The Summer Theatre by the Sea

by Tracy Corbett

  He still wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong. He’d missed Lauren’s big declaration on the opening night, about owing Glenda money. Nate had filled him in afterwards. As far as he knew, his name hadn’t been mentioned. Why would it? ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘For Lauren, yes. Anyone doubting my sister’s honesty will now see Glenda for what she really is, a manipulative, mean-spirited woman who preys on the financially vulnerable.’

  He nodded his agreement, feeling it unwise to offer anything else.

  ‘As you can imagine, I was completely stunned when the police contacted Lauren this morning.’ Her tone had switched to sarcastic. ‘I mean, who knew they’d been tipped off and had been carrying out surveillance on Glenda for almost three weeks.’ Her gaze was locked on his, daring him to concede, as if playing some kind of Russian roulette.

  Being a sensible man, he kept quiet.

  ‘But Lauren wasn’t surprised. Oh, no. Turns out a rep from the Illegal Money Lending Team had called round to Lauren’s flat. Ever heard of them, Barney?’

  Again, he said nothing.

  ‘But even after Lauren was told that Glenda’s behaviour was illegal, my sister was too frightened to make an official complaint.’ Her fists were bunched so tightly that the skin around her knuckles had turned white. ‘She was so scared of the repercussions, of the shame of anyone knowing about her situation, that she refused to give evidence. Can you imagine that?’ She advanced on him. ‘How it feels to be that scared?’

  Right at that moment? Yes, he could. He figured that was the point.

  She lifted a finger. ‘I can think of only one thing worse.’

  Here it came.

  ‘People knowing who Glenda really was and not saying anything.’

  And the guillotine dropped. One swift slice and his balls lay in a basket by his feet. So that was his crime. She’d found out that he had known.

  ‘Not even just people … friends.’

  Guilt flooded him. ‘I only suspected.’

  ‘Oh, you only suspected?’ Her voice rose another notch. ‘So you didn’t exchange playful banter with your mates, referring to the woman as Glenda-the-Lender?’

  Shit. His eyes closed involuntarily.

  She shoved him in the chest. There was no strength behind it, despite her fist being clenched. ‘How long have you known?’

  The time for denial was gone. What was the point; she knew anyway. ‘A while.’

  ‘How long is a while? A month? A year?’ When he didn’t reply, she became incredulous. ‘You’ve always known, haven’t you? Ever since you came to Penmullion?’

  The flicker of his eye movement must have given him away.

  ‘And you never said anything?’ She was yelling now.

  ‘It wasn’t my place.’

  ‘Not your place?’ She raked her hands through her hair, a gesture so out of character and so unlike Charlotte that he didn’t know whether to be pleased or afraid. She was finally unravelling. Unfortunately, he was the cause. ‘Whose place was it, then? You’re her friend. You socialise with her, babysit her kids, constantly tell me how special she is …’

  ‘She is—’

  ‘Then why the hell didn’t you help her?’ Angry tears fought their way down her cheeks. ‘Why did you stand back and let Glenda bully my sister? Tell me?’

  ‘Because …’ but nothing would come. He wanted to find the right words, something that would defend his actions, justify keeping quiet, but the enormity of his fuck-up meant that excuses were pointless. ‘I wasn’t certain. None of us were. We suspected that Glenda loaned people money, but we had no idea she was a loan shark. Not really. We just thought it was something she did on the side, you know, a part-time business.’

  ‘Just a harmless bit of illegal moneylending, eh? You saw how miserable Lauren was, how much weight she’d lost, and yet you did nothing.’

  ‘That’s not true … Well, not entirely.’ He jumped in before she could interrupt. ‘Lauren’s a private person, proud too. She wouldn’t have wanted everyone knowing her business. So we kept quiet, hoping she could sort it out herself.’

  ‘Oh, great plan.’ Charlotte’s sarcastic nod was accompanied by a slow hand clap. ‘What a bunch of cowards.’

  ‘You’re right.’ And then he felt the need to clarify. ‘I am, at any rate, but not Nate. He wanted to intervene.’

  She didn’t look like she believed him. ‘Then, why didn’t he?’

