The Summer Theatre by the Sea

by Tracy Corbett

  ‘What’s the verdict?’

  ‘We’re both going to the wedding.’ Her smile was infectious. ‘Paul will attend the day, and Dusty will attend the evening reception.’

  ‘Nice compromise.’

  ‘I thought so. The bride isn’t happy, but my brother has agreed to the releasing of doves at the church ceremony, so she’s relented.’ Dusty slipped her arm through Charlotte’s. ‘The moral of this story is that some things are worth fighting for. Even if fighting causes conflict and drama along the way.’ They crossed the footbridge, walking past the lit-up restaurants, still bustling with holidaymakers. ‘Paul wasn’t satisfied with the life he was living, so he made the decision to change. Hence the creation of Dusty.’ She gave a little curtsy. ‘As a consequence, Paul is a much happier man.’

  Charlotte stopped walking. ‘I know what you’re doing. You don’t fool me for a second.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to.’ Dusty manoeuvred her towards Smugglers Inn. ‘I’m simply saying, there’s no shame in admitting you want something different out of life.’

  ‘I don’t want a different life. I’m perfectly happy with the one I have.’ Charlotte entered the pub, immediately hit by a wave of music and chatter. ‘Or the life I had, at any rate.’

  Dusty raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Sure about that?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ It was only after she’d said it that doubt crept in.

  ‘I’ve seen politicians look more convincing. What are you drinking?’

  ‘Prosecco. A small one. I’ll get these.’

  Dusty prevented her from opening her purse. ‘I’ll get the drinks. Go and say hi to Tony.’ She was shoved in the direction of her dad, who was sitting alone watching Barney’s gig.

  Despite avoiding looking at the stage, the sound of Barney’s voice still had the ability to derail her. She recognised the song; Lauren had played it in the flat on numerous occasions. Biffy Clyro’s ‘Many of Horror’. He captured the torment of the song, but then, he was a good actor. It didn’t mean he meant what he was singing.

  Keeping her eyes fixed on her dad, she went over and sat with her back to the stage. ‘Hi, Dad. No Sylvia tonight?’

  He glanced up, looking forlorn. ‘Oh, hi, love. No Sylvia tonight. She’s busy.’

  ‘Is she still annoyed with you?’

  He shrugged, looking worryingly down in the dumps. God, she hoped his depression wouldn’t rear its ugly head again. That wouldn’t be a good development.

  ‘She has good reason, Dad.’ She waited for him to look at her. ‘It was hard for Lauren to ask you for help. I know you don’t agree with borrowing money, but that principle only works in an ideal world, and we don’t live in an ideal world. Life is messy and complicated.’

  ‘That’s no excuse for not budgeting. You girls were brought up to be responsible.’

  Irritation rose within her. ‘Has Lauren ever asked you for money before?’

  He frowned. ‘No.’

  ‘Has she ever shown herself to be irresponsible or reckless?’

  He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Well, okay, apart from falling pregnant in her teens. But that was only partly her fault. It takes two people to make a baby. She didn’t know Joe would turn out to be a complete waste of space. He never supported Lauren or his kids and left her to raise them single-handedly. She was dealt a bum deal, Dad.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘My point is that, against all the odds, Lauren’s done an amazing job of raising two beautiful, smart, well-adjusted kids. Freddie and Flo are happy and healthy. You should be really proud of her.’

  He looked put out. ‘I am.’

  ‘Then stop acting like she’s an embarrassment. It’s unfair, and she doesn’t deserve it. She’s wounded and upset. Glenda’s the bad guy here, not Lauren. So, will you please show what a good dad you are and support her through this, because things are likely to remain crappy for a while before they get better. She needs you. Okay?’

  He let out a long sigh. ‘Sylvia said pretty much the same thing.’

  ‘Then listen to her. She’s a smart woman.’

  He looked morose. ‘When are you leaving?’

  ‘First thing tomorrow.’

  He took a long swig of his beer. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you too.’ She gave him an awkward hug. ‘Say goodbye to Sylvia for me.’ She got up and made her way to the bar, before she started blubbing.

