‘We’re just off out to rehearsals, Nate,’ said Cecil, as he adjusted his hair in the hall mirror.
Nate loped down the stairs in the old T-shirt and shorts he wore to bed, smoothing down the random tuft of hair that always stuck up. Robin had done quite well with the packing and remembered pretty much everything. Anna, Robin’s wife, must have had a hand in it. Though it was already ten o’clock on Sunday morning, he’d only just woken up. Having nothing to do was really playing havoc with his body clock. The only trouble was, no matter how inactive he was at the moment, he didn’t feel rested, he just felt more and more tired, his body drained of energy. Robin had sent a few scripts down and he’d been reading them but the short note that came with it had filled him with dread. ‘Might be worth a try’ was a far cry from the ‘Dead cert’ he’d written previously. Seeing Cecil’s smiling face, he said, ‘How long have you got to go?’
‘Just over three weeks.’
The idea of the theatre and performing again lifted Nate’s spirits for a moment before they plummeted again like an elevator in a horror movie. ‘Whereabouts?’
‘Have you not seen our gorgeous little theatre down on the seafront?’
Nate shook his head. ‘No. It was so dark when I arrived last week, and I didn’t pay much attention when I nipped out the other day.’ Gregory came out of the kitchen, passing Nate a cup of coffee. Nate smiled in thanks, but Gregory didn’t return it. He tutted instead. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that, you naughty boy. I could have got into all sorts of trouble with Robin if you’d been spotted. Though wouldn’t it be lovely if he popped by rehearsals when this was all over.’ He nodded at Nate. ‘You could give us a masterclass.’
‘I’d be delighted.’ Nate felt himself brightening. It was the least he could do to repay Gregory and Cecil’s generosity and he actually enjoyed teaching. He’d gone back to RADA a few times to talk to the students and they always ended up running some scenes together. He felt privileged to be able to come back as a success.
‘Gregory, we really must go,’ Cecil said, taking his arm and leading him to the door. ‘We’ve left you out some pains au chocolat and croissants, or there’s eggs and bacon in the fridge.’
‘Thank you,’ Nate replied, holding his mug up in acknowledgement, and they headed out of the door with a grin. Nate went in to the sitting room and watched from the window as they hurried away. He might have to take a wander down towards the sea again if he didn’t get out of here soon. Before he could think about anything else, his stomach rumbled. He needed some breakfast.
After dressing quickly, Nate came back downstairs. Thankfully the French windows had been left open and the kitchen was cool. The breeze was stronger today, ruffling the table cloth and Nate ate in the garden, watching the small fluffy clouds drift across the sky edged forwards by the wind. Aeroplanes left vapour trails in vertical stripes and he wondered where they were headed and if he could go there too. The sweet smell of melting, gooey chocolate hit his nose as he broke apart the pain au chocolat. It wasn’t a bad way to start a Sunday, or a bad place to be starting it in.
He took his mobile phone from his pocket and checked his emails. Nothing new from Robin but then, it was a Sunday. And absolutely no contact from Emma. There was a rather odd email from Marcus, asking about one of Emma’s first lovers. Nate remembered him well from the hurt it had caused him. Emma had been playing with fire; the guy was married. He’d worked on a show Emma had done – sound or lighting or something technical like that – but the guy hadn’t been particularly thrilled when Emma had moved on. There’d been phone calls to the house trying to make sure his wife wouldn’t find out and even Emma’s dad had got involved through an assistant. Nate was pretty sure the guy had been told he’d never work again if he kept it up because not long after, the calls stopped. Clearly, Marcus was trying to justify Nate’s actions but he couldn’t. Nate knew it was his own fault. He was just grateful for Marcus’ friendship. All his other so-called friends, especially the fair-weather celeb types, had disappeared into the ether not wanting to associate with him. It made him feel even more alone, worthless and stupid.
