Читать книгу The Little Theatre on the Seafront - Katie Ginger - Страница 14

Just over three weeks later, the day of the auditions dawned and Lottie awoke to the melodic sound of birds singing, and the sun shining through the window. For once she was excited about life again, and sprang out of bed, dancing as she dressed. It was the first time she’d woken up in the house and not felt the sudden dread of reality approaching or a heaviness in her heart as she realised she was alone.

Grabbing her jeans and slipping them on over her thighs, she didn’t care about the cellulite on the backs of her legs or her rounded stomach as she zipped them up. Most of the time Lottie was reasonably content with herself, or if not content, then not quite so preoccupied. The little extra weight she carried was nothing a couple of weeks of healthy eating and few trips to the gym wouldn’t cure, if she could be bothered. But when she was upset she focused on the bits she didn’t like as a way of not thinking about everything else. That today she didn’t care quite as much meant the darkness was lifting. She tied her long hair up in a ponytail and was just spraying some perfume when she heard the front door open and a voice call her name.

‘Lots, are you there?’

‘I’m just getting dressed, Sid,’ she yelled back down the stairs. ‘Be down in a minute.’

She opened the curtains and stared out over the town. Being on top of the hill allowed her a view of the skyline of Greenley. It wasn’t London, Miami, or New York, but it was home and the higgledy-piggledy rooftops, leading out to a calm, grey-blue sea, were a familiar and comforting sight. The kettle whistled and she knew Sid was making them tea.

‘Morning,’ said Lottie as she met him in the living room. He’d made himself comfortable on the sofa.

He blinked as he watched her. ‘Morning. You look nice.’

‘Do I?’ She stared down at her usual jeans, noticing they were slightly grubby in places and rubbed at the spots with a wet finger.

‘Yeah, you do.’ His forehead wrinkled slightly. ‘What’s different?’

‘Nothing.’ Sid stared at her, one eyebrow raised, and she held out her hands. ‘Honestly, nothing.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’ Lottie laughed. ‘I promise, I’m not trying to catch you out.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘You look very chipper this morning, though.’

‘I’m excited! Aren’t you? It’s am dram day,’ she sang, making jazz hands.

‘Have you been drinking?’

‘Ha ha.’ Lottie grabbed her bag and coat. ‘Oh, I asked a guy called Conner to come and play people’s music. He said he has some device on his laptop that’ll take the vocal track off for the singers. He emailed to say he’s studying film and media at university and thinks it’d be good for him and his budding career. I told him he’s in.’

‘What, into the Greenley Players?’ Sid sat forwards.

‘Yes,’ Lottie said slowly. ‘He wants to direct and do behind the scenes type stuff.’

‘Does the mayor know?’

Lottie shook her head. ‘No. Not yet.’

Sid sat back again, an incredulous look on his face.

‘What?’ asked Lottie. ‘I’m the chairman. I can do that if I want.’

‘It’s nice to see you taking charge,’ he said, smiling. ‘Have you got the list of auditionees? Or should I call them victims?’

‘I’ve got everything together already. Ta da!’ Lottie picked up a folder and waved it in the air. ‘But we need to get going. I’ve got some setting up to do before the rest of the panel get there.’

‘Right-o.’ Sid swallowed his tea and grabbed his leather jacket.

Lottie took a few quick mouthfuls of hers, leaving her cup half empty. She drew level with Sid at the end of the sofa, gave him a mischievous look. He read her mind, and they both raced to the front door. Lottie won.

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Sid asked, as he drove them to the theatre. ‘You seem a bit … odd.’

‘Odd?’ Lottie faked offence. ‘That’s charming. I’m fine, honestly, I’m just in a good mood.’

The outside of the theatre looked a mess. They’d need to come up with a way of fixing it at some point, but for now she had to concentrate on today. Lottie pushed the revolving door and they went inside. The musty damp air hit her nostrils and she grimaced.

Sid turned on the main lights then headed off to a small box at the side of the room that held the lighting and sound equipment. ‘Let there be light,’ he shouted and with the flick of a switch, the stage was illuminated. The lights flickered for a few seconds before fully committing to staying on and Lottie gave a silent prayer they’d last the whole day. She dropped her folder onto one of the seats before climbing up onto the stage to grab a broom and begin sweeping.

Sid came down and sat on the front row then checked his watch. ‘It’s eight-thirty, what time are the rest of the panel getting here?’

‘Nine o’clock,’ answered Lottie, sweeping with vigour. ‘The first audition is at nine-thirty.’

‘Anyone we know on the list?’

‘A few. You’ll have to wait and see.’ She’d kept the list top secret because she wanted to see his reaction when some of them turned up.

‘Spoilsport.’

Lottie stuck out her tongue, feeling playful. ‘Don’t just sit there, lazy bum, come and grab another broom. This place is filthy.’ She watched him open his mouth to moan. ‘No moans and groans. You’re my best friend, you have to help. I reckon if this place had a good airing it would make a big difference.’

‘You sound like your nan.’ Sid huffed and stood up to join Lottie. He found another broom and began sweeping at the back of the stage.

‘Thank you,’ Lottie replied, then stifled a laugh. ‘What are you doing now, you idiot?’

‘Dancing, of course,’ said Sid, wiggling his hips before leaping over the handle. ‘Come on.’

A grin grew on Lottie’s face and she began dancing too as they swept the stage. They were both giving a vague interpretation of a tango with their respective broomstick partners when the rest of the panel walked in.

Mayor Cunningham arrived first and coughed as his lungs filled with the damp air. ‘Goodness me. Are we going to be in here all day? It stinks.’

Lottie stopped herself from rolling her eyes and walked down to meet him. ‘I know it’s not ideal, but we need the acoustics of a proper stage and there wasn’t anywhere else. It’s probably worse because we just swept.’

