by Georgia Hill
After a while, Dora shook herself off, hunted in the pocket of her dress for a tissue and wiped her eyes. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.
‘What for?’
‘Going all soppy on you.’ Dora blew her nose, becoming more Dora-like. ‘It’s just I’ve held it in for so long. I haven’t told anyone.’
‘Not even him?’
‘Especially not him.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’s moved on, Millie. Like they do. Like men do. We love them and I don’t think we ever stop. Not truly. Not even when the relationship’s over. They still hold onto a little piece of our hearts, which we can’t give to anyone else.’ She shrugged. ‘Men are different. They compartmentalise. They have work. They have sex. Then they’re biologically programmed to move onto the next conquest.’
‘You can’t mean that?’ Millie said, appalled. ‘That’s just not true, Dora.’
Dora screwed up the tissue into a ball. ‘That’s what it’s always seemed like to me,’ she said mutinously.
‘Is that how Mike’s been? I can’t believe it.’
‘Well, he’s been professional. Distant but professional.’
‘Apart from when you two had sex, I presume?’
Another pause. ‘How did you guess?’ Dora concentrated very hard on the shifting blackness of the sea.
‘Wasn’t tricky,’ Millie said, drily.
‘We have slept together,’ Dora admitted. ‘But it was a one-night stand.’ She gave a sigh that seemed to come from deep within. ‘It was wonderful, but it was just a one-off.’ She shook her head a little and lifted her chin. ‘Won’t happen again.’
Millie thought back to how she’d witnessed Mike look at Dora. Hungrily. Desperately. As if he was having what he most desired ripped away. He hadn’t the face of a disinterested man. Anything but. ‘Are you sure he doesn’t feel the same?’
Dora nodded miserably. ‘He’s never given me any reason to think otherwise. So I think it’s just best to cut my losses and go back to LA. I haven’t got a future here,’ she added in a hollow voice.
In a dark corner of the terrace, where the candles had long since sputtered out, came the harsh sound of a chair being scraped across concrete.
As Dora and Millie looked around, they could just make out the silhouette of a tall man get up and walk away in the direction of the promenade. As he neared the first of the streetlights, it picked up on his white linen shirt and dark, unruly hair.
Mike.
Dora and Millie stared at one another.
Millie reached out a comforting hand again. ‘You okay? Think he heard anything?’
‘I think it might be more a case of how much he heard.’ Dora’s eyes were wide with horror. ‘How long has he been sitting there?’
‘I don’t know, my lovely.’ Millie stared out to where Mike was striding along the prom. ‘I don’t know.’
Chapter 36
The day of the final dress rehearsal dawned predictably hot. The heatwave continued unabated. Grass had long since frizzled to a dull yellow, the media was hysterical about the threat of a water shortage and people had given up watching the weather forecast; they took it for granted it would be another hot and dry day. With the exception of the recent thunderstorm, no rain had fallen for weeks.
As Dora walked along the promenade, it was already getting warm. A sluggish breeze came in off the sea, but not enough to dispel the heat haze that hung low and heavy. Sea and sky merged into a blurred, blue-ish grey and it looked as if someone had tried to rub them out with a dirty eraser.
She and Millie had continued to drink after the party had wound up and she had, once again, slept over at Millie’s flat. She was feeling rubbed out and blurry herself. Being hung over probably wasn’t the ideal state in which to deal with such a crucial day at work but Dora consoled herself that it would dull the pain of seeing Mike.
She squeezed through the photographers hanging around the theatre entrance – since the publicity had gone out there had been a few dogging her steps – and went inside. The little theatre was alive with people. She stood for a minute, letting her eyes adjust to the lack of light. It was quite a contrast to the sunny, straightforwardly touristy day outside. Taking off her sunglasses she surveyed the scene, breathing in the adrenaline of the day before a show went on. Nowhere smelled quite like theatre, Dora thought. The close, almost dusty smell, underlain with a whiff of perspiration, panic and the legacy of productions past.
Hammering came from the stage as an adjustment was made to the proscenium. Albie was on a ladder, swearing volubly as he adjusted a gel on one of the lights. Marie, the wardrobe mistress, jogged past, her arms full of tailcoats, her mouth full of pins.
