Starlight on the Palace Pier

by Tracy Corbett

  Her mum rushed over and hugged her. ‘You see? I knew you could do it.’

  Eddie climbed down from the lighting booth. ‘Well done, love. That looked great.’

  ‘Thanks, Eddie.’

  His praise evoked a smile from her mum, who blushed and glanced away.

  Eddie remained oblivious. ‘I think we’re done for tonight,’ he said, focusing on her mum. ‘It’s looking good. Do either of you ladies need a lift home?’

  Her mum fussed with her sewing bag. ‘I have my car here. But thanks for the offer.’

  Becca was struck by an idea. ‘Actually, if you don’t mind going home with Eddie, Mum, could I borrow your car? I’m not quite done yet, and my knee’s a bit sore to walk home.’ Becca made a point of rubbing it, ignoring her mum’s suspicious glare. Well, she wasn’t lying. Her knee was sore. She turned to Eddie. ‘If that’s okay with you?’

  ‘No problem, at all,’ he said, ever the gentleman. ‘Can I take your bag for you, Ruby?’

  Her mum handed over her bulky bag and dug out her car keys. Becca was subjected to a look that said she knew what her daughter was up to. ‘I’ll see you at home later.’

  Becca didn’t mind being in her mum’s bad books.

  Just as she’d needed a push to start dancing again, her mum needed a push to start enjoying herself again.

  Becca watched them walk off, Eddie chatting away, her mum trying not to stare at him.

  Smiling, she removed her knee-brace, before changing into her comfy sweats. Her tappers’ technical run wasn’t until tomorrow night, so she was done for the evening. But having fibbed, she couldn’t go home yet, so she headed for the café. A hot drink might ease the ache in her chest. A bag of ice might do the same for her knee.

  She hadn’t seen Tom since the party. She’d managed to avoid him all week, ignoring his text messages asking whether she was okay. No, she was not okay. Jodi had assured her that Izzy was no longer staying at the playhouse, but Becca wasn’t taking any chances. The last thing she wanted was another chance encounter with the woman who’d caught her fooling around with Tom and insinuated she was a hooker.

  Talk about humiliating.

  She was so preoccupied with her thoughts, she didn’t see the lone figure sitting in the café. Not until she heard Harvey Elliot’s distinctive voice.

  ‘You’re still here, then?’ he said, causing her to turn sharply.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  He was sitting at one of the tables reading a broadsheet. ‘My son didn’t take my advice and terminate your employment then.’ He licked his thumb and turned the page. ‘Your cousin too.’

  Becca wasn’t in the mood for one of Harvey Elliot’s character assassinations. She’d had enough of those twelve years ago. ‘If you’re looking for Tom, he’s not here.’ She went to hobble away, but wasn’t quick enough.

  ‘Will you join me?’ he said, closing his paper.

  ‘I’m busy.’ She needed ice for her knee.

  He gestured to the chair opposite. ‘This won’t take long.’

  Much as she didn’t want to engage, she figured it might stop him bad-mouthing her to Tom. She sat down. ‘What do you want?’

  It was a while before he spoke. He adjusted his glasses. Crossed and uncrossed his legs, as if considering how best to word whatever it was he wanted to say. It didn’t take a genius to work out what was coming.

  Finally, he cleared his throat. ‘The Wentworth family have a long heritage dating back several centuries,’ he said, looking at her intensely. ‘Were you aware that Tom’s grandfather was the Earl of Horsley?’

  She raised an eyebrow. Did he think she was dim? The playhouse was littered with historic portraits and family busts. Anyone visiting would quickly become aware of the family’s blue blood.

  Sensing her irritation, he continued. ‘As such, Tom has obligations to ensure the future and reputation of that title is preserved. As his father, I have a responsibility to protect him from situations I feel might not be in his best interests.’

  She didn’t like where this conversation was headed. ‘And your point is?’

  ‘I have reason to believe you and my son have renewed your…liaison.’

  She felt her cheeks burn. ‘I don’t know where you heard that.’

  ‘Why else would you still be here?’

  She drew back stung. ‘Excuse me?’

