The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Nate hung up again. The worry in the pit of his stomach that had begun as a faint fluttering was now an ever-tightening knot. Robin wasn’t answering his calls and hadn’t been for two whole days, since Monday morning. Nate had called, left messages, emailed, but nothing. Was he being frozen out? A lump formed in his throat as he thought about how he’d completely ruined his career, all because of one stupid action. Nate tried once more and this time Robin answered. ‘Hey, Nate, how are you holding up?’
‘Fine, fine.’ He wasn’t fine but the relief spreading through his veins made him say it. ‘Where’ve you been? I’ve been calling since Monday.’
‘I know, I’m sorry.’
‘Have you been avoiding me?’ Nate asked, jokingly, but the pause at the other end made him stiffen. He stood up and paced around his room.
‘Not exactly, but I have been trying to sort things out for you. Nate …’ Robin sighed and Nate clenched his jaw. ‘Hannah’s saying she’s pregnant.’
Everything went quiet. All the noise coming in through his open bedroom window receded and there was only the blood pumping in his ears. The birds stopped their chirping and the chatter of passers-by disappeared. As the walls of his bedroom closed in, all he could think to say was, ‘How?’
‘How?’ Robin scoffed. ‘Do I really need to explain that to you?’ Nate failed to see the funny side. His whole life was falling apart. This just wasn’t the time. Robin read his silence. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t appropriate.’
‘Does Emma know?’ Nate managed to croak. His mouth and the back of his throat were dry and sticky.
‘Yes. I’m sorry, but I had to tell her and her agent.’
‘Before you told me?’ He was hurt and a little offended. Somehow, it felt like a betrayal.
Down the line he could hear the scraping of Robin’s chair as he stood up. No doubt he’d be pacing around his office or looking out of the huge windows at the skyline of London. Nate could picture it himself, brilliant in the bright sunlight. ‘Hey, listen, don’t be like that. It’s going to hit the papers tomorrow. I’ve been doing everything I can to control the story. I was hoping if I could get her agent on board, convince them it’d be best to work together, we might be able to do something, but it’s not looking good.’
In his mind, Nate listed all the expletives he knew and took a deep breath. But among the chaos of his thoughts, one thing kept popping up. He was going to be a dad. His brain pictured tiny fingers and toes, gummy smiles and large eyes, and for some reason, he wanted to smile. He’d never thought of becoming a father. Emma was focused on her career and Nate had discovered early on in their marriage it wasn’t on the cards for her and therefore for him too, so he’d ploughed all his energy into his career pushing down the yearning whenever it arose. But now, in these less than ideal circumstances, the idea of fatherhood had an unexpected effect: he was pleased. ‘What did Emma say?’
‘Do you really want me to repeat it?’
Oh God. Was she hurt? He’d screwed everything up so much and changed their life together immeasurably. He’d never meant to hurt anyone. And Hannah? How was she feeling? They’d have to sort things out somehow. Christ, what a mess. ‘No. Not really.’
‘Needless to say, she doesn’t want you coming back to the house anytime soon. She said she’s bringing forward the divorce. I think it’s her dad’s idea. As one of the UK’s top producers he probably thinks she can walk away now and everyone will be sympathetic. And he’s right. Even if her affairs are discovered they’ll be able to spin it in her favour. You’ll have been neglectful, forcing her to it. He must be confident it’s the right move. Either you’re majorly damaged goods now, or he thinks the chances of them even discovering her little trysts is slim. I’ve heard she’s up for a big presenting job, she’ll be guaranteed it as the wronged wife.’ Robin gave a mirthful laugh. ‘Her dad should have been an agent not a producer. But your reputation is going to take one hell of a battering. Especially with big guns Daddy involved. We had a chance with Emma sticking by you, but now …’ His voice tailed off. ‘I’m sorry, Nate. It’s not that she’s particularly hurt by what you did, she’s just trying to save her own reputation.’
Nate closed his eyes, imagining Emma’s angry face when Robin told her the pregnancy news. He wished he’d known first. He’d have told her. It would have been hard, but the decent thing to do. But there was no point dwelling on that now. ‘I understand. I just can’t believe that after everything I’ve done, sticking by her, she’s throwing me to the wolves now.’ A sharp pain shot through his heart. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘Do you want her to keep it?’ Robin asked.
