by Rosie Green
He grins. ‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far . . .’
‘Hey, you!’ I nudge him with my elbow and he says ‘Oof’ and pretends to double over in pain.
On the drive back, we chat about the dress rehearsal.
‘You know, I’m feeling better about the whole thing now,’ I tell him. ‘So thank you, Rob.’
He smiles. ‘You’re very welcome, Fen,’ he murmurs, and I feel a sudden, inexplicable rush of emotion.
‘Are you okay?’ He frowns and I realise there must be tears in my eyes.
Blinking furiously, I force a laugh. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I think . . . I just always thought I was stuck with my shyness and there was nothing I could do about it. I thought it would hold me back forever. That there were things I’d never be able to do in life because of it. But you’ve shown me that’s not true.’
He reaches over, covers my hand with his and gives it a gentle squeeze. And it must be because of my sudden epiphany, but the relaxed feeling inside me seems to expand, as if a bubble of happiness is about to burst right out of my chest . . .
I suddenly wonder if Rob has someone special in his life. He’s never mentioned that he has. In the few conversations we’ve had that have touched on relationships, I’ve got the impression there is someone he likes but for some reason, it’s probably not going to happen for him. Which I think is really sad. He’s such a lovely guy.
I study his face in profile as he concentrates on the road ahead – the strong jaw, the curve of his lower lip, the faint laughter lines around his long-lashed eyes. The wind has blown strands of his dark blonde hair forward, over his ear, making him seem oddly vulnerable, and I have a sudden urge to smooth it back into place.
This girl, whoever she is, clearly doesn’t have a clue what she’s missing . . .
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It’s the following day, Sunday, and I arrive at the am dram meeting a little earlier than usual, intending to run through my lines before everyone else arrives.
When I pop my head round the door of the main room, I see that the chairs have been arranged in a circle for the start of our meeting but the room is empty. Clearly I’m the first to arrive.
I sit down and start reading my script.
Suddenly, in the silence of the hall, I catch a strange noise.
Laying the script in my lap, I cock my head, straining to hear it. And there it is again, louder this time. A sort of hoarse, gasping sound. It’s like I imagine someone having an asthma attack might sound like.
What if someone is in trouble?
Walking over to the door, I realise the sounds seem to be coming from the office, which is usually kept locked.
The noises are growing louder now. It sounds like someone is in genuine distress. I shout ‘hello?’ and try the door but it’s locked and whoever is behind it is now making so much racket, they won’t be able to hear me anyway.
The breathy, gasping sounds have now turned into animal-like grunts – and as the penny drops, heat rushes into my face. Someone – well, two people probably, on reflection – are clearly experiencing the very opposite of distress. It sounds like they’re having a very nice time indeed.
I step away with an embarrassed smile. And then, to my amazement, from behind the locked door someone starts humming a tune I vaguely recognise.
It’s on the tip of my tongue. Ooh, I hate that when you can’t quite . . . I click my fingers several times trying to think. And then it comes to me.
It’s the theme music from one of Dad’s favourite war movies, in which a new ‘bouncing bomb’ explodes the enemy’s dams.
The Dam Busters!
It’s a really patriotic, stirring tune and whoever’s humming it is putting his whole heart – and back - into it. It’s getting louder and more dramatic as he prepares to launch his load (A bomb, obviously.)
I flee the scene and run into the other room. Serves me right for coming early. (Unlike my friend in the office, who’s clearly putting in a sterling performance.)
I’m just wondering whether I should escape outside and pretend I’ve just arrived and haven’t heard a thing, when I hear a key in a lock and someone emerging from the office.
I hold my breath, pretending to be engrossed in the panto script.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone pause at the door. Then Cressida clears her throat and saunters boldly in. She eyes me without a flicker of embarrassment. ‘You’re here early,’ she remarks, walking into the kitchen and flicking the kettle switch.
‘Er, yes, just arrived,’ I lie.
I’m absolutely itching to know who Cressida’s been having naughties with. But whoever it is must be hiding out in the office. Perhaps she’s been shagging one of the Ugly Sisters? A sense of humour can be a great aphrodisiac. Or maybe she’s just made young Daniel’s dream come true?
