Читать книгу The Summer Theatre by the Sea - Tracy Corbett - Страница 8

Tuesday, 17 May – 14 weeks till curtain-up

Barney Hubble leant against the iron railings and drew in a breath of salty air as he watched a fishing boat drag its nets from the water. There was nothing remarkable about this particular Tuesday evening in May, and yet the sight of the water sparkling under the fading daylight and the rush of waves ebbing and flowing over the sandy beach below, was strangely hypnotic. How different his life was now compared to back in London.

For a start, he walked everywhere. He’d never walked anywhere in London, other than endlessly marching up and down hospital corridors. And he swam most days, relishing the battle of challenging riptides and the exhilaration of diving into freezing-cold water, feeling his skin contract beneath his wetsuit. He was also able to indulge in his passion for music. He didn’t earn much from his gigs, but he enjoyed it and it made him feel alive … unlike when he’d worked on the hospital wards and he’d felt permanently dead.

As a kid, he’d learnt both guitar and piano at school before progressing to singing in bands. He’d never ventured into acting before, but last summer his housemates had coerced him into joining the local amateur dramatics group. Despite his initial reluctance, he’d discovered that it was a great way to make new friends and ingrain himself into the local community. Something he hadn’t even known he’d wanted, and certainly something he’d never experienced in London.

His parents had never been big fans of hobbies. It was all work, work, work, for Henry and Alexa Hubble. A philosophy they’d tried to instil into their son. Not that he was against hard work, he just wanted more from life. Maybe it was selfish, but specialising was his parents’ dream, not his. He’d given med school his all, but nothing had prepared him for the relentless onslaught of being a junior doctor.

So, he’d taken a gap year. But the year was now up and his parents wanted to know when he was returning to his studies. It was a reasonable enough request. Trouble was, he wasn’t ready to leave Cornwall. He was still working out what he wanted out of life. He loved living by the sea, he was rediscovering his passion for music, and he was trying out new experiences … like playing Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The sound of voices rose above the crash of waves below. He turned and watched his mates Nate and Paul cross the quayside to join him.

‘I can’t believe I’m being forced to wear a dress again.’ Nate slung his worn leather jacket over his shoulder. He’d never forgiven the last director for casting him as an ugly sister in Cinderella. For everyone else, the sight of a tattooed, bearded twenty-five-year-old dressed to look like Amy Winehouse was hysterical. Nate had never enjoyed the joke. ‘I mean, seriously, which part of me screams love-struck damsel in distress?’ He held out his tattooed arms. His biker T-shirt was stained with grease, and his normally spiky brown hair flattened from wearing his crash helmet.

Paul shrugged. ‘Comic irony? No one would ever mistake you for a girl, even in a dress. Ergo, visual humour.’

Nate didn’t look convinced.

‘And anyway, men have often played female roles in the theatre,’ Paul said, heading up the hill towards the hall, looking dapper in his blue Ben Sherman suit, complete with narrow tie and pointed shoes. ‘Where do you think the word “drag” comes from?’

Nate looked blank.

Paul gave him a questioning look. ‘It stands for “dressed as girl”. It began during Victorian times to denote a male actor playing the part of a female for comic effect.’

Nate shrugged. ‘I never knew that.’

Paul raised an eyebrow. ‘Unsurprisingly, I did.’

Unlike his mates, Barney didn’t feel as though he had a specific style. He favoured jeans and T-shirts, wore leather flip-flops in the summer, and owned a few Fat Face shirts. Not exactly the height of fashion. He’d often been told he was a dead ringer for Elvis Presley, but he couldn’t see it himself. It was probably his Hawaiian heritage on his mother’s side. Whatever the reason, he imagined the three of them made an unusual sight when they went out together, especially when Dusty joined in the fun.

‘At least I get to play Demetrius as well as Thisbe,’ Nate said, as they reached Bridge Street Hall. ‘But I’m still not happy about playing a girl.’

Paul patted his shoulder. ‘That’s life, I’m afraid. Others don’t always see us the way we see ourselves.’

Barney picked up on the sombre note in Paul’s voice. ‘I thought you were pleased to be offered the part of Helena?’

Paul smiled. ‘I’m delighted, dear boy.’ But his response lacked conviction.

Barney was prevented from questioning him further by the noise coming from the hall. As they pushed through the wooden doors, they were greeted by the distinctive odour of stale sweat and smelly feet, a constant no matter how thoroughly the place was cleaned.