  Despite making good progress with her dad over the summer, it still felt like they were being too cautious, each one fearing that the other might shatter if pushed too far into anything resembling real emotion. It saddened her.

  On stage, Barney had finished his song. Without any preamble, he went straight into Charlie Simpson’s ‘Parachutes’. Somehow, she still managed not to look at him.

  She reached the bar, and climbed onto the bar stool. The quicker she left Penmullion, the quicker she could resume her old life and forget all about Barney Hubble.

  Nate was serving behind the bar. ‘I didn’t realise you were still here.’

  She angled herself away from the stage. ‘I leave tomorrow.’

  His gaze flickered towards Barney before coming back to settle on her. ‘You’ll be missed.’ He stretched across the bar and kissed her cheek. ‘Take care. Visit again soon.’

  ‘I will … And Nate?’ She caught his hand before he could disappear. ‘Please don’t give up on my sister. She’s scared, but it doesn’t mean she’s disinterested. Hang in there, okay?’

  He gave a non-committal shrug, and wandered off down the other end of the bar.

  Dusty got up and moved stools. ‘Talking of relationships.’

  ‘Which we weren’t.’ Charlotte was forced to look in the direction of the stage, which she guessed had been Dusty’s motivation for moving.

  ‘We need to talk about you and Barney.’ Dusty crossed her legs.

  ‘We really don’t.’

  ‘I want to know why you’re so angry with him?’

  ‘Are you serious?’ She stared at Dusty, more as a means of avoiding looking at Barney than anything else. ‘He watched my sister being bullied by that witch Glenda Graham and did nothing about it.’

  ‘So did I, but you’re not angry with me.’

  A pause followed. Charlotte tried to reason this piece of logic. ‘It’s not the same thing.’

  ‘How is it different?’

  ‘Because I’m not in—’

  ‘—love with me?’

  It was hard to look stern when faced with fluttering false eyelashes. ‘I was going to say, I’m not involved with you.’

  ‘Maybe not, but we’re friends. So why was it okay for me to keep quiet, but not Barney?’ Her smile was mischievous.

  ‘When you put it like that, you’re right. You were totally out of order, and I’m mad at you too.’ She play-slapped Dusty’s knee.

  ‘Except I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Want me to pull your hair to prove it?’

  ‘It’s a wig, you daft woman. It’ll come off.’ Dusty scowled at a chip in her French-polished nails. ‘Now listen, I have a question for you.’

  ‘Here it comes.’ Charlotte took a slug of wine, preparing herself.

  ‘Do you think that maybe you’re using your anger as an excuse to leave?’

  A sense of déjà vu settled over her. Hadn’t she just had a conversation with her sister about holding on to anger as an excuse not to do something? ‘Of course not. My life is back in London. My ET hearing starts on Monday. I have to go back.’ Her denial was scarily similar to her sister’s.

  ‘Actually, you don’t.’

  Charlotte placed her glass down on the bar. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘At this precise moment in time, you have no job and no home. Technically, there’s no reason for you to return to London.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I want to go back. It’s where I belong.’

  Dusty took her hand. ‘Are you sure you’re not running away because
you’re scared?’

  She withdrew her hand. ‘What on earth have I got to be scared about?’

  Dusty shrugged. ‘Admitting you want a different life? Risking a change of direction?’

  ‘I love being an interior designer,’ Charlotte said, which was true. ‘I don’t want to change.’ This was entirely untrue.

  ‘I don’t mean your career.’

  ‘What, then?’

  Dusty leant forwards. The stage was now in full view. ‘Do you remember that first day in Penmullion, when you found me handcuffed to a tree?’

  Charlotte could see Barney strumming his guitar in her peripheral vision. ‘How could I forget?’

  ‘You were wound tighter than an old lady’s perm. You turned your nose up at everything and found fault in everyone.’

  ‘I know who to come to for a character reference.’ She ignored Dusty’s laughter. ‘May I remind you, I was in a bad place? I’d just lost my job, my home and my boyfriend. I was allowed to be stressed.’

  Dusty looked reproachful. ‘Honey, it takes a lifetime to get that wound up. You can’t tell me that hadn’t been building for years?’