Boredom began to settle and a restless impatience made him jiggle in his seat. If only he didn’t have to stay indoors. He quite fancied a little trip down to the beach again and a breath of fresh air. That woman might be there. She’d seemed so worried. So far away. Beautiful too. Like something from a dream, or a film. She’d popped into his head a few times since that day. There’d just been something about her, he didn’t really know what, but her profile had imprinted itself on his brain. Or perhaps it was just that her troubled soul matched his own. Perhaps he was just looking for the dramatic or romantic, missing acting out these types of scenes. Whatever it was, he needed a diversion from it.
Then the rational side of Nate’s brain took over. No, he couldn’t go out again and risk being found out, no matter how much he wanted to see the sea again. If the press discovered him, Gregory and Cecil would be hounded. A small smile played on his lips because they’d probably enjoy that, for a while at least. He and Emma had in the beginning. The way the press walked backwards in front of them, camera lights flashing in their faces, constantly calling their names, had been exciting at first. They used to play a game, walking at angles, trying to get the reporters to walk into bins. It had been funny. But they soon got tired of it, and so would Gregory and Cecil. Nate gathered up the crumbs from his croissant and scattered them for the birds before heading into the living room.
Outside on the windowsill he could see Mr Bennett sitting in the sun, hopping down as something drew his attention. Nate picked up a script and studied it but a moment later the sound of tyres screeching to a halt in the road outside tightened his throat. Had Mr Bennett been hit? He’d grown quite fond of the lardy ginger cat who had taken to sleeping on his bed. Rushing outside, Nate checked around. The car had moved on and there was no evidence of anything having happened in the empty street. Mr Bennett toddled out from around a neighbour’s house and relief brought a smile to Nate’s face.
Unfortunately, he didn’t notice the front door creeping slowly closed until it was too late. He leapt back hoping to catch it, but the strong breeze carried it forward and it closed firmly, leaving him standing outside staring at the house. Nate rested his hands on his hips and let his head fall against the door as a mild panic rose up. He tried his best to stay calm by taking deep breaths. At least he had shoes on and wasn’t standing there barefoot. Checking again that there was no one around, he tried the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. The mild panic turned to annoyance and he rattled the handle violently. ‘Fuck,’ Nate shouted at the door, frightening an old lady walking past with her poodle. The old dear jumped, then tutted at him as she hobbled on. Even the angry puffball of a dog raised its head in disgust before snootily turning away. Nate had never liked poodles, they clearly thought too much of themselves. ‘Shit,’ he muttered again.
The town was getting busier. He had to find a way back inside and quickly. Focusing his mind with a deep breath he remembered that the French doors were open. If he could just climb the six-foot walls of the courtyard garden, he could hop over the top and be back inside in no time.
Following the cobbled street, Nate dashed around to the back of the house, counting along until he was standing outside the high stone walls that edged Gregory and Cecil’s backyard. On tiptoe, Nate attempted to peer over the top, trying to find a spot to climb up that wouldn’t end with him trampling the gorgeous flowers or smashing the pots as he landed. More and more people were ambling by now, enjoying a leisurely Sunday morning stroll, and his mild panic was descending into a full-on meltdown. Anxiety rocked his body making his hands tremble and his chest tighten. He needed to get back inside quickly and without frightening anymore old ladies or their miserable looking dogs.
Nate found a small gap between the overabundant honeysuckle and some kind of huge plant that reached up and over the wall. If he stood on tiptoe, he could reach the top and if he jumped, he might be able to pull himself up. He’d been working out – he had pecs, for goodness’ sake. Surely he could do this.
Closing his eyes and waiting for a young man to pass who was eyeing him suspiciously, he made a jump for it. His toes scraped the stones as he scrabbled, trying to find purchase and help lift him up, his legs moving in a running motion. But after less than a minute he had to admit his upper body strength wasn’t quite what he thought and he fell back to the ground with an ungainly thump, sending a shockwave up his spine. ‘Crap,’ he mouthed.
Would a run-up help? Nate stood up and surveyed the wall again. Stepping back to the other side of the road, he was just about to sprint forwards when a tubby cyclist in skintight Lycra pulled up and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘’Ere, what do you think you’re doing?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ said Nate, smoothing down his T-shirt and trying to smile. ‘I’m a friend of the owners and I accidentally locked myself out.’
