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‘Hello, Mrs McCray.’
‘Hullo there.’
‘If you’d like to make your way to the stage and introduce yourself to the panel, then tell us what you’ll be doing.’
Mrs McCray climbed the steps, hooking her dress up as she went. The light surrounded her and shone through her rusty coloured hair as her harsh Scottish accent announced, ‘I’m Mrs McCray, a local artist, and I’ll be singing “Casta Diva”, from the opera Norma, by Bellini.’
‘Is this going to be like Mr Neville the opera-singing parrot?’ whispered Sid and Lottie chewed her lip trying not to laugh.
Everyone waited. Conner pressed some buttons on his laptop and the song started playing. Lottie took a deep breath preparing herself for a horrendous screeching to fill the room, but, to her surprise, gentle, tuneful notes emerged. A soft and beautiful sound, rising and falling then building to a crescendo, held them all captivated. Conner turned to Lottie and his eyes were so wide in amazement she could actually see them.
When Mrs McCray finished Lottie stood up to applaud. She looked to her left where Mayor Cunningham sat with his mouth open.
‘That was amazing,’ said Lottie. ‘Bravo.’
Mrs McCray’s weather-beaten face wrinkled as she smiled. ‘Och, well, thank you very much, darlin’.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ said the mayor. ‘We’ll let you know.’
When Mrs McCray had left, Lottie turned to him. ‘I don’t see why we can’t tell people now whether they’re in, or not. It’s not like we can have too many people.’ Feeling emboldened by the last few minutes she said, ‘Mrs McCray was exceptional, so, as acting chairman, I’d like to proceed on the idea that we’ll take whoever has any talent. Okay?’
The mayor raised an eyebrow then sat back and Lottie felt a teasing nudge from Sid.
Gregory Oliver was the next to arrive with his partner, Cecil Bates. ‘Darling,’ Gregory said to Lottie, taking her in both hands and kissing her on the cheeks, even though they’d never really met before. He was tall and handsome with salt and pepper hair. ‘We’ve come for the auditions. Have we much competition?’
‘We can’t tell you that,’ said Mayor Cunningham. In the muggy atmosphere of the theatre his bald spot was beginning to shine.
‘You’ll be fine, Mr O.,’ offered Sid with a wink.
‘Off you go, Mr Oliver,’ said Lottie, directing him to the stage. ‘Just give us a quick intro before you start.’
Gregory climbed the steps and said, ‘Well, I’m Gregory Oliver and I run the bookshop on the seafront and today I’m going to give a reading from Shakespeare.’ He then closed his eyes and stood in silence for a moment before his voice boomed out. ‘“O’ reason not the need! Our basest beggars are in the poorest thing superfluous.”’
‘Well, he’s certainly projecting,’ whispered Sid into Lottie’s ear.
‘Shhh,’ she said, playfully.
‘“Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man’s life is cheap as beast’s.”’ He cast out his hands and with one did an Eighties’ air grab. ‘“No, I’ll not weep. I have full cause of weeping, but this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws or ere I’ll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!”’ Gregory fell to the floor with his head in his hands.
It seemed a little melodramatic, but it was Shakespeare, it was always melodramatic. Even in khaki chinos Lottie could picture him on the stage, under the spotlights, and hear the crowd applauding, though she worried about his knees.
‘Bravo,’ shouted Cecil, clapping enthusiastically.
Lottie stood. ‘Yes, bravo.’
‘Well done, Mr O.,’ said Sid, as Gregory came down off the stage. ‘That was brilliant.’
‘Are you actually on the audition panel, Mr Evans, or are you here to report on them?’ the mayor called out.
Sid glanced at Lottie for a moment, a playful smile on his face, before turning to the mayor and saying, ‘Just being friendly, Mayor Cunningham. Never hurts, does it?’
‘Cecil’s also auditioning,’ said Gregory.
‘Oh, of course,’ replied Lottie. ‘Sorry, Cecil. Please?’ She gestured for him to move onto the stage and sat down again. Her legs were beginning to ache from all this upping and downing but it was better than doing squats in the gym.
