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‘But that’s just it, Dor. Why would a man like that want to stay in Berecombe?’

  ‘Then maybe you need to give him a reason?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  Dora, annoyed at Millie’s mulish tone said, ‘On the other hand, he could be your ticket out of here, you know.’

  ‘And what about the café, Millie? Who’s going to run that? And who says I want to get out of Berecombe anyway?’

  Dora sighed. Time to tread very, very carefully. ‘Millie, I know that the café was your parents’ dream but that’s just it, it was your parents’ dream. Is it yours? Haven’t you longed for something else?’

  ‘Yes!’ Millie yelled, making Trevor yelp. ‘Of course I have, but how can I? I have to carry on with the café, make a living.’

  ‘If you got together with Jed you could probably afford to put in a management team.’

  ‘And become what? One of those women who have nothing to do but have lunch and gossip? You know that’s not me, Dora. And besides, I’ve always earned my own money.’

  ‘But it’s kept you trapped here.’

  ‘It’s where I want to be, or it was until Jed Henville came along and ruined everything.’

  ‘Or rather, made you question everything.’

  Millie blew out an enormous breath. ‘I’m not sure what I want any more. I don’t know how I can even begin again with Jed.’

  ‘Do you want to?’

  ‘I’m not sure of that either.’

  This was going to be a harder task than Dora thought. ‘Look Mil, when I had my little chat with Jed last night I thought he was rather desperate to get back with you.’

  ‘Did you?’

  The look on Millie’s face so echoed that of Jed’s it made Dora even more determined. ‘What about a challenge?’

  Millie threw herself back on the sofa. ‘God Dor, we’re not kids any more.’

  ‘You always enjoyed my challenges.’

  ‘Like the one where I had to nick the flag out of the town hall? And then there was the knitted graffiti.’

  ‘One of my more imaginative ones, I agree. Okay, so I challenge you, Emilia Susanna Fudge to -’

  ‘Please don’t say I’ve got to go out with him!’

  ‘One step at a time and stop interrupting. I challenge you to talk to Jed and explain your feelings. That you and he are from different worlds, that you feel inadequate and chained to your parents’ café by some misguided grief and sense of loyalty to them.’

  ‘Bit harsh, Dor,’ Millie huffed.

  ‘Okay, the last bits were, but you have to agree that you tie yourself to that café because you want to keep your parents’ memory alive.’ Dora took a breath, wondering if she’d gone too far.

  ‘Wouldn’t you feel the same?’

  ‘Quite possibly, honeybun, quite possibly, but I don’t have anything like the relationship with my parents that you had. I hope it wouldn’t stop me from being with the man I love and who obviously adores me.’ Dora watched Millie flush and waited.

  ‘All right then.’

  ‘So my challenge is accepted?’

  ‘Suppose.’

  Dora drank her wine in triumph. Piece of piss, this matchmaking malarkey. Her feelings of accomplishment lasted two seconds.

  Millie raised her head, a mischievous look on her face. ‘But I have to give you a return challenge.’

  ‘Oh. Okay. Yeah.’ Dora shrugged.

  ‘Then I challenge you to take on the role of Anne Elliot in Mike’s production of Persuasion.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘Why?’

  The image of Mike, with Kirstie’s hand on his arm, flashed into Dora’s vision. Of his blue-eyed, penetrating gaze across the shabby space of the Workshop last night. To work with him, be close to him on a day-to-day basis would be torture. Exquisite but mostly torture.

  ‘I couldn’t –’

  ‘Why not? Do you think my challenge is going to be easy?’

  Dora slid herself up Millie’s sofa and glared at her best friend. Of all the things she could have asked. As ever, when feeling threatened, she channelled her inner diva. ‘I have starred in one of American TV’s biggest-grossing shows. I trained at Central. I am nationally and internationally known. I can’t act in a cheap, tin-pot production of Persuasion in a shabby little theatre in a not very well-known seaside town in Devon!’

  ‘Why?’ Millie’s tone was unforgiving.

  She couldn’t tell her the real reason. That she was still in love with Mike. Always had been. And, even worse, that he had a perky little blonde called Kirstie attending to his every need.