‘Hmm.’ Fat Bradley Wiggins didn’t believe him. ‘So if I ask Gregory who you are, he’ll be able to tell me, will he?’
‘Yes. Yes. I’m not a burglar,’ Nate replied with a laugh. The man narrowed his eyes and studied him.
‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’
No! thought Nate. He’d be in so much trouble if he got found out now. Not to mention that he’d look like a complete moron for locking himself out. ‘Umm, I don’t think so,’ he replied quickly. ‘I’ve just got one of those faces. Don’t worry, I’ll go and find Gregory at the theatre.’ Nate pointed the way Gregory and Cecil had set off earlier, hoping they hadn’t taken a detour first. ‘Bye.’ And striding away before the man could stop him, Nate took a deep breath and searched for the little theatre on the seafront.
The cool sea breeze dried the beads of sweat on his brow. Realising his shoe laces were still undone, Nate bent down and quickly tied them. He crossed the busy main road onto the promenade and gazed around. There, further down the seafront he spied what looked like the theatre. It was a large, grey, majestic building with wonderful old-fashioned revolving doors. Somehow, it fitted in with its surroundings being perfectly situated on the seafront. It must be lovely to come and see a play here, then stroll along the beach afterwards, stopping in at one of the pubs for a quick drink before heading home. Nate found his pace had slowed and his shoulders had relaxed, though there was a small ache in his right arm. He must have strained a muscle. He’d have to cobble together some sort of exercise routine to keep himself in shape; one that he could do in Gregory and Cecil’s garden.
After waiting for a bus to pass that was full of people he hoped hadn’t recognised him, Nate crossed to the theatre and the grand revolving doors. It brought a smile to his face and reminded him of some of the older theatres on the West End. A strange feeling flooded his body as he reached out his hand to push the door. Trepidation mixed with anxiety and a touch of sadness. Would he ever get to step foot in a West End theatre again? And if he did, would it be as the leading man? He felt a pang in his chest. It was important not to get ahead of himself or be overly dramatic. He just had to wait for this to pass. And anyway, first things first. He had to speak to Gregory and explain how he’d managed to lock himself out. The trouble was, his mobile was still in the house and he hadn’t quite considered how he was going to get inside without attracting the attention of the rest of the players. He was going to have to sneak in.
Nate crouched down and slowly entered through the revolving doors. When his eyes adjusted to the slightly dimmer light inside, the sight before him made his breath hitch in his throat. He’d expected a certain level of shabbiness, but the deep red carpet was fluffy and plush, the chairs clean and comfy, and the stage – well, the well-built stage, framed by a fine, deep red velvet curtain, was full of random people sitting in a circle, staring at him. The inside of the theatre was the most unusual set-up he’d ever seen. The doors opened straight into the body of the theatre. There was no foyer, no entrance area, just a small square landing that had a small set of stairs leading down on either side, meaning everyone could see him. Damn.
Cecil got to his feet first, followed swiftly by Gregory who shot up out of his chair like his bum was on fire. They climbed down the steps at the front of the stage and made their way towards him, walking quickly, whispering to each other. Cecil’s face was softer and more concerned, but Gregory’s was stuck in an angry frown. Nate felt like a naughty schoolboy about to be told off. He scanned the rest of the Greenley Players. Among the shocked faces he recognised one and something strange happened to his tummy. The woman with the dark hair who had been standing on the beach was watching him. She’d looked so different then, worried and weighed down, but now her eyes were bright, and her sweet pink mouth was lifting at the corners into a really quite attractive and cheeky grin. He pulled his eyes away as Gregory and Cecil drew level.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ asked Gregory, his tone matching the stern look on his face. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’ Nate was taken aback and shuffled.
‘I got locked out. Sorry. I thought something had happened to Mr Bennett—’
‘Mr Bennett?’ asked Cecil, concern marring his fine features.
‘I heard a car screech and worried he’d been hit. But he’s fine,’ he reassured them.
