The Little Theatre on the Seafront: The perfect uplifting and heartwarming read

‘Yes, I would,’ she said. The moment had finally arrived. Lottie stood and clicked on her presentation. It projected onto a pull-down screen at the end of the table and she slid her notes out of her folder. A surge of nerves threatened to loosen her fingers but she held firm and began.

‘As you all know, my nan passed away about two months ago.’ She swallowed down the lump in her throat and took a deep breath. ‘On the day of her funeral, I was given a letter she wrote to me a few days before she died asking me to take over her place as chairman of the committee. I know you’ve been acting as chairman since her death, Mayor Cunningham, and I’m sure Nan would say you’ve done a wonderful job,’ she lied. ‘But she’s asked me to take over now and try to continue her work.’

Ms Powell and Mr Ryman shuffled in their seats, glancing at Mayor Cunningham. Deep wrinkles showed on his forehead as he scowled and a muscle twitched in his jaw. ‘I don’t think protocol allows for someone to just take over another’s seat, Miss Webster. Particularly that of chairman, which is an elected position. I’m sorry, but it can’t be done.’

Despite Sid’s reassurances, Lottie had worried Mayor Cunningham would say no. As all her fears threatened to be realised she dug deeper, unwilling to let her nan down.

‘How do we even know you can cope with the responsibility?’ asked Ms Powell, snidely.

Lottie’s fingers tightened around her notes. She could put up with a lot of things, but being patronised by a woman who made puppy dog eyes to a man like Roger Cunningham wasn’t one of them.

‘I didn’t think you would let me take over, just like that,’ said Lottie. ‘Which is why I’ve prepared a presentation of some ideas I’ve had. I think they could really get things moving again.’

The smug smile disappeared from Ms Powell’s face, the mayor twisted his cufflinks, and Trevor turned over a sheet of paper and readied his pen. ‘Please go on.’

Lottie stood a little taller and opened the first slide on her presentation. ‘The first thing I was going to suggest is bringing back the amateur dramatics group.’

Ms Powell’s head popped up at the mention of the amateur dramatics group and she watched Lottie with eager eyes. The ends of her razor-sharp bob swished around her chin until the mayor glared at her and she looked back down at her notes. Lottie knew she had her own faults but at least she didn’t have a crush on a complete douchebag like Mayor Cunningham.

‘As you can see from the programmes in front of you and the images on the screen from the Gazette archives, the group was very popular and had lots of members. It put on at least two productions a year.’ She looked up to see all eyes focused on her and swallowed, feeling the butterflies jiggling in her stomach. ‘From my research and the old accounts books I found, events were very well attended.’

‘And how to do you propose to do all this, Miss Webster, as we have such limited funds?’ asked the mayor.

‘And no money for advertising,’ added Ms Powell.

Lottie imagined how wonderful it would be to smack Sarah Powell in the face with her folder but instead smiled sweetly at them both. ‘I work for the Greenley Gazette and they’ve kindly agreed to run an advert for members of the amateur dramatics group. Free of charge, of course. It’ll start this week if you agree.

‘This will raise much needed publicity for the theatre, which I understand has been a problem for some time.’ Lottie congratulated herself on sounding like a grown-up professional type of person.

A blotchy redness crept up the mayor’s neck.

‘I like this idea,’ said Mr Ryman. ‘Free of charge advertising can’t be turned down.’

Mayor Cunningham steepled his fingers like a Bond villain. ‘And what happens if no one is interested?’

‘Then I guess we’ll know how the community feels about the theatre,’ answered Lottie, feeling her shoulders sag. But then she remembered Sid’s words to be positive and lifted her head. ‘But if it is successful, we can work with the group to bring the theatre back to life and plan a production.’

Mayor Cunningham scratched the small triangle of stubbly hair on his forehead. ‘Are you aware of how much work is needed on the theatre, Miss Webster?’

‘Only what’s been covered in the minutes. I haven’t visited the theatre myself yet, but, of course, I’ve seen the outside.’

‘Well, I can tell you it’s a lot.’

‘And there are mice,’ said Ms Powell.

‘Mice?’ Lottie imagined them putting on their own production, all lined up on the stage wearing top hats and waving canes in perfect choreographed unison. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

‘Yes, but,’ said Mr Ryman, shifting in his seat to lean over the table, ‘if this is successful, we could then look at community funding. Maybe a bid to the Heritage Lottery Fund? I know the council can’t afford to run the place anymore and I’ve said before there are avenues we haven’t explored. We could follow the marketing campaign with an appeal.’

Lottie smiled at him, thankful for a possible ally.

Mayor Cunningham eyed Mr Ryman as if he wanted to stab him with his pencil but Trevor didn’t notice, or at least, didn’t care. The mayor said, ‘Perhaps we should put your taking over as chairman to the vote. It is an elected position after all.’

Lottie’s stomach lurched. Mr Ryman seemed like he would vote for her but if Ms Powell did vote the same way as Mayor Cunningham, the numbers were against her. Lottie decided on a last-minute attempt to convert Sarah Powell to her side. ‘Can I just say that the Greenley Gazette will be happy to follow the story with regular articles and advertising space. Free of charge, of course.’