  Oh, hell. ‘Because we persuaded him not to.’

  She stilled, which was worse than when she was raging. ‘You did what?’

  ‘We …’ And then he realised there was no point shafting Paul as well. ‘I thought he was overreacting, that he’d got it wrong. In the end, he decided to report Glenda anyway, even though he risked Lauren hating him.’

  She shook her head. ‘The only one with any balls.’

  He looked down at the floor. This was true.

  After a moment’s silence, she said, ‘It doesn’t explain why you didn’t mention it to me, though, does it? All this time we’ve spent together, and not once did you think to alert me to what was happening.’

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to complicate what we had.’

  ‘Complicate it?’ She seemed genuinely confused.

  ‘You know, by making it too … personal. You wanted to keep things purely physical.’

  Her confusion turned incredulous. ‘So, this is my fault?’

  ‘Of course not.’ He reached out, but she batted him away. ‘I’m just trying to explain why I didn’t tell you. I made a mistake.’

  ‘You certainly did.’ Her fingers searched for a non-existent button on her top. ‘Well, thank God I found out now. Thanks for making leaving Penmullion so much easier for me, Barney.’ She backed away.

  ‘You’re not going?’ He needed more time. He had to tell her about his move to London. Try to persuade her that they could make a go of things.

  ‘I have no reason to stay.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ He moved quickly, catching her arm before she could escape. ‘For a few more days, at least.’

  But she yanked free from his grip. ‘Like I said, this was only ever a short-term arrangement. It was never going to last.’

  He couldn’t believe how quickly everything was slipping away. How had things gone from laughter to loathing in the space of a few hours?

  ‘Goodbye, Barney.’ She turned and made her escape.

  He watched her walk off, knowing it was pointless to try and stop her. He’d apologised, admitted that he’d made a mistake, even told her he loved her. None of it had mattered. He’d laid himself bare, and still she’d rejected him.

  So much for her not bolting.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Monday, 29 August

  Charlotte was glad she’d listened to Lauren, and not rushed back to London the previous evening. Her sister was right: the bank-holiday traffic would be a nightmare. She was better off staying one more day and heading off early Tuesday morning. It also meant she could say a proper goodbye; something she would’ve regretted not doing if she’d left in a haze of anger. So, she’d spent her last day with Lauren and the kids, enjoying a picnic on the beach, followed by a game of Scrabble back at the flat. The kids were now tucked up in bed, and she was recovering from the trauma of saying goodbye to them.

  ‘You okay?’ Her sister was standing in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the door frame.

  She stopped packing her toiletries. ‘Not really. I’m going to miss them.’

  ‘They’re going to miss you too. Flo’s still crying.’

  The recollection of both kids hugging her and begging her not to leave would probably haunt Charlotte for the rest of her days. ‘I didn’t realise leaving would be so hard.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Lauren moved away from the doorway and sat down on the closed loo seat. ‘When you first arrived, you hated the place.’

  ‘Not hated, just … I don’t know, it wasn’t whe
re I wanted to be. I was a mess.’ Charlotte dropped her hand sanitiser into her washbag. ‘Thanks for putting up with me. I needed sorting out.’

  Lauren smiled. ‘Likewise. I couldn’t have got through the summer without you. You’ve no idea how much I appreciate your support.’

  Charlotte perched on the rim of the bathtub. ‘Was that the police on the phone?’

  ‘No, it was Yvonne from the Illegal Money Lending Team. She wanted me to know that Glenda and her sons have been bailed pending a trial. They’re not allowed to contact me. I can apply for a formal restraining order if they don’t adhere to the conditions of their bail.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Knowing that Lauren had someone in her corner eased Charlotte’s guilt at leaving earlier than intended.

  ‘She asked me if I’d reconsider being a witness.’

  Charlotte looked at her sister. Lauren was painfully thin and drawn, but there were also signs of recovery. She certainly seemed less tortured than before. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I agreed to do it.’ Lauren shrugged. ‘Seems stupid not to, now everyone knows.’

  Charlotte took Lauren’s hand. ‘You made the right decision.’

  ‘Not sure Dad will agree with you.’

