Sunday, 21 August – 2 days till curtain-up
Barney flinched when the stage manager’s voice crackled over the headset. No one had responded to her requests to cue the fog machine and she was getting increasingly irate. Technical rehearsals were never easy. The cast got bored from hanging around waiting for the backstage crew to set the cues, the kids became fractious and distracted the more the day progressed, and the SM spent the entire time shouting at everyone for not listening to instructions. As director, Barney was expected to manage the whole debacle, remaining calm and positive as he was pulled in all directions, trying to sort out a multitude of queries, from issues with the props, to wardrobe malfunctions. Not exactly a restful way to spend a sunny afternoon in August. He’d been at the theatre since nine a.m. trying to coordinate the merging of the backstage team with the onstage team and it was proving testing.
‘Is anyone going to answer me?’ The SM’s yell almost deafened him.
He looked around, trying to work out why Sylvia wasn’t responding. She was in the makeshift wings frowning at the fog machine. He went over. ‘Everything okay?’
‘I’ve followed the instructions, but the start button won’t work.’ She pressed the big red switch to emphasise her point.
Barney picked up the cable and followed the trail to the extension socket tucked against the flats. ‘It’s not switched on at the wall, Sylvia.’
She came over to check, as if not believing him. ‘I was sure I’d switched it on.’ She smacked her forehead with her hand. ‘I’m so stupid.’
‘It’s an easy mistake.’ He flicked the wall switch on. ‘Try it now.’
She went back to the machine and pressed the red switch. A burst of fog exploded from the vent. ‘It works!’
Yeah, funny that. Leaving Sylvia to deal with the fog machine, he returned to the stage, only to be accosted by an irate Glenda. ‘Lauren tells me she’s not wearing the dress I made for her.’ She stood in front of him, hands on hips, making it clear she wasn’t budging. ‘I put her straight. I said, “You’re wearing it, my girl,” but she’s refusing.’
Barney knew tact was required. ‘Unfortunately, the dress you’d made didn’t quite work, Glenda. Sorry about that. I know you’ve put a lot of effort into the costumes.’
Everybody else’s costumes, anyway. Lauren’s dress looked like a drab rag compared to the rich fabrics used to dress the other characters. He was starting to wonder if Nate’s ‘bullying’ theory was right.
‘No one else has complained. I don’t see why she should get special treatment just because she doesn’t like her costume.’ Glenda pointed to where Lauren was sitting with Tony, her voice deliberately loud.
At that moment, Sylvia appeared from the wings and went over to squeeze Lauren’s hand, a show of support against the might of Glenda’s verbal attack. Tony remained oblivious. It was hard to tell whether he genuinely didn’t notice, or just didn’t want to get involved.
Barney kept his voice low, indicating this wasn’t a discussion that needed to include anyone else, especially not Lauren. ‘It isn’t that she doesn’t like it.’
‘Then what is it? She’s too vain, that girl. She needs to stop fussing over her appearance and wear what she’s given.’ Glenda’s voice rose another notch.
Lauren stumbled to her feet and ran towards the loos.
Sylvia gave Glenda a pointed look and followed Lauren into the loos, not before scolding Tony with, ‘You shouldn’t let her speak to Lauren like that.’ But the remark was lost on Tony, who looked around with a puzzled expression, as if confused by what had just happened.
Barney reverted his attention to Glenda, wondering if he should point out that Lauren was the least vain person he knew. But he suspected this had more to do with issues outside the drama group than a spat over costumes. ‘You’ve done an amazing job with the costumes, Glenda. We just need to put Hermia in something more fitted and less likely to trip her up.’
‘If that’s the only issue, then I’ll take up the hem.’
‘It’s also too baggy. Hermia’s supposed to be petite. We need the visual contrast between her small stature and Helena’s tall stature, otherwise the fight scene in the forest isn’t funny.’
‘I’ll take the dress in.’
‘No need, Glenda.’
‘Jonathan liked my designs.’ Glenda was used to getting her own way. No wonder she made such a formidable moneylender.
‘I’m sure he did, but this particular dress isn’t working.’ He hoped his tone indicated it was discussion over. ‘The show starts on Tuesday, it’s easier if we use the hire dress I picked up yesterday.’ He made a point of moving past her. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, we need to get on with the tech.’
He ignored her grunt.
Directing a play was similar to working on the wards, he’d decided. Endless pacifying, juggling a multitude of tasks, and bouncing from one issue to another. The only differences were that no one was likely to die on his shift, and he got to go home at a reasonable hour … at least, he hoped so.