David, her editor, hadn’t actually said that but there was little else to print these days and she was surprised at how much she wanted this now. She met the mayor’s steely gaze and carried on. ‘If your objections are lack of funds for advertising, then that’s already covered, and there’s a guarantee of more to come.’

Ms Powell looked up and Lottie was sure there was a flicker of agreement in her small eyes.

‘Miss Webster—’ began the mayor.

‘Hang on,’ said Mr Ryman, cutting him off. He turned to Mayor Cunningham. ‘I don’t think a vote is required. Whilst seats on committees aren’t usually hereditary, I do think the request from the late Mrs Webster makes this an unusual circumstance.’ He leaned in and with a lowered voice said, ‘We wouldn’t want the Greenley Gazette reporting anything negative, would we?’

Lottie opened her mouth to tell him that she’d never be so underhanded when he turned to her and gave her an almost imperceptible wink.

‘I suppose you’re right, Mr Ryman,’ said the mayor. He turned to Lottie. ‘It would only be right to honour the wishes of our dear Elsie. May I suggest, though, that we reassess the situation once the auditions have taken place and we’re aware of the community’s response?’ He glowered at Ms Powell.

‘Agreed,’ Ms Powell answered and Lottie wondered if there had been a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Mr Ryman nodded.

‘Your title will therefore be Acting Chairman, Miss Webster, until this trial period is over.’

Lottie nodded in agreement. It was as good as she was going to get.

‘Meeting adjourned then.’ The mayor stood up, shoving his seat back. He pushed the papers into his briefcase and luminous Post-it notes flew onto the floor. Ms Powell followed him to the door chattering in his ear.

Mr Ryman lingered behind the others as Lottie switched off her laptop and began to unwrap the mass of cables that had somehow twisted themselves around each other. ‘I’m very sorry that your nan passed away, Miss Webster. My condolences.’

‘Oh. Thank you.’ Lottie kept her eyes down, worried they would fill with tears as her body relaxed with relief.

‘She was a very energetic and likeable woman,’ Mr Ryman continued, trying to catch her eye. Lottie hoped he would get the hint that she didn’t want to talk about this right now.

‘Yes, she was.’

‘I attended the funeral you know?’

At this Lottie looked up. She hadn’t recalled seeing him there. ‘Did you?’

Mr Ryman gave her a warm and friendly smile. ‘I thought it was a lovely service. I guess I’ll see you at the next committee meeting then.’ He held out his hand, and she gave it her strongest shake.

Lottie remembered Sid telling her about the carriage clock and she felt like she’d misjudged Mr Ryman. Perhaps he was just rubbish at buying presents.

‘Can I just ask,’ said Lottie, releasing his hand, ‘why has the theatre sat empty for the last few years? Why couldn’t my nan make any progress?’

Mr Ryman studied the clasps on his briefcase before looking up. ‘Your nan tried everything she could to get things going again. To begin with, the committee kept changing and no one could agree on a way forward and then, when the mayor joined the committee, people started leaving and it dwindled to just us. He can be quite … negative sometimes. And forthright.’

Lottie nodded as a smile crept over her face. ‘I did get that impression.’

Mr Ryman tucked his briefcase under his arm. ‘Well, goodnight then. See you next time.’

‘Yes, goodbye.’

Lottie sat down in the empty room and exhaled a long, deep breath. For the first time all day she could breathe properly. Her nan had brought her luck tonight, Lottie could feel it – she was definitely watching. The tension in Lottie’s neck and shoulders had given her a headache, but at least now she could go home, have a glass of cold white wine and relax in the bath. There was just one thing she needed to do first. She grabbed her phone and dialled Sid’s number.

‘So, how’d it go?’ he asked with a mouthful of food, probably peanuts if she knew him at all.

Lottie slumped backwards and laughed with relief. ‘I only went and pulled it off, didn’t I?’

Chapter 5

Sid watched the credits roll – everyone else was leaving but he knew to hang on. He’d seen enough of the Marvel films to know there was a secret scene after the final credits, a bit of a teaser for the next movie and all those other people were going to miss it. Ha! Idiots.

He sat back eating the last of his popcorn as he watched, excitement building in his stomach. It didn’t disappoint. But then he realised it was actually quite depressing, he was going to have to wait ages for the movie to be released. Still there was the new Batman film coming out soon and he and Lottie were going to see it.

Once the lights had come up he brushed the popcorn from his chest and peered down at the piles scattered around his feet. Using his foot, he pushed some in front of the chairs next to him. He wasn’t trying to make more mess for the nice guys who worked there, he just didn’t want them knowing that all of it was down to him. In his defence though, hand to mouth motor skills were quite difficult in the dark.