Cecil smiled at the panel. ‘I’m Cecil Bates and I also run the bookshop on the seafront. I love soy chai lattes and long dog walks on the beach, and today I’ll be singing.’ Cecil was shorter than Gregory and a little younger by the look of it. He had kind bright blue eyes in a smooth perma-tanned face. Conner began playing the song and without visible signs of fear or nerves, Cecil sang ‘Memories’ from Cats. It was an unusual choice, and though not as good a performer as his partner, it was still very respectable. He even managed to stay in tune, most of the time.
‘I think he’s good,’ said Lottie, quietly. ‘It must be difficult to dance and sing at the same time.’ She turned back to the stage and not caring if it annoyed Mayor Cunningham said, ‘Well done, both of you. You’re both in.’
‘Marvellous,’ shouted Gregory, giving her another kiss on the cheek. Cecil did the same and hand in hand they left the theatre.
The mayor huffed at her and fiddled with his cufflinks. ‘I really don’t think we should be telling them straight away, Miss Webster.’
Lottie bit her lip then swivelled to face the mayor. She was getting cross with his negativity now. Things were going so well he just needed to be more positive. ‘I know what you said, Mayor Cunningham—’ He opened his mouth to continue arguing but Lottie carried on. ‘If there’s someone who we’re on the fence about, I won’t tell them straight away, but for someone who is so clearly good I don’t see the point in keeping them waiting. It’s mean. So like I said, I’d like to carry on as we have been.’
The mayor scanned the ceiling and Lottie spied Sid staring at her agog. ‘What?’ she mouthed, and he gave her a big thumbs-up.
After Cecil’s audition they broke for lunch. Lottie had hoped to sit with Sid but just as she sat down Sid got up and went to chat with Conner who stayed where he was, alone in the corner. That was just like Sid, thought Lottie with a smile. For all his silly jokes he was one of the kindest people she knew. They reconvened at one o’clock and two women walked in just as they re-took their seats.
‘Is this the auditions?’ asked the taller one with long platinum blonde hair.
Lottie got up to the meet them. ‘Yes. Yes, it is. Please come in.’ The women stepped forward, giggling nervously.
‘So how does this work then?’ the smaller, dark-haired one asked. ‘Do we just get up there and sing?’
‘That’s right,’ said Lottie, and they climbed the steps to the stage giggling and pushing each other in encouragement.
‘I’m Tiffany,’ said the taller one with the bright white hair similar to wire wool.
‘And I’m Claire,’ said the small one whose thick mask of foundation formed a ring under her chin. They tittered once more and the music began.
As they sang Lottie tried to keep her face from screwing up in pain. The terrible high-pitched squeaking and their inability to sing in any sort of harmony was like having hot needles shoved in her brain and her eardrums tortured. Sid grabbed his notebook and pen and bent over so they couldn’t see his giggling.
‘Thank you, we’ll let you know,’ Lottie said, as the girls climbed down from the stage and left the building.
David blew the air out of his cheeks. ‘They were awful, weren’t they? It was like two cats mating while someone played an out of tune violin.’
Mrs Andrews arrived early for her audition just as the last person was finishing. Lottie asked her to sit at the back where she made loud scoffing noises. The several hard stares Lottie gave did little to stop her. At last she was able to say, ‘Your turn, Mrs Andrews, if you’d like to take the stage.’
Lottie and Sid had met Mrs Andrews several times before. Her husband was a local MP and as such Mrs Andrews had a lot of influence, and money. She very much enjoyed her public role and was often called upon to attend posh events. After the advert had gone out, she’d emailed Lottie saying she didn’t think she should have to audition as she already had ‘considerable experience’, but Lottie had replied politely insisting.
Mrs Andrews walked up rolling her hips and wiggling her bottom like Marilyn Monroe in white jeans so tight you could see the outline of her knickers. David bent towards Sid and whispered, ‘She’ll put her hip out doing that at her age.’ Lottie hid behind her folder, laughing.
On the stage Mrs Andrews’ confident eyes scanned the panel. Her face was a seamless sheet of beige tan, slightly pinched at the eyes. Only her hands gave away any real signs of age from the wrinkles and gathering age spots. She flung her arms out wide. ‘“No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forced to give my hand opposed against my heart.”’
She clasped both hands against her surgically enhanced chest. ‘“Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen; Who woo’d in haste and means to wed at leisure.”’