He took a moment to look around the stage, wondering what else needed resolving.
Nate was looking after the kids, handing out packets of crisps in a bid to keep them quiet. Good. That was one less thing to worry about.
Paul was up a ladder moving spotlights. It was all hands on deck in amateur dramatics. Thankfully, the theatre supplied a backstage crew for the run, so he didn’t have the hassle of trying to find volunteers to work lighting and sound.
Daniel was sitting alone, his head buried in his script. It would be nice if he made himself useful, but he wasn’t causing any grief, so Barney left him to his own devices.
That just left Charlotte.
He found her standing next to the tree house. She was wearing her snug-fitting jeans with a red top and what looked like white school plimsolls. Having admitted she didn’t own any trainers, he’d suggested she buy a pair to rehearse in. High heels weren’t exactly suitable for playing the part of a woodland nymph.
As he neared, he could see a frown creasing her forehead. She was clinging hold of the scaffolding, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.’ There was a genuine sense of panic in her voice as she looked up at Quentin and Vincent Graham.
‘I see you’ve met Glenda’s sons.’ Barney realised that the Neanderthal pair were trying to get Charlotte to test out the fly rig. Both brothers were built like Thor, only with substantial beer bellies and significantly less hammer skills.
Charlotte turned at the sound of Barney’s voice. ‘They want me to climb up there and jump off!’
‘She’s gotta wear the harness.’ Quentin held out the leather belt. ‘Mum said so.’
Despite being well into their thirties, both brothers still obeyed their mother. Sad, really. Or maybe it was just him that disobeyed parental orders? ‘Give me five minutes, will you?’
With some reluctance, they repositioned themselves a few feet away. They weren’t very good at switching focus, he’d discovered. Still, as muscle was needed backstage, he had to keep them sweet.
‘There’s nothing to sort out.’ Charlotte’s whole body was physically shaking. ‘I’m not jumping off six feet of scaffolding.’
Barney tried to take her hand, but she wouldn’t let go of the support pole. ‘No one’s asking you to.’
Her expression turned hopeful. ‘I don’t have to jump off?’
‘It’s more of a gentle swing down.’
Her eyes grew wide. ‘From up there?’ More head shaking. ‘No way, I … I can’t.’
He’d forgotten about her fear of heights. How to tackle this? he wondered. Coercion? Bribery? Or just plain diversion tactics? He prised one hand away from the scaffolding. ‘If you can’t do it, then I won’t make you.’
She looked wary. ‘You won’t?’
‘Of course not. But I think it’s a shame. Puck flying across the stage would look fantastic, quite a spectacle for the audience.’
‘Not if I throw up halfway across!’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I quite like the idea of you splattering Daniel’s head with last night’s dinner.’
She didn’t laugh.
Okay, time to switch tactics. ‘Forget the show for a moment. Think about what this could do for you personally.’
‘Flying through the air on a harness is not on my bucket list.’ Her disgruntled expression made him smile.
‘Maybe not, but you have to admit that you’ve tried all sorts of new things over the summer, and for the most part, you’ve enjoyed them.’
She faltered, almost as if she wanted to contradict him, but couldn’t.
‘You don’t like heights, I get that. But think what an achievement it would be if you overcame that? Imagine how empowering it would be to conquer your fears and feel the elation of flying.’
‘I … I don’t know.’
‘You’d be perfectly safe, I promise you. The harness is very secure, and look at the size of the men controlling the rig?’ He pointed to where Quentin and Vincent were standing, waiting for their next instruction. Dumb fucks, the pair of them. ‘No way are they going to drop you.’ At least, he bloody well hoped not.
She chewed on her lower lip, her eyes assessing the gap between the stage and the tree house. ‘How … how far would I be off the ground?’
‘Just a few feet. You swing down from the tree house, across to the fairy grove, and then back again. Simple.’
‘Oh, God. I can’t believe I’m actually contemplating doing this.’
He took her by the shoulders. ‘You’re a remarkable woman. Brave and resilient. Under that buttoned-up exterior is an adventurous spirit waiting to be unleashed.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You do talk bollocks sometimes.’
He laughed. ‘Is it working?’
She hesitated. ‘You promise to stop if I don’t like it?’
He leant closer. ‘I promise. But maybe once you give it a go, you’ll love it.’ She smelt amazing: fruity and summery. ‘I can think of a few other instances where that’s happened.’ He gave her a teasing smile.
