‘Don’t forget to sniff him,’ said Sarah with a nudge as Nate arrived at rehearsals Sunday morning alongside Gregory and Cecil. Lottie winked and a cheeky smile played on her lips.
‘Good morning, everyone,’ said Gregory, waving. Nate followed along behind, his head slightly bowed as if he was trying to make himself smaller, and his hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets. He was wearing a prosthetic nose Gregory had commandeered from the wardrobe department that looked more like a flesh-coloured sex toy purchased from a dubious online retailer. No wonder he was trying to make himself small. Once he was near the front he began peeling it off. The weather had cooled a touch lately and clouds were gathering in the sky threatening the first real rain of that summer. Sarah was wearing jeans and a vest top just in case the rain descended, and gave Nate a polite smile. She was feeling nervous but slightly less terrified about reciting her lines this time round. She had a long way to go yet but at least she was making progress. For the first time in ages they’d turned on all the theatre lights as the dense clouds darkened the sky outside.
Gregory, Nate, and Cecil formed a semi-circle, chatting to Conner, and Sarah watched from the corner of her eye as Lottie snuck up behind them. Swiftly, her head popped up behind Nate’s shoulder, she sniffed, then ducked back down again out of sight. Nate spun around and Lottie, now bright pink, pretended to check a scratch in the floor before scrambling away without looking at him. Sarah turned and buried her head in her handbag she was giggling so much. Lottie then rounded to her side and in between bursts of laughter said, ‘You’re right, he smells lemony. I bet it’s either a really expensive aftershave or lemon washing-up liquid.’
Sarah had to breathe deeply to gain control of herself, her whole body shaking with laughter. ‘Why would he be wearing lemon washing-up liquid?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe he did the washing-up before they came out.’
‘I can’t believe you actually did that. That was the most sexually aggressive sniffing I’ve ever seen in my life. Your whole head shook.’
The colour was beginning to fade from Lottie’s cheeks as she calmed down. ‘Well, I wanted to get a good nose full, I might never get the chance again.’
‘What are you two laughing about?’ asked Sid, standing behind Lottie and resting his hands on her shoulders. She tipped her head back and he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
‘Oh, nothing,’ said Sarah, eyeing Lottie. It was their little secret. ‘Can you believe it’s only been two weeks since Nate arrived? It feels a lot longer.’
‘I bet it does to him too,’ Sid replied. Lottie took hold of his hands and intertwined her fingers with his.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, still a little pink from laughing. ‘I think he likes it here. Gregory said he seems very much at home.’
Before they could discuss it any further, Conner took to the stage. ‘Okay, let’s crack on then, we’ve got a lot to get through and we’ve only got a couple of weeks till showtime.’ Inwardly, Sarah groaned, there were a lot of improvements to make in that time, but somehow she knew that if she continued coaching with Nate she’d make it. ‘In a bit I’d like to work on the end of act one where Ferdinand and Miranda meet and get into act two but let’s just quickly run through act one, scene one first. Scripts down though please. Joan, are you ready to prompt?’
No answer.
‘Joan?’ Conner asked a little louder, looking to where she was positioned on the side of the stage. When she didn’t notice him, he resorted to shouting. ‘Joan?’ The old woman looked up, pushed her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose and waved her script in the air. Conner smiled but as he turned to Sarah he widened his eyes in a here-we-go-again way.
Mrs Andrews sauntered onto the stage in the strangest costume Sarah had ever seen. The Yoda kimono had gone and instead she’d decided to raid her wardrobe for every single scarf she owned and had somehow pinned them onto a white leotard, worn over black leggings. She was fanning herself with a tiny hand-held fan. Mouths fell open as everyone turned to look. She didn’t look like a sprite or a spirit, she looked like there’d been an accident in a textile factory. After the initial shock had worn off, everyone went back to preparing for act one and Sarah gave Mrs Andrews the side eye.
‘We really need to sort out a proper wardrobe person next year,’ Lottie whispered.