The rest of the cast are now wandering in, in dribs and drabs. I study the guys’ faces one after the other – but they all look completely innocent. And then we’re all here and Ethan is giving me one of his secret smiles and suggesting we all warm up with a hot drink before we start the meeting.
Later, I’m sitting with Karen and we’re listening to Rosalind reeling off her lines – she’s almost word perfect now – when I hear Daniel shyly tell Cressida that I’m going to be standing in as Fairy Godmother.
Cressida’s eyes open wide and she snorts. ‘Wouldn’t she be more suited to play First Mouse?’ She grins slyly across at me and makes a high-pitched squeaking noise.
‘No, but you’d definitely be more suited to playing a bitchy Ugly Sister!’ comments Karen loudly, and a titter goes round the room.
I’m just about to act in my scene for the first time, and Cressida’s remarks are the opposite of encouraging.
Karen turns to me. ‘Okay, you’re on, Fen. Ethan’s calling you over. Now, go up there and show that cow, Cressida, exactly how good you are!’
I make a nervous face and Karen grins.
‘We’ll be cheering you on. Won’t we, Rosalind?’
‘Absolutely! Go get ‘em, love.’ She laughs. ‘Only don’t be too good or I might find myself without a part!’
So with their encouragement ringing in my ears, I walk onto the stage – and as I go, I visualise myself in my Wonder Woman stance on Brighton beach and immediately feel a little taller.
My heart is drumming loudly in my ears, but somehow I manage to pull it off, only stumbling over my lines once. At the end, everyone cheers like mad which is so unexpected and lovely, it brings a tear to my eye.
I actually did it!
I stood up in front of all of these people and I risked making a fool of myself – and it worked out fine! In fact, I wouldn’t even mind doing the whole thing over again. (Which is just as well because I’m going to have to – and in front of a much larger audience next week.)
I glance gratefully around the room and catch Ethan’s eye.
His broad smile as he claps me is the perfect icing on the cake . . .
On my way home later, I’m still racking my brains trying to work out who Cressida was up to no good with in the office. Mike the scenery guy is a bit of a flirt and is the closest in age to Dad and therefore could possibly be a Dam Busters fan.
But Mike is happily married. Or is he . . . ?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘Oh my God, how exciting! What are you going to wear? Do you need to go shopping?’ asks Jaz, when she hears that Ethan is taking me out after the dress rehearsal on Friday night.
I grin at her. She seems almost as pumped up about it as I am. That’s one of the things I love about Jaz. No matter what’s going on in her own life – and it’s definitely not looking like love’s young dream with her and Harry at the moment – she’s still so genuinely pleased for her friends if things are going well.
‘I need a whole new outfit,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve got nothing even remotely suitable for a posh do like a wine-tasting in an upmarket art gallery.’
‘Right.’ Jaz preten
ds to look bored. ‘God, so does that mean we’ll have to go round the shops with you, looking at clothes?’
‘We could go for pizza afterwards,’ says Ellie, a spark of life appearing on her face for the first time in ages.
I smile at them. ‘That would be great. A girls’ outing.’
Jaz’s face falls. ‘Oh, hang on. I’ve got a loose arrangement with Harry to go to the cinema tonight and I can’t pass up an opportunity to spend time with him. Mainly because if we don’t meet up soon, we’re not going to be able to recognise each other.’
‘Have you talked to Harry about this?’ Ellie asks.
‘Yeah. Tell him how you feel,’ I add. ‘He might not even realise he’s being elusive.’
‘I’m rubbish at confrontation.’ Jaz shakes her head gloomily. ‘But listen, I could take over at the café in the afternoon, Ellie, so you two can have more shopping time.’
‘Really? That would be brilliant. If you don’t mind,’ says Ellie.
Jaz grins. ‘What’s not to like about working in a café full of Fen’s mouth-watering cakes?’
‘You’d better not snaffle all the profits,’ smiles Ellie, imitating a pig’s snort. Then she turns to me. ‘Looks like it’s just us on that shopping trip, Fen.’