  True, but she refused to admit as much.

  ‘Over these last few months, I’ve seen a complete transformation. You’ve learnt how to laugh, love and be happy. I just figured staying here and continuing to grow might appeal, that’s all.’

  Charlotte would be lying if she didn’t admit similar thoughts had crossed her mind, but she figured this wasn’t just about Penmullion, it was about a change in mindset. ‘I’ll admit that what you’re saying isn’t complete rubbish – but it’s only because I haven’t had the stress of work to contend with. I’ve been on holiday. I’ve been playing at life, indulging in creative activities and letting my hair down, but that can’t continue.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s not based on reality. It’s wishful thinking, it’s a … a midsummer night’s dream. It’s based on fantasy, not real life.’ She climbed off the bar stool. ‘I know you mean well, and thank you for being a wonderfully good and eccentric friend, but the sooner I resume my old life, the better it’ll be for everyone.’

  ‘You sure about that?’ Dusty gestured to the stage. ‘Did you know he’s decided to return to medicine? He’s accepted a place at Hammersmith, starting in September. Now, I wonder why he did that?’

  Charlotte glanced at the stage, wondering the same thing. Why hadn’t he told her? But then, she supposed she hadn’t given him the opportunity. ‘It doesn’t change anything. I still don’t want to be with a man who stood by and let my sister be bullied by a loan shark. How could I trust someone who didn’t have the decency to protect her, or support his friend when he decided action was needed?’

  Dusty sighed. ‘Because, despite messing up, he loves you. I don’t think he meant for it to happen, but it did. He fell in love with you. And I rather suspect you feel the same way.’

  What nonsense. Charlotte shook her head, refusing to hear what Dusty was saying. It was ludicrous to think she’d fallen in love. She just needed some distance. A return to being in control … just without the headaches and obsessive behaviour. ‘Whatever we had is over. We’re not compatible.’

  Dusty raised an eyebrow. ‘You sure about that?’

  Refusing to look at Barney, Charlotte kissed Dusty’s cheek. ‘Positive. Take care of Lauren for me. I’ll send you my new address when I’ve found somewhere to live.’

  Dusty kissed her back. ‘Think about what I said, okay? Stop being stubborn. And when he’s back in London and calls you, forgive him.’ She nodded to the stage, where Barney had just started singing, Gotye’s ‘Somebody That I Used to Know’.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Charlotte.

  She shook her head. ‘He won’t call.’

  ‘I guess only time will tell. Bye-bye, sweetie.’

  Charlotte headed for the door, unable to resist one quick glance at the stage. The impact was hard and fast. Barney was looking right at her. The intensity in his eyes made her gasp.

  Fumbling for the door, she almost fell out of the pub, eager to distance herself from the what-ifs filling her brain. What was the point? It wasn’t like she was ever going to see him again. She was better off keeping her distance. There was nothing to be gained from prolonging the agony.

  Her life was back in London, and it didn’t include Barney Hubble.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Wednesday, 21 September

  Flicking off the lights, Lauren locked the café door. A gust of wind blew a shower of sand against her legs. The wind was picking up now the nights were drawing in. It was mid-September, so even at six-thirty the sun was beginning to set, the sky dulling into a mottled grey. As the sun faded, the silvery light reflected off the sea, the dusk bringing with it a chill. It wasn’t coat-weather yet, but she wrapped her waterfall cardigan around her as she walked across the bay, making her way home. She’d received a text from her dad saying he had the kids. Sylvia had cooked egg and chips for tea, and they were planning to watch a Harry Potter film. Was it okay if they stayed the night?

  How could she refuse? No matter how lonely she felt, there was no way she was going to deny her kids a fun night with their granddad. She was just glad her dad and Sylvia had made up. It would be a shame for them all to be miserable.

  She ambled slowly up the hill, in no rush to reach her empty flat. She wasn’t sure why she felt so morose. All things considered, she should be feeling elated. Her life had reverted to where it had been six months ago. She was a single mother with a part-time job, she had good friends, and lived a happy, simple life with two adorable children. She didn’t need or want for anything more. So why did she feel as though something was missing? Yes, living with Charlotte had proved challenging. Add to it the trauma of owing Glenda money, and she should be glad things were back to normal, but she wasn’t. She was lonely and bored. She missed Charlotte. Not to mention Nate.