‘What?’ Bile rose up in this throat. ‘The baby? Yes, of course I do. Why? Doesn’t she want to?’
‘I don’t know. I’m trying to find out.’ His deep voice was matter-of-fact. ‘You’re going to have to release a statement or something. We’ll send it from the office and you can remain hidden. We’ve done quite well so far. They haven’t been able to twist your words because you haven’t said anything, so you’re not looking as bad as some have. Believe me, I’ve seen much, much worse.’
‘How is my pneumonia anyway?’ Nate asked sarcastically.
‘Terrible.’ Nate could hear the more cheerful lilt to Robin’s voice. ‘You’ve got worse but are slowly on the mend. We’re hinting you’re recovering in Scotland so hopefully if they go looking for you, they’ll be at the other end of the country.’
‘That’s something at least. Have we any work to discuss?’
Another ominous pause. ‘Things aren’t great at the moment, Nate. There’s some work in the US that looks promising, you know how they love a bad boy, especially a British one, but the wholesome period drama stuff is off the table. They’re not going to want you in those roles until this has been forgotten.’ That had been his bread and butter for a while now. It was how he’d made his name. That and a bit of British espionage.
‘What about theatre stuff?’ Nate flopped onto the edge of the bed.
‘Unless you fancy being Widow Twankey in some town on the arse end of humanity, I wouldn’t go there if I were you.’
Great, thought Nate, swallowing down his disappointment. It was all crashing down. But the idea of a child, an innocent victim in all of this, changed things. Something stirred within Nate and the shame that had kept him paralysed began to fall away, replaced by something more positive. He had to stand up and apologise for his actions. He respected Robin’s expertise but Nate realised he’d been hiding behind it, letting him run the show because it was easier than standing up and taking the criticism. It was time to take action. ‘Okay. I want to come back.’
‘What?’ Robin screeched. Nate had never heard his voice so high. Except for that time Anna had made Robin go on a get fit campaign when he’d first been prescribed blood pressure tablets and during a game of squash Nate had accidentally hit the ball right into Robin’s gentleman’s area. He’d collapsed like a sack of shit shouting expletives and calling Nate every name under the sun. Nate could tell Robin was shaking his head from the noise of the phone brushing his ear. ‘No, not yet.’
‘Why not? Isn’t it about time I did something?’
‘No, definitely not.’
‘Why?’ The heaviness of disappointment weighed in on him and he felt the need to move, pacing around the small bedroom again. He could only take a few strides one way before having to turn and head back, but he had to keep moving.
‘Because things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. Look, I know you want to do the right thing, but trust me, now isn’t the time. Just stay where you are and hang on in there, please?’
‘But Robin, I really think—’
‘Nate, trust me on this. I’ve seen false pregnancy claims before. I know you don’t want to believe it, but it could be the case. You could demand to see the results of a pregnancy test – a proper one at a doctor’s, not just weeing on a stick. If she’s got a pregnant friend, she could get them to do that for her.’
‘No, I won’t do that.’
‘Then take my advice and hold out there. It’s what you pay me for, after all. There’s a lot to get through yet. When the time’s right I’ll bring you back straight away.’
Nate sagged down. ‘All right, but soon, yeah?’
‘Soon.’
‘Can you draft a statement for me then, please? You’ve always been better at that than me. Apologise to Emma. Apologise to Hannah if I did anything to lead her on, and say that we’ll work together for the sake of the child to make everything right.’
‘That sounds pretty good already,’ Robin replied. ‘I’ll get back to you.’
Robin hung up and a horrible dizziness hit Nate as he stood up. His head was pounding and he flopped back onto the bed with a thud. Squeezing his eyes shut and taking long deep breaths, Nate tried to make sense of this latest development. He knew he had to speak to Emma. He had to talk things through, but he couldn’t do that until he was sure of things himself. A light tapping at the door told Nate it was Cecil rather than Gregory. ‘Come in,’ he called out.
‘We’re just off to rehear … cripes, are you okay, sweetie?’
Nate lifted his head and swallowed. His head wasn’t spinning anymore but he still felt giddy. ‘Yes, just some more developments.’ He needed time to figure this out himself first before he said anything. Gregory appeared from behind Cecil, his head popping into view above Cecil’s left shoulder. They really were quite an eccentric pair, but Nate was grateful for their genuine care, and now they’d got to know him better, they were treating him like a real person. ‘It’s all such a mess and things just keep getting more and more complicated.’ Gregory and Cecil exchanged worried glances.