‘Definitely,’ agreed Sarah as they walked onto the stage. ‘And a new make-up person.’ They were trying out hair and make-up styles ready for the full dress rehearsal. ‘Betty’s got the shakes so badly now she nearly had my eye out. I know she did it when your nan was in charge but she’s a bit of a health hazard now. Look.’ Sarah pointed to where Betty was waving an eye pencil perilously close to Kathryn’s retina. Poor Kathryn had pinned herself so far back in the chair it was like a scene from a horror movie.
Lottie giggled. ‘Poor old Betty.’
‘Poor Kathryn, more like.’
Rehearsals began well with everyone remembering their lines, even Sarah. She was definitely feeling more at ease playing Miranda and was starting to move about the stage without thinking. It was all going very well. The scenery was helping her get into the role as well. Sean and Leonard, their two burly helpers were silently painting the rocks, and Sarah had to skip over one of their paint trays left in the middle of the stage. She gently nudged it to one side to get it out of the way and carried on with her lines. Sneaking a look, it seemed that Nate was enjoying the performance too; he was sitting in the front row next to Lottie who gave Sarah a big thumbs up.
Gregory began one of his longer speeches, moving around the stage like a real pro, showing everyone else how it should be done, but he was getting perilously close to the paint tray. Sarah tried to signal to him that it was there, but he just threw her a confused look and continued on with his speech. Then, taking a giant step back with his arms outstretched, his left foot went straight into the paint tray splattering his shiny white loafers and coating the bottom of his pale linen trousers. ‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ Gregory shouted then bent down and pulled up his trousers leg.
Debbie came out from backstage. ‘Och, Gregory, you great plank. Why did you go and do that?’
‘I didn’t do it on purpose, Debbie, did I?’
Pushing her hands through her crazy red hair, unknowingly spreading a streak of magnolia through it, Debbie returned backstage, presumably to get more paint.
Sarah pressed her lips together to stifle the smile that was forcing its way out. Mrs Andrews wasn’t even attempting to hide a mirthful laugh. ‘Oh dear, you do seem to have put your foot in it, don’t you?’ Gregory flashed his eyes at her and took off his shoe, leaving it in the paint tray.
‘Don’t you have some builders to shout at, Mrs Andrews?’ he fired back.
‘No, it’s a Sunday.’
‘Oh, so even evil dictators give their staff one day off a week. How generous of you.’ Mrs Andrews smiled gleefully while Gregory mustered his dignity, lifted his chin, and hobbled to the toilet to wash the paint off his trousers. He was followed swiftly by Cecil who picked up the shoe like Prince Charming holding the glass slipper and hurried off after him.
‘Let’s take a break, shall we?’ said Conner, hiding behind his notes, clearly laughing too.
Sarah climbed down off the stage and sat in the front row with Lottie, Sid, and Nate. Lottie and Sid were deep in conversation and Nate leaned forwards, so he could turn and see her. ‘You’re doing really well today.’ Sarah looked at him and the compliment warmed her from the inside, a large smile spreading over her face. ‘Lottie was just saying we could use Sid’s flat this week if you still wanted to meet? That way we shouldn’t have so many interruptions.’ Nate glanced down after saying it and it made him seem vulnerable and shy.
‘I’d love to,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ve still got a lot to learn about performing Shakespeare.’
‘There’s not much to it once you understand his intentions.’ The deepness of his voice was calming and powerful.
‘I’ve been thinking about the questions you asked me the other day. I actually like Miranda a lot more now.’
‘Good,’ he replied with a grin. He peered around. ‘This is quite a theatre you know, and a great bunch of people.’
‘It is,’ she agreed. ‘I know I’m lucky to have my friends. Even Mrs Andrews isn’t that bad once you get to know her.’ They both peeked over to where she was waiting to come on, preening and puffing her hair. When she saw them staring, she stopped and gave Nate a sultry wave. Nate gave a polite smile in return and turned back. ‘You look terrified,’ Sarah giggled.
‘I am. She looks like she’d eat me for breakfast.’
Sarah decided not to make a rather innuendo-laden joke, as just the thought was making her blush. She dropped her eyes, remembering her and Lottie joking about seeing Nate’s bum on TV. Trying to distract herself she said, ‘Won’t you be going back to London soon though?’ His expression turned worried and seeing him upset made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Unsure why, a part of her yearned to take his worries away. ‘Sorry about the papers the other day. Are you okay?’