  He held her gaze. ‘What you do in your private life is none of my business. But the well-being of my son is very much my concern. His career is at stake. Not to mention the future reputation of this family, which could be jeopardised by an…unfortunate association.’

  Had they been transported to a Jane Austen novel?

  She rubbed her knee, eager to occupy her hands so she didn’t thump Harvey Elliot. ‘I resent the implication that I’m here for any other reason than to progress my own career and save the playhouse from closure.’

  He shook his head. ‘Whether we like it or not the world is a judgemental place. As the grandson of an earl there are certain expectations in terms of who it would be appropriate for Tom to form a relationship with.’

  Her knee began to throb. She knew what he was implying. Her less than pristine past coupled with her cousin’s criminal record might tarnish the family’s good name.

  ‘As I’ve already told you, we’re not involved.’ She straightened her leg, trying to ease the stiffness. ‘And besides, Tom appears to already have a girlfriend.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Let’s not be naive, Miss Roberts. It wouldn’t be the first time a man has enjoyed the company of more than one woman.’

  That did it. She stood up. Insulting her was one thing, but attacking Tom’s character was out of order. ‘You don’t have a very high opinion of your son, do you, Mr Elliot?’

  ‘I simply meant that—’

  ‘I know what you meant.’ She balled her fists, trying to keep her hands under control. ‘And it seems that I have more respect for your son than you do.’

  His face coloured.

  ‘Anyone with half a brain can see your son is honourable and decent, with morals and integrity. He’s kind…funny…generous…and spends so much time taking care of the playhouse, his clients, his mother, that he’s ill with it. The guy can barely breathe for Christ’s sake. He puts everyone else’s needs ahead of his own. He works long hours, never gets a break, and what thanks does he get?’ She pointed at him. ‘His own father bad-mouthing him.’

  ‘I never—’

  ‘And you know what?’ She took a step closer, anger clouding her brain. ‘I don’t care if you dislike me, or think I’m not good enough for your son. But before you start making accusations about my behaviour, maybe you should look at your own actions.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘It wasn’t me who left their teenage son to deal with his alcoholic mother.’ She shushed him when he went to interrupt. ‘You should be grateful and proud of the way Tom dealt with those difficult years. And if you’re not…well…that says more about you than it does about him.’

  She was on a roll.

  ‘And furthermore, Tom doesn’t need protecting from me. If you knew your son at all, you’d know that he’s honest and law-abiding, and even aged eighteen he would never have allowed himself to be led astray. Not by me, and not by Jodi.’ Her whole body was shaking. She leant on the table. ‘You want to know the reason I’m still here?’

  He drew back when she jabbed her finger at him.

  ‘Because unlike you, I don’t quit when things get tough!’

  He flinched.

  ‘So if there’s nothing else…’ she gestured to the exit ‘…I suggest you leave. The showcase is in two days and we have a lot to do.’

  Harvey Elliot just stared at her.

  She stared back. No way was she backing down.

  Eventually he stood up, folded his newspaper and pocketed his wallet. He paused on his way out. ‘I underestimated you, Miss Roberts.’

  She held his gaze. ‘Yeah,
well…don’t do it again.’

  The shake in her legs made her feel unstable. She couldn’t believe what she’d just done. But she’d probably never see him again, so what did it matter.

  Twelve years ago, she should have stuck up for herself and she didn’t. It might be long overdue, but this went some way to repairing the damage caused by her lack of courage aged sixteen. It wouldn’t help resolve things with Tom, but it sure as hell made her feel better about herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Friday 24th November

  Becca’s insides were hurting from trying not to laugh. Or was it cry? It was hard to tell. Her tappers were wearing their costumes for the showcase. White trousers and waistcoats for the women, white trousers and jacket for Nick. They had on white trilby hats with a black trim and matching neckerchief. In theory, they should have looked smart and stylish. Unfortunately, Miriam’s bust was too big for the waistcoat. Cassie’s trousers were two inches too short. Mi-Sun’s trousers were too long and Nick’s were too wide. Only Wanda’s costume fitted perfectly. Funny that.

  With only twenty-four hours until curtain up there wasn’t much Becca could do – other than hope her mum was up for a spot of late-night sewing.

