Summer Loves Page 5

  ‘But nothing’s changed,’ Millie had protested.

  ‘So change it.’ Dora leaned forward and waved an asparagus spear, dripping butter everywhere. ‘Come on, Mil, you’re lots of things and courageous is one of them. Grab life by the balls, baby.’

  ‘God you’re so American sometimes,’ Millie had responded, to which Dora had simply sniggered.

  So, leaving Millie Vanilla’s in the hands of Clare who, having decided A levels weren’t for her, was filling in time by working in the café. She was proving herself more than capable, so Millie was confident she could give herself the morning off.

  This coffee shop was a deliberate choice. She wanted somewhere which was completely disassociated with her and Jed. And besides, she could do a quick bit of research while she was here.

  Even though she was late, Jed was nowhere to be seen. Collecting a large latte she spotted some girls leaving a table near the window and sat down. Sneaking a quick look in her mirror, she checked her appearance. Apart from looking slightly flushed, she was amazed at how calm she appeared. No one looking at her would detect the racing pulse, the flipperty beat of her heart. ‘Well, Dora, I’ve met your challenge,’ she murmured to herself. She wondered if ringing Jed and arranging to meet but him not showing up would be enough for Dora. She doubted it. Getting out her phone, she was about to ring her and then remembered she’d be deep in rehearsals.

  ‘Hello, Millie.’

  There was that voice again. Expensive, smooth. Seductive.

  ‘I’m so sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find anywhere to park.’

  Millie looked up at him. Again, she couldn’t help herself from gazing, feeding greedily on every detail. He wore a pink linen shirt and white skinny jeans and should have looked effeminate but didn’t. There had never been anything effeminate about Jed. Ever. She swallowed. He looked like a raspberry ripple ice cream and she wanted to lick him. All over.

  When she didn’t speak, Jed ran a hand through his hair. He was tense, she realised.

  ‘I’ll get a coffee,’ he muttered and disappeared.

  Millie sipped her coffee. It was good. Not as good as hers but better than that in Blue Elephant and, for some ridiculous reason, it gave her courage.

  Jed sat down. They swapped nervous banalities about how busy Lyme was, that maybe it was because of the lovely weather. How nice it was in here. Then a heavy silence fell.

  ‘I’ve missed you, Millie.’

  ‘I’ve missed you too.’

  ‘Then why can’t we be together?’ Jed dashed a hand over his eyes. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Millie sighed heavily. ‘I’m not sure I do, not really. Well, there was the matter of you not telling me who you really were, I suppose. That you’d done work for Blue Elephant.’

  Jed blew out a breath and stayed silent for a minute. ‘I know. I was an idiot.’ He took her hand. ‘But there’s also the matter of me being truly who I want to become when I’m with you, Millie.’

  Millie felt his touch burning on hers. She gulped. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Then let me explain. Please. In lots of ways I’ve had a charmed life. Money, a good school, one of the best universities, a string of jobs. And, believe it or not, I’ve never taken any of it for granted, although I’m sure from the outside it looks that way. But it’s always felt hollow, Millie. There has never been a centre to my life. No permanent home, no ties, lots of travel but never anyone to come home to.’

  Millie held her breath.

  ‘I found that in you. Or thought I had. I found the still centre of my chaotic life. I found home. I found love. With you.’

  ‘We’re so different, Jed,’ she whispered.

  ‘Are we?’ Jed frowned. ‘Because that’s just it, I don’t think we are. In essentials I think we’re very alike. Hard-working, loving, looking for something lacking in our lives. Something I thought we’d found in each other.’

  ‘But what future do you see for us?’ Millie willed herself not to cry.

  ‘I don’t know, Millie. We never had a chance to talk about that, did we?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Would you like there to be a future for us, Millie? Because I’d like that. I’d like that very much.’ He blew out a long breath. ‘Look, I know I let you down. I just hope, no I’m begging, that you can learn to trust me again. Do you think you can?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jed.’ Millie raised her tear-filled eyes to his. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. I want to, Jed. There’s just something stopping me.’

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and burned a kiss onto her palm. ‘It’s a start, Millie my darling. It’s a start.’