Sid grabbed his coat and made his way out into the foyer, giving a double take when he saw Selena standing with a group of friends. They were all as glamorous as she was with perfectly coiffed hair and matching outfits. One girl even wore a miniskirt even though the weather was cold and damp. He didn’t know people dressed up for the cinema. What was the point? It was dark and everyone’s eyes were on the screen.

Selena glanced over. She wasn’t wearing a miniskirt like her weird friend, just normal jeans and a T-shirt. It was a bit tighter than Lottie wore hers but still nice. Her hair was tied up in a strange, sprouty bun thing on the top of her head but it suited her, and her dark eyes were studying him. All the roundness her face had carried in their youth had gone and she now had delicate cheekbones. Selena smiled, said something to her friends and made her way over to Sid. ‘Hi again.’

Sid nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Hi.’

‘Did you enjoy the movie?’

Sid’s expression grew serious as he considered. ‘Yeah, it was good. A bit slow in the beginning but once it got going it was fun. Did you?’

‘Yeah.’ Selena bit her bottom lip. ‘But we only came for Chris Hemsworth. Well, they did.’ She pointed to her friends.

‘Oh, right.’

She chuckled. ‘I did enjoy it though. Like you said, a bit slow at the start but it got better. Did you watch the secret scene?’

Sid’s eyes widened, surprised that she knew. ‘Yeah. Did – did you?’

‘Always!’ She gave a big grin and something happened to Sid’s heart. ‘So many people don’t know about it. It makes me laugh when they get up to leave as soon as the credits start and look at me like a weirdo for staying put.’

‘Me too! Do you come to the movies a lot?’

She nodded making the sprouty bun thing wobble. ‘When I can. I like a good action film. I’m not keen on all those depressing artsy type things designed to make you bawl your eyes out.’

‘Me neither,’ he said and could feel the silly grin on his face pulling at his cheeks. Sid scratched his head, urging himself to think of something to say. He loved movies, she loved movies, surely he could think of something.

‘Where are you off to now?’ Selena asked inching forwards. Sid was grateful he hadn’t had to think of something. He’d have probably sounded stupid or said something pointless.

‘Just home.’

‘Oh, and where’s that?’ She edged closer.

‘One of the flats on the seafront.’

Her eyes opened wider. ‘In one of those nice old houses?’

‘Yeah.’ He registered the surprise on her face. ‘I came into some money and bought one when housing prices were still low.’ God, he was talking about housing prices. He sounded like an old man. He’d be talking about pensions next, or rheumatic joint pain. A wave of heat ran up the back of his neck and he placed his hand there, hoping to stop it.

‘Does it still have all those fancy period features?’

He pictured his flat. Underneath the piles of clothes he dumped on the floor and the mass of rubbish he hadn’t cleared up yet, there was probably something there. There was definitely an old Victorian fireplace in the living room, though at the moment it was full of video games. ‘Yeah, it’s got a few things like that.’

‘I’m impressed.’ Then her face clouded over. ‘I’ve had to move back in with my mum and dad at the moment. But hopefully it won’t be for long.’

‘I’m sure you’ll be fine once you get back on your feet.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled at him and Sid felt a burning in his lungs. One of the girls Selena had come with called her name. She spun back to Sid and though he wasn’t sure, her expression seemed like she wanted to stay. ‘Sorry. I have to go.’

‘Oh, alright.’

‘Did you want to come with us?’ she asked, looking him straight in the eye. ‘We’re going to that nice bar on the High Street. The girls want to dance.’

Sid couldn’t think of anything he’d like to do less except for maybe clean his flat. He wasn’t a dancer. His signature move was more of a lunge. And he’d be the only guy amongst a load of fashionable, glamorous girls. Some blokes liked that sort of thing but to him it was like asking if he wanted to swim naked with sharks with a T-bone steak tied to his neck. ‘Umm, no thanks,’ he said, hoping she wouldn’t take offence. ‘But you have a nice time.’

‘Okay.’ She went to walk away then turned back rifling in her bag to pull out a pen and a tiny notebook. ‘Look, here’s my number. We could meet for a coffee or something some time and chat about the old days.’ She wrote it down then tore out the piece of paper and handed it to him.

‘Yeah. Sure, that’d be nice.’ His stomach wriggled in a weird way that was both pleasant and unpleasant at the same time.

Selena left, glancing over her shoulder as she went, and Sid walked out unsure if his legs were actually moving or if he was being wheeled along by some supernatural force. His heart gave a pang and the fleeting thought of, ‘If only it was Lottie,’ ran through his head. No. That ship had sailed long, long ago. The thought of trying again with Lottie and it being another awkward and embarrassing moment that could potentially ruin their friendship forever made him squirm. No way. It wasn’t worth the risk. But he wouldn’t tell Lottie about Selena. Not just yet. She had enough on her plate and besides there wasn’t anything to tell.

The grin on his face returned and hurt his cheeks. He examined the number in his hand. A girl as gorgeous as Selena had given him her number. And she remembered the music he’d played her at uni, and she even knew about the secret scene. He was the luckiest man in the world. But then his elation fell away to be replaced with panic as he contemplated the number again. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Chapter 6

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.’