  ‘Why, Dora?’ Millie repeated. ‘Why can’t you do Mike’s play? If you don’t there’s no deal. I won’t talk to Jed.’

  ‘Oh alright, I’ll do it!’ Dora yelled. Then threw a cushion at her friend to shut her up.

  Chapter 10

  Dora was confused. She’d contacted Mike (through gritted teeth) and he’d asked her to meet him here, in the Regent Theatre on the far end of Berecombe’s sea front. She’d assumed the meeting would be a private affair. The theatre, however, was buzzing with people. She spotted Kirstie briefly, who waved hello and promptly disappeared. A group in the unofficial theatre uniform of ripped jeans and black t-shirts were earnestly discussing a large piece of paper – stage designs maybe and another group of youths were sweeping and collecting litter in black bin bags. They were chatting loudly about the latest Bond film.

  The place felt very different. It had been a second home to her for the two years she did A levels. She’d spent more time in here, with Mr Latham and the drama group, than she had revising. Until her parents had tried to put their foot down.

  An assistant, who looked about twelve but who was gratifyingly star-struck, led her to the front of the theatre. There was nothing to sit on and no one had offered her as much as a coffee. It wasn’t how she was usually treated when negotiating a role. It couldn’t have been further from how things were organised in LA. She suppressed a frustrated giggle.

  The theatre was tinier than she remembered. There was a small stalls area and a narrow balcony running in a horseshoe around the walls. It would barely seat a hundred people when the seating was replaced. She understood it had been taken out for a craft fayre, which was held once a month. That was new since she was last in Berecombe. The walls and floorboards were painted a matte and rather sinister dark blue, making it seem even more compact. At the opposite end to the stage she recognised the kitchen and bar, currently hidden behind scruffy steel shutters that didn’t quite fit. The stage itself looked to be in fairly good repair but there was a motley collection of buckets and containers where the house seats, if the Regent went in for that sort of thing, would be. Water dripped mournfully through the roof. Dora wondered where it was coming from; it hadn’t rained since she’d been back. She was peering up, trying to work out the cause of the leak when Mike’s voice startled her.

  ‘There you are.’ He was accompanied by a large dark-haired man, who looked vaguely familiar. ‘This is Greg Symon. I’m sure you know him from The Gates of Almonhandez.’

  ‘Of course.’ Dora extended a hand. ‘How nice.’ She’d caught some of the series, a Game of Thrones rip-off in which Greg had been out-acted by the rest of the cast, including the horses. She hoped he had nothing to do with Mike’s production.

  ‘Greg’s our Captain Wentworth.’

  Shit. Dora composed her face. ‘Wonderful!’ How the hell was she supposed to act besotted with this plank? And what was he doing back in the UK? She could only assume he had lots of time on his hands. The Gates of Almonhandez had been pulled after the first season.

  ‘It’s an honour to meet you, Theodora. I’ve always admired your work.’

  I bet you have, Dora said silently. It’s probably given you an acting lesson or two. ‘Thank you so much, Greg. And may I say how much I enjoyed The Gates. So innovative.’ She was alarmed to see the tops of his large ears turn pink.

  ‘Thank you. Coming from you, Theo
dora, that means a huge amount.’

  ‘It’s Dora,’ Mike put in, curtly. ‘Now we’re back in Berecombe.’ He gave her a hard look. He knew she’d been lying. ‘Did you know Dora grew up here, Greg? Her parents ran the fishandchip shop.’

  Dora swept him with a beatific smile. He wouldn’t belittle her that way. ‘They did indeed. And still do, as a matter of fact. They also now have three fish restaurants, including Samphyre. It’s tipped for a Michelin star.’ She raised her brows at Mike in challenge.

  ‘Really?’ Greg said, impressed. ‘In Exeter? I ate there last month. It was magnificent.’

  ‘Thank you, Greg. I’ll make sure to let my parents know. They’re so proud of their achievements.’

  ‘Could we get down to the matter in hand, do you think?’ Mike’s voice was brittle. ‘I want you to read the scene where Anne meets Wentworth, Dora. Where he re-enters her life as a successful sea captain. They meet each other seven years after he was jilted by her. Do you think you’re up for that?’