  Chapter 13

  Each day, Dora drove into town, squeezed the Mini in next to Millie’s ancient Fiesta behind the café and strode along the promenade to the theatre, swinging her arms and lifting her head to the salty breeze. The fifteen-minute walk was energising. She dressed down in scruffy sweats, hid her hair under a cap and went make-up free. The few dog walkers who were around took no notice of her. It was a simple but exquisite pleasure having Berecombe sea front to herself.

  To her surprise, she was enjoying being part of the production. The eagerness from the locals in the cast was contagious and she liked the other professional actors, especially Ellie, who was funny on and off stage. It had been too long since she’d done any stage work and she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed the theatre. It was only Greg who was pulling everything down.

  This morning they were, once again, rehearsing the moment Anne saw Wentworth after refusing him seven years previously. To focus on the crucial scene, Mike had only called in Ellie, Greg and Dora. Kirstie flitted in and out, but now she’d got over the fan-girly nonsense, she was professional and efficient. Dora could see why Mike had employed her. She tried not to think of Kirstie’s other talents and how those were deployed. It did no good to dwell on Mike and Kirstie. No good at all.

  She greeted the others and then went to stand in front of the stage, breathing the dusty, slightly sweaty, smell of the theatre. Mike emerged from the gloom at the back. Dora blinked. He had a way of moving like a cat. You were only aware of his presence if he chose. Maybe that was why he made a good director? No bullying, no bombast, surprisingly little ego, he simply watched, then made a quiet suggestion that was somehow perfect. Another revelation; she was loving working for him.

  ‘Morning guys. Are we ready to do this, this morning?’ He slapped Greg on the back.

  ‘Um yes, Mike. Hi. Morning.’

  As the two men exchanged greetings Dora watched, puzzled. Mike was the consummate pro, he put in more hours and pushed himself harder than anyone. She could see his heart and soul was in this but she wasn’t sure why. Rumour had it he’d been offered an important Shakespeare but had taken this on instead. It must mean a great deal to him – to give something back to the town. It made it all the stranger why he should cast Greg in such a key role.

  Pinning on a smile as Greg, whatever he lacked in acting skills, was a nice man, she got herself into position, closed her eyes and focussed on getting into Anne Elliot’s head.

  An hour later and it was clear Greg still wasn’t getting it. Or, if he was getting it, he was unable to convey any of it. For the first time Mike was becoming impatient. ‘Break,’ he called. ‘Take twenty, everyone.’

  The relief was palpable. It was exhausting going over the same few lines time and time again and never feeling they’d nailed it.

  Dora refused a coffee, she found the cravings for a cigarette were inevitably linked with caffeine and rummaged in her bag for her water bottle instead. When she looked up, Mike was leaning against the edge of the stage looking pensive.

  ‘Where’s everyone gone?’

  ‘Out for some fresh air and a smoke, if those two things aren’t mutually incompatible.’

  Dora thought longingly of the space outside the theatre. It was a large cobbled courtyard, bounded by seawalls and looked directly onto Lyme bay. She smelled the gh
ost of nicotine in her nostrils and nearly caved in. The expression on Mike’s face stopped her. He sat on the edge of the stage and looked utterly miserable.

  ‘Why did you cast him?’

  Mike gave her a rueful grin. ‘He’s Phil’s brother.’

  ‘Ah. And without him in the cast –’

  ‘There’s no financial backing.’

  ‘Figures.’

  ‘He’s not working out very well, is he?’

  Dora pursed her lips but stayed silent.

  ‘He had real promise early on. I remember seeing him as Ariel and he was great.’

  For the life of her Dora couldn’t imagine the lumbering, wooden Greg as The Tempest’s fantastical sprite. ‘There’s no drink or drugs problem?’ she asked. In her experience it was the most common reason for a fall off of early talent.

  Mike winced and shook his head before taking a while to answer. ‘None that I know of, barring the odd cigarette.’

  ‘Woman trouble?’

  ‘We’ve all had our fair share of that, Dora.’

  ‘Ha ha.’ Dora levered herself up onto the stage to sit beside him.

  ‘He’s happily married,’ Mike added.

  ‘Not like us, then.’ Dora tried to keep her tone light.

