Читать книгу The Little Theatre on the Seafront: The perfect uplifting and heartwarming read - Katie Ginger - Страница 13

The wind blew stronger on Greenley seafront than Lottie expected even though it was spring and sunlight pierced through the gathering clouds, bouncing off the sea. She wrapped her coat around her. She liked spring weather, it was easier to dress for than summer when clothes revealed so much flesh. Big jumpers and coats hid her flabby upper arms and were far more comfortable.

Lottie’s nan could never understand her self-consciousness, believing Lottie was just big boned. She’d always had puppy fat but unlike most of the girls in her class at school, Lottie’s had stayed stubbornly in place past adolescence and long into adulthood.

Sid waved as he drove past, then parked down the street and climbed out. ‘Morning,’ he said, crossing over to join Lottie opposite the theatre where she stood gazing at it.

The Victorian building had a square front of grey stone, with two tall oblong windows either side of a majestic revolving door. The boarded-up windows were decorated with scrawls, spray painted swirls, and a useful list of expletives. The revolving glass doors, most of which were broken, were sheltered by a faded blue domed canopy, and at either end of the building, a rotting wooden frame encased an old, tattered, water-stained poster. The once bright colours paled to a sad, washed out hue.

Sid pointed to the wall. ‘Donna’s well liked, isn’t she? Very popular with the boys.’

Lottie followed his gaze and laughed. ‘It is beautiful, isn’t it? Even in this sorry state.’

‘It is, actually. Do you know, I never really appreciated it until now. It’s been closed up for so long, I’ve just got used to walking past it.’

‘It’s such a shame.’ Lottie was beginning to see why it had meant so much to her nan and could imagine it in its heyday all those years ago. She snapped another couple of pictures. She’d always had a fascination with old abandoned buildings and had taken quite a few photographs of the various ones around town over the years. There was something about how the light played on them creating shadows and stark contrasts, emphasising the desolation and loneliness of these old places. She’d always planned to turn them into an exhibition but had never quite been brave enough. Maybe she should start an Instagram account or something?

‘“Jez woz ere”,’ Sid read. ‘Clever.’

‘Bloody idiots. Haven’t they got something better to do than write all over lovely old buildings?’

‘Obviously not.’ Sid took out a packet of crisps from his backpack and opened them. Before he could say anything more an enormous seagull swooped down and snatched the bag, making him scream. It flew to a nearby roof and bashed the packet down until it gave way and the contents spilled out.

‘Did you see the size of that thing?’ asked Sid, breathlessly, his face frozen in panic. ‘It’s a monster.’

Lottie burst out laughing, doubled over.

‘It’s not funny. I could have died.’

‘Oh, Sid. You should have seen your face.’ She screeched, giving a quick impression, then descended into hysterics once more.

Sid bent forwards with his hands on his knees still trying to calm down. ‘But look at it. It looks like it’s been drinking protein shakes from the sports centre bins. That’s not normal. Seagulls shouldn’t be the size of small aeroplanes.’

‘Sid, stop it.’ Lottie wiped the tears from her face but continued laughing as she spoke. ‘Right, now I’ve calmed down a bit I’ll get the outside shot as the weather’s nice. I don’t like the look of that rain cloud.’ She nodded to the sky over the sea where a band of dark grey cloud threatened to envelop the town.

‘Okay, I’ll wait for you.’ Sid finally stood up and adopted his usual stance of hands in pockets, leaning against the back of a bench.

After taking the pictures, Lottie and Sid crossed the road and walked to the door. The clouds had quickly blown in and spots of rain began to fall. The rain gathered pace and Lottie pulled a heavy set of keys out of her bag and tried to find the one for the front door.

‘Come on, Lots, we’re getting soaked.’

‘I’m trying. There’s like a million keys on here.’ She examined them individually and found the right one. Pushing the glass door with her fingertips in case it smashed to pieces in her hand, they edged inside as it revolved to the sounds of rusty gears and grinding metal.

‘Wow,’ said Sid, walking in and placing Lottie’s camera bag down on the floor. Lottie brushed the rain from the sleeves of her cardigan and inspected the interior.

Inside was a small square balcony higher than the theatre floor. On either side, a few steps led down to where row upon row of seats lined up in front of the stage. A deep crimson carpet, discoloured and threadbare in places, echoed the faded grandeur of the exterior. It was an unusual layout which Lottie felt gave the place even more character.

Without realising where her feet were taking her, Lottie drifted towards the stage. In her mind she could see actors performing to a full house and wondered which seats her grandparents had sat in that fateful night. She turned to tell Sid, but he was too busy staring at the ceiling.

‘Did you ever think there’d be a place like this in Greenley?’ he asked, gazing upwards. Lottie followed his eyes and gasped.

The ceiling was covered in intricate plaster cornicing framing painted murals of Greco-Roman myths. It wasn’t quite the Sistine Chapel, but it wasn’t too shabby either.

‘What’s that one supposed to be?’ asked Sid, pointing.

Lottie tried to make out what the figures and cherubs were doing. It looked quite rude actually. ‘I think it’s supposed to be Dionysus. That is not appropriate for children though.’ She turned to him, her eyes wide with excitement. ‘I had no idea this was here. Did you?’