‘Very well,’ replied Mayor Cunningham. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any tea or coffee is there?’

‘Damn, I didn’t think of that,’ replied Lottie.

‘Really, Miss Webster, if you’re to be our chairman, you must plan these things more thoroughly.’

‘No worries,’ said Sid, jumping down off the stage, moving to Lottie’s side. ‘I’ll nip out and get us all coffees and some bottles of water for the auditions.’

‘Oh, Sid, thank you,’ said Lottie, touching his arm. She’d always loved the feel of his old leather jacket. He’d worn it for as long as she could remember and it was part of him.

‘I’ll have a black filter coffee,’ ordered the mayor.

Lottie flashed her eyes, knowing Sid would be thinking the same as her. ‘Sid, can I have a—’

‘I know what you have, Lots,’ he replied and gave her a cheeky wink.

The revolving door squeaked and David, their editor, walked in. He was a great boss and a really nice man, but since his divorce seemed to be having some sort of midlife crisis. He’d recently acquired a tattoo in a language he didn’t speak and had turned up today in a suit jacket and open-necked shirt revealing the greying hairs on his chest. Lottie wanted to go and do the buttons up but resisted. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be noticeable when he was sitting down. ‘Morning, everyone,’ called David. ‘I found this young man outside. Does he belong to you, Lottie?’

A young man with dyed black hair gelled forward over his face and a piercing through his bottom lip shuffled in. He gave Lottie a quick smile then kept his eyes on the floor.

Lottie took a few steps towards him. ‘Hi, you must be Conner. Thank you so much for coming.’

‘S’alright,’ he replied, removing his laptop and a small portable amp from his backpack. ‘Shall I set up over there?’

‘Yes please,’ said Lottie. ‘There must be a power point somewhere.’

‘I can find one.’ Conner wandered off with his laptop under his arm.

‘I’m just getting coffees,’ said Sid to David. ‘One for you?’

‘Oh, yes please. That’ll go down a treat.’ He smoothed down his thinning hair.

Sid looked over to Conner. ‘How about you, Conner? Do you want anything, mate?’

Conner looked up from under his long fringe. He seemed surprised at being included. Lottie wondered how he could ever see where he was going with his fringe all over his face then chastised herself for sounding like her nan again. She was getting old. ‘Umm, can I have a Coke, please? I can give you the money.’

‘That’s alright, mate. I can spare it. Be back soon.’

Lottie smiled at Sid. Conner was relaxing already and she was sure some of it was because of Sid. A hint of a smile had passed over Conner’s face when he talked to him. She turned her attention to David and the mayor. ‘I thought we should sit a couple of rows back from the front. We don’t want to end up with sore necks at the end of the day.’

‘Good idea,’ replied David. ‘Lead the way.’

Lottie indicated the third row back. ‘Here we are then. Sid will be back soon with the coffees. Conner, is there anything I can help with?’

He shook his head and Lottie noticed his fringe was gelled so firmly it didn’t move. ‘I’m pretty much done. I’ve found all the music on the list you gave me.’

‘Great, thanks.’

‘Who’s that boy?’ asked Mayor Cunningham.

‘He’s the first member of the Greenley Players,’ announced Lottie.

The mayor eyed her, his face growing redder. ‘You’ve appointed someone without speaking to anyone first?’

Lottie felt a shiver of nerves at his tone then pulled her shoulders back. ‘Yes. Yes, I did. He doesn’t need to audition as he wants to direct and do more on that side of things.’

‘But don’t you think you should have spoken to us all first?’

‘Well, no,’ said Lottie. ‘We’re going to need people on both sides of the stage, so to speak. So I didn’t see the point.’

‘Well I disagree,’ Mayor Cunningham replied huffily before plopping down on his seat. ‘It’s almost nine-fifteen. Your young man better hurry up.’

Lottie rolled her eyes and hoped he would keep his temper under control for the auditions. She had a feeling they’d need all the help they could get today.

Twenty minutes later Sid returned with a dozen bottles of water, plastic cups, a Coke and four coffees precariously balanced in a cardboard holder not quite up to the task. He handed out the drinks, placed the water and cups by the stage and took his place behind the mayor and David.

The first auditionee arrived looking terrified and Lottie went to meet them with a beaming smile. The young man with shoulder-length blond hair looked like a surfer, and climbed up onto the stage carrying a guitar case.

Lottie returned to her seat but couldn’t stop jiggling her legs.

He opened the case and readied himself to play. After clearing his throat, he began to sing. At least, that’s what he was supposed to be doing. Lottie’s face froze as he played the guitar badly and shouted out the lyrics to a song he’d clearly written himself about his dead dog. She waited for him to finish and cleared her throat. ‘Thank you, we’ll let you know.’

The mayor gave Lottie a smug smile. ‘Let’s hope the next one’s better,’ she said, giving a cheery one in return. But the rest of the auditions followed suit. The acting was on a par with the worst primary school nativity play and the singing would have made Simon Cowell’s eardrums run out of his head screaming and stab themselves on the first sharp object they could find. Someone even did some interpretive dance, though what they were interpreting, Lottie couldn’t quite figure out.

At about eleven o’clock and twenty people in, Deborah McCray arrived in a flamboyant red dress with a green scarf draped across her shoulders. Sid leaned in to Lottie and whispered, ‘Isn’t she the mad artist from Primrose Cottage? The one who paints those awful watercolours?’

Lottie gave a single nod, not wanting to draw Mrs McCray’s attention, and whispered, ‘Yeah. Do you remember that picture of someone’s kid in her gallery window? It was the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘It still haunts my dreams,’ Sid replied and they both chuckled as Lottie stood up to meet her.

‘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.