by Georgia Hill
‘Sorry, Trevor. Come here, baby boy.’ Mortified that she’d scared him, Dora put down her wine and rescued the quivering cockapoo. Picking him up, she cuddled him close. She nuzzled her face into his soft fur. ‘I hate thunderstorms too, little one.’
Satisfied that Trevor was content, Millie considered her answer. She hadn’t been sure why her feelings towards Jed had changed so drastically. Or rather, why they had reverted to how she’d felt about him before. Maybe it was because he’d been so thoughtful and careful around her lately. Maybe she was beginning to see just what a difficult position he’d been in – what would she have done in his place? Maybe she was just weary of putting her life on hold and yearned for them to get back together?
‘I don’t know why I decided to forgive Jed,’ she said, at length. ‘Maybe I decided life was simply too short to hold a grudge.’ She sipped her wine and continued. ‘It was the twelfth anniversary of my parents’ accident this week. Did you realise?’
Dora shook her head.
‘Mum was thirty-eight when she died. Just thirty-eight. So young. Not all that much older than me now, really. She met Dad when she was sixteen. Said he was the love of her life. Never looked at another man all the time she was married to him.’
‘Just think how much more she might have had to enjoy.’ Dora sighed. She’d been fond of Millie’s mum. She had been a much more motherly figure than her own.
‘Exactly!’ Millie shrugged. ‘You never know what’s around the corner in this life.’ She refilled her glass. ‘Oh, I know how corny I’m sounding, but I just want to enjoy things. I’ve worked ever since I was seventeen. I want to take my foot off the accelerator for a while. Have some fun.’ She waved her glass at Dora, the wine sloshing dangerously. ‘In fact, Tessa told me that exact same thing not that long ago.’
‘Well, if there’s one person who knows about having fun, it’s Tessa, Dora said drily.’
Millie laughed. ‘I know you’re not keen, but she’s okay, really.’
‘As long as she’s a good friend to you, honeybun, that’s all that matters.’ Dora held out her glass in salute. ‘Be happy, my darling. That’s something else that matters too.’
Millie smiled. ‘I’m aiming to be.’
‘What’s the plan with the café? You still going to let Jed invest?’
Millie shook her head. ‘Still thinking about that. One thing at a time. It was heaven, though, you know, the other day,’ she said in dreamy tones. She looked up and gave a gutsy sigh.
Dora regarded her friend fondly. ‘Well, I’m glad. For what it’s worth, I think Jed is a keeper.’
‘Thank you.’ Millie brought herself back to earth with an obvious struggle. ‘It’s still early days and, despite appearances, we are taking it slow. What’s more, Jed’s happy to. He’s letting me dictate the pace.’
‘Emilia Fudge, I do believe you’re enjoying the power!’
Millie shrugged and giggled. ‘Might be.’ She drained her glass and put it on the floor just as the first clap of thunder sounded. ‘We need this. Let’s hope it clears the air. It’s been stifling.’ Getting up, she added, ‘You need something to soak up the alcohol? I made some bacon and cheese straws earlier. Trying some old recipes of my mum’s.’
Dora’s mouth watered. ‘Might squeeze a few down. Just to take my mind off the storm, you understand.’
‘I’ve made a huge batch. Take some back to your parents, if you like.’ Millie disappeared into the kitchen and returned bearing a couple of plates piled high with pastries.
‘Ooh Mil, they smell gorgeous. Let me at them. Just realised I’m starving. Today was as bad as ever.’
Dora had popped in to see Millie on return from yet another disastrous rehearsal, craving wine and sympathetic company.
‘Still not going well, then?’
Dora helped herself to a cheese straw and spoke through a mouthful. ‘Got the techie run- through next week,’ she moaned. ‘I’m dreading it.’
Millie frowned. ‘What’s a “techie run-through”?’ She leaned forward and fed Trevor a morsel of pastry.
‘It’s when the lighting and music and all the other technical stuff gets married to the acting. Always takes forever and it’s never a true run-through, no matter how hard everyone tries. Greg is still a plank of the finest oak and Mike is stressing everyone out.’