  ‘I think I can just about manage. Of course, as you haven’t sent me a script, I haven’t had a chance to look at it. It’ll be a sight-reading, but I think I’ll cope.’ Dora gave Mike a thin smile.

  ‘I’ll get Lily and Josh to read in for Mary and Charles and we’ll get going, then.’ Ignoring her sarcasm, he yelled for Kirstie, who went to find them. ‘If we could get a move on I’d be grateful. I’ve got quite a few to audition today.’

  Dora stopped dead. ‘Auditions?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mike became very busy studying his script. ‘I’ve got at least another three Annes to see today.’

  ‘I’m auditioning?’ Dora exploded.

  ‘Of course.’ Mike met her fury. ‘You didn’t think you’d get this by not auditioning? That’s how it might work in American television, but I audition every actor in one of my productions.’

  For a moment Dora was too incensed to speak. Then she caught the slightest of quirks at the corner of Mike’s mouth. He was bloody well testing her. ‘You ba ’

  ‘Come on, Dora. Not too big for your boots to audition, surely?’

  ‘Oh Mike,’ Greg began, ‘Surely someone of the calibre of Theodora shouldn’t be asked to –’

  ‘Where do you want me?’ Dora cut Greg off. She glared at Mike, knowing full well he needed her far more than she needed him. Her celebrity status alone would send the publicity for this production stratospheric.

  ‘If you could stand stage left, please, Dora,’ Mike said serenely. ‘And Greg, could you enter from the other side?’

  As she began to stalk off, he stopped her.

  ‘You’ll need a script, Dora.’

  Ripping it off him, she concentrated on finding her spot.

  On the phone to Millie later, she explained what had happened. Expecting sympathy, Millie couldn’t stop laughing.

  ‘Oh poor Dora! But you’ll make a fantastic Anne. You know you will. And so does Mike.’

  Dora made an unintelligible sound. ‘And precisely what have you done to keep up your end of the bargain?’

  ‘Ah. Well. Been too busy today. Rushed off my feet in the café.’

  ‘Likely story. I need to scrap the idea of Anne Elliot. Think my talents would be better served as an Emma instead. She had far superior match-making skills.’

  As an answer, Millie just laughed some more.

  Chapter 11

  Dora was used to read-throughs. Every project she’d ever been involved in had begun with one. It didn’t stop her hating them with a passion. A read-through always seemed so pressurised. It was usually the first time the entire cast gathered together. There was always a certain amount of sizing up the others, wanting to prove why they had been granted the part over everyone else. And then there was the dilemma; should you simply read your lines and be accused of not trying, or actually invest in the role and look as if you were showing off? You couldn’t win either way. No, read-throughs were never easy. Dora felt she had added pressure heaped upon her. She was the big name in the cast and had to judge it pitch-perfect. The fact that Mike would be directing added a whole other dimension to her discomfort.

  After the nervous greetings over coffee, ‘the who should sit where’ farce and a particularly shaky start from the girl playing Mary Musgrove, everyone forgot their self-consciousness and settled to the task, letting the words work their magic. It was a fairly faithful version of the book and began with Anne arriving at Uppercross having closed up the family home.

  Dora had felt sorry for Greg, as Wentworth only came in once everyone else had hit their stride. Any sympathy fled when she realised how awful he was. They’d all had full scripts for over a week now. Many had begun to learn their lines, or at least become familiar with them, so that today wasn’t as much of an ordeal. It looked as though Greg had never opened his. He fluffed lines, stuttered over them, frequently lost his place and, at one point, dropped the whole script on the floor. Mike announced a break while Greg scrambled to put his pages in order. It had completely interrupted the flow that had begun to develop.

  Dora cornered Mike during the tea break. She came straight to the point. ‘Just whose bright idea was it to cast him as Wentworth?’ she hissed.

  ‘What’s the matter, Dora, not a big enough star for you?’

  Dora bit off an expletive and just about prevented herself from stamping her foot. ‘You know that’s not it! I’m not like that.’