  ‘Not like us. You never married either, then?’

  ‘Always too busy. You?’

  ‘The same. Right pair, aren’t we?’

  ‘We haven’t done the town too bad for a couple of Berecombe Comp sixth form no-hopers.’

  ‘You were never a no-hoper, Dora.’

  There was a silence as their thoughts escaped back to a simpler time.

  ‘Why does this mean so much to you, Mike?’

  ‘This production?’ He pursed his lips. ‘Well, I don’t like to see the old place so run down. If something isn’t done about the roof soon, it’ll be too late to save it.’

  ‘This town doesn’t owe you anything. What’s the real reason?’

  Mike gave her a quick and very charming smile. It lit his blue eyes with humour. ‘Could never pull the wool over your eyes, could I?’ He sighed gustily. ‘Wasn’t easy coming back here.’ He pushed a hand through his hair, making it even more dishevelled and making him look years younger. ‘I wasn’t happy living here.’ He glanced at her. ‘Well, there were moments. Snatched moments of sheer bliss, but mostly it was hell.’

  ‘Your dad?’

  ‘Yeah, him and other stuff. You try growing up with a petty criminal for a father. It’s not much fun. He died in prison, did you know?’

  ‘I didn’t.’ Dora put her hand on his and left it there. ‘I’m so sorry, Mike.’

  ‘Yeah well, by that time I was away in Bristol and things had been bad between us for a long time.’

  ‘But he was still your father.’

  ‘Yup. Mr Latham took me in. When we split up, old Joe tried to sort me out.’

  ‘Our drama teacher?’ Joe Latham had spent his retirement running the youth drama club. ‘He was a lovely man.’

  ‘You’re not wrong there. Saw the potential in people. Certainly saw it in you and tried really hard to steer me in a more positive direction than the one I’d been heading for.’

  ‘So you went to live with him?’ Dora was intrigued.

  ‘He took me in that night when … the last night we were together. Dad didn’t want to know and got sent down soon after anyway, so old Joe Latham let me kip in his spare room.’

  ‘I let you down,’ Dora said suddenly. ‘I should have fought for you. I’m sorry.’

  Mike turned his hand over and threaded his fingers through hers. ‘You were seventeen, Dora.’

  ‘Old enough.’

  ‘An over-protected, spoiled, innocent seventeen.’

  ‘Not all that innocent.’ Dora’s mouth twisted at the memory.

  Mike’s fingers tightened. He laughed. ‘Maybe not that innocent. God, the sex was good, wasn’t it? So intense. Was it because we both knew it was wrong?’

  Dora laughed to cover the excitement of touching Mike once more. The feel of his warm, firm hand in hers was shredding her nerves. ‘It wasn’t wrong, I suppose, more forbidden. But you’re right, it was amazingly exciting.’

  ‘Never been like that with anyone else, Dora.’

  He felt very close. She could feel the warmth from his body, smell his clean, soapy skin, feel the rough wool of his sweater through the sleeve of her thin t-shirt. Dora couldn’t bear the idea of Mike sleeping with anyone else. She shook his hand off. ‘Yes, well, we were very young,’ she said, in a tight voice. ‘A lot’s happened since then.’ She jumped off the stage and concentrated on screwing the cap back on her water bottle.

  ‘I’m partly doing this for him,’ Mike burst out suddenly. ‘For Mr Latham. I think it would be a fitting memorial for him.’

  Finally meeting his gaze, she said, ‘I agree, Mike. I think it would be too.’ She knew, no matter how much she longed to, that she couldn’t back out now. She couldn’t let Mike down again. And she, too, owed Joe Latham.

  Their intimacy was broken by the sounds of the others returning. She pulled a face. ‘But what are you going to do about Greg?’

  Chapter 14

  Mike had an idea about how to improve Greg’s performance. He was going to model the role of Wentworth himself.

  Dora knew he had acting talent; it wasn’t that which was a worry. It was the parallels of the story that were disturbing her.

