Summer Season on the Seafront

‘I know where to come when I need a drop then,’ Finn replied. For a moment their eyes stayed on each other, as the gentlest of smiles played on his lips. If Helen’s face launched a thousand ships, then Finn MacDonald’s launched a thousand twitches, all filling Sarah’s body with such an intense heat she was actually relieved when he went back to his room. Goodness, she was worse than the menopausal posse.

***

Every day the surgery closed for an hour during lunch and once the last patient had gone, all the staff had lunch together in the staffroom. They were lucky that it was quite modern and airy with comfortable seats. Sarah had worked in some places where the staffroom was more like a dungeon designed to torture the good humour out of you. Mandy was always ready to start a conversation with whoever was near her and today she’d turned her attention to Finn.

Meanwhile, Sarah flicked through the weekly gossip mag that someone had left on the table. The front page was full of the Nathaniel Hardy scandal. Sarah still couldn’t quite believe he was in town, staying with Gregory and Cecil. The picture in the magazine had been taken as Nathaniel had left the theatre after his disastrous last performance. The poor man looked completely shell-shocked and Sarah wondered what she would say if she ever met him. There was no excuse for cheating in her book. The memory of the night she’d decided to surprise her ex, Vince, at his house, only to find him in bed with someone else, flitted through her mind before she could stop it. Could this be why she was struggling with playing Miranda in The Tempest, perhaps? Miranda fell in love for the first time in the play, and when Sarah had fallen for Vince she’d fallen hard, thinking it was the real deal. Remembering his betrayal still stung her heart.

To distract herself from the memory, Sarah tuned back in to Mandy’s conversation with Finn.

‘So, Dr Mac, who were these friends you met up with, hey? Was it a naughty weekend away?’ Sarah felt a slight flush at the innuendo and hoped it hadn’t been.

‘Just some guys I knew at medical school,’ Finn answered and smiled at the memory.

Maybe it had been a dirty weekend away. The way he was smiling, it seemed he was remembering something nice, but then he’d said, ‘guys’. Not girls, or women, or ladies.

‘They work in Nottingham so I went up to see them on Saturday, came back yesterday. Good thing, really. I needed yesterday to recover.’ Finn turned to Sarah, clearly eager to head off Mandy’s line of questioning. ‘How are rehearsals going, Sarah?’

‘Urgh, rubbish,’ Sarah replied, resting her sandwich in her lap. ‘I’m really struggling with The Tempest. I just can’t seem to get the hang of Miranda’s speech and I find it all a bit confusing.’ She felt a bit silly saying it, but at least if they knew now how much she hated it, they might excuse a bad performance later, which was undoubtedly what she’d give unless she could crack it. Finn chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of crisps.

‘The Tempest is the one on an island isn’t it, with Caliban and Prospero?’

She nodded. ‘Do you remember it?’

‘Vaguely.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not great on Shakespeare and I know nothing about acting. I wish I could help.’

Sarah smiled. ‘Don’t worry, there’s a while to go yet. I’m sure I’ll get it eventually.’ Though it might mean facing up to feelings about Vince that she’d hoped had faded.

‘Of course you will,’ Mandy reassured her. ‘I’m sure you’ll be brilliant. Better than that Mrs Andrews, she’s a right old handful, isn’t she?’

‘She definitely has her moments,’ said Sarah, remembering the first time she’d met the MP’s terrifying wife. Mrs Andrews had wanted to play Beatrice in the Greenley Players’ first attempt at Shakespeare last year. They’d performed Much Ado About Nothing and it had been so bad it had nearly spelt the end of the Greenley Players and the theatre. It was only thanks to Lottie that things had kept going. A sudden hard knock on the door out in the reception area caught their attention. ‘Who can that be?’ said Sarah, checking her watch. ‘The guy who collects all the gross stuff doesn’t normally come till three and the town know we close for lunch. I hope it isn’t an emergency.’

The knocking continued.

‘If it’s a patient demanding to be seen,’ said Mandy, adjusting her posture as if she was readying for a fight, ‘I’ll be giving them what-for. We’ve got another fifteen minutes till we re-open. Everyone knows we close from one till two. Not a moment before or less.’ Three more decisive knocks echoed through the empty surgery. ‘Are they actually trying to break the bloody door down?’ Mandy asked.

They all made their way out of the staffroom, down the corridor and into the reception area. Everyone knew that the surgery closed for lunch; no one would bang on the door like this unless it was an emergency. Images flashed through Sarah’s mind of someone holding a child in desperate need of a doctor, or of someone bent double having run to get help for a road accident, but there’d been no sirens, no sign of trouble. When Sarah saw the figure outside the glass door, fist raised, ready to knock again, her heart stopped beating. Every muscle paused. No air filled her lungs, and she didn’t dare breathe. In that instant she knew that everything would be different from now on. That the life she had begun to love was about to change, and not for the better.

Finn carried on towards the door, his shoulders squared, carrying an air of authority. Mandy stopped when she realised Sarah was lagging behind. ‘What’s wrong, love? Christ, you’ve gone white as a sheet. What’s the matter?’

The man at the door had stopped banging and stood back with his hands in his trouser pockets. Clearly there was no medical emergency. The only emergency was the one suddenly happening in Sarah’s own life. The man looked like any normal customer they might see. Blond hair cut short, greying at the temples, wrinkled features.