  ‘He’ll come around.’ At least, she hoped so. Surely, he’d realise that Lauren was the victim now that Glenda had been formally charged.

  ‘Yvonne will be my support officer throughout the trial, so that’s a comfort.’

  ‘For me too. I’m only a phone call away, but I’ll sleep better knowing someone’s looking out for you.’ Charlotte patted the back of her sister’s hand. ‘By the way, I’ve left some money for you in the bill jar in the kitchen. And before you jump down my throat, I won’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No buts.’ She held up a hand. ‘You wouldn’t accept any rent money, so let me contribute something to tide you over. I’ll be seriously offended if you refuse.’ She resumed packing her toiletries. ‘Plus, it helps to ease the guilt of leaving you.’

  ‘You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. This is my mess. Your life is back in London. Mine is here. I have plenty of people to help me.’ Lauren handed Charlotte her flannel. ‘Like Sylvia, for instance. Did you know she left me a voicemail apologising for not realising what was happening, and vowing to support me going forwards?’

  Charlotte rung out the flannel. ‘That was nice of her.’ But then, Sylvia was a nice woman – something she’d been slow to pick up on. Or maybe it was just a reluctance to accept another ‘mother figure’ into her life. Like she was somehow betraying her real mother, which was nonsense. Whatever the reason, she was glad Sylvia was in her sister’s corner.

  Realising she didn’t have a plastic bag to hand, she shoved the damp flannel in her washbag. Goodness, she was living dangerously. ‘You also have Nate.’

  Lauren looked down at her feet, her worn slippers suddenly capturing her attention.

  ‘Look, the last thing I want to do is fall out with you before I go. I know the whole Nate thing is a sensitive subject, but can I just say one thing?’ Without waiting for an answer, she lifted her sister’s chin. ‘Nate’s a great bloke. He’s funny, kind, and he adores you. He’d do anything for you or your kids. So much so, he reported Glenda even when he knew it risked losing your friendship.’

  Lauren folded her arms across her chest. ‘And your point is?’

  ‘Do you think that maybe you’re using your anger towards him as an excuse for keeping him at arm’s length? Because if you stop being angry and forgive him, then it lets him back into your life, and that scares you?’

  Tears pooled in her sister’s eyes. ‘I can’t rely on anyone else. I have to be the one who supports my family.’

  ‘And you do, Lauren. You’ve proved that you’re strong and capable. Letting Nate in won’t undermine that, but it might make your life easier and happier. Don’t you want that?’

  ‘Suppose he leaves, like Joe did? What would that do to Freddie and Florence?’

  ‘Lauren, I hate to break it to you, but they’re already hurting. They miss Nate, they told me tonight when I was putting them to bed.’

  Her eyes grew wide. ‘They did?’

  ‘They don’t understand why Mummy is so angry. They think they’ve done something wrong and that’s why they’re not allowed to see Nate.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Lauren’s head dropped into her hands.

  Charlotte squatted down next to her. ‘You gave me some very valuable advice a while back, and I’m glad I listened to you, because you were right. So, I’m going to do the same for you now.’ She rubbed Lauren’s arm. ‘Nate is a good guy. The kids adore him. And if you’re honest, so do you. Give him a chance to make your life even happier than it already is – or was, before Glenda made things miserable. Take a risk. Live a little.’

  Lauren’s head was shaking in disagreement. ‘It’s too late, I’ve pushed him away. He might not want me anymore.’

  ‘Only one way to find out.’

  They were interrupted by a knock on the front door.

  Lauren wiped her eyes. ‘God, who’s that at this time of night?’ She checked her watch. ‘It’s gone nine.’ She went to answer the door.

  Charlotte checked her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror. Her hair was wavy and relaxed, a far cry from the straightened style she used to wear. Strangely, she didn’t mind so much. She’d grown to like it.

  Voices in the lounge preceded the sight of Dusty appearing in the cramped bathroom, wearing a black and white dog-tooth-check dress and white beehive wig. ‘What are you doing hiding away in here?’

  Charlotte picked up her washbag. ‘I’m not hiding, I’m packing. I leave tomorrow.’

