by Katie Ginger
‘That sounds fun.’
Sid perched on the barstool next to Selena and his leg brushed hers as he climbed up, sending a shiver through him. ‘It was okay.’
‘Anyone I know in the group?’ Selena finished her drink.
‘Maybe. I can’t really say yet. We’re going to print a list in the paper this week. Would you like another drink?’ Sid asked. He needed one. The nerves in his tummy were biting again making him feel sick.
‘Yes, please.’ Selena turned to the barman who stood waiting to take their order. ‘I’ll have a glass of champagne, please.’ She turned back. ‘If that’s okay?’
‘Of course.’ Sid ordered a beer for himself and drank half of it. ‘Shall we find a table?’
Selena nodded and smiled before slipping elegantly from her stool and grabbing her coat. For a guy with no experience it seemed to be going pretty well so far. He hoped the rest of the night would too.
Selena led them to a table by the window and sat down. ‘Thanks for the champagne. Wine’s a bit of a killer for me and I don’t really like beer or spirits. Too many shots when I was at uni.’
‘On those one pound a shot nights?’ He laughed. ‘Yeah, me too. The Student Union’s got a lot to answer for.’
Selena angled in towards him. ‘Do you remember when that guy’s shoe ended up on the roof of Cooper Building and was there for the whole term?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Sid smiled at the memory. Most of his uni days were a faded blur now, barely recalled. It was nice to talk about them with someone again. He’d been so happy then. ‘They never did find out who it was, did they?’
Selena laughed and shook her head. ‘I always imagined him hopping home that night all drunk and wobbly.’
Sid chuckled too.
‘I like your shirt,’ Selena offered and Sid blushed. He wasn’t used to receiving compliments on his clothes.
‘Thanks. Are you glad to be back in Greenley?’ he asked. Selena’s olive skin glowed in the sunlight shining through the window and her long dark hair reminded him of a chocolate waterfall.
‘Sort of. Obviously I wish it had worked out with my ex-boyfriend. I thought at one point we were going to get married, but it just wasn’t to be. I’m happy to be back for a while though.’ She ran a hand over her ponytail and pulled it around over her shoulder the ends resting on her cleavage.
Sid pictured her ex and in his mind, he looked like Harrison Ford playing Han Solo. Someone rugged and handsome. In short, nothing like him.
‘So what about you?’ Selena asked before taking a sip of her drink. She sounded genuinely interested and Sid’s nerves rose up once more, wanting to give her the right answers. ‘Did you come back straight from university?’
‘Yeah.’ Sid thought about mentioning his parents but didn’t. He didn’t want to ruin the mood. ‘I got a job on the paper then decided to stay. I’ve been with the Gazette ever since.’
‘Didn’t you ever want to work for a big paper or the BBC or something?’
‘No. Not really. I’d have to wear a suit then.’ Sid joked but it had taken all his self-control to wear one for the entirety of Elsie’s funeral. Thoughts of Lottie threatened to push in but he buried them. He hated the way his brain did that. ‘And I’d have to sit in a hot stuffy office. I think I’d miss the sea.’
Selena ran her fingers over the stem of her glass and her voice was all soft and dreamy. ‘That’s one of the things I missed most when I was up north. I love being by the sea and hearing the waves. Even though I could do without the seagulls waking me up at stupid o’clock in the morning.’
‘Definitely,’ agreed Sid, and he told her about the enormo-gull that had attacked him the other week. Hearing Selena laugh was like listening to his favourite record. A feeling of warmth flooded through him, and pride at having been the one to make her smile.
‘I’m surprised you survived,’ she replied, a hint of a laugh still in her voice. ‘There was one in town harassing pedestrians the other day. Some poor old man who was sat on the bench opposite the museum had to fight it off with his walking stick. I couldn’t stop laughing. You should have heard the names he was calling it.’
Sid grinned. ‘You’d be surprised at the wide vocabulary of the older generation.’
Selena laughed again and Sid watched her face as it filled with joy. ‘So what about you?’ he asked, unwilling to let the conversation fall into silence. ‘Any plans for a big career somewhere?’