The realisation of how much she loved it all hit Dora with a blow straight to the solar plexus. How could she ever go back to the glitzy and hard-nosed world of American television? She had the unpretentious grime of theatre dust under her nails now. It was all she wanted. But, if she thought getting another TV role in the States was going to be hard, getting a stage role would be nigh-on impossible.
‘Better get yourself into costume,’ Kirstie called as she hurried past, the inevitable mobile in her hand. ‘Beginners at literally nine-thirty sharp.’
‘And so it begins,’ Dora murmured. She had a broken heart. This might be the only time she acted in a theatre for the foreseeable future. She was sick with nerves and a residual craving for a cigarette. Despite all this, she gave Kirstie a huge grin and made her way to her dressing room.
Chapter 37
It was only after the interval that things began to unravel.
Coming out of the dressing room she shared with Ellie, Dora overheard a raised voice coming from the room next door. It was Greg.
‘Mike, I can’t do it.’
There was a muffled answer.
‘No! God Mike, I know you’ve tried every which way but look at me. Look at me! I’m a wreck. If I go on, I’ll just let everyone down. I’ll let you down.’
There came another quiet response, she assumed from Mike.
Dora hesitated, wondering how she could help. Just as she was about to knock on the door to say how good she thought Greg had been in the first act, the door flew open and he strode out.
He barged past her and disappeared along the dimly lit corridor. Mike appeared at the doorway and stopped when he saw Dora.
She caught his gaze. His face was pinched with tension. ‘Who’s his understudy?’
‘Josh,’ Mike said, without preamble.
‘Shit.’ Josh was one of the amateurs. Talented and keen but inexperienced. ‘Do you think he’s up to it?’
Mike shrugged. He sagged against the wall suddenly and put his face in his hands. ‘I’ve let everyone down, haven’t I?’
‘You’re not Greg.’
He looked at her, ‘But I was the one who took a gamble on him. And I was the one who was stupid enough to put a beginner in as his understudy. How egotistical does that make me? Being so over-confident that there wouldn’t be a problem. And no, to answer your question, I don’t think Josh will be up to it and I don’t want to force him into that position.’
‘Well, there’s only one thing for it.’
‘And that is?’
‘You know the words. You do it.’
Chapter 38
Some initial nervy mistakes apart, with Mike as Wentworth, the cast gelled better. To Dora’s relief. She could sense them willing the production to be a success. Willing Mike to be a success. Their deep regard for their director was palpable. The faith and confidence went both ways, it seemed.
Acting with Mike again made Dora’s heart sing with joy. It was like putting your aching foot into a comfortable slipper after suffering killer heels all day. She hadn’t realised how insecure she’d been when acting opposite Greg. Her acting muscles relaxed and her performance began to sing too.
The second half flew by and, almost too soon, they came to the other crucial scene in the play: the one with Wentworth�
��s letter. It had been directed so that Anne was stage front, holding the letter and staring into the auditorium. Mike said he wanted every reaction nuanced on her face and signposted to the audience. ‘It’s where Anne gets her reward for being faithful and good,’ he’d explained. The small party at the apartment in the White Hart, Mrs Musgrove, Mrs Croft and Harville were in freeze-frame behind her. Wentworth stood, slightly off-centre and spotlit.
When Mike began to speak, Dora thought her heart would wrench itself in two.
‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late …’
With difficulty, Dora controlled her breathing. A sob erupted and she stifled it. Do not lose control, she implored herself, silently. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. The words were Wentworth’s, via the genius pen of Jane Austen, but the raw emotion was Mike’s alone.
‘I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own, than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago.’ Mike’s voice splintered with emotion. ‘I have loved none but you …’
Dora squeezed shut her eyes. Tears streamed down her face and every particle of her being wanted to turn around and take him in her arms. She’d always known Mike to be a consummate actor, but it was almost as if he really meant the words. The rawness in his voice was too much to bear.