Most of the village got involved in the productions, even if it was just selling programmes or helping backstage, but getting enough people to audition was always the tricky part, hence the multiple roles. The summer production was performed at the Corineus Theatre, a beautiful outdoor amphitheatre cut into the Cornish coastline. With its stone walls and clifftop views, and a backdrop of crashing waves and swirling winds, it was a stunning location. Performing there was magical.

Barney didn’t need to be told that Lauren Saunders had also arrived at the hall. He could tell from Nate’s body language: his eyes homed in on her like an FBI tracking device. There was nothing subtle about the way Nate gazed longingly at her. And there was no way Lauren was as oblivious to his interest as she made out. Whether she felt the same remained a mystery. Sometimes Barney sensed she did, other times not so much.

Tonight, she was wearing a grey tunic dress over leggings, her long hair tied loosely at the base of her neck. ‘Freddie! Stop pulling Florence’s hair!’ she yelled, her expression softening as her twin eight-year-olds ran across the hall, their startling red hair and freckles a contrast to their mother’s pale skin and dark hair. Both kids were eagerly talking and laughing. They each drew in a big breath, then simultaneously told their mum they’d been cast as fairies in the play.

Unlike Nate, Freddie seemed delighted to be wearing a dress. ‘It’ll have a skirt made of petals and everything,’ he gushed.

Paul ruffled his hair. ‘Good for you, mate.’

They were joined by Lauren’s dad, who was followed into the hall by his two lady admirers, Sylvia Johns and Glenda Graham. No one could work out whether Tony Saunders was genuinely clueless that both women were into him, or whether he was just stringing them along, enjoying the attention. Either way, it was amusing to watch.

Barney nodded a greeting. ‘I’m assuming you got cast in the show, Tony?’

Tony grinned. ‘I’m playing Bottom.’ His flash of white teeth evoked an audible sigh from both women. At sixty-two, the man would shame most men half his age. His reddish-blond hair hadn’t greyed; his stomach hadn’t inflated, and his tanned skin hadn’t suffered from hours spent at sea. ‘Including two other parts. That’s a lot of lines for someone my age. You youngsters have it easy.’

Nate didn’t look like he agreed.

Despite being a decent actor, Nate wasn’t a confident reader, so often tripped up over the text. Unfortunately, the show’s director didn’t possess the art of tact, and if someone messed up, he wouldn’t hesitate to humiliate them in front of the whole room – as Nate had discovered at the audition, when he’d mispronounced his line, ‘Tarry, rash won ton!’ causing the director to bellow, ‘Wanton, not won ton! You are not ordering Chinese food, Mr Jones!’

Jonathan Myers was a typical theatrical type, who wore glasses on a chain around his neck and sported a terrible comb-over. Appearing at the front of the stage, he asked everyone to take a seat. ‘As you all know, my name is Jonathan Myers. I’m a professional, RADA-trained actor’ – as he liked to remind everyone on a regular basis – ‘and the director of this year’s summer extravaganza, William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I think you will agree, this will be the Isolde Players’ most adventurous production to date.’ He started clapping, encouraging everyone to join in, always eager to receive a round of applause. ‘We shall begin this evening with an improvisation, something to warm up our bodies and focus the mind. The single most important attribute an actor should possess is …?’ He cupped his ear, encouraging a response.

The group mumbled, ‘Focus’, only to be met with a shaking of Jonathan’s head and an exasperated, ‘Louder!’ to which everyone dutifully yelled, ‘FOCUS!’ – except Nate, who yelled, ‘Louder!’ and then cringed when everyone laughed.

Jonathan waited for calm. ‘Thank you. Now, I would like you all to pair up and prepare a short mime entitled “A Fool in the Forest”.’ Before he’d even added, ‘You have ten minutes’, Kayleigh Wilson had sprinted the length of the hall and ‘bagsied’ Barney as her partner, ever hopeful that their brief spell dating would turn into something more meaningful. But there was no spark – not on his side at any rate. She was a nice enough girl, but he wasn’t interested in getting serious with her. Trouble was, she had other ideas.

Nate didn’t fare much better. He lost out on partnering Lauren to seasoned actor Daniel Austin.

A despondent Nate was stuck with Paul, who, never one to take offence, said, ‘It’s just as well we’re mates,’ and slung an arm around his shoulder. ‘Your enthusiasm for working with me is quite touching.’