‘Why don’t you come with us to rehearsals?’ said Gregory. ‘Take your mind off things?’
‘Isn’t it too risky?’ Nate asked.
‘Well, we’re only an hour from London and the players have known for what … four days now. In the absence of any reporters I’m guessing no one’s blabbed.’
It was a miracle, but Gregory was right.
‘Okay then.’ Nate nodded. It would take his mind off things for a while if nothing else and if he could help with the production, so much the better. ‘I best put on a hoodie or something and hide my face just in case. Though I’m not sure Robin’s packed me one.’ Nate searched through his suitcase that lay open on the bedroom floor, but couldn’t find one. Turning back to Gregory and Cecil he said, ‘Do either of you have one I can borrow?’
Gregory stared at him distinctly unimpressed. ‘Do either of us look like we own a hoodie, dear boy?’ Even Mr Bennett, who had followed them upstairs and was sitting at his feet, glared in dismay.
Nate smiled. ‘Umm, no. I don’t suppose you do.’
‘But I do have a marvellous trilby and a stick-on beard you can borrow.’ And with that he nipped off to find it. Nate contemplated asking why Gregory owned a stick-on beard but decided not to. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure he wanted to know the answer. When Gregory raced back and proudly presented it, Nate was pleased to see it was still un-used and in the packaging. He hesitated, but seeing Gregory’s face, took it and squeezed past him to the bathroom to stick it on. Staring in the mirror Nate laughed to himself. He looked like Brian Blessed and was even tempted to mimic his booming voice, but didn’t in case he scared his hosts. When he came out, Cecil made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a hiccup while Gregory hurried them on their way.
As they strolled to the theatre, Nate took the time to admire the town. A strange mixture of calm and vibrancy rang through the air. It was incredibly hot again today and the sweat forming on his brow caused the stick-on beard to start sliding down his face. Luckily, before long they were at the theatre. It really was a beautiful building. There was something quite peaceful about it, but Nate could also see it full of people and abuzz with excitement. Every town should have a theatre like this, he thought, as he followed Gregory and Cecil down to the stage where the Greenley Players were gathering.
The Scottish woman with bright red hands and matching hair – Debbie, Nate remembered – was shouting something he couldn’t quite make out to one of the stagehands.
Next to him, Cecil sighed. ‘Ah, Debbie. Lovely, but you know …’ He held his hand up near his ear and made circular motions with his finger to show she was mental. Nate held back a laugh. Cecil then pointed out a few more people he hadn’t met before. When his eyes rested on Sarah, he found that seeing her again calmed his angst a little. She looked even prettier today in a plain white T-shirt and denim shorts with long, toned legs underneath. Her brown hair glowed with hints of gold under the lights and her eyes sparkled as she laughed with Lottie. He could just make out a constellation of freckles over her nose and, realising he was staring, pulled his gaze away.
They were soon ready to begin. The circle of chairs was now absent as the actors were expected to start inhabiting the roles, moving about the stage and getting a feel for how their characters would react. He loved this part of the process – really getting to know the person you were playing, letting them take over a small part of you, like you were a puppet and they were in control. Everyone was taking a seat and small groups clumped together here and there.
‘Don’t forget,’ said Conner, from the centre of the stage. ‘You can have your scripts today, but they’ll be gone next week. If you get stuck, Joan will be acting as prompt.’
There was a subdued groan and Nate looked to Cecil and Gregory who were sitting with him in the second row back. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘Joan,’ said Gregory.
‘Why?’
Cecil pointed to the other side of the theatre where, about halfway back, sat an ancient white-haired woman, knitting. Even with her enormous spectacles she was squinting at the needles that moved with frightening speed. ‘She’s deaf as a post,’ said Cecil. ‘Unless her hearing aid’s turned up full blast, and even then she’s so busy with knit one, purl one, she gets her timing wrong. Lottie’s tried to convince her to do something else but alas, to no avail. You see, Joan can’t do the stagehand stuff because she’s virtually dead and any kind of physical effort would probably kill her, and she can’t do make-up or wardrobe because she’s got the speed of a knackered tortoise. Bless her heart, she just so desperately wants to be involved and we can’t really stop her.’ Joan glanced up and waved at them all. Cecil waved back. ‘Evening, Joany, all right, love? How’s the bunion?’ shouted Cecil. Joan simply grinned, almost dislodging her dentures, and turned her gaze back down to the ball of pink wool in her lap.