Although the mad flailing of arms was quite off-putting, her delivery of the monologue was reasonably good, better than a lot of the others they’d seen and reluctantly Lottie put her on the list. ‘That was good, Mrs Andrews,’ she said, unwilling to give her too much praise. She was already too big for her boots. ‘I’m sure we’d love to have you on board.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said the mayor and Lottie scowled at his simpering.
As the end of the day neared, the weary judges tucked into supplies of biscuits Sid had brought with him. ‘Oh, custard creams,’ said Lottie, taking three. ‘My favourite. Conner, would you like some?’
From the edge of the stage where Conner sat playing on his phone, he lifted his head and crept over, keeping his eyes on Mayor Cunningham. Poor boy, the mayor was quite intimidating.
‘Thank you so much for coming and helping us out on a Saturday,’ said Lottie. ‘I hope your mates didn’t tease you about being busy with some oldies like us?’
‘Nah, they didn’t.’ He took a couple of biscuits and shuffled away back to the steps. Lottie frowned. She couldn’t work out if he was shy or lonely. She hoped it was the former.
‘Who’s next?’ asked Mayor Cunningham.
‘Lee Carter,’ Lottie replied. ‘He’s the last one.’
Mayor Cunningham’s small pig-like eyes screwed up in disgust. ‘He’s a criminal. And he’s late.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be here any minute,’ said Lottie, ignoring the other remark.
‘Alright?’ called a voice from the back of the room. Thankful that Mayor Cunningham hadn’t said anything ruder, Lottie went to meet Lee at the door.
Lee Carter was one of the mechanics at the local garage. He was known for getting into the odd scuffle and had been fancied by all the girls in Lottie’s year at school, including her. He had a strong square jaw and short gelled hair, and had they been planning a production of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, it was clear what part he would play.
‘What will you be performing for us today?’ asked Lottie, by now feeling like a pro.
As he climbed the steps to the stage two at a time, Lee said, ‘I thought I’d do a bit of acting. S’alright, innit?’
‘Lovely,’ said Lottie. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’
Lee nodded and without pausing began to recite Marlon Brando in The Godfather. It was entertaining and not comical in the slightest. He had stage presence and charisma by the bucket full and Lottie couldn’t pull her eyes away. If she had anything to do with it, he was definitely in.
When Lee left, the mayor turned to Lottie. ‘Definitely not.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Lottie replied, unable to hide the exasperation from her voice. ‘Why not? I thought he was great.’
‘He’s a criminal.’
‘He is not,’ said Lottie, matching his determined expression. ‘He’s a perfectly nice man.’
Sid sat forward. ‘He got a warning for drunk and disorderly once, that’s all. And it was New Year’s Eve. Everyone’s drunk on New Year’s Eve.’
Not me, thought Lottie, sadly. And not Sid. She was normally asleep by nine-thirty. ‘I think you’re overreacting, Mayor Cunningham. All he did was try and steal a bollard.’
‘He looks like a thug.’
‘I disagree,’ Lottie said, remaining calm. After all, she was the acting chairman and she could pull that card out again if she needed to. ‘And I vote yes.’
The mayor eyed her disapprovingly then turned to David for his casting vote. ‘David?’
‘I vote yes, too,’ said David. ‘He’s a very good mechanic.’
It wasn’t quite the reason Lottie was hoping for but never mind. Lee was still in.
The mayor looked back at the empty stage, his lips a thin pink line.
Just as they were beginning to pack up, the door squeaked again and Lottie spun around to see Sarah Powell creeping in. She grabbed her clipboard and checked the list. Sarah wasn’t due to be here. Perhaps she’d come to speak to the mayor.
‘Excuse me,’ said Sarah in a small voice. ‘I was wondering if I could still audition.’
‘What the devil?’ exclaimed Mayor Cunningham edging out into the aisle and Lottie shot him a glance that said, ‘Shut up or I’ll stab you.’ Thankfully, he did, but she followed him with her eyes until he sat back down, just to make sure. At first Lottie thought Sarah was ill. Her face was pale and her top lip clammy. Then, from the way she was wringing her hands in front of her, Lottie realised she was nervous. No, not nervous, terrified.
Although she’d been pretty hateful at the committee meeting, the Sarah that stood in front of her was almost childlike. Lottie felt sorry for her and said, ‘No, it’s not too late. What are you going to do for us?’
‘I … I was going to sing. If that’s okay?’