She was desperate to stop, to take time to collect her thoughts, get her performance back on track. There was no way she could interrupt the rehearsal. She owed it to the rest of them to keep going. So she did.
When it was finally all over, there was no opportunity to speak to Mike. After the briefest of a curtain call practice, he’d immediately been mugged by a fretful Kirstie.
Ellie approached her, an anxious look on her face. ‘Do you think Greg will be back for the first night?’
Dora watched from the stage as Mike, still in his Regency sea captain’s uniform, disappeared upstairs to the offices, Kirstie hot on his heels.
‘I don’t know, Ellie.’ She glanced at her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. ‘In some ways it would be better if he didn’t.’
Chapter 39
‘Poor Greg,’ Millie said. ‘He must really have been going through hell.’
Dora, fractious with first-night nerves, had risen after a sleepless night and was sitting with Millie and Jed on the café’s terrace. It promised to be another sticky, overcast day and Dora could feel a film of sweat forming on the back of her neck already.
‘Yeah, Mike sent a text round last night to say Greg had officially pulled out of the show. He’s gone home to be with his wife.’
Millie tutted. ‘Poor man. He’s so nice too.’
Dora nodded. ‘He is. And, even though I sound like a queen bitch for saying it, it’s a much better play with Mike as Wentworth. I think we’re all quite relieved, to be honest.’
‘No team can operate properly knowing there’s a weak link at its core,’ Jed put in.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ Dora agreed. ‘Think that’s been the problem all along. It’s been such a difficult rehearsal period.’
‘And how did, Josh, is it, take the news that he wouldn’t be getting his big break and step in as Greg’s understudy?’ asked Millie.
Dora grinned. ‘More relief. Turned out he hadn’t learned all the lines.’
‘Ouch.’ Millie winced. ‘Mistake.’
‘Big mistake, but if he wants to get anywhere in the theatre, it’s one he’ll learn from.’
‘What about the funding? Phil isn’t really going to pull out, is he?’ Jed asked. ‘You mentioned the other night it was dependent on Greg being in it.’
‘No.’ Dora shook her head and grinned. ‘He had, shall we say, someone very persuasive who had a word.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’ Millie breathed out a sigh. ‘So, you’re all set up for the first night? I can’t wait to see Mike as Wentworth. I bet he looks a dream in a pair of breeches.’
‘You’re not wrong there, Mil.’ Despite all the uncertainties of the last few hours, Dora couldn’t help but agree.
‘Oh and I can’t wait to see you too, of course,’ Millie added hastily, catching sight of Jed’s jealous face. ‘From everything I’ve heard, it’s going to be a hit. A palpable hit.’
‘Wrong play, honeybun.’
‘What do you mean?’ Millie flapped her hands at Dora. ‘Oh, get on with you, as Biddy might say.’ She stood up. ‘Seeing as my literary pretensions are being scoffed, I shall stick to what I’m good at and get us something to drink. Tea or lemonade, people?’
‘Lemonade please,’ Jed and Dora chorused.
‘Lots of ice?’
‘God, yes please,’ Jed said with feeling.
‘Consider it done.’ Millie turned on her heel. ‘I shall exit pursued by a bear. I know, I know,’ she put up her hands as she went. ‘Another wrong play.’
Dora regarded her friend fondly. ‘Love you, Mil,’ she called. ‘Even if you don’t know your Shakespeare from your Austen.’
‘Think you’ll find my Emilia has other skills, and many of them,’ Jed defended stoutly and then grimaced as he tugged at the collar of his polo shirt. ‘Why, when it’s hot in the UK does it always get so humid?’
‘They’ve warned it could get to the high eighties today, although you never notice how hot it is when you’re inside the theatre.’ Dora smiled. ‘I know what you mean, though, just wish it would break. And that’s coming from someone who hates thunderstorms! Still, I suppose it’s good for business.’ Shading her eyes, she looked out to the beach, where, even at this early hour, families were setting up camp. ‘What’s with this new trend for tents on the beach?’
Jed shrugged. ‘Beats me,’ he said on a laugh. ‘Maybe it’s somewhere to get out of the sun.’