I nod happily. That can’t be a bad thing. We haven’t had a good heart-to-heart for a while, probably because we’ve both been so busy. A chance to relax later over Italian food and a glass of wine or two will do us both good.
And I can also to chat to Ellie about my ideas for the café’s Christmas window she’s asked me to organise . . .
*****
The next day, Jaz comes over to the café at two, leaving Ellie and I free to head into town.
It’s Wednesday, only two days before my date with Ethan, so it’s vital our shopping trip is a success.
Ellie drives us into Guildford and we chat about the Snow Ball next week. I tell her all about Mum’s preparations but I miss out the bit about the snow-making machine. I’m longing to tell her but I’d like her to be just as surprised as everyone else so I manage to keep quiet about it.
She seems okay, if a little subdued.
‘Where’s Zak today?’ I ask as we drive into the car park.
‘He’s gone to the library to write. The change of scene seems to help. And we’re all going out to eat after we’ve picked Maisie up from school.’
‘Ooh, lovely.’ Maybe that’s why Ellie seems in a slightly better frame of mind. For once, Sophie isn’t swallowing up a large part of her family’s day . . .
We’re heading for the high street, chatting about my outfit and deciding which shops to visit when Ellie suddenly stops dead in her tracks.
I’m a few paces ahead, still talking about jump suits, by the time I realise – and when I turn, she’s staring ahead, along the little side street we’re on, towards the shops.
‘What is it, Ellie?’ My heart lurches at the shocked expression on her face.
She starts walking on, slowly at first then speeding up, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
And then I realise what she’s looking at. A tall, dark-haired man and a woman with a dark pixie cut are looking into an estate agent’s window. It could be anyone from this distance, but then the man swings a little girl onto his shoulders. And that little girl is wearing a red polka dot coat. Maisie.
‘But I thought you said Zak was at the library,’ I murmur, then immediately wish I could take the words back because Ellie’s eyes well up with tears. She dashes them away angrily.
‘So he’s lying to me now to cover up the fact that he wants to be with Sophie!’ She marches on, drawing ever closer to a confrontation right there on the high street, while I hurry to keep up, wondering what the hell to do. Perhaps she needs to have it out with them? There could be a perfectly simple explanation for why her boyfriend is laughing with Sophie and Maisie and pointing at properties in the window – and then, even as we watch, going into the shop . . .
‘Ellie, don’t do this.’ I catch her hand and she swings around, looking at me furiously.
‘Let me go.’ She yanks her hand away and marches on.
I spot a café up head. ‘Come and have a coffee and we’ll talk about it,’ I beg. ‘Come on, it’s on me!’
She shakes her head. ‘I need to know what’s going on.’
‘You can ask Zak later.’ I pause outside the coffee shop. ‘Please, Ellie. There’s probably a perfectly simple explanation and you’re in no state to talk logically to them. You might end up saying something you regret.’
‘You can drink coffee if you want to,’ she shouts from further along the street, and several passers-by turn and stare. ‘But I need to find out what’s going on in my life because you know what? I’ve actually no bloody idea at all!’
I run the few paces after her. ‘Ellie! No! You’re being paranoid about this whole situation. You’ve got to calm down.’
She stop and turns. And the fury on her face makes me catch my breath. ‘Oh, I’m being paranoid, am I? Well, that’s lovely to hear – especially from someone who’s supposed to be my friend!’
‘Okay, maybe not paranoid exactly,’ I say, desperately back-tracking. ‘But Ellie, you’re living in cloud cuckoo land if you think challenging them right here on the high street is going to make you feel better!’
She throws me a contemptuous look. ‘Well, you’re a fine one to talk about living in cloud cuckoo land, Fen!’
‘What do you mean?’ I stare at her, puzzled.
‘Well, that’s exactly what you’re doing at the moment, although you obviously don’t realise it. Christ, Fen, do you honestly imagine you’re going to walk off into the sunset with Ethan Fox and live happily ever after? This is real life, you know, not one of your stupid romance books!’
I swallow hard, her words piercing my heart. ‘I’m imagining nothing of the sort.’ My voice cracks with emotion. ‘I like Ethan and we’re friends. That’s all.’
