her dad yawning and stretching as he awoke from Bottom’s dream. ‘“I have had a most rare vision,”’ he said, sitting up. ‘“I have had a dream past the wit of man to say what dream it was.”’

  At this point, Charlotte was supposed to dart forwards and reveal herself to Bottom. Unfortunately, she didn’t realise the ears of the donkey head were caught in the army netting. Her entrapment only came to light when she made a move forwards and the netting locked tight like a well-designed seat belt. The ass’s head swivelled ninety degrees, blinding her view and masking her mouth. Unable to see, and with her arms and legs entangled in army netting, she realised there was no immediate escape. She yelled her muffled line from the back of the stage, hoping no one would notice.

  Her dad faltered slightly over his speech, no doubt wondering why Puck’s head and body were facing in opposite directions.

  She persevered as best she could, exhausted from having to shout her lines through two inches of wicker, her movements restricted to two steps either side of where she was entangled. She’d never been so relieved to reach the end of a scene. Well, except for the fly-rig scene, which she was still having nightmares about … and not just because she’d been forced to mount a concrete pillar. Barney’s declaration of love had been both startling and unexpected. She’d had no idea he felt that way. And why would she? He was attentive, yes. Affectionate, definitely. No man had ever paid her so much attention. Whether it was feeding her, massaging her, or showing her the delights of physical intimacy. But love? It didn’t make sense. People didn’t fall in love after a few weeks messing around … did they? It wasn’t logical.

  The lights cut to black. Several pairs of hands sprung from nowhere and began groping her in the dark. Despite encouraging whispers that ‘no one will have noticed’, she remained sceptical. A green goblin wearing a back-to-front ass’s head, and stuck in army camouflage netting, was something most people would notice.

  Eventually, she was freed from the netting, and able to deliver the show’s closing speech. As she moved forwards, carrying the donkey head under one arm, she was lit only by a follow spot. There was no one else on stage, it was just her and the audience.

  She placed the donkey head on the ground. ‘“If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended. That you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear. So, give me your hands if we be friends, and Puck shall restore amends.”’

  As she took her bow, she had to admit that receiving a rapturous round of applause was a nice experience. She could see the appeal.

  The rest of the cast moved onto the stage and took up their positions for the end tableau.

  As she turned and reached out to Oberon, he smiled and winked at her. Something gave way inside her, as if the last remnants of stress had finally melted away. She’d loved her time in Penmullion. She’d participated in amateur dramatics, made new friends, and enjoyed reuniting with her family, not to mention spending time with Barney, but she was returning to London next week and her Cornish adventure would be over.

  As the clapping continued, Barney stood up and led the bows, which was an awkward affair as Lauren, Glenda, Sylvia and Nate all refused to hold hands. Never one to panic, Barney stepped forward and addressed the audience.

  ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. We hope you enjoyed tonight’s show and we appreciate you coming along to support the Isolde Players’ production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. As you leave the auditorium tonight, you will see front of house personnel carrying buckets and collecting money for Hearty Lives Cornwall. This is a local project run throughout the county, encouraging children and families to adopt healthier lifestyles and, as such, lower the risk of heart disease. It’s something that has affected all of us only recently.’ He nodded at Sylvia, who disappeared off stage and returned with a huge bouquet of flowers. ‘Tonight’s performance is dedicated to our director and special guest this evening, Jonathan Myers.’

  Sylvia carried the flowers over to Jonathan, who stood up and took a bow as the audience, cast and crew clapped loudly.

  Charlotte hadn’t realised that Jonathan was in the audience. Amongst the clapping and whistling, she watched Barney step away from centre stage, allowing Jonathan to take the limelight. Jonathan’s cheeks reddened as he soaked up the applause. Considering how close the man had come to expiring, it was a miracle to see his recovery. A recovery that was only possible thanks to Barney.

&nb
sp; There was no getting away from it, Glenda wasn’t the only person who she’d misjudged this summer. Barney Hubble wasn’t a lazy layabout, with no focus or prospects, but a born leader who worked extremely hard and had a lot to offer the world. It was just a shame he didn’t have a life plan, or a stable career like her – or at least she would have one, once she returned to London. Otherwise they might … What? Have continued their acquaintance?