‘No, not really.’ Selena kept her eyes on the glass as she shrugged. ‘I like what I do. It makes people happy. Do you live on your own?’
Sid tensed up. Did he look like one of those guys who had always lived on their own, all scruffy and untidy? Or worse, smell like it? He resisted the urge to try a surreptitious sniff of his shirt. ‘Umm, yeah. Yeah, I do.’
‘That’s nice. I’d kill for some space at the moment.’
He could understand but felt a tinge of sadness for something he’d never have again. He’d got on well with his parents and he missed them.
‘But I’m saving up,’ Selena continued, cheerfully. ‘So I should be able to rent somewhere within a few months.’ She looked up at him from under her impossibly long eyelashes and her dark brown eyes held him captivated. ‘Anyway, are you seeing anyone at the moment?’
Sid frowned. ‘Umm, no. No, I’m not.’ He thought about mentioning Lottie but what would he say? She wasn’t his girlfriend so what was the point of saying anything? He didn’t know much about girls but he knew they could get jealous. He’d read it in a copy of GQ at the doctor’s once. Sid swallowed the other half of his beer.
‘Thirsty?’ Selena joked.
He felt his cheeks burn. ‘It is quite hot today.’
Her face lightened. ‘We have been talking nonstop.’
They had, hadn’t they? He chanced at a look at his watch. They’d already been there for forty-five minutes. Wow. It only felt like five. In his mind he applauded himself at how well things were going and watched Selena smile back. He noticed her cheeks plumped up when she did and he wanted to stroke the smooth pink tinged skin. ‘Did you want another one?’
‘Yes, please, but I’ll need something to eat before I drink too much more or I’ll get tipsy. Even on this, I’m still a bit of a lightweight.’
Before Sid could worry about rejection he said, ‘We could eat here if you like?’ He glanced at the menu. He had no idea what a compote was but the odd smell he’d first encountered had gone away and he was sure he’d be able to find something suitable to eat. Every pub had a variation on a good old burger after all.
‘That’d be lovely,’ Selena replied, edging closer so her leg rested against his. Sid admired her full pink lips and wondered what it’d be like to kiss them.
Sid switched to Coke as he was driving but they drank and chatted, and he found that Selena was surprisingly funny. She made jokes at her own expense, which he liked, and they talked about the music they used to listen to. They chatted about uni friends and speculated on where they were now, wondering if any of them had ended up doing the jobs they’d actually studied for. As Selena pointed out when she’d touched his arm, he seemed to be the only one doing that, which was a win as far as she was concerned.
But the moment that blew Sid away was when, during dinner, the conversation turned to Eighties movies and Selena said one of her favourite movies of all time was The Goonies. Sid had a mad passion for Eighties movies and The Goonies was one his favourites too. Selena even knew the names of all the Brat Pack.
‘You fancied Andrew McCarthy?’ Sid asked, unable to hide the surprise from his voice. Andrew McCarthy had always played the shy, geeky characters. Characters like Sid, and the flicker of hope he’d been harbouring suddenly flared up.
‘I know,’ she replied, smiling. Her eyes dipped in embarrassment as she tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘But I bet you always fancied Molly Ringwald,’ she teased.
Sit sat back holding his empty glass of Coke, shaking his head. He had. The
re weren’t many people who even remembered those movies, let alone still watched them. He’d thought he and Lottie were the only ones. ‘Maybe a little,’ he replied, pretending to scratch his cheek to see if the heat he felt inside was noticeable. When Selena sipped the last of her drink he found himself saying, ‘One for the road?’
When Sid drove them home that night and parked in front of Selena’s parents’ house, he didn’t know if he should give her a kiss or not. The date had gone well. Better than well, actually. He didn’t have anything to compare it to but it had been fun.
He pulled on the handbrake and turned to Selena. ‘I had a really good time. Thanks.’
‘Me too.’ There was a glint in her eye but he didn’t know if it was just the moon reflecting down.
Sid waited for a second but she didn’t get out. He could smell her perfume and the hairs on the back of his neck raised with anticipation. Was she really waiting for a kiss? From him? Of course from him, he thought, there was no one else there. He was just about to lean in and see if she would welcome a peck on the cheek when a wave of nerves so strong they nearly pushed his dinner out of his stomach rolled over and without thinking he sat back.