‘Yes, well, you have a very persuasive nature.’ She shrugged free from his grasp. ‘I haven’t quite worked out whether that’s a good thing or not.’
‘Have you had fun this summer?’
‘Much as I hate to admit it, yes.’
‘Any regrets?’
With some reluctance, she shook her head. There was a time when she’d be fiddling with her hair or searching out a button when faced with adversity, but no more. She was definitely less wired.
‘Do you trust me?’
She raised an eyebrow.
‘Well, do you?’
She sighed. ‘Yes, I trust you.’
‘Good. Because I honestly believe you’ll love it.’ He moved closer, intending to kiss her, but she pulled away like he was about to strangle her. ‘Stop it!’ she said, glancing around. ‘People will assume something’s going on.’
He smiled. ‘Well, it is … isn’t it?’
She gave him a look. ‘There’s no need to advertise. And it’s not like it’s going anywhere. It’s a short-term arrangement. The fewer people that know, the better.’ Her cheeks coloured.
He laughed, mostly to cover his disappointment. Foolishly, he’d thought their ‘relationship’ was shifting. It wasn’t. ‘Discretion it is.’ He beckoned over the Graham brothers and held open the harness for Charlotte to step into. ‘One leg either side of the strap.’
After a moment’s hesitation, she obeyed and let him fasten the clips.
‘Do you need a hand getting into the tree house?’
She straightened her shoulders. ‘No, thanks. I can do it on my own.’
‘See? Remarkable and brave.’
She shot him a look. ‘Quit with the sales pitch. I’ve succumbed.’
He watched her climb up the ladder, resisting the urge to touch her.
When she reached the top, she hesitated. ‘What do I do now?’
‘Ease yourself onto the ledge. Quentin and Vincent will control the fly rig from the wings.’ When they didn’t move, he pointed to the wings. ‘Over there, guys.’
Vincent shifted his bulk, followed by Quentin. Brainless pair.
Barney looked up at Charlotte, who’d edged her way onto the ledge, clutching hold of the camouflage netting. ‘When the rope goes taut, push yourself away from the ledge.’ He waited for everyone to clear the stage. ‘Quentin? You ready?’ Satisfied they were set, Barney gave Charlotte a thumbs up. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’
It took a few aborted attempts before she finally let go, the fear in her body rendering her as stiff as a mannequin. Part of him felt bad for making her do it. Was it really a good idea to force someone into facing a phobia? Especially when that person was someone you cared about. Because, despite his best efforts to keep their relationship purely physical, he’d failed. Over the last week, when they’d practised their lines together, gone for long walks along the beach, and ended up in bed each time, exhausted and laughing, a connection had been formed … on his part, at least. But Charlotte had made it clear she only wanted a fling. And he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.
As he watched her now, battling her instincts to cling hold of the scaffolding, he was overcome with something powerful. Pride? Admiration? Or just lust? He didn’t know, but seeing her flying across the stage, screaming with a mixture of exhilaration and fear, gave him a sense of satisfaction like no other.
It wasn’t the most elegant of flights, but when she swung back across the stage, her scream was a little less ‘I’m being murdered’ and more ‘this might be fun’.
‘How was it?’ he shouted.
She grabbed hold of the scaffolding, taking a moment to ensure she wasn’t about to fall off. ‘Okay … I think. As long as I don’t look down.’
He smiled. ‘You did it!’
She nodded, slightly manically. ‘I did, didn’t I?’ Her hair moved softly in the breeze, and for a moment he was stunned by how beautiful she was.
He tried to clear his mind. ‘Can we try it again with the lines this time?’ He waited for her to nod, before checking that the Graham brothers were paying attention and weren’t about to drop her.
She only faltered for a moment before pushing herself away from the ledge. ‘“I go – I go – look how I gooooooo!”’ She flew across the stage, her hands outstretched, landing on the raised fairy grove with all the grace of a prop forward entering a rugby scrum. It didn’t matter. She’d done it. Her return flight was a little more fairy-like, and she nailed the landing perfectly. ‘“Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow.”’
The rest of the cast, who’d gathered below to watch, clapped enthusiastically and cheered. Tony shouted, ‘Well done, love,’ evoking a smile from his daughter.
Barney stood at the bottom of the ladder. ‘Need a hand down?’
She shuffled around to the top. ‘Nope, I got this.’
When she reached the last rung, he placed his hands on her waist. ‘Like I said, remarkable woman.’
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.