Nate nodded but it was unconvincing. ‘I think so. I’m not really sure what’s going to happen now. At first I was worried about my career.’ Sarah raised her eyebrows as the words sounded callous. He must have noticed as he added, ‘I know that sounds bad, but … basically Emma already knew what had happened and our marriage has been over for a long time.’ He pulled back a bit. ‘I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t.’ Hearing him say the words made it all so much more understandable. He seemed the loyal type. ‘But now there’s a child …’ A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, forming the deep lines in his cheeks. Then he shook his head. ‘I love the idea of being a dad, but I don’t know what’s going to happen now.’
Seeing the way his face changed at the idea of a child, Sarah admired him for putting the baby first. ‘I’m sure it’ll be okay. Just give it time.’ Without thinking she reached out and touched his arm. As she realised what she’d done she pulled her fingers away, but his eyes were locked on hers and something passed over his face. She wasn’t sure if it was disgust, or surprise but she turned away quickly, embarrassed. Luckily, Sid and Lottie hadn’t noticed.
Before long, Gregory was back, barefoot and with one damp rolled-up trouser leg, and rehearsals started again. Cecil placed the shoes on the floor along with their stuff. Sarah was able to take a break while they went through a scene she wasn’t in but some of the new cast clearly hadn’t been working that hard. One of the less experienced players shouted ‘line’ halfway through his bit to be met with stony silence. After a moment, he said, ‘line’ again.
More silence.
Everyone turned to where Joan was. The faint tapping of knitting needles carried on the air. ‘Joan?’ shouted Conner. ‘Joan?’ When no sound came back, he mounted the steps to the stage and made his way over to stage right. ‘Joan, turn your hearing aid on,’ yelled Conner. Sarah couldn’t help but splutter and giggle.
‘Oh, hello dear,’ came a small, shaky voice.
‘Toby needs his line, Joan.’
‘Oh.’ She was shouting back now, though she didn’t realise it. ‘Shouldn’t he know it by now?’
‘Yes, he should,’ Conner replied. ‘But still.’ Sarah laughed and her hand shot to her mouth.
‘Where was he, dear?’
‘Don’t worry, Joan. I’ve got it.’ Conner came back onto the stage. ‘It’s “Set her two courses off to sea again. Lay her off.”’
From the wings, Joan, in a surprisingly loud voice, repeated the same and Lottie and Sarah collapsed into giggles while Gregory muttered, ‘Lord help us,’ and the scene continued.
Mrs Andrews’ portrayal of Ariel still involved a lot of wafting about the stage with an odd twirl thrown in here or there for good measure, but with the tinkling sound effects and soft lighting it seemed to work. Though they’d have to go back to the Yoda kaftan as she kept tripping over the scarves and nearly face-planted the floor. Soon it was Sarah’s turn. In the scene where she met her love, Ferdinand, played by Cecil, all was going well until she had to say, “‘I might call him A thing divine,’ and an image of Nate popped into her brain. She quickly replaced it with an image of Finn. As she turned to Cecil, a sword that he was supposed to hold aloft hurtled through the air, out into the stalls, narrowly missing her nose and Nate’s head. ‘What the bloody hell, Cecil?’ she shouted, her heart pounding. ‘Watch what you’re doing.’
‘I’m okay,’ came Nate’s muffled response as he edged up from behind a seat, somehow smiling. Cecil charged to the edge of the stage.
‘Oh, crikey O’Reilly, Nate, darling, I’m so sorry, it came loose in my hand.’
‘You have to grip it tighter,’ said Sarah, her heart falling back into her chest.
‘Just imagine it’s your wallet,’ added Mrs Andrews and Cecil gave her an evil glare.
‘I’m sorry, Nate,’ he called out again. ‘I was distracted by our lady of the scarves here, wafting towards me.’ He turned back to Mrs Andrews. ‘Though to be honest, you look more like a mad bag lady.’