Ignoring Paul’s sarcasm, Nate shoved his hands inside his jeans pockets, staring daggers at Daniel. ‘He does it to wind me up.’

Paul sighed. ‘Then don’t let him see it affects you, or he’ll keep doing it.’

In contrast, Kayleigh was beaming like she’d won an Oscar, sparkling like the diamanté lettering adorning the backside of her pink velour tracksuit. Kayleigh had big eyes and waist-length brown hair, making her an official ‘babe’, as Nate would say. But she wasn’t Barney’s type. Too girly, too annoyingly bouncy, and far too young aged just twenty. He was only twenty-seven himself, but five years studying for a medical degree, followed by two years completing his foundation programme, had induced a level of maturity that defied his age … not that his parents agreed. ‘Immature’ and ‘irresponsible’ were accusations regularly thrown in his direction.

Someone’s phoned beeped, making Barney flinch.

It’d been over a year since he’d left Queen Mary’s Hospital and yet the sound of the dreaded doctor’s bleeper still brought him out in a cold sweat. It was every junior doctor’s nightmare. Day or night, whether you were sleeping, eating or on the loo, the damned thing would go off and panic would set in. You never knew what awaited you at the other end, and no matter how junior you were, you were expected to know the answer, incurring the wrath of the nurses if you didn’t. People often had a preconceived idea that being a doctor was somehow heroic. They wanted to hear stories about saving lives, but would they want the reality? The daily horrors, the tiredness, the uncertainty; being sworn at, spat on and shat on? Feeling so crushed by responsibility that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry? Probably not. Was it any wonder he was resisting a return?

‘I would be grateful if phones could be turned off,’ Jonathan said, looking around for the culprit. ‘Distractions are not welcome in the sanctuary of creative space.’ He gave a theatrical bow. ‘Much obliged.’

Barney switched his phone to silent, noticing another text from his mother. The frequency of ‘call me’ messages was increasing. The topic of conversation never varied. When was he coming home? When would he be resuming his medical training? If the questions never changed, neither would his answers.

Once all the mimes had been critiqued by the director, who’d frowned the whole way through Barney and Kayleigh’s very un-Shakespearean offering of a ‘pair of clowns camping’, he signalled for quiet. ‘Please join me now in a vocal warm-up.’ He puffed out his chest and walked around the room. ‘Breathe in for the count of four …’

There was something surreal about standing in a circle, breathing in unison. Tony looked relaxed, Nate looked focused, Paul’s efforts were half-hearted, and Daniel sounded like he was doing yoga, letting out a low hum with each breath – whilst Kayleigh sounded like she was having an orgasm, panting like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.

Jonathan stopped behind Glenda and placed his arms around her middle. ‘Feel your diaphragm expand … two … three … and contract … two … three …’

Glenda started giggling. ‘Jonathan, I didn’t know you had it in you. Naughty man.’ She wiggled her bottom and winked at Tony, who was standing opposite her in the circle. Her dirty laughter resulted in a disgruntled look from Sylvia, who pursed her coral-pink lips – the colour as stark as her salmon trousers.

If Glenda favoured the natural look, her neutral linen clothes creased and loose-fitting, Sylvia’s style could only be described as an homage to Dolly Parton.

‘What’s her problem?’ Glenda said, pretending she didn’t know that Sylvia had the hots for Tony. Tormenting Sylvia seemed to be one of Glenda’s favourite pastimes. She was a nice enough woman, who helped out in the community and undertook lollipop-lady duties at the primary school, but there was something hard about her too. Barney couldn’t put his finger on what, but he wouldn’t want to cross her, put it that way.

‘Excellent.’ Jonathan clapped his hands, encouraging everyone to breathe normally. ‘Now, I’d like everyone to sing the note of C.’

Before he could twang his tuning fork, Kayleigh, Glenda and Sylvia had let rip, their collective sound on a par with a cat Barney had once helped escape from a drain.

Thankfully, Kayleigh ran out of breath and the sound improved. As the seconds ticked by, it became clear that an unspoken competition was taking place between the two rival women. Each getting louder, trying to outdo the other, as their note reached its crescendo.

Sylvia’s face grew redder.

Glenda began to physically shake.

Freddie and Florence started laughing, which set Barney off. It was childish, but he couldn’t help it. He felt a momentary pang of remorse when Lauren told her kids off for being rude. But he felt better when he heard Paul snort and Tony start chortling.