Selena looked away and her voice was quiet. ‘Goodnight then.’
He felt so jittery all he could say was, ‘Umm, goodnight.’ And she glanced at him one last time then opened the car door and climbed out.
Fuck it.
Chapter 9
Lottie strolled down to the theatre about a week after the auditions. The first meeting of the amateur dramatics group was about to begin and they were waiting outside for her to unlock the door. The evening air had cooled and some of the players did little dances on the spot to keep warm. Thankfully, work had been slow and David had let her go early to have time to grab something to eat before the meeting.
Some of the successful auditionees had already dropped out but there was still a decent number and a bolt of sickness shot through Lottie at the thought of speaking in front of everyone. But Lottie knew she had no choice. Her nan really was a scheming old so-and-so. She was having to face every conceivable fear doing this, and even some she didn’t know she’d had.
Lottie opened the theatre door and led them inside. As they entered everyone peered around as surprised as she’d been the first time she saw it.
‘Gosh, it really needs some work doesn’t it?’ said Gregory.
‘I had no idea it was this bad,’ Cecil replied.
Sarah caught up with Lottie as she walked down towards the stage. ‘I’m not sure our budget will even make a dent on all this.’
‘No, it won’t,’ Lottie replied with a sigh. She’d have to deal with that sooner or later but right now she wanted everyone to be cheerful and enjoy this first meeting. ‘But it’s okay, we’ll think of something.’ Sarah smiled and took a seat.
‘Yuck, what’s that stink?’ called Mrs Andrews, tottering in wearing silver high heels.
‘It’s just a bit of damp, Mrs Andrews,’ replied Lottie. ‘It’ll get better as we clean up.’
‘Is that what we’re doing today?’ she asked, panicked.
‘No, Mrs Andrews, don’t worry. If everyone could take a seat, please?’ The players filled the front row, watching her and her voice wavered until she hit her stride. ‘Welcome, everyone, to the first meeting of the Greenley Players. I thought today, as it’s our first meeting, I could introduce myself and we could discuss some plans for the group. I want everyone to be involved in the decisions that are made about where we go from here. This is a community theatre so we should all get a say. I thought we could start by going around and introducing ourselves?’
There were murmurs of agreement and nervous glances.
‘I’ll begin,’ said Lottie, shakily but hoping to chivvy them up. ‘My name’s Lottie Webster and my nan, Elsie, was chairman of the committee – she asked me to take over her place before she died. So here I am.’ Inwardly, Lottie congratulated herself. She’d never said this sentence before without pausing to keep back tears, even when she’d been practising at home. This time she’d actually sounded confident.
Lottie looked to her left, to where Deborah McCray sat and smiled, encouraging her to begin. Mrs McCray raked a hand through her un-brushed red hair. It wasn’t Titian red, or Scottish Highland red. It was red from a bottle and had faded to a rusty, orangey-brown.
‘Well, hullo there, my name is Debbie McCray,’ she shouted in a strong, almost indecipherable Scottish accent. ‘I’m an artist and I’ve lived here in Greenley for almost ten years now.’
‘Thank you, Mrs McCray,’ said Lottie, trying to hide her confusion. She hadn’t understood a word.
‘Call me Debbie.’
‘Debbie it is then.’ At least she’d understood that. Lottie turned next to Mrs Andrews.
‘My turn?’ Mrs Andrews stood up to face the room. ‘Well, I probably don’t need an introduction. I’m sure you all know me.’
‘I don’t,’ replied Conner. Gregory either hiccupped or laughed, Lottie wasn’t sure as she was too busy trying to suppress her own giggle. Gregory then leaned into Cecil and whispered, ‘Half the men in Greenley know Mrs Andrews.’
‘Intimately,’ said Cecil and they snickered like school boys.
Lottie cleared her throat and eyed them disapprovingly. They stopped and kept their eyes down.
Mrs Andrews glared at Conner. ‘My name is Adelaide Andrews. My husband is an MP, sitting in the House of Commons as we speak, and because of that I have a certain measure of influence and position within our lovely little community. Of course, I also have a lot of experience of West End theatre.’