‘Awww,’ replied Cecil, pressing a hand to his chest. ‘You are such a sweetie.’
Having grown accustomed to their fondness over the last week, Nate smiled. ‘The silly thing came waddling out absolutely fine but before I knew it the front door was swinging shut and I couldn’t reach it in time.’
Cecil patted Nate’s arm. ‘Was the back door open? The wind does take it sometimes.’
‘It was,’ Nate confirmed.
‘It creates a through-draft,’ Cecil continued as Gregory watched on, still frowning.
‘Are you two finished?’ he asked crossly.
‘Yes. It is still open though,’ said Nate, now wondering if the place could have been robbed. If it had, whoever burgled it had to have the upper body strength of a stuntman to get over that wall, or a very long ladder, so the chances were probably not.
‘Not to worry, dear, it’ll be fine. We don’t really get much crime around here, do we, Gregory? And anyway, we have lovely neighbours who’d let us know of anything suspicious.’
Nate wasn’t sure that was true; it didn’t seem podgy Lance Armstrong had called them after he’d spotted Nate scaring old ladies and trying to scale the back wall, and that must have looked incredibly suspicious. Perhaps he’d call tonight! ‘Anyway, I wondered if I could grab your keys to let myself back in?’
‘If Robin finds out Nate left the house,’ said Gregory, ‘he’ll be furious with me. And you,’ he said, staring at Nate. ‘You’ve already done it once and now, walking all the way through town. How long do you think it’ll be before someone recognises you? People here do watch telly, you know. It might be the countryside but you haven’t gone back in time and people here aren’t stupid.’
‘I know,’ Nate replied, his tone coming out sharper than intended. ‘I’m sorry. It was an accident.’
‘Oh, dear one, don’t be so grumpy,’ said Cecil. ‘No one’s noticed.’ Gregory stared at Cecil like he’d gone mad, his eyebrows lifted so high they almost hit his hairline.
‘Look behind you. Everyone knows who he is.’
Nate turned to see the Greenley Players were up out of their seats, chattering in little groups, staring at them. A plump middle-aged woman was searching in her bag and came out a few minutes later with a notepad and pen, clearly hoping for an autograph. A young man with jet-black hair gelled into a spike stood in the middle with his mouth hanging slightly open. And the woman from the beach was speaking to a pretty, short blonde who was talking animatedly. Her own brown hair fell backwards as she laughed and Nate didn’t quite know why he kept looking at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away.
‘You have to leave,’ said Gregory, turning back to them. ‘We need to pretend you’re not you, even though you look like you. You know, that you just look a lot like you. We can say you’re our nephew.’
‘But they know you haven’t got a nephew, dear,’ Cecil answered. ‘And my sister’s 52 with the mothering instinct of an army sergeant. It just won’t work.’
‘What do you suggest then, Cecil? They clearly know who he is.’
Nate knew he should say something helpful, but he wasn’t really sure what. Gregory was a bit frightening when he was cross. He’d had no choice but to come, and now he could have ruined everything. There was absolutely no reason why someone here couldn’t take a snap of him and send it to the press. Yet again he’d been stupid.
Cecil shifted his weight. ‘I have an idea. Why don’t we tell them the truth and ask them not to tell anyone.’
‘I’m sorry, what?’ asked Nate. It sounded utterly preposterous. Like asking the press nicely to leave them alone. Whenever he and Emma did that it resulted in twice as many being camped at their door.
‘We’ll just ask them not to tell anyone,’ said Cecil, speaking slowly. ‘They’re our friends. I’m sure they’ll help us.’
‘Do you really think that’ll work?’ asked Nate, half in hope, half astonishment. Cecil and Gregory exchanged glances and after an almost imperceptible raise of his left eyebrow, Gregory nodded agreement.
‘I don’t think we’ve got any other option,’ said Cecil.