  There was a sharp tension in the air when she and Mike took to the stage. Greg looked uncomfortable, but then he always did. Maybe he resented being shown up? Ellie looked scared, even though she was excellent in the tricky part of Anne’s hypochondriac of a sister. Even Kirstie, who normally wore an air of forced jollity, had a nervous twitch. Dora wondered why and then realised. If they upset Greg and he backed out, there would go the funding – and Mike’s dream.

  She got herself into position, surprised to find herself shaking, and decided to channel her nerves to use as Anne’s. Closing her eyes, she felt the hair on her arms rise as she heard Mike, as Captain Wentworth, say to Mary:

  ‘Morning ma’am. I’ve come to ask about the boy.’

  Wentworth and Mary greeted one another, with Mary chattering on that her son was recovering from his fall.

  Dora steeled herself to open her eyes and greet the captain herself. She had one line in this scene. One short line. All the emotion had to come from her body language. The poignancy must be unspoken but clear, even to those sitting right at the top of the theatre, in the gods. Gripping the chair behind her, she said, ‘Good day, Captain Wentworth.’ Forcing herself to leave the security of the chair, she took one tiny step forward and reverenced. When she straightened any nerves fled in appreciation of Mike’s acting. But maybe there was no need of stage skill. The parallels of the story of Persuasion were only too obvious to them both.

  Wentworth’s body froze. He appeared to want, simultaneously, to rush forward and gather her in his arms but also to retreat as fast as possible. He stared at her, his eyes burning with a passionate resentment at the woman who had been persuaded to reject him as an unworthy suitor. The moment hung in the air. Even the dust motes stilled. It seemed to Dora to go on for seconds. Hours. Years.

  Then Wentworth recollected his manners and breeding, gave a curt nod, said goodbye to Mary and turned on his heel.

  Dora turned to face the auditorium and grasped the chair again. She was trembling violently. She half bent, one arm clasped across her middle to quiet the tumult of emotions.

  ‘Shit. That was so awesome,’ said Ellie, completely out of character – and historical period.

  Dora sank onto the chair. Uttering four words had exhausted her. She vaguely heard Mike giving notes to Greg – on much the same lines as the ones she’d given herself.

  ‘So you can see there are very few words spoken between Wentworth and Anne but this is a crucial scene,’ he said. ‘The first key scene in the play between them. It’s vital that you get the subtext over. Of co
urse they still love one another. Have never stopped. She’s certainly always loved him but assumes he hates her. And Anne never thought she’d have to face him again. They’re covering the cracks with social niceties but they’re being torn apart in the worst possible way inside. Somehow, you’ve got to convey all that. Ready to have a go?’

  Mike leapt off the stage and resumed his position as director. ‘Places, everyone. Let’s go again from Wentworth’s entrance.’

  And Dora, the consummate professional, got ready to do it all over again.

  Chapter 15

  After another three days of rehearsals just as intense, Dora gladly accepted Ellie’s invitation to go to the pub. The force field of her love for Mike was becoming downright irritating. The craving she had for cigarettes was nothing in comparison. She needed a drink and she needed to unwind.

  She and Ellie linked arms on the steep walk up Berecombe’s main street to the White Bear. It was Thursday night and Dora hoped the pub wouldn’t be crowded. Mike had announced he had to return to London tomorrow, so there was an end of the week vibe among the merry band of players. As they walked, head down to concentrate on the incline, Dora half-listened to Ellie’s enthusiastic chatter but had her mind on what called Mike back to the capital so urgently. She couldn’t imagine what his life was like in the city. He never mentioned where he lived or in what, who he mixed with or what he did in his spare time. Glancing over at a giggling Kirstie, who was fawning over him, she could have a good guess.

  To her dismay, the Bear was as packed as before.

  ‘Still, at least you’re not dressed as a duck this time,’ Mike said cheerfully. ‘Drinks orders please,’ he called. ‘First round is on me.’

  Dora was tempted to order a bottle of champagne just to spite him but refused to be so childish and meekly put in for a vodka tonic instead.

  As there was quite a crowd of them and they were a noisy bunch, Dean, the landlord, opened up his small function room at the back. It doubled as the skittles alley and smelled damp.

  ‘Oh, the glamour of the acting life,’ said Dora as she collapsed on a red-velvet chair, which had definitely seen better days.