  Mike raised one dark brow. ‘I don’t know anything about you, Dora. Until your momentous duck impersonation, we hadn’t set eyes on each other since your father decided I wasn’t good enough for you over ten years ago. Since then our lives have taken very different paths.’

  It was all said in an undertone and without malice, but Dora could sense the bitterness behind the words. She couldn’t argue with him. It was all true. She too remembered that awful night when her father came home from the restaurant early and found them in her bed. She screwed up her eyes against the memory. Of Mike scrabbling for his clothes, of her father’s hand gripped around his arm, leaving great red marks. She’d never seen him again, although she’d hunted all over town. Her parents told her Mike had left Berecombe. Most assumed he’d ended up in prison. It was only when his name re-surfaced in the theatre world that she found out he’d been at the Old Vic theatre school.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t give a shit whether Greg has won an Oscar or has just come out of drama school. I just want him to be a damn professional. Which, even with your lofty attitude, can see that that isn’t happening. He’s bringing the whole thing down, Mike. Even Lily and Josh, the kids from the youth group, are doing better.’

  Mike seemed to consider his words before replying. ‘You’re right,’ he admitted eventually. ‘He’s –’ He began to say something and changed his mind. ‘I’ll have a quick word.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She turned to go and then said, ‘Oh and is it really necessary for Kirstie to take photos every second?’

  Mike smiled. ‘Ah, that I can do nothing about. It’s for publicity.’

  ‘It’s very distracting,’ Dora grumbled. ‘For the less experienced, I mean.’ She caught his look and gave in. ‘I’ll just make sure I give her my best side, then, shall I?’

  ‘You don’t have a bad side, Dora. Never did.’

  There was a beat of longing in the air and then he disappeared to find Greg.

  Whatever Mike had said to Greg during the break had an effect. Greg was slightly improved and the rest of the run-through went more smoothly.

  It was still exhausting though.

  ‘I’m glad that’s all over. These things always wreck me,’ Dora said to Ellie, who was playing her sister Mary. She shoved her water bottle into her bag. ‘It’s been a very long day.’

  Ellie gave her a gratified smile. ‘I’m so glad you said that. I haven’t done many. I can’t work out why I’m so knackered.’

  ‘Nervous tension, I suppose.’

  Ellie nodded. ‘Must be. I’ve got to admit, I was
so in awe of you when we started that I completely mucked up the beginning. Couldn’t believe I was sitting next to Lorna Peters from The English Woman!’

  Dora smiled. She could remember being in the same position when meeting more- established actors. ‘You did fantastically. Everyone, including me, is petrified at the first read-through and Mary’s not an easy character to get a handle on, is she? Hardly sympathetic.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  Dora put a hand on Ellie’s arm. ‘Relax, honey. You’ll get there. Take your time to get to know the character.’ Ellie was gorgeous. Blonde, smiley, curvaceous. If anything, she was far too attractive to play Mary Musgrove. Dora thought she might like her.

  ‘Look, a few of us are going up to the White Bear. I don’t suppose you’d like to join us?’ This was added shyly, as if Ellie imagined Dora would have her chauffeur on hold to whisk her off to a private jet.

  ‘Oh, that would have been lovely but I promised a friend I’d meet her.’ As Mike walked past, Dora added, ‘I can’t come, I’m afraid.’

  Mike obviously had only heard the last part. ‘Got something better to do, Dora?’

  Dora gave him her most diva-ish look. ‘Something better than drinking warm beer while having to look at your ugly mug?’ she said, her nose in the air. ‘Hard to believe, but yes.’

  She refused to explain she was only meeting Millie for supper. Let him stew, she decided, as she swung her bag onto her shoulder. Let him stew.

  Chapter 12

  Millie took a deep breath, eased the kink out of her shoulders and pushed open the door to the coffee shop. Lyme was heaving with visitors and she’d driven around for twenty minutes trying to find a parking space, ending up at the park-and-ride. She was late. Hot, flustered and late.

  Over dinner last night, Dora had heckled her remorselessly over failing to keep her part of the bargain. She refused to accept Millie’s plea of embarrassment and confusion as excuses.

  ‘The man wants to talk to you,’ she’d said, giving her a very steely Dora look. ‘He still loves you. Any fool can see that.’