The latter part of the statement was a lie. Mike wasn’t stressing anyone out except for her. Since their encounter in the theatre, Dora couldn’t relax around Mike, or even look him in the eye. After tossing and turning through sleepless night after night, she found herself falling into a dead sleep in the early hours. She was woken heavy-eyed by the shrill beep of the alarm and threw herself into the coldest shower she could bear in order to wake up.
She bitched at everyone and was being given a wide berth. Dora hated herself, but at least being ignored meant she had to communicate as little as was necessary. The only person who shouldered her moods and happily batted away her spiky comments was Greg. His forbearance and sheer niceness put Dora into an even worse sulk.
She tried hard to snap out of it, but her nerves were shredded and every pore in her skin crawled with irritation, with unresolved lust for Mike. With jealousy.
But she wasn’t going to admit it to anyone. Not Greg, certainly not Mike and most definitely not Millie. Dora didn’t want to rain on her loved-up parade.
Millie gave her a close look. ‘Are you nervous about it? You seem ever so jittery.’
Dora didn’t answer.
‘Maybe it’s the storm,’ Millie added kindly, her words almost drowned out by a clap of thunder. ‘You were never that keen on them. Look, why don’t you stay over tonight and then you can have another drink?’ She got up to shut the windows as the rain began to hammer down. ‘Save you driving home in this weather.’ Without waiting for an answer, she went into the kitchen to find another bottle.
Dora lay back against the sofa, soothing the trembling dog. The scent of wet sand from outside assailed her nostrils and made her throat close. The rain battered the windows as a flash of lightning speared across the room. Another clap of thunder shook them. Trevor whined and stuck his nose into the crook of her arm.
‘Ssh, little one. It’s okay,’ she murmured to comfort him. ‘They never last long. It’ll be over soon.’ She wished, with her whole being, that she could get over Mike as quickly. ‘Oh, Trevor,’ she said into his fur as she gathered him close. ‘I think I’m conquering my fear of storms. If only I could get over Mike so easily.’
Chapter 30
The technical rehearsal was, as predicted, a nerve-shredding affair. It seemed to take ages.
Albie, the lighting director, and usually the most laid-back member of the crew, had a loud and very public row with Kirstie over the non-appearance of a new lighting rig. Dora witnessed the music director and Mike nearly come to blows over the ancient electrical system. The drip from the roof over where the third row stalls seats should go continued and the final straw was news that the promised painters, commissioned to repaint the interior of the theatre, had been delayed on another job.
Dora, unable to stand the atmosphere a minute longer, fled outside for some fresh air and privacy. At the side of the theatre, where a narrow path ran between it and a low sea wall, she came across Mike. He was leaning against the outside of the theatre, one foot on the sea wall and staring out to another uncaringly hot and sunny day.
Dora stopped in her tracks. Mike had just, uncharacteristically, called a long lunch, claiming he had to make some phone calls. He had obviously needed the same privacy she craved herself and she had no wish to disturb him. While every nerve in her body urged her to propel forward, she couldn’t face him in a situation like this. During rehearsals it had been bearable – just. Any emotion crackling between them was smoothed over by simply having to get the job done. It was killing her, but she’d managed to be coldly professional. But here, in this intimate space, looking out on another impossibly beautiful day, she wasn’t su
re she would be able to contain her feelings. She began to retrace her steps and tiptoe away.
A herring gull wheeling past too close and cackling had him look up and in her direction.
‘Dora.’
She couldn’t see much of his face. He wore sunglasses and a battered straw trilby pulled low. He was shrugged low into the collar of his shirt and looked as if he was desperate to disappear.
Her heart went out to him. She’d never seen anyone radiate so much misery. All her angst, her nerves, melted away. However she felt about him, whatever their crazy, mixed-up relationship, she cared too much about him to ignore his hurt. She approached cautiously.
‘It’ll be okay, you know.’
‘You think so?’
She went nearer. ‘I know so. Albie will get over his tantrum and the electricity will work. In the dark, no one will notice that the theatre hasn’t been painted and the whole thing will be a triumph.’
