Summer Season on the Seafront. Katie Ginger
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Sarah took a step forward; it seemed she was going in after all. Besides, she still needed to tell Lottie what had happened. It was strange that after being so secretive for so long, she actually wanted to tell someone. She couldn’t imagine not telling her best friend and bottling everything back up. Lottie would know what to say to make her feel better. She always did. ‘Are you all right?’ Luke asked, giving her a concerned look when she didn’t move any further inside.
Sarah plastered on a smile. It was time to act normal, even if she didn’t feel it. ‘Yes, I’m fine thanks, Luke. Just a busy day at work.’ They entered together, making polite conversation about the weather and how the play was going, to see most of the main cast had already arrived. Sid and Lottie were setting the stage with a circle of chairs ready to have another read-through, whilst the other players stood around chatting or muttering their lines to themselves.
Sarah approached her best friend. ‘Hey.’
Lottie’s high blonde ponytail swished as she turned. ‘Hey, you.’ Her smile quickly faded. ‘Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.’
‘I’m fine,’ said Sarah as Mrs Andrews waltzed in, waving to everyone like the Queen on a state visit. ‘Can we catch up later, though?’
‘Yeah, of course,’ Lottie replied, gently rubbing Sarah’s arm. Sarah gave a weak smile and forced down the anger and hurt still pushing up from her chest. Diverting her attention, she fumbled in her bag for her copy of The Tempest and climbed onto the stage to find a seat. She would have preferred talking to Lottie before the rehearsal, but they only had just under four weeks till showtime and there was a lot still to learn in that time.
The stagehands were busy painting the large jagged boards of wood at the back of the stage that were being made to look like rocks. Debbie McCray had already sketched out what they were to look like and two of the guys were painting them as instructed. It was like painting by numbers, just bigger. As a local artist Debbie was proving amazingly useful in designing sets. In the middle, between the boards, stood an MDF cut-out of a sparse, leafless tree. It was yet to be painted but even in this half-decorated state the theatre was coming together and that always sent a thrill down Sarah’s spine.
Debbie had just arrived herself, and her strong Scottish tones echoed around the theatre. ‘Sorry I’m late, everyone,’ she called, eyeing the work being done on stage. ‘I had a wee accident in the gallery.’ She lifted bright red hands, stained with paint, but her smile was wide and cheery. She was wearing a green tie-dye dress that clashed wildly with her newly dyed cherry-red hair. Quite possibly, it was this that was all over her hands.
‘Whatever happened?’ asked Mrs Andrews. Since last year Mrs Andrews had softened somewhat towards her fellow players, but that didn’t stop her being a right old snooty boots when it suited her, or trying to take over. She looked at Debbie as if she was a knife-wielding lunatic smothered in blood.
‘Och, I didn’t realise a tube of cadmium had a split in it until I squeezed some out onto my palette and the whole bloody thing exploded onto my hands. Now look.’ Debbie wiggled her fingers. ‘Never mind though, it’ll fade in a week or two.’
Mrs Andrews shook her head. There was no way she would have waited that long. She liked everything to be spotless; her housekeeper was working overtime dealing with the dust and debris from the kitchen extension.
Gregory and Cecil were the next to arrive in matching bright white loafers and long tailored shorts. They looked like they were on the Riviera rather than in Greenley; all they lacked were straw boaters. From the way they fidgeted, they were still incredibly excited about their little secret and took a seat either side of Sarah, grinning at each other like pantomime dames.
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