This was the best thing about local theatre as far as Nate was concerned. No one was excluded no matter what. Everyone worked together. Sarah and Lottie were smiling, watching the conversation, and Nate noticed how Sarah’s face had lightened since the last time he’d seen her.
‘Shall we get started?’ asked Conner, looking out from the stage. ‘Right then. Let’s start at the beginning. Act one, scene one.’ A number of players climbed onto the stage and acted out the scene. Some were pretty awful, but a couple were okay. They were supposed to be acting like they were on a boat, staggering across the stage but unfortunately looked more like a bunch of happy drunks messing about. Nate was just about to open his mouth and suggest they add more fear to their performance when Conner shouted, ‘Don’t forget you think you’re in a storm and that you’re going to die, you’re not on a heavy night out! You need to be terrified.’ This young man was quite impressive.
‘He’s doing really well for someone so young,’ said Nate to Gregory.
‘Yes, he’s very good,’ Gregory replied. ‘We’re very fond of him. He sees all this as “building his career” or something like that.’
‘Maybe I could get him an internship somewhere?’
‘Oh, that would be brilliant,’ said Cecil, clasping Nate’s arm. ‘You sweetie. He’d love that.’ As soon as this was all over, he’d sort that out for him.
They then moved on to the next scene which was Miranda and Prospero. Gregory and Sarah walked onto the stage. As she moved to the middle, Nate noticed how her eyes flitted to his and away again. He hoped he wasn’t making her feel uncomfortable and smiled to put her at ease which only seemed to make her more terrified. Her speech was still stilted and wooden and he noticed a slight tremble in the tips of her fingers.
‘Poor Sarah,’ whispered Cecil and Nate leaned in. ‘She’s actually getting worse. I don’t know why but she just can’t seem to get Miranda going. I thought she’d be great. We did Much Ado About Nothing last year and it was horrendous but—’
‘Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t.’
‘No, really. It was,’ said Cecil. ‘Even the birds didn’t bother watching. We were performing in the bandstand in the park and it was so bad people left halfway through.’
‘Why weren’t you here in the theatre?’
‘Because this was all a decrepit mess. It was our dear Lottie who got it back to this state. She’s a good girl. We were all terrible but by the time we did the pantomime last Christmas we were so much better. Sarah particularly was fabulous as Jasmine. She’s always got such terrible stage fright, but she seemed to really be coming out of her shell then. Oh, here we go. This should be good.’ Cecil nodded to the stage and Nate followed his gaze to see Mrs Andrews had come out from the wings in some kind of strange voluminous green hooded kaftan. She looked like Yoda. And with arms outstretched, she wafted towards Gregory and Sarah who were biting back a laugh. Mrs Andrews began her lines as Ariel. Cecil smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I think she’s taking this sprite thing a bit too far, if you ask me.’
‘Is it supposed to be a dress rehearsal?’ Nate asked. Cecil slowly shook his head and soon they too were suppressing their laughter.
‘Umm,’ said Conner. ‘Okay …’
‘I think she’s throwing herself into this because she’s having trouble with the builders. And that isn’t a euphemism. She’s having an enormous extension built on her already enormous house and it isn’t going very well. Even the Botox isn’t stopping the frown lines this time. And I haven’t seen Mrs Andrews’ face move in the last five years.’
‘Right, let’s pause there,’ said Conner, walking to the centre of the stage. He cast a bemused glance at Mrs Andrews before moving on. ‘Well done, everyone. Now the next part is the singing.’ Another groan echoed around the theatre and two middle-aged burly men stepped out from behind the scenery, wearing overalls splattered with paint. One had a huge bushy moustache and the other a wiry beard, but it was what they were carrying that had Nate stifling a giggle. The moustached man was holding a triangle and a teaspoon – they clearly hadn’t been able to find the wand to hit it with. The bearded man was holding a single maraca and grinning.