‘That’s enough,’ said Conner, walking into the middle of them all. ‘Let’s just start again, shall we?’ Lottie took the sword and handed it back up to Cecil. Nate smiled at Sarah before sinking a little lower in his seat and Cecil began the scene again.
Conner seemed pleased. Everyone knew when to enter and exit the stage, but the musical segments were still tortuous, especially now someone had brought along a recorder they used to play at school. Used to, being the operative word. Lottie had suggested Sarah join in with the singing when she was off-stage as she was so good, which was a huge compliment, but added to the pressure a little because now she had a whole bunch of songs to learn on top of her lines.
Luke, playing Caliban, the beast-like witch’s son, had decided against either Darth Vader asthma or the spit-spraying lisp and kept his speech normal but moved about the stage with a cat-like grace that suited the role much more. He really was very good.
Glad when rehearsals were finally over for the day, they all said their goodbyes. Before they left, Lottie said, ‘Don’t forget everyone, it’s Sarah’s birthday drinks Saturday the fourth.’
‘We know, Lottie,’ answered Mrs Andrews. ‘You’ve told us about twenty million times.’
‘She was never one to exaggerate,’ Gregory whispered to Cecil.
‘Yes, but,’ continued Lottie, ‘none of you have RSVP’d.’
‘We didn’t know we had to,’ replied Debbie. ‘Does it say it on the invitation?’
‘No,’ Lottie said. ‘But you should do it anyway. It’s polite. So, show of hands who’s coming?’ Everyone raised their hands except for a few of the newer players. Lottie fixed them with a stare. ‘I expect you all to be there or be square. It’s going to be heaps of fun.’
Sarah smiled at Lottie then left, glancing over her shoulder at Nate as she did so. He was watching her with a strange look on his face. A quiet ping from her pocket told her she had a text message. It was just a short one from Finn hoping rehearsals were going well. A warm glow grew inside her. She still couldn’t believe how well things were going with Finn. It felt so natural being with him, like it was meant to be. As she pushed the revolving door and walked out into the sunlight, her eyes caught on something and she stumbled. Ben was standing there, leaning against the wall. He was wearing the same clothes again and they were grubby and dirty. He was squinting as the sun poked out from between the clouds and reflected on his glasses. She wondered where he was staying and what he was going to do for work now he was out of prison, but finding out would involve talking to him and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that. However, curiosity niggled at her brain.
‘Sarah,’ he said, walking forwards. She turned away from him and swung her bag onto her shoulder. ‘Sarah, can we talk? Please?’ She could smell his sweaty clothes before he approached and it turned her stomach. There were still a few bags of his clothes in the loft. There must be something there. She remembered angrily throwing his suits into a bag. It couldn’t hurt to give them to him.
Another one of the players left and watched her as he went. Grey clouds gathered overhead and Sarah felt a few drops of rain on her shoulder. ‘Where are you staying?’ she asked, quickly finding her car keys.
‘In Strawley, in a bedsit on Stockton Street.’
Strawley was the small city nearby where Conner went to university. It was fairly nice in places but nowhere near as nice as Greenley, and Stockton Street was in the scummiest part of town where all the drug addicts squatted. Sarah couldn’t count the number of times Lottie and Sid had told her about things they’d heard of going on there– burglaries, drugs busts, overdoses – and how glad they were they didn’t have to cover it for the newspaper. Sarah suppressed a shudder and a sadness rose up at the thought her dad had ended up there. For him to be so close and yet so far away from her was more than upsetting. ‘You’d better come with me and have a shower. I think I’ve got some of your clothes in the loft.’
The smile that spread across Ben’s face almost broke her heart and Sarah led the way to her car, him following along behind. The journey to her house was agony. She wound the window down to get some air in, the smell of stale sweat was so overpowering. Ben tried to make conversation but though this was a big step for Sarah, she still couldn’t bring herself to give more than one-word answers, unsure of her emotions. Finally she pulled into her drive and opened the front door to let them in.
‘I don’t know what’s in the attic, it could be jumpers for all I know, but you can’t stay in those clothes for another day.’ Ben looked down at his trousers and ran his hands down the front of his T-shirt. ‘And you need a shower.’