‘Nope.’ Sid scrunched up his nose. ‘What’s that smell?’

‘Damp. There’s black mould all over the walls. Look.’ She ran her hand down and bits of paper fell off and stuck to her fingers.

Each wall had four ceiling-height columns evenly spaced along them and, in between, a once gold wallpaper peeled off, now cold and wet to the touch. She took some more photos. The town needed to see how bad things were.

‘Maybe knocking it down isn’t such a bad idea after all,’ said Sid, finding a clean page in his notebook.

‘Don’t say that. It just needs airing out and cleaning up. Strip the walls and replace the carpet and it’ll be fine.’

Sid grinned. ‘When did you become Miss Enthusiastic?’

‘I’m just trying to be a bit more positive, like you told me.’ Lottie stuck out her tongue and Sid mirrored her. She circled around and smiled. ‘Sid, just look at the stage.’ Lottie ran up a set of stairs at the front edge, brushing the curtain with her shoulder causing dust motes to dance in the light. Lottie tucked the camera strap over her head and rubbed her cardigan clean. ‘Can you imagine standing up here performing to everyone?’

Sid sat down in the last row and put his feet up. ‘Go on, do a dance or something.’

‘No!’

‘Please? For me? Or tell me a joke.’

Lottie tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Umm … what’s brown and sticky?’

Sid smiled. ‘I don’t know. What is brown and sticky?’

‘A stick.’

He gave one of those embarrassing half laughs. ‘That is the worst joke I’ve ever heard.’

Lottie giggled. ‘Yeah, sorry.’ She stared out at the desolate and dejected theatre and her smile faded. She climbed down off the stage and joined Sid.

He must have seen her face fall, as he lowered his legs and leaned forwards before asking, ‘What’s the matter?’

‘How am I going to make this work, Sid?’ She raised her hand to start biting her fingernails. ‘There’s so much to do. Sarah Powell said there might be mice.’

‘Mice?’

Lottie cocked her head. ‘Are you imagining them all dancing on stage?’

‘Something like that.’

The corners of Lottie’s mouth lifted for a second then fell back down. ‘I haven’t seen any yet though, so that’s one good thing. Do you think people will turn up to the auditions?’

‘I guess we’ll find out soon. And don’t forget another advert runs this week.’

The first advert had looked amazing. Two actors in Shakespearean dress were silhouetted on a bright green background. One held out a skull and the other, on his knees, despaired with his head in his hands. Bold black type read, ‘Greenley Theatre needs you!’ and underneath was the information about the auditions.

‘And we’ve got a load of flyers to give out too.’ Sid pulled out his notebook. ‘When we run this article with all your pictures, I was thinking we could say something along the lines of, “Many of us knew Elsie Webster and the wonderful service she performed to the theatre and the town. Now her granddaughter, Charlotte Webster, will be carrying on her good work, and the theatre couldn’t be in better hands.”’

Lottie pressed her hand to her chest. ‘Oh, Sid, thank you. It’s beautiful.’

‘I’m glad you like it,’ he replied, blushing. For someone so good with words Sid was like an awkward teenager face to face.

‘You’ve helped me so much with all this,’ she said, taking off her camera and placing it on the seat next to her. ‘How can I say thank you?’

Sid scratched his head, ruffling his fluffy hair. ‘You don’t have to thank me, Lottie. I liked your nan. She was a like a mum to me too sometimes, wasn’t she?’

‘I suppose she was.’ Lottie bit her lip. ‘Do you miss her too?’

‘Yeah, I do. A lot. Elsie looked after me when Mum and Dad died.’ He cleared his throat and Lottie saw a stab of pain cross his features. Though Sid tried to be cheerful Lottie knew he still felt their loss deeply. He never spoke about his parents so Lottie never asked but he knew she was here if he ever needed to talk.

It was almost seven years since they’d been involved in a terrible car crash, and with the money they left him he’d bought his lovely flat on the seafront. He hadn’t been able to bear being in the family home all alone whereas Lottie couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Up until then Sid had been full of ambition but after the accident those thoughts had faded. He’d eventually regained his cheerfulness but never ventured further than London when they’d had days out together. He was now perfectly content to just take each day as it came and stay put and Lottie had never felt the need to challenge him.

‘Thanks again for doing this,’ said Lottie, giving his hand a squeeze.

He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and she knew that flash of pain was lingering somewhere in his mind, but his voice was, as usual, cheerful when he said, ‘That’s alright, I like it. It’s fun. Who’s going to judge the auditions? Can I?’

‘No. Firstly you have terrible taste.’

‘I do not.’

She pointed to his Megadeath T-shirt and raised an eyebrow.

‘Fair enough.’

‘Anyway, you’re writing the articles. You need to be impartial. A bit anyway.’

‘Oh,’ Sid moaned. ‘I thought I could have a big buzzer to press if they were rubbish.’

Lottie gave him her ‘Don’t be silly,’ look. ‘I guess the mayor will want to be on the panel.’

‘And how about David? As the boss of the newspaper, we should probably ask him.’

‘Great idea.’ Lottie surveyed the dilapidation and she gave a sigh as her face crumpled.

Sid rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Lots. Everything will be okay.’

‘I hope so,’ she replied. ‘I really, really hope so.’