Gregory stopped nursing the can of gin and tonic he’d brought with him.
‘Oh, really?’ asked Lottie, wondering why Mrs Andrews hadn’t mentioned it before. ‘In what capacity?’
‘Well …’ Mrs Andrews paused. ‘Well, I’m rather a connoisseur, I suppose.’
‘Oh, I see. Thank you, Mrs Andrews.’ Lottie was beginning to regret having added her to the group. She had a feeling Mrs Andrews was going to be trouble. She was clearly used to getting her own way and being the centre of attention. Lottie made a mental note to read a self-help book on team building or managing difficult people.
‘Hello, everyone,’ came a cheerful baritone voice. ‘My name’s Gregory Oliver, I used to be an actor in the West End before retiring down here to Greenley. Cecil and I run the bookshop on the seafront.’
His teeth were dazzlingly white and his lined face creased as he smiled. Lottie tried to pinpoint his age and could only place him somewhere between forty and fifty-five. The murmuring voices were now replaced with those of surprise and excitement. ‘I had a few supporting roles, not exactly leading, but—’
Mrs Andrews coughed and Lottie was sure she said ‘liar’ while doing it.
‘Are you alright, Mrs Andrews?’ asked Gregory. ‘Fur ball in your throat?’
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she replied, narrowing her eyes. ‘Just a tickle.’
‘As I was saying, I had a few small supporting roles, probably more than my fair share, if I’m honest, but also chorus line and understudy work. I’m quite familiar with the theatre world and how it all works, so I hope I can be of some help.’ He sat back and crossed his legs, his shiny white loafers catching the light.
Lottie had heard rumours about Gregory having been an actor but as she’d never seen anything with him in she just thought everyone was over-exaggerating. She’d imagined him playing roles like ‘extra number 341’, or ‘man in background who walks past with a paper’. Possibly even ‘dead body in morgue’, but nothing quite like this.
‘I was always a jobbing actor,’ Gregory continued. ‘But I had some decent parts. Despite my best efforts to decapitate the leads I never got to actually be the star, but hey-ho, such is life. I have a decent baritone voice—’
Mrs Andrews scoffed again. Cecil glared this time but she tossed her hair and studied her nails. What on earth had happened between t
hese two to warrant behaviour like this? Lottie would have to find out.
‘It may be a little rusty, but I do love to sing – though Cecil here is far better than me.’
‘Stop it!’ replied Cecil, tapping his arm. He turned to the group. ‘Hello, everyone, I’m Cecil and I run the bookshop too. I love, love, love a good musical number! Give me a top hat and cane and I’m away.’
‘It’s true,’ said Gregory, looking at everyone. ‘You should see him at parties.’
Everyone giggled. Lottie didn’t go to parties, but if Gregory and Cecil ever held one she definitely would. She could imagine them being amazing fun. ‘Thank you very much,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’ll both be invaluable.’
‘And may I say, dear,’ continued Gregory, ‘how much we all miss dear, dear Elsie. She was a lovely woman. Very fond of a murder mystery. Always in when we’d had a delivery.’
Lottie smiled at him. She was getting used to people saying nice things about her nan and it made all this theatre stuff seem worthwhile. ‘That’s very kind of you to say, thank you. I think she was lovely too.’ Lottie looked to Conner. The poor boy had sunk as low in his chair as possible without actually being underneath it.
‘Well, umm, I’m Conner Shaw. I go to uni at Strawley and I’m doing Media and Film and … well, I just thought it’d be cool to do something like this.’
‘Aww, what a wee sweetie,’ said Debbie at which Conner went an impressive shade of pink.
‘What about you, Lee?’ Lottie asked.
Lee’s eyes moved to her, a hint of fear in them. He sat up in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap. A faint redness appeared on his neck, rising up to his cheeks. ‘Well, I suppose I’m mainly known for having got into a few fights on Saturday nights, but, actually, I’ve always wanted to act. You know those big dramatic scenes in movies? I’ve always wanted to be the one doing that. And I’ve been trying to change my ways since I turned thirty. You know, be more mature.’