‘Oh, pull the other one, Fen. You’re so deep in your dream of happy-ever-afters, you don’t even know what real life is! You need to wise up and realise that Ethan Fox is just taking you for a ride. Men like him don’t think beyond the next shag and it’s high time you realised that, for your own sake!’
I’m horrified at the words pouring out of her mouth.
‘But you don’t know Ethan like I do,’ I tell her, anxious to change her mind about him. ‘He’s lovely and sensitive and he told me just the other day that he feels like he’s ready to settle down . . .’
She laughs bitterly. ‘And you believe him?’
‘Yes, I do.’ A lump rises to my throat. ‘I trust him.’
‘Well, more fool you, then. Because men can’t be trusted.’ She nods at the estate agent’s and starts walking on again. ‘Case in point.’
‘That’s not true,’ I yell desperately.
‘I’m getting the train back,’ she calls, without turning around. ‘Enjoy your shopping trip.’
‘No, stop, Ellie! You’re just feeling horribly insecure with Sophie around.’
She swings round and yells, ‘Paranoid, you mean? How can you continue working with me when you so clearly think I’m losing my marbles?’ She places her hands on her hips and glares at me. ‘In fact, you know what, Fen? You’re fired!’
‘What?’ I stare at her in horror. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Yes, I do!’ she shouts. ‘I need friends right now. And a friend doesn’t tell you you’re paranoid and fail to carry out an important task she promised to do for you.’
Oh, shit! The café window. I promised to do it but I somehow forgot all about it . . .
‘I’ll do the window. I promise.’
‘Whatever,’ she says, turning away. ‘But I think it’s best that after Christmas, you leave the café.’
‘Fine.’
‘Good.’
She marches off and I stare after her in a state of shock. What the hell just happened?
I watch her striding alo
ng, her head down against the wind, hands stuffed into her pockets. I’m hoping against hope she won’t cross the road to the estate agent’s. But thankfully, when she reaches the high street, she turns left instead and disappears from view.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Next day is Thursday, the day before the dress rehearsal, and there’s an air of tension and barely-contained excitement at the evening meeting as we all put on our costumes and have last-minute adjustments made by Lizzie.
My Fairy Godmother costume is amazing. Lizzie has done an absolutely brilliant job.
We run through the entire pantomime for one last time, and to my enormous relief, I get through my part without any slip-ups. It all helps to take my mind off what happened the day before, because after my terrible clash with Ellie on the disastrous shopping trip that never happened, I’ve been feeling really down.
I’m refusing to dwell on the horrible things she said about Ethan and men in general. She was just upset about Zak, that’s all, and she’s sure to regret what she said eventually. I’m just really worried about her. I’ve never seen Ellie like this. And now she won’t even speak to me. I tried to talk to her when I arrived at the café this morning but she just stone-walled me, looking frankly terrible as if she hadn’t slept at all.
And the worst thing of all was when she repeated the fact that she wasn’t expecting me back at the café after Christmas.
I phoned Jaz and explained what had happened and she said she’d go round and chat to Ellie later to make sure she’s all right. Jaz said there was nothing I could have done or said to make things better and that I wasn’t to beat myself up about it. It’s some comfort, at least, to know that Jaz doesn’t hate me as well . . .
I’m thankful for the distraction of the pantomime rehearsals.
Ethan is totally focused on the job in hand, although several times in between scenes, he comes over and sits beside me and asks how I’m feeling, which I really appreciate.
I love watching Ethan work. I find his total focus on getting the best from every cast member so inspiring. He’s brilliant at what he does. And he’s just as rakishly handsome as I imagine sexy hero Rock Hardacre to be in The Curtain Falls. In the book, which I’ve read at least five times, Rock directs newcomer actress Honey Camberwell in what turns out to be an Oscar-winning performance for both of them. When a tragic boating accident leaves Honey without the use of one arm she’s sure that will be the end for her and Rock – but in true hero style, Rock comes through for her, designing a range of left-handed kitchen utensils that make them a million and ensure they live happily ever after.