  They were in the theatre running through the routine. Far from adding the finishing touches to a polished routine, her tappers looked like petrified wildebeest being chased by lions.

  ‘Don’t change direction!’ she bellowed, struggling to be heard over One Republic’s ‘Counting Stars’. ‘You should’ve split into two lines by now!’

  Mi-Sun turned and got caught in the glitter curtain, knocking her hat off. When she bent down to pick it up she bumped into Nick, who lost his footing and bumped into Cassie. They were like dancing dominoes.

  ‘Pick it up, guys! Spread out, you’re too close together.’ They moved apart. ‘That’s it… That’s far enough… Stop… STOP!’

  Too late. Miriam disappeared off the side of the stage.

  Everyone rushed over to check she was okay.

  A beat later, Miriam’s face appeared, minus her hat. She climbed onto the stage, banging heads with Wanda who’d tried to help. They bounced apart, both rubbing their foreheads.

  Becca rubbed her own forehead…for an entirely different reason. ‘Cut the music,’ she yelled, miming a slicing movement across her throat.

  The student running the sound cues killed the music.

  Removing her headset, Becca moved through the auditorium and onto the stage, trying not to panic. Her tappers were suffering from a severe case of pre-show jitters.

  ‘It’s a disaster,’ Wanda said, still rubbing her head.

  ‘We’re not ready.’ Cassie looked close to tears. ‘We’re a laughing stock.’

  Nick and Mi-Sun nodded in agreement.

  ‘It’s not a disaster,’ Becca assured them. ‘It’s live theatre. These things happen.’

  ‘I fell off the stage!’ Miriam pointed to the dirty smudge on her white trousers.

  ‘So act like you meant to do it.’ Becca knew they were past the point of responding to critique. All she could do was try and boost their confidence and hope a pep talk calmed their nerves. ‘It’s like when you’re walking down the street and you trip up the kerb. Ten minutes later, you’ll have forgotten all about it.’

  ‘It’s hardly the same thing.’ Miriam sounded morose.

  Cassie fiddled with the waistband of her too-short trousers. ‘We keep messing up.’

  ‘We don’t want to let you down,’ Nick said. ‘We know you’ve got a lot riding on tomorrow.’

  Becca’s heart pinched. Oh, bless them.

  ‘We’ve been practising at Miriam’s house,’ Mi-Sun said. ‘We wanted you to be proud of us.’

  Becca hadn’t realised they’d been putting in extra rehearsals. She had to fight back tears. They weren’t natural dancers, and yet they’d supported her transition from failed dancer to inexperienced teacher with good humour. She owed them big time. They hadn’t dumped her when she’d messed up. And she wasn’t about to do the same to them.

  ‘I’m so proud of you,’ she said, meaning it. ‘You’re doing something new and pushing yourselves out of your comfort zones. Two months ago, some of you had never danced before. Now look at you! Performing a complex routine at a showcase. It’s amazing.’

  Miriam brushed dirt from her backside. ‘But it’s not perfect.’

  Becca looked at their five worried faces. ‘I’ll let you into a secret. There’s no such thing as a perfect performance. There’ll always be something you’re not happy with. During my career I made mistakes. I fell over, hit scenery and bumped into other dancers. I’ve never met a dancer who hasn’t made a mistake. At the time, it seems like a great tragedy, but you soon learn that it doesn’t matter. The key is to get up, carry on, and finish the show.’

  ‘I’m so nervous,’ Cassie said, wringing her hands together. ‘I’m physically shaking…look.’ She held out her vibrating hand.

  ‘Me too.’ Nick’s hand was equally wobbly.

  ‘Nerves are healthy,’ Becca said, warming to her subject. ‘Everyone gets nervous. Once you’re onstage the nerves will switch to adrenaline. And you’re not doing this alone. You’re part of a team and that sense of togetherness will keep you focused.’

  They looked doubtful.

  ‘I’d be worried if you weren’t nervous. Being nervous means you care about getting it right. Over time you’ll learn how to deal with nerves. Some people jump up and down, or have a bit of fun and make jokes. Others meditate in a quiet corner. Whatever works for you.