Mike gave a short laugh. ‘And how do you know all this?’
Dora spread her hands. ‘Because there’s a moment like this in every production. When all seems lost. When it feels it will never be ready. But it always happens in the end. It’s the magic of theatre. And this one will be no different. In fact, I’d go as far to say this particular production will be an absolute triumph.’
‘You seem very certain.’
‘I am.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s being directed by you and I believe in you.’
Mike scrubbed a hand over his face, dislodging the hat to the back of his head. It made him look even more rakish than normal. He gave a tight grin. ‘You believe in me? Even after all that’s happened. After everything I’ve done to you?’
‘You haven’t done anything I didn’t want to happen, Mike,’ Dora said softly and laid a hand on his arm. The linen of his sleeve smelled hot in the sun.
He turned to her and kissed her. It was infinitely tender, another variation in his array of kisses. This one felt as if it came from the very depth of his soul.
Everything melted away. The sharp saline from the sea crashing onto the shore below was replaced by the fresh, soapy smell of Mike’s skin. The feel of the rough stone of the sea wall on her back drowned out by his lips on hers. The sun arrowing down became an urgent heat inside. Everything crystallised into this: his lips on hers, his warm hands as they held her body close. She never wanted it to stop.
He broke away. ‘Oh Dora, Dora. I can’t seem to stop wanting to kiss you.’ In that trademark gesture, he traced a gentle thumb down her cheek and raked her face with his gaze, as if seeing it for the very first time. ‘I can’t seem to stop wanting you.’ He rested his forehead against hers and blew out a breath. ‘I know it’ll all be okay. I was just having a black moment. A very black moment.’ He shuddered.
A breeze drifted in the smell of beer from a nearby pub and Dora understood. She tightened her hold on his sun-warmed back, willing him strength.
‘But it feels good to hear you say you believe in me. In the production. You can’t imagine how much. Thank you.’
They stood close together for a moment. A sort of sigh of recognition flowed between them and then Mike stood away from her.
‘I suppose I ought to get back to the fray,’ he said, regret staining his voice. He took off his hat, ran a hand through his unruly curls and then crammed the trilby back on.
Dora took the hint. ‘And I have no idea why I’m standing outside in the midday sun,’ she said, a little too tartly. ‘I’ll be burned to a crisp.’
‘You will indeed.’ Mike sounded confused by the change in tone. ‘You always burned easily. And your white skin is a trademark, isn’t it? Back in the States?’ The last part was bitter.
‘Certainly is.’ Dora turned away and scanned the bay, her eyes hot and unseeing with unshed tears. She loved this man. No matter what happened and, worse, however he decided to treat her, she loved him. She’d loved him all those years ago and loved him now. And always would. ‘I just wish I didn’t,’ she muttered.
‘Yes, must be a pain to always have to cover up.’
Dora fumbled in her pocket for her sunglasses. Putting them on, she turned back and regarded him. ‘You have no idea of how much I have to hide,’ she said, levelly. ‘No idea at all.’
There was a beat and then he answered, ‘We’d better get back into the theatre, then.’ As Dora went to walk away, Mike caught her by the arm. ‘Come to the house later,’ he said urgently.
She met his gaze, inscrutable behind the sunglasses. She knew precisely what it meant. And simply nodded.
Chapter 31
It was late when she drove the Mini along the drive to his house. The light was just going, but the evening air remained hot and heavy. The storm had done little to clear the heat, after all. The heady scent of Nicotiana plants embraced her as she got out of the car. With the palms framing either side of the bungalow, she could have been in the south of France.
She’d managed a quick shower after the rehearsal had finally ground to a halt, had warned her parents she wouldn’t be back – and fled before they asked too many questions. She hoped they’d assume she was staying at Millie’s again.
She stood for a moment, leaning against the car and enjoying the feel of the silky evening air stroke her bare arms. Her parents knew it was Mike who was directing Persuasion but had remained silent on the subject. The channel of communication between her and her parents was twisty and blocked by all kinds of historic rubble. They were expert at ignoring anything they considered unpleasant and, for them, Michael Love definitely fitted into that category.