‘Yes, it’s fine. I won’t have your music though. Will you be okay without it?’
Sarah nodded and Lottie worried she might throw up at any minute.
‘This way,’ said Lottie, gently holding her elbow and leading her forwards. She could feel her trembling beneath her fingers. Sarah climbed the stairs and gazed around as if searching for the exits, ‘Take your time, Sarah,’ said Lottie, softly. She’d never seen anyone so terrified. Lottie angled her head and smiled, hoping to put her at ease.
Even from the third row they could see Sarah was shaking and her hands were clasped in front of her, the knuckles white. ‘What are you going to sing for us, Sarah?’ asked Lottie, keeping her tone light and friendly. She hoped it would prompt her to begin.
Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She was paralysed with fear. Lottie felt the heavy silence of the room weigh on her shoulders. The poor woman. This must be so embarrassing and awful for her. Unsure what to do Lottie turned to Sid. He winked with his usual easy confidence, then walked onto the stage and whispered something into Sarah’s ear. Some of the fear disappeared from her face and she gave a nervous laugh. Sid returned to his seat and Sarah closed her eyes.
After a pause she began singing ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’, in a soft but powerful voice. The song was one of Lottie’s favourites and always gave her goose bumps but as Sarah sang even her goose bumps got goose bumps. Every nerve in Lottie’s body tingled with emotion. Sarah’s hands moved in time, even without the music, clenching and releasing her fists.
There was something so pure and heartfelt in Sarah’s voice, it was like it enveloped Lottie’s soul. Sarah’s face registered terror when she finished and opened her eyes to the stunned silence. Lottie immediately stood and clapped and Sid and David joined her.
‘Thank you,’ said Sarah, in a hushed voice, her face reddening and tears forming in her eyes.
‘You were marvellous,’ said Lottie. ‘You’re definitely in.’
Mayor Cunningham slowly stood to join them and once Sarah had left said, ‘If that’s all of them, Miss Webster, I’ll be off.’
‘Yes, that’s everyone,’ Lottie confirmed, an enormous smile on her face. ‘Quite a good turnout, don’t you think, Mayor Cunningham? I think it’s been a pretty successful day.’ She didn’t care if he couldn’t wait to be out of there, or if she was just rubbing it in – she’d had the best day ever and Greenley-On-Sea had proved to be a hotbed of talent.
Mayor Cunningham strode past her then paused at the door. ‘I concede, Miss Webster, it was a better turnout than I expected.’
Lottie and Sid high-fived. The Greenley Players were officially reinstated.
Chapter 8 (#ulink_9b646eee-ed01-5e37-9398-d4a4d5b235c5)
Sid wandered aimlessly along the seafront and took a deep breath of the salty sea air. The bright gold afternoon sun reflected off the sea in a glorious haze of light and strangely shaped clouds drifted across the sky. The seashore was littered with clumps of dark green seaweed and the regular dog walkers chased their mischievous dogs away from it.
Sid was bored. Lottie was busy again. She had another committee meeting coming up and wanted to go through all her nan’s papers to make sure she knew everything inside and out. As the auditions had gone so well and the troupe was now all go, she’d decided to catalogue all the different plays the old Greenley Players had done and do something called ‘brainstorming’, which sounded incredibly painful. Sid had offered to help but she wanted to be alone. Perhaps he could nip round later with her favourite pizza. She’d like that.
Sid sighed. He was happy for her, of course he was, it was just that all this suddenly being alone took some getting used to. They’d spent mostly every weekend together for years. Not all day every day, but they’d nip into town together, go to Nick’s record shop, look at the tat in the Saturday market, have Sunday lunch in their favourite old-fashioned pub, that sort of thing. He kicked a stray pebble back onto the beach. Anyway, she was too busy to meet him and as it was a Sunday he found himself at a loose end with no one to play with.
The piece of paper with Selena’s number on rustled in his pocket. She’d given it to him weeks ago and he still hadn’t had the courage to do anything with it. Every time he looked at the note and thought about calling he’d see the carnage in his flat and decide she was still way out of his league. But it wasn’t too late, was it? Not like with Lottie. He could always call Selena and see if she wanted to meet for a drink. He wouldn’t say dinner, he didn’t want to sound pushy. But they could have a drink as old uni mates catching up, just like Selena suggested.