  ‘A fact I’m well aware of.’ Dusty looked disgruntled. ‘If you think I’m going to let you disappear without a proper goodbye, then you’re mistaken. Come on, we’re going to the pub.’ Charlotte’s washbag was removed from her grasp and slung into the bath.

  ‘But I haven’t finished packing.’

  ‘You can do it later. I won’t take no for an answer.’ Dusty stopped by the doorway. ‘You don’t mind if I steal your sister away, do you? I’m guessing you can’t join us?’

  ‘Afraid not, the kids are in bed. But you go. We’ve had Charlotte to ourselves all day, it’ll be good for her to say goodbye to everyone else.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Dusty dragged Charlotte into the lounge. ‘Where are your shoes?’

  ‘Do I get a say in the matter?’

  ‘No.’ Dusty thrust Charlotte’s jewelled sandals at her. ‘Put these on.’

  With no opportunity to touch up her make-up or change out of her jeans, she was bundled out of the door and down the metal staircase towards a waiting taxi. ‘Why do we need a taxi? Where are we going?’

  Dusty opened the car door, waiting until Charlotte had climbed inside before replying. ‘The taxi is for my benefit. These shoes are not designed for walking.’ She climbed in next to her. ‘It also has the added bonus of ensuring you don’t escape.’

  Charlotte looked at her. ‘Why would I want to escape?’

  ‘Because we’re going to Smugglers Inn.’ Dusty’s beehive was so high it touched the roof of the taxi. ‘Barney’s performing there tonight.’

  ‘Let me out.’ Charlotte went for the door handle.

  ‘Drive,’ Dusty instructed the driver, ignoring her companion’s protests. When they’d pulled away, she patted her friend’s knee. ‘You can thank me later.’

  ‘Thank you? I want to throttle you.’ No way did she want to see Barney again. And definitely not singing. Her fragile resistance couldn’t withstand that.

  Dusty’s phone rang. ‘Later, babes. I need to take this – it’s my brother.’ She turned away and answered her phone. ‘Will, honey? What’s the verdict?’

  Charlotte folded her arms. She wasn’t sure what she was angrier about: being kidnapped, or being forced to see Barney again. She didn’t want to see him. It was easier to stay
mad at him if she didn’t have to look at his handsome face, or succumb to his attempts to make her laugh. Distance was her only barrier. She needed to stay strong, focus on her life plan, and avoid thinking about what might have been.

  Her stomach lurched as the taxi descended the hill. As they drew closer to Smugglers Inn, her reluctance to re-engage with the man who’d declared undying love for her grew. Well, perhaps not undying, but it had shocked her just the same. She certainly hadn’t seen it coming. But the exchange had forced her to reassess her feelings. And there was no denying that Barney Hubble had got under her skin. He’d shown her what was possible, in terms of physical satisfaction, but also what it was like to be … what was the word she was looking for? Adored? It was probably too strong a description, but that’s what it had felt like. He’d challenged her boundaries, stripped away her defences, and bulldozed right through her protective barrier. She wasn’t sure whether she should be mad or grateful.

  She focused on her surroundings, trying to divert her mind elsewhere. The quayside was lit up, bright lights reflecting off the water as the tide washed over the bay. The sea looked almost black, infinite and foreboding. She opened the window a crack so she could hear the sounds of the waves and smell the salty air. She’d certainly miss living by the sea. There was something so life-affirming about fresh air filling your lungs.

  The taxi pulled up next to the footbridge by the moored boats. Dusty paid the driver, batting away Charlotte’s attempts to pay.

  Letting Dusty finish her conversation with Will about his upcoming wedding, Charlotte crossed the footbridge, pleased to note that her fear of heights was less disabling than it had been before arriving in Cornwall. Maybe dangling from a fly rig had been a blessing after all. Not that she’d felt that way at the time. It had been truly horrifying.

  She glanced over the rope-lined edge. The water rushed below, hypnotic as it sped past, bleeding into the sea. High up on the clifftops, she could make out the silhouette of Morholt Castle standing proud against the skyline. Yep, she was going to miss Penmullion.

  Dusty finished her call, and teetered over, dropping her phone inside her Marc Jacobs handbag. ‘Sorry about that.’