When her parents had discovered their affair, they’d banned her from seeing Mike and attending drama club. Dora wasn’t sure which hurt the most. Mike and the drama club had been entwined. They’d been Romeo and Juliet to each other, Benedict and Beatrice, Tristan and Isolde. Joe Latham had been nothing if not ambitious in his choice of texts.
Applying to go to drama school had been an escape from the gilded cage her parents had trapped her in. Maybe part of her had thought she’d find Mike in London, but he’d only reappeared on the acting scene when she was in the States and then in a very different sphere to her. Whatever their motives, the various adults in their lives had been very successful in driving – and keeping – them apart.
She looked up as the front door opened. Mike stood, in the inevitable scruffy jeans and loose shirt, with a guarded smile on his face. Whatever anyone had tried to do to keep them apart had, in the strangest way possible, led to this moment. And, even if it was the only time she’d ever have with Mike again, she was determined it would happen. It had been too long.
‘Hello Mike,’ she said softly and went in, trailing the hot flower scent of the night in her wake.
Chapter 32
The sex was amazing. Of course it was amazing. They’d always known exactly what gave each other the most intense pleasure. When seventeen, stamina, enthusiasm and a willingness to explore had led the way. Now base instinct was layered with experience. It made it a heady delight. Otherworldly; almost transcendental.
They made love throughout the night, their bodies becoming slick with sweat from the heat of their passion. The slid over and around one another, their bodies slippery like seals, until eventually they lay exhausted as the sun hit the sea and shot hazy pink rays across the bed. The cool tones of dawn found them sleepless and wide-eyed at what they’d just created.
It also brought the reality of the moment into sharp focus.
‘I ought to go,’ Dora said. She swung her legs out of the bed, but paused and turned back to him. ‘Long day ahead. And, don’t worry, Persuasion will be perfect, Mike.’ A horrible sort of politeness was strangling her words.
He rolled over, watching her dress. ‘Thank you. I want it to be perfect.’ There was a long pause and then his tone changed. ‘I expect you’ll go back to the States afterwards.’
Dora used every ounce of acting skill to answer. ‘I expect I wi
ll.’ She slid her t-shirt over her head and hid her burning face. ‘That’s where my career is, after all. And I expect you and Kirstie will go back to London.’ She concentrated on buttoning her linen trousers. For some reason her fingers had become fumbling and useless.
‘I suppose. We’ve got The Shrew on hold. They agreed to delay it until we’d done Persuasion.’
‘That’s great.’ She grabbed her bag and hunted inside for her car keys.
‘Dora –’
‘I need to go,’ she said in an over-bright voice. ‘It was,’ her voice softened, ‘It was perfect, Mike. The perfect one-night stand.’
And it had been. It had also been the worst mistake she’d ever made. For now she’d had him again, there was no chance she would ever get him out of her system. ‘For old times’ sake, eh?’ She swung her bag onto her arm.
‘Yeah. For old times’ sake.’ His voice held bitterness.
She’d left before he’d finished the sentence and missed the desolation etched onto his face.
Chapter 33
As rehearsals continued in ragged style, Dora kept her distance from Mike, keeping any interaction with him professional. She couldn’t help herself watch avidly as Kirstie pawed at his arm or stood too close. Mike didn’t seem to react, but it still created a jealous murder in Dora’s heart.
She thought she’d been pretty good at hiding her despair, but a conversation with Ellie suggested otherwise.
‘You okay, Dora?’ the younger woman asked during a break.
She’d found Dora sitting on a bench in the cobbled square at the front of the theatre. From here you could see both sides of the bay. There was a yacht race in progress and crowds of onlookers were strung along the promenade. Their cheers could be heard against a background of traffic noise from cars squeezing up the narrow lane past the theatre and into town. Berecombe had been getting steadily busier throughout June and was gearing itself up for the season proper when the school holidays began. The hot weather helped. It was turning out to be a record-breaking summer.