  ‘Feeling nervous prior to a performance will never go away. But being nervous and lacking confidence are two entirely different things. You’re doubting yourselves and questioning whether you can do this. I promise you, you can.’ As Becca was suffering from the exact same condition, she wondered if it was time to listen to her own advice.

  She moved around the group, trying to reassure them. ‘You all know the routine. I’ve seen you do it. You’ve rehearsed and prepared. You’re ready to perform. Don’t let being nervous undermine your confidence. You can do this. And you will be wonderful. Okay?’

  They gave half-hearted nods.

  Becca’s hands went to her hips. ‘Well, that wasn’t very convincing. Let’s try again. Can we do this?’

  They nodded with a little more conviction. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ She gave them all a hug. It was out of her hands now. All she could do was pray the routine wasn’t a complete disaster…and that no one else fell off the stage. ‘See you all tomorrow,’ she said, waving them off. ‘Ten a.m. sharp for a dress run, okay?’

  Chatting away, they packed up, still nervous about performing, but determined to try their best.

  When the theatre had cleared, she locked up and went in search of Jodi. Along with Eddie and Leon, the three of them had been working flat out all week to ensure everything was ready for tomorrow.

  Becca had been secretly relieved Tom’s time had been taken up juggling court hearings and organising the showcase. It meant she hadn’t had to talk to him about what had happened last Saturday.

  As for her cousin, she wanted to check Jodi was okay and wasn’t being abused by the terrible twosome, whose commitment to the showcase was non-existent.

  She found her cousin in reception wearing jeans and a T-shirt, a sweatshirt tied around her middle. Her hands were filthy.

  Becca frowned. ‘Everything okay?’

  Jodi shook her head. ‘Not really. One of the men’s loos is blocked and Elaine’s flight has been delayed. It’s touch and go whether she’ll be back in time for the showcase. The pottery exhibition is one of our main attractions.’

  Becca’s heart sank. ‘Isn’t there anyone else who could oversee the exhibition?’

  Jodi shook her head. ‘She says not, but she’s going to update me when she knows more.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope she makes it back in time. What about the loo? Do we need to call a plumber?’
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  ‘Eddie’s gone to find a plunger. But if we can’t clear it ourselves, we might have to.’ Jodi’s expression indicated unblocking a loo wasn’t high on her list of enjoyable pastimes.

  They’d be hard pushed to get a plumber out this late. Not to mention the additional expense.

  Jodi rested her hands on her knees. ‘This better be worth it.’

  Becca rubbed her back. ‘Of course, it will be. The council are going to be blown away by the showcase. Carolyn will return to find the playhouse thriving, and you’re going to finally receive the credit you deserve.’

  Becca was subjected to an incredulous look.

  ‘Okay, so it’s wishful thinking, but a girl can hope.’

  Jodi straightened. ‘I appreciate the pep talk, but I’m not naive enough to believe I have a future here. My contract ends soon. And even if we manage to win over the council, the situation with Vivienne and Petrit is unbearable. They want me gone.’

  Becca frowned. ‘We can’t let them succeed. When Carolyn returns, Tom will tell her what they’ve been up to and she’ll take action.’

  Jodi didn’t look convinced. ‘Carolyn will be far too focused on her recovery to bother with petty staff issues. And she shouldn’t have to.’ She stretched out her back. ‘I’ve loved working here, despite the terrible twosome, and getting to hang out with you has been a dream. I’ve even managed to win over Tom, but it’s not enough.’

  The mention of Tom caused a surge within Becca.

  Jodi shrugged. ‘The best I can hope for is a successful showcase. The council letting Carolyn keep the grant and a decent reference. Maybe now I’ve got some office experience, another employer will be willing to take me on.’

  Becca hugged her cousin. ‘God, I hope so.’

  Leon appeared, breaking the moment. His dark eyes darted between the hugging cousins. ‘Sorry for interrupting. We’ve finished cordoning off the car park.’

  Jodi tucked a loose strand of hair into her ponytail. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

  He took in her dishevelled state. ‘Anything else you need doing before I head off?’

  Jodi shook her head. ‘We’re good, thanks.’