  Whatever. No point dwelling. It wasn’t like she’d developed feelings for him, was it? It was a summer fling. A dalliance. A temporary distraction. The ache in her chest was nothing more than the sadness everyone felt when a particularly good holiday was drawing to an end. It would fade soon enough … wouldn’t it?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sunday, 28 August

  Barney unbolted the fairy-grove construction, mulling over what a massive comedown the clear-up session was – like suffering a particularly bad hangover after a wild night partying. Without the softening of moonlight and mesh filters, the set looked battered and tired; no longer a magical space, but an empty cauldron of scattered rubbish and discarded programmes. The cast looked equally weary, their once energised movements now lethargic as they cleared the theatre ready for the next group of players to take over.

  The hairs on his arms lifted as the wind picked up, flapping the cloth against the scaffolding. The weather had cooled overnight. It was taking longer for the sun to emerge from behind the clouds this morning. Technically it was still summer, for a few more days at least. Tomorrow’s bank holiday would see the last of the holidaymakers soaking up Cornish life before the kids returned to school and a new term began. For him, too. Student life beckoned.

  He searched for a screwdriver, needing an implement to lever out the staples holding the cloth in place. Returning to his medical studies didn’t fill him with unadulterated joy, but he wasn’t quite as averse to it as he’d once been. Directing the show had unearthed a set of skills he’d never known he had. The most significant being his ability to overcome adversity. If directing had been a breeze, then it might not have felt quite so rewarding when everything came together. Last night’s performance had culminated in a standing ovation and the promise from the Cornish Times reporter of a glowing review in next week’s edition. It was heady stuff. Addictive.

  He found a screwdriver and returned to the task of dismantling the fairy grove.

  He’d always thought he lacked the necessary mettle to cope with adversity, so it had been something of a shock to discover that wasn’t the case. Maybe he could use these new-found skills to improve his attitude towards medicine? It was worth a try. The words ‘clutching’ and ‘straws’ sprang to mind.

  Sylvia appeared wearing illuminous-yellow rubber gloves, complete with floral cuff and matching apron. ‘The loos are cleaned. What would you like me to do next?’

  He looked around the theatre. Nate was helping Tony dismantle the tree house. He couldn’t imagine Sylvia wanting to join them – manual labour wasn’t her strongest suit – but also because things were a little cool between her and Tony.

  Barney was just glad that Glenda wasn’t around to add to the tension. Despite quitting the show after the opening night, she’d contacted him yesterday to say she’d be collecting the costumes this morning. Being outed as a loan shark can’t have been fun, so he understood why she couldn’t face everyone, but it was selfish nonetheless, and had nearly ruined the show. Lauren had taken on the role of Hippolyta, and Sylvia had covered the smaller parts, but it hadn’t been without its headaches, namely a day spent at the theatre re-blocking and training a new team to control the fly rig. But it had come together in the end, thanks to the commitment of the cast and backstage crew. The atmosphere had dramatically improved without the Graham family’s involvement, so, as annoyed as he’d been when all three had stormed off, he’d ended up being grateful that his new-found leadership skills could take the rest of the week off.

  ‘You could help Lauren sort out the costumes when she returns from taking the props to the hall with Charlotte. They should be back soon.’

  ‘Righty-ho.’ Sylvia peeled off her gloves. ‘Shall I make tea in the meantime? Looks like everyone could do with a brew.’

  ‘Sounds great. Thanks, Sylvia.’

  He watched her take everyone’s drinks orders. Tony replied with a one-word answer, Daniel ignored her, and the SM seemed flustered at being interrupted whilst trying to tally the bar takings. Only Nate responded with a smile, his gaze drifting to the steps leading up to the car park in the hope that Lauren would appear soon.

  Barney might deem this love-struck behaviour slightly pathetic, if he wasn’t afflicted by the same condition.

  Laughter drifted down from the auditorium. Paul was helping Freddie and Florence pick up rubbish, but was currently chasing them around the seating wearing the ass’s head from the show. Their smiling faces and infectious laughter brought on another bout of longing for kids of his own. It also served to cement the decision he’d made to return to medicine. Aside from accepting the fact that he needed a challenge, he’d also realised that floating along, living a carefree, hand-to-mouth existence, would not be conducive to achieving his long-term goal of a family. For that to happen, he needed to be in a relationship. More specifically, he wanted to be in a relationship with Charlotte. And Charlotte had made it clear she wasn’t interested in being with a man who didn’t have a stable job.