  Every time her phone beeped, a customer entered the café, or the doorbell rang, she hoped it might be him. But it never was. And it was her own stupid fault. She’d done nothing but push him away. She’d taken his friendship for granted, rejected his kindness, and had never once offered him anything in return. No wonder he’d got fed up. She couldn’t blame him. He’d only been trying to protect her. She should have thanked him, not yelled at him. And now it was too late. If only she’d realised her mistake at the time, she could have saved herself a lot of heartache.

  Her legs felt heavy as she climbed the metal steps leading to her flat. The potted plants and hanging baskets filling the rooftop space had been neglected, their once vibrant foliage was now brown and brittle, snapping when her fingers brushed against them.

  It was only as she neared her front door that she realised Dusty was sitting on the bench seat holding a large vanity case. ‘You took your time.’

  Lauren tried to recall what she was supposed to be doing tonight, but nothing sprang to mind. Her diary was depressingly empty now the show had finished, and Charlotte had returned to London. ‘I wasn’t expecting you … was I?’

  ‘No, sweetie. I’m just being impatient. Ignore me. It’s the excitement.’

  ‘Excitement?’ She headed for her front door, Dusty hot on her heels. ‘Does this have something to do with a man?’

  Dusty smiled. ‘It does.’

  No surprise there. Lauren stepped inside her flat and kicked off her shoes. ‘Big date, huh?’

  ‘The biggest.’ Taking her hand, Dusty almost dragged her towards the bedroom. ‘We need to get a move on, we don’t have much time.’

  Lauren’s puzzlement increased. ‘Time for what?’

  The vanity case caught on the bedroom door as Dusty burst through it. Not that it mattered, the door had seen better days. ‘To get ready.’

  ‘But you are ready, aren’t you? You look great.’ And Dusty did. The navy shift dress and dog-tooth kitten heels looked surprisingly elegant.

  ‘Ah, thanks, sweetie. But i
t’s not me who needs to get ready.’ Dusty unzipped the vanity case and removed a long floaty dress with layers of sheer grey and white fabric. ‘Your taste differs from mine, so I tried to choose something more bohemian and less showgirl-slapper. What do you think?’

  ‘It’s beautiful, but—’

  ‘Excellent. Quick shower, and then we need to get your make-up done.’ Dusty laid the dress on the bed.

  Confusion still clouded her brain. ‘I don’t understand. Is the dress for me?’

  ‘Well, of course it’s for you.’ Dusty steered her towards the bathroom. ‘Who else would it be for?’

  ‘What do I need a new dress for?’

  ‘Your big date.’

  ‘My big date?’ Stopping dead, she turned to face Dusty, although she barely reached her chest.

  ‘No time for talking, get showering. All will become clear.’

  Realising that arguing was pointless, and lacking any real energy to resist, Lauren undressed as instructed. She was going on a date?

  In truth, there was only one person she wanted to date, but that person was currently avoiding her. There’d been no chance meetings at the post office over the last three weeks. No casual ‘bumping into one another’ when out shopping, like there used to be. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to see her, let alone date her. So, what did that mean? Was he being coerced as well? Was he at this very moment being shoved into a shower? And by whom? Barney was back in London, starting a new life as a doctor, so there was no one on hand to assist Dusty’s scheming.

  As she climbed out of the shower and dried herself, a horrible thought occurred. She slipped on her dressing gown and went into the bedroom. ‘Please tell me this isn’t a blind date?’

  Dusty had unpacked the contents of the vanity case, and had lined up an array of beauty products on the dressing table. ‘Come and sit down.’

  Lauren sat down in front of the mirror, trying not to look at the dark circles shadowing her eyes. ‘Seriously, Dusty. I’m not up for being paired off with some random bloke.’

  Dusty twisted the lid off a bottle of foundation. ‘Relax, will you? Credit me with some sense.’