‘Follow on, then, dear boy,’ said Gregory, resignedly leading the way to the stage. The players’ chattering died away and they mounted the steps. Everyone sat down again except for Gregory, who directed Nate into an empty seat next to the pretty brown-haired woman, and then stood in the middle of the circle. Nate sat, feeling a frisson of tension being next to her. Gregory began speaking. ‘Okay, everyone, this is, as you probably all know, Nate Hardy.’ There were a few gasps and the middle-aged woman with the notepad wriggled in her seat in excitement. Nate smiled at her, glad he still had one fan at least, and waved. He immediately regretted it because it looked rather creepy instead of friendly. ‘And you probably all know the papers have been after Nate for the last week or so. Well, as a favour to a dear friend, Nate’s agent, who I used to act with, he’s been staying with me, out of the limelight.’
Nate watched on as Gregory surveyed the group before speaking again. He may not have acted professionally for a while, but he still had good timing. ‘I need to ask you all, as our dear friends, to please keep this a secret. If the press find out, they’ll arrive here in droves and hound the poor fellow. Not to mention myself and Cecil too. I’m asking you all as a friend. We both are.’ He turned to Cecil and the look of affection that passed between them was a timely reminder to Nate that there was still love in the world and that some relationships did stand the test of time. ‘Nate, would you like to say a few words?’
An unexpected flush of embarrassment prickled his skin. He was used to playing parts, speaking in front of hundreds of people; why was he feeling like this now in this small little group? It was like his first am dram performance all over again. He cleared his throat to dislodge the tightness growing inside it. ‘Hi, everyone. Umm, yeah, you’ve probably seen the papers and you know why I’m here.’ From the corner of his eye he spied a disapproving look on the brown-haired woman’s face and it saddened him. ‘Firstly, I’d like you to know that it isn’t all as it seems. I can’t go into details, but I’m not the man the papers are making me out to be. I’ve made some mistakes, but I’m not the devil either.’ A few of the players exchanged glances and a posh-looking woman in her forties pinned him with her eyes. Nate leaned forwards in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and clenching his hands together. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask and I’ve no right to ask it, but I’d really appreciate it if you could keep my being here quiet. I’m trying to deal with things and I don’t want anyone to get hurt any more than they have already, so … please?’ The players nodded with solemn faces. ‘Thank you.’
Gregory rifled in his pocket for his keys and held them out. Nate stood to take them.
‘You’re not going, are you?’ asked the middle-aged motherly woman.
‘Kathryn, he has to,’ Gregory replied.
‘I really should be getting back out of sight,’ Nate said kindly.
Disappointment registered on the woman’s face. ‘Oh. Hang on, why doesn’t he stay and watch the rehearsal and give us some tips? It’s not every day you get a real proper actor here, is it? You’ve done some Shakespeare, haven’t you?’
Nate smiled and drew his hand back from Gregory’s outstretched one. He knew he should go but something inside him wanted to stay. Not because of the pretty woman, he told himself, but because he wanted to help if he could. ‘Yes, I have.’
‘And you don’t mind, do you?’
‘Umm, no. No, I don’t mind,’ Nate said. He could feel Gregory’s disapproving stare, but Cecil was smiling.
‘Well, wouldn’t it be a waste if he went without helping us a bit?’ Kathryn continued. ‘We’re not doing that well, are we?’ There were murmurs of approval. Nate glanced over at the brunette woman, but her expression was unreadable. She still had an ethereal quality about her he couldn’t describe. ‘Let’s have a vote,’ said Kathryn, standing up and taking control.
‘Kathryn, please, he really should be getting back.’ Gregory stepped between them.
‘All those in favour?’ There was a unanimous show of hands, except for Gregory and Cecil. Kathryn smiled triumphantly.
‘Oh fine,’ Gregory huffed. ‘I suppose then we can all walk back together.’
‘Conner, what should we do now?’ Kathryn asked with a satisfied grin.
So the young man with dark hair was named Conner and was directing them. That was cool. He seemed suddenly shy and, avoiding Nate’s eye, he said, ‘Let’s continue with the scene we were reading shall we? Mrs Andrews …’ He gestured for the posh-looking woman to continue and the rehearsal began again, this time with Nate a part of it and the peaceful, fulfilled feeling that ran through him was like a balm over the troubles of the last week. A gangly man who spent most of his time making goo-goo eyes at the short blonde grabbed an extra chair for Gregory and they all shuffled around making room for him.