‘I know. I smell like a tramp’s armpit.’ This moment of humour was so like her old dad, Sarah spun to look at him in case they’d been transported back seven years. Her heart ached to see him standing there with a self-conscious smile on his face, and she turned her back, finding it hard to be reminded of the man he’d been.
‘The bathroom’s up on the right. Leave your clothes outside and I’ll get them washed and dried. There’s a bathrobe in the airing cupboard in the spare bedroom.’ She hoped one of the bags contained spare pants. Unlike Gregory and Cecil, she didn’t keep a supply just in case.
After half an hour Sarah had brought down three bin bags of stuff from the loft. One was of photos and things of her dad’s, a golfing trophy and bits and pieces from his childhood. Thankfully one was a bag of clothes, including a couple of decent, if somewhat dated, suits. It surprised Sarah that she’d had the foresight to keep them. Had it been a glimmer of forgiveness among the rage and grief she’d felt at the time?
There were a couple of pairs of trousers and a few shirts, plus some underwear. It all smelled a little musty but would freshen up on the washing line when it stopped raining. Sarah left some things outside the bathroom and when Ben came down he appeared so much more like the dad she remembered. He was clean and smart in a fresh pair of trousers and a clean short sleeved shirt. They were a little big where he’d lost some weight and his hair was scruffy and a lot greyer. In the doorway, Ben fidgeted nervously adjusting his glasses.
The light rain was growing heavier and tapping gently at the windows. Without speaking, Sarah went to the kitchen and made them both a cup of tea. Ben followed and his frail ‘thank you,’ as he took a seat at the breakfast bar hurt her ears. The idea that he’d been punished enough rang around her head and Sarah watched her tea swirl in the cup. Her emotions swung so violently from anger to forgiveness that it was hard to get enough distance to think clearly. Lottie’s advice kept popping into her thoughts but the flame of anger still smouldered inside her whenever she thought of his affair.
‘What are your plans?’ she asked eventually to break the uncomfortable silence.
‘I want to get a job – any job, I don’t care what. Then I can save up and get a decent place.’ She nodded. It sounded simple enough but it wouldn’t be with his criminal record. At least he was planning on getting his life back together. ‘I went to your mother’s grave the other day, well, her plaque at the crematorium.’ Her ribs constricted, squeezing her lungs. ‘I told her I was sorry. I hoped you and I could try and start again.’ Unable to speak, Sarah studied the flower pattern on her mug, tapping her fingers on the sides to focus her mind on something else. She couldn’t talk about this now.
‘What number Stockton Road are you staying at?’
‘Forty-three.’
‘Okay.’ She thought of the spare room upstairs sitting empty. Her conscience told her she should offer it to him but as horrible as it was, it was too soon. Her dad was a stranger to her. It was only her memories that bonded them together and they were proving unreliable at best. Maybe one day she would offer but she wasn’t ready yet.
‘Thank you for the tea,’ her dad said again.
A wave of sorrow so strong it nearly knocked her over crashed into her barriers. Without thinking Sarah said, ‘I have to go out again soon.’ It wasn’t true but she didn’t know how much longer she could sit here in this awkward bubble where everything around them had stopped. Despair emanated from her father and it pained her that she was partly responsible. Guilt flared again. Hadn’t she made him suffer enough already? Wasn’t he already struggling without a place to live, with the regret he felt over the family he’d lost? Because he did regret it, she was sure of that. She just couldn’t figure out how to move on. If only she hadn’t built her defences so high.
Her dad quickly finished his tea and Sarah stood up from her stool at the kitchen counter. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.’
He walked away and closed the door behind him as Sarah buried her head in her hands. What the hell had just happened? Had they taken a step forwards or back? Was she happy or sad? She knew where he lived now and still had the scrap of paper with his mobile number on. Acting on instinct, she took her phone out of her bag and texted him, letting him know her number in case he ever needed it. The tightness in her chest eased slightly, her conscience telling her she’d done the right thing. When he texted back saying he loved her and calling her sugarplum again she couldn’t help the tears that stung her eyes and nose, eventually escaping down her face and into her cold cup of tea.