‘Here we go,’ Millie brought back a tray of glasses and a jug rattling with chunks of ice. ‘Oh hello,’ she said brightly as a man and a woman walked onto the terrace. ‘I’m terribly sorry but we’re not open for another hour.’
Jed shot to his feet. ‘Alex,’ he cried. ‘You got here okay. And Ma!’
The tall, elegantly lean man grinned. ‘Hi, little bro. Thought we’d come over and see what all the fuss is about Berecombe.’ He pushed up his horn-rimmed specs. ‘After all, you seem to spend an inordinate amount of time here. I can’t begin to imagine what the attraction is.’
The brothers man-hugged and then Jed took the woman’s hand and led her forward. ‘Dora, Millie, that streak of skinny bacon is my brother Alexander and this,’ he paused for unnecessary dramatic effect and seemed nervous, ‘Is my mother, Vanessa. Ma, this is Millie.’
The woman nodded coolly at Millie then did a double-take. ‘Oh, but surely you’re Theodora Bart?’
‘I am.’ Dora got to her feet. ‘Delighted to meet you.’ She held out a hand and the older woman took the very tips of her fingers in the barest gesture of a social handshake. ‘I’m afraid I ought to go.’ She looked from Jed to his mother and then to Millie and felt uncomfortable. Meeting the parents for the first time and especially meeting the mother of the man you were in love with, should be a private affair. ‘We open Persuasion tonight. Lots of last minute things to do,’ she lied.
‘Of course. Alex and I passed the theatre on our drive through town. Jed told me about your little production.’
‘Determined not to rise to the bait, Dora gave a show-biz smile instead. ‘I’d say do come and see it but we’re sold out tonight.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I can pull a few strings.’ Vanessa smiled glacially. ‘And, after all, it’s hardly the West End, is it?’
This was too much. Dora felt a twinge of concern for Millie. Jed’s mother was a bitch. ‘Hardly.’ She matched the woman’s icy expression. ‘It’s so much more important than that. I do hope you manage to get a ticket.’ She turned to Alexander. ‘Sorry to say hi and bye. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you if you’re staying in the area.’
‘That would be delightful.’ He gave an old-fa
shioned bow.
‘Sorry to have to go, Mil. Jed. Laters, honeybuns.’
As Dora left, she could hear Millie offering everyone lemonade or some cinnamon toast and relaxed a little. She’d felt guilty leaving her alone with Jed’s mother; the woman was obviously difficult. But still, Millie would win her over. There was no one alive who didn’t love Millie, was there?
Chapter 40
Millie hopped from foot to foot and wished she’d remembered to put a brush through her hair that morning. She lifted it off her neck in a nervous gesture. ‘Are you sure I can’t get any of you anything?’
‘I’d love some of that lemonade,’ Alex said. ‘It looks just the thing for a hot day like today.’
Grateful to be given something to do, Millie beamed at him, only to see him blink shyly behind the heavily framed glasses in return.
‘Oh do sit down, Alexander, for heaven’s sake. You’re making me even hotter by hovering there,’ Vanessa snapped.
‘Yes mother.’ Deflated, Alex sat, his long frame bent almost double on one of Millie’s outside chairs.
‘We can’t tempt you to some, Ma?’ Jed asked. ‘Millie makes it herself.’
Vanessa eyed the jug and its creamy yellow contents with distaste. ‘I’m avoiding sugar at the moment, as you well know, Jeremy.’
‘Well, I’ll have some as it’s completely delicious.’ He poured himself a generous glassful and winked at Millie as she slid into a chair next to Alex.
‘Actually, I’m very careful to add only the minimum of sugar,’ she began.
‘So this is where you’ve been spending all your time, Jeremy?’ His mother interrupted and regarded the café with a baleful glare.
Millie wished, not for the first time, that the full refurbishment had already gone ahead.
‘I must say, I rather hoped it would be more like Hix or at least along the lines of that charming place at Burton Bradstock. That’s so chic.’ She smiled at Millie, but it didn’t reach her glacially blue eyes. Like a predator sensing the weakest member of the herd, she turned on Jed. ‘And this is what you hope to invest in?’