‘I’ll explain who’s who as we go,’ whispered Cecil, leaning over the pretty brunette. She didn’t look in Nate’s direction and acted like he was just another colleague, but Nate admired the shape of her face from the corner of his eye. She had a small nose that turned up slightly at the end and soft, full lips. A sudden wailing screech made his head spin back to the rest of the group.
‘Umm, what was that, Mrs Andrews?’ asked Conner, looking confused and possibly a little afraid.
‘Well, I was being a sprite and you know … mystical.’ Mrs Andrews was turning very pink as Cecil leaned in and whispered, ‘Mrs Andrews: thinks she’s good, has the acting talent of a cardboard box and is a horrid, horrid snob. It’s true, isn’t it, Sarah?’
Ah, Sarah. So that was her name. Nate rolled it around his brain. It was an ordinary name but when he said it with her pictured in his mind it seemed different, special. ‘Hi, Sarah, I’m Nate,’ he whispered.
‘Yes, I know,’ she replied with a small smile and self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Do you normally sneak around theatres on a Sunday morning?’
‘I wasn’t sneaking.’ Sarah’s humour brought a lightness to his life for the first time in what felt like ages. ‘I was inspecting the floor.’
She giggled. ‘And did you find anything?’
He felt a grin lift the corners of his mouth. ‘No, it’s a very fine floor. Well done.’ Hearing her suppress a laugh was a bright and cheerful sound perforating the cloud of doom that had been hanging over him. In the background, Conner was explaining that they didn’t need Mrs Andrews to make strange noises that would frighten small children because they had sound effects they could use that were neither terrifying nor ear-piercing. It wasn’t going down well.
A woman with bright red hair wearing a baggy dress and a huge ugly brown cardigan said, ‘Och, you sounded like a broken bagpipe.’ It took Nate a moment to decipher what she’d said but once he’d mastered the accent, he got it.
‘Debbie McCray,’ whispered Cecil. ‘Mad as a box of frogs, but lovely. She’s very good at doing the scenery isn’t she, Sarah?’
‘Yes, very good but she struggles a bit with faces.’
‘That’s true,’ Cecil agreed. ‘Oh, dear, it seems Mrs Andrews is taking direction as well as she normally does.’ At that moment Mrs Andrews was berating Conner and making her case for the weird sounds she’d made before. Conner was doing his best to hold his ground.
‘Why don’t you say something?’ Sarah said, leaning in to Nate. He could feel her breath on his face and when she realised how close she was, a tide of pinkness rose over the apples of her cheeks. She pulled back slightly but their eyes met for a moment and Nate admired the deep brown colour. ‘Can’t you help?’
‘I’d like to, I really would, but quite frankly I’m terrified.’
Sarah smiled. ‘Haven’t you worked with people like Mrs Andrews before? You must have done.’
‘Awkward people? Yes, but Mrs Andrews isn’t awkward she’s …’
‘Scary?’
‘Forceful. I’m too scared to insult her, she might hear me.’ Sarah giggled and Mrs Andrews’ eyes shot to her, then Nate.
‘Someone should really help Conner,’ Sarah said, and Nate knew he had to.
‘Can I suggest, Mrs Andrews,’ he said, standing up, ‘that you let the sound effects do that for you? You don’t want to detract from your excellent performance. That’s what we want people to remember.’ The compliment puffed Mrs Andrews up and she nodded at Conner. Nate sat back down feeling satisfied. He’d helped the boy and Sarah approved.
‘Well done,’ said Cecil. ‘Didn’t he do well, Sarah?’
‘Yes he did.’ Her head tipped slightly towards him. ‘Thanks for saving Conner.’
‘My pleasure.’ He tried to ignore the happy feelings her thanks had earned him.