‘Do you know him?’ asked Mandy, placing her hand on Sarah’s forearm. Sarah’s hands were covering her mouth. Finn turned around and waited for Sarah’s reply. His eyes were full of concern and a small line had formed where his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. ‘Sarah?’ Mandy asked again, giving her a gentle shake. Stuck in a moment of suspended animation, Sarah looked first at Mandy and then at Finn, knowing that if there had ever been any hope of something happening between them, that hope was about to be snuffed out like a lit match caught in a breeze. Everyone would know her secret soon, and she had no idea how to deal with it.

Under their concerned gaze, Sarah forced the words out of her dry mouth. ‘It’s my dad.’

***

‘Do you want me to open the door?’ asked Finn. ‘Or should I tell him to go away?’

A shiver ran down Sarah’s spine, carrying all the way to the tips of her fingers as she balled her hands into fists. Did she want to go out there and talk to him, or would it be better to speak in here? Should she speak to him at all? If he came inside everyone would know what he’d done. But then, if he was back, they were bound to find out sooner or later anyway. Her mind whirled with a million and one things as all the while Finn watched her.

‘You can speak to him in my room if you want,’ he said gently, and Sarah found herself nodding. Finn moved forwards and opened the door. Ben, Sarah’s dad, stepped forwards in his tatty brown suede shoes. He’d always worn shoes like that. Had he been allowed to wear them in prison? she wondered. Every sound was muffled but she heard Ben politely thank Finn for letting him in and say something about wanting to speak to her. Finn walked back towards the staffroom. As he passed Sarah he reached out and took her arm. ‘I’ll be in the staffroom if you need anything.’

Mandy followed him out, casting a concerned glance at Sarah. Though she tried to respond with a smile to show she would be okay, Sarah couldn’t seem to move her face. Her features were frozen in a mask of startled panic.

‘Hello, sugarplum,’ Ben said in a hoarse voice she barely recognised. But by calling her sugarplum she was suddenly six years old again, her dad reading her bedtime stories, or a teenager, and he was picking up the pieces after a boy had broken her heart. Sarah’s frozen body began to thaw but before it could her brain replayed one of the last times they had spoken. It had been on the phone because he was in prison. She was alone, dealing with her mother’s rapid decline from cancer. A sudden surge of anger hardened her jaw and made her teeth clench. How could he have left them to deal with everything alone? Left her? And even worse, how could he come back now?

Straightening up, she said, ‘We can speak in Dr MacDonald’s room.’

At her coldness Ben’s face fell, but she had no sympathy for him. He couldn’t have expected a warm welcome, and if he did, he was a fool. With a brisk turn on her heel Sarah marched into Finn’s room, leaving Ben to close the door behind him. He had barely taken his hand off the handle when she asked, ‘What are you doing here?’

Ben pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He’d always done that when he was nervous or thinking. ‘I was released from prison last week. I … I wanted to see you.’

‘Why?’ Her voice was harsh, with a hardness she hadn’t known herself capable of. The question shocked him and his head shot up, eyes full of hurt.

‘Because you’re my daughter.’

‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’ Sarah crossed her arms firmly over her chest, unwavering.

‘Sugarplum, please—’

‘Don’t call me sugarplum. I’m not a child. And I have nothing to say to you. You’re not my father anymore.’

The wrinkles of Ben’s forehead collided as he knitted his brows together. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Yes, I do. You selfishly stole money from your job and got yourself slung into prison leaving me to deal with Mum dying all on my own.’ There was so much more to mention but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She’d locked those things away, too much to deal with at the time and too scared to try now.

‘I know.’ He dropped his eyes and kept them on the ground. ‘I’m sorry. I—’

‘Sorry isn’t enough, Dad. Sorry can never erase my memories of watching Mum wither away. Of having to sort out the funeral all on my own, of having to pretend you’d left us to work abroad because it was easier than telling everyone you’d been sent to prison. Sorting out all of Mum’s clothes when she’d gone—’ Sarah’s voice cracked and tears pooled in her eyes. She squeezed them shut, willing the tears away. She’d vowed long ago not to cry over her dad anymore. Taking a quick breath in, she said, ‘How dare you come back.’

Ben hung his head in what Sarah hoped was shame and shoved his glasses back up. ‘I had nowhere else to go.’

‘Then find somewhere, because I never want to see you again.’ The room felt suddenly oppressive, like the world was shrinking, threatening to crush her. She needed to get out. To get away from him. Hurrying to the door, she flung it open and marched off.

Finn must have heard her raised voice, as he was waiting for her at the staffroom door. ‘He’s leaving,’ Sarah said without looking back. ‘Can you make sure he goes – please?’ He opened his mouth to speak but she headed him off, worried what he would think of her now. ‘I’ll be okay, I just need him to go.’

Whilst Finn escorted Ben out of the building, Mandy slid back into the staffroom.

‘Jesus Christ on a bike, that was intense,’ said Mandy. ‘What was all that about?’ Sarah turned but couldn’t speak. If she was going to tell anyone it would be Lottie and she hated the fact she was going to have to wait till tonight to do it. ‘Sarah?’

‘I’m sorry, Mandy. I can’t.’ A fierce heat burned her cheeks. ‘I just can’t right now.’

‘All right, love. But do you really have a hip flask in your top drawer? Because I could do with a drop now and I don’t even drink gin.’

‘No,’ Sarah replied, trying to smile and pretend everything was okay. She smoothed down her brown hair, her heart beating rapidly. ‘But I bloody wish I did.’

Chapter 6

Sarah stood in front of the theatre’s revolving doors wondering whether to go in or not. The theatre had become a safe, happy place for her and, as cheesy as it sounded, a home from home – a place full of friends. Well mostly, if you excluded Mrs Andrews. But even she wasn’t that bad underneath it all. Sarah took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go in after all that had happened today. She’d been supremely angry all afternoon, and as that had begun