‘Oh, sweet Jesus,’ mumbled Cecil. ‘Close your ears, this is going to be nasty.’
Mrs Andrews started singing in an ear-piercing soprano note and Nate closed one eye, wincing. The bearded man was shaking the maraca with such vigour Nate wondered if he was going to shout, ‘Tequila’ at some point, and the poor fellow with the triangle was randomly whacking it whenever the mood took him. Music, it certainly wasn’t. Sarah and Gregory regarded them quizzically and Nate was surprised to see how Sarah was even more beautiful when she relaxed. Her cheeks were pushed up by the force of her smile and her eyes were shining. Gregory’s shoulders were shaking with laughter.
After the cacophony had died down, Cecil said, ‘Right, it’s my turn in a minute,’ and squeezed past to the end of the row.
‘Who are you playing?’ asked Nate.
‘Ferdinand. I get the fun of being in love with Sarah. And she’s a doll, so it’s always fun.’ A funny feeling squirmed in Nate’s chest. It was almost like jealousy. No, it couldn’t be. It was probably just his wish to be acting again pushing back up.
The rehearsal continued and they got through almost half the play. Things would get a little more difficult once they were negotiating props, but apart from Prospero’s staff there wasn’t much to worry about at present.
‘What’s the verdict today, then?’ Kathryn asked Nate once the rehearsal had finished.
‘I thought you were all fantastic,’ he replied. Mrs Andrews beamed and removed the hood of her kaftan. He wasn’t sure, but had she just pouted at him? She came towards him shaking it off her shoulders and jutting out her chest.
‘So, Nate. How long are you staying here for?’ She slipped her arm through his, making him feel like he was caught in a spider’s web.
‘I, umm, I don’t really …’
Sarah had paired off with Gregory and Cecil, and Nate overheard her sadly saying how difficult she was finding the role of Miranda. He wanted to hear more but Mrs Andrews was talking nineteen to the dozen, clinging to his arm like a barnacle.
Nate caught Cecil’s eye and flashed him a ‘help me’ look.
Cecil got the message and, taking Nate’s other arm, guided him gently away. ‘I just need to borrow Nathaniel for a moment, Mrs Andrews, if you don’t mind.’
‘Well I—’
‘Thank you so much.’ Cecil steered Nate towards Sarah and Gregory. Mrs Andrews, her mouth set in an angry little line, turned on her heel and marched off. ‘Now,’ Cecil said to Sarah, ‘what were you saying, dear?’
A flash of bright red rose on her cheeks covering the bridge of her nose. ‘Just that I’m finding Miranda quite hard.’
‘I thought you did very well,’ Nate replied, trying to ease her mind, and she caught his eye which sent a pulse through him. He didn’t know why he was saying it, he knew it was important to be honest with actors and let them know when things weren’t going so well, but for some reason he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
Surprisingly, Sarah smiled. ‘No, I’m really not getting it at the moment. I don’t know why.’
Nate had no idea why he said what he said next. His life was complicated enough at the moment but before he could stop himself, he heard words coming out of his mouth. ‘Well, why don’t I give you some coaching while I’m here?’
Sarah’s head shot up at the suggestion. Nate expected her to pull her gaze away but she didn’t. Her cool stare pierced right through to his core and he found he was the one looking away hoping her answer would be yes.
‘What a fabulous idea,’ said Cecil, excitedly.
Sarah fidgeted, putting her hands in her pockets and rocking from side to side. ‘I’m not sure. I couldn’t take up your time like that. It must be the last thing you want to think about right now.’
‘We haven’t got long until opening night, dearest,’ Gregory said gently. ‘It’s only about three weeks to go. I think it would be a good idea.’ His words seemed to really hit home and she nodded.
‘Okay, then. Thank you.’
Cecil clapped. ‘Fantastic. Why don’t you start tomorrow night?’
‘Tomorrow?’ Sarah’s face was a mixture of panic and shock that Nate also felt himself. What had he got himself into now?
‘Well, we don’t know how long we’ve got him for, do we, sweetie?’
Reluctantly, Sarah agreed. ‘Okay then.’
‘I promise it won’t be painful,’ Nate offered in an attempt to bring the smile back to her face. A weak one came and went just as quickly.
‘I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she said.
‘Yeah, see you tomorrow.’ It was strange how much he was looking forward to it.