Finally, Sylvia broke off, almost collapsing from a lack of oxygen. Glenda whooped and punched the air, only curtailing her celebrations when Jonathan glared at her. ‘If you two ladies have finished?’ He struck his tuning fork against the table.

As with the breathing exercise, some people found it embarrassing, some hard to pitch, others like Freddie and Florence sang out as though they didn’t have a care in the world, just as eight-year-olds should do. Florence began twirling on the spot. Freddie followed suit. Barney thought ‘what the heck’ and joined in, followed by Tony, and then a smiling Lauren. It wasn’t long before everyone was twirling, singing horribly off-key and letting go of their inhibitions. Even Paul looked better by the time Florence had made herself so dizzy she’d fallen over and everyone had run over to check she was okay. That was the thing about community. Everyone cared.

Barney glanced at Glenda. Or if they didn’t, they at least pretended to.

Jonathan gave up on the warm-up. ‘My ears can stand no more.’ He minced over to the front of the stage. ‘Let us begin reading through the script. But first, I would like to share with you my vision for the show.’

Barney sat down next to Paul, who was busy checking his phone. ‘Everything okay, mate? You seem distracted?’

Paul switched his phone to silent. ‘My brother’s getting married.’

As Jonathan spouted on about ‘blue-filtered lighting for the forest scenes’, Barney lowered his voice. ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I thought you got on well with Will?’

Paul shrugged. ‘I do, of sorts.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’ Barney ignored Jonathan’s complicated explanation of swivelling set changes.

Paul chewed on his lower lip. ‘Dusty’s not invited.’ He waited until the director had moved on to the topic of rehearsal schedules. ‘Apparently, his fiancée is unwilling to have a drag queen ruin her special day. If I don’t agree, then I’m not invited to the wedding either.’

Barney frowned. ‘That’s a bit harsh. When’s the wedding?’

‘September.’

‘Then you have four months to make them see sense. No way should you miss your brother’s wedding over something so narrow-minded.’

‘Have you finished, gentlemen?’ Barney realised that Jonathan was looking at them. ‘I hate to interrupt such an in-depth conversation, but I am trying to direct a masterpiece here.’

Barney squirmed. ‘Sorry.’

Jonathan nodded curtly, rubbing a smudge away from his glasses. ‘Now, let us start with our lovers plotting to run away together. It will give everyone an opportunity to see how Shakespeare should be done.’ He gestured to where Daniel was sitting. ‘If you would oblige?’

Never one to turn down a chance to show off, Daniel sprung from his seat, followed by a reluctant-looking Nate, who was also in the scene in his role as Demetrius.

Ignoring Daniel’s yoga hums, and attempting to ‘focus’, Nate addressed Lauren. ‘“Relent, sweet Hermia; and, Lysander, yield thy crazed title to my certain right.”’ Nate turned to look at the director. ‘I have no idea what any of this bollocks means.’

Daniel smirked. ‘That much is obvious.’

Jonathan removed his glasses, pinning Nate with a glare. ‘Then I suggest you make full use of the notes section at the back of your script.’ He smiled at Daniel. ‘As you were.’

Daniel obliged. ‘“You have her father’s love, Demetrius – let me have Hermia’s.”’

Jonathan lifted his hand. ‘Wonderful diction, Daniel.’

Daniel gave a theatrical bow. ‘Why thank you, kind sir.’ He glanced at Nate. ‘One tries.’

Nate mumbled, ‘Knob,’ under his breath.

Daniel approached Lauren. ‘“My love is more than his.”’ He pointed to Nate. ‘“My fortunes every way as fairly ranked. I am beloved of beauteous Hermia.”’ He sneered at Nate, who was now looking really pissed off. ‘“Why is your cheek so pale, my love? How chance the roses there do fade so fast?”’ Taking Lauren’s hand, he kissed her on the cheek. ‘“The course of true love never did run smooth.”’

His dramatic delivery was met with a round of applause, accompanied by the sound of a phone buzzing.

Nate turned to Barney and mouthed, ‘Smug git.’

Barney’s laughter faded when he realised that Paul was looking sheepish. ‘Sorry, I thought it was my phone vibrating, and I answered it.’ As if passing over an explosive device, he handed Barney his mobile. ‘It’s your mum.’

Bollocks.

As he took the phone and headed outside to face the music, Barney heard Lauren deliver her next line. ‘“By all the vows that ever men have broke …”’

Oh, the irony … as Paul would say.