  Having removed the staples from the cloth, he rolled the now faded and torn midnight-blue fabric into a tight ball.

  Knowing that Charlotte would be returning to London herself soon had helped soften the blow of succumbing to his parents’ coercions. Having realised that he’d fallen in love with her, he needed to take drastic action to convince her that moving from a casual fling into a serious relationship was a good thing. And for her to view him as a serious prospect, he needed a more focused career plan. Being a specialist might not hugely appeal, but, with any luck, his lengthy sabbatical might have strengthened his resolve. His parents had assured him that things got easier once you’d specialised, so maybe this time he’d rise to the challenge and not falter at every hurdle. He could only hope.

  As he unbolted the legs of the scaffolding, he spotted Charlotte descending the theatre steps. He was struck by how stunning she was. Dressed in jeans and a cream top, she was scrubbed clean of all traces of green. Her hair was wavy and free, dancing about in the breeze as she skipped down the steps. His heart missed a beat, something his medical brain told him wasn’t possible unless he suffered from premature ventricular contractions, which he didn’t. He didn’t care. He was in love. He’d never been in love before. It was strangely liberating.

  When it became apparent that she hadn’t welcomed his declaration of love at a very inopportune moment during the opening night, his initial disappointment had given way to a determination to win her over. Of course she’d panicked. Charlotte was a cautious, conservative and slightly obsessive woman. She needed careful handling. If he came on too strong, she’d bolt. He needed to gently persuade her that letting him in to her life was a positive thing, and not scare her off.

  Her coolness towards him during the rest of the run had thawed after last night’s performance when, riding on the coattails of adrenaline, she’d accepted his offer to continue partying back at his place, and they’d spent the night drinking champagne and rolling about his bed entangled in the sheets. It had been playful, intimate and hugely enjoyable. He’d also been careful to steer well clear of anything resembling ‘feelings’. He wasn’t that stupid. He’d made her breakfast in bed this morning, joined her in the shower – under the pretence of needing to help remove all traces of greasepaint – and teased her over the various mishaps she’d encountered during the show. All of which she’d accepted with good humour, proving she was no longer mortified at being emotionally exposed, but rather empowered by it.

  He might have seen this as a breakthrough, if it hadn’t felt quite so much like a goodby
e. One final fling before reality kicked back in. A feeling he was desperately trying to ignore, hoping he was wrong.

  But, as she neared the stage, he realised her animation wasn’t as a result of happiness following their playful night together, but anger. It radiated off her in waves, like an electrical current. Why was she so cross? More worryingly, why did her anger appear to be directed at him?

  ‘I want a word with you.’ Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt and dragged him away from prying eyes.

  He let her, mostly because she’d rip his T-shirt if he resisted. Hawaiian Elvis was his favourite. ‘What have I done?’

  He might not have experienced love before, but he knew enough about women to know when he’d fucked up. Although quite what he’d done to piss her off in the hour or so she’d been gone, he didn’t know.

  She let go of his T-shirt and folded her arms. ‘Lauren received a call from the police this morning.’

  ‘Okay.’ He had a feeling more was coming.

  ‘Glenda Graham and her two sons have been arrested.’

  He was right.

  ‘The police raided Glenda’s caravan late last night and removed evidence.’

  So that’s why she hadn’t shown up this morning. ‘What kind of evidence?’

  Her gaze narrowed. ‘Take a wild guess.’ There was no volume in her words, her anger was being contained – barely – almost as if she was waiting for the opportune moment to unleash it. ‘You’re a smart man. What do you think the police might find in Glenda’s home?’

  He was being tested. There were two possible answers. The truth, or a lie. Both would result in his demise. ‘Evidence of illegal moneylending?’

  ‘Bingo.’ Her cheeks were no longer nymph-green, but warning-red. ‘A notebook listing all Glenda’s customers, and several handwritten contracts. Not to mention a stack of cash.’