‘Shall we move onto the scene with Prospero, Miranda and Caliban?’Conner said. Gregory shifted in his seat, plumping out his chest. So, he was playing Prospero. He began reading and Nate could see the years of experience in his read-through. His performance was subtle, confident and Nate admired him more and more as the speech went on. But when it came to Miranda, played by Sarah, she read the words but didn’t infuse them with any emotion. There was raw talent there though. It just needed some training. As she read, she glanced towards him once or twice, each time her cheeks growing redder with embarrassment and Nate shuddered at making her feel uncomfortable. The young guy playing Caliban was exceptional. A raw talent as well, rather than the polished performance of Gregory, but it was surprising how accomplished so many of them were.
Cecil continued his helpful descriptions. ‘Luke Wheeler, completely gorgeous, very good we think. Single.’ Nate wasn’t sure why Cecil mentioned this last bit and wondered if it was for Sarah’s benefit. Did that mean she was single too? He banished the thought. It didn’t matter anyway.
At the end of the rehearsal Conner stood up. ‘Thanks, everyone. Don’t forget. It won’t be long and you’ll need to have it memorised.’ Nate was impressed. This young guy was really good. He certainly hadn’t been that confident at his age.
Kathryn, the woman who had instigated everything, turned to Nate and said, ‘What d’ya think then?’ He paused, his brow furrowed as he thought. ‘Oh, no, he thinks we’re crap—’
‘No, no I don’t,’ Nate said quickly, stepping forward towards her. Everyone stopped gathering their stuff and stared at him. ‘I thought it was brilliant, you’ve got a lot of talent here. Umm …’ he scratched his forehead, trying to think how to explain what he meant. He should be more erudite, but he was so worried about something coming out wrong and people getting upset, he needed to choose the right words. ‘I really think it would help if you got to the very bottom of the play.’ Instinctively, he grabbed Cecil’s copy of The Tempest from the seat of his chair, and pressed his hand against the cover. ‘A lot of the characters’ motivations come from being powerful, or powerless. I think if you can understand which camp your character is in, you’ll better understand their motivations and that’ll make your performance much more believable.’ The Greenley Players were nodding at him, all except for Sarah who was staring at something, her face hard. Nate followed her gaze to see an older man walking down the central aisle between the banks of chairs. In the noise and chatter no one had heard the door.
When he turned back, Sarah’s expression changed to one of anger and pain as she walked to the front of the stage and down the steps. She met the man a few rows back. Behind him, Nate heard Gregory whisper, ‘Who’s that?’
Cecil beckoned over the short blonde. ‘Lottie, do you know who that is? I’ve never seen him before and I didn’t think Sarah was in to older men.’ The blonde bent her head to one side, considering her response.
‘I think it’s her dad,’ she said quietly. Gregory and Cecil gasped melodramatically.
Nate desperately wanted to ask what was going on. What was the big deal? From Sarah’s body language and hand movements, she wasn’t pleased to see her father. After a few angry gestures she sent him away, watching him until he left the building. All was quiet in the theatre. When she turned, tears were pooling in her eyes, making them glisten, but with a dignity that Nate had never seen in anyone before, she came back, calmly picked up her things and walked out. Lottie threw her keys at the gangly bloke. ‘Sid, can you lock up, please? I’ll see if she’s okay.’ Then she grabbed her stuff and followed Sarah out.
‘Bloody hell’s bells,’ said Gregory. ‘She’s never mentioned him, has she, Cecil?’
‘No, not to me. A no-go area whenever we’ve tried. He went away, didn’t he? Just before her mum died?’
‘Yes, well. I don’t know about you, my darling, but I need a drink after that.’
Nate nodded. ‘Sounds like a good idea.’ You didn’t have to be a genius to know that whatever had just happened wasn’t good.
For a moment Gregory was silent. ‘I was actually talking to Cecil, but you can be my darling too, young man, if you like.’ Nate laughed at his mistake and trailed them out of the theatre, all the while listening to their gossip, trying to figure out what the big deal was. The rehearsal had made him forget his own situation but as reality came crashing back, he hoped the players would stick to their word and keep his being there a secret. It seemed there was enough drama going on in Greenley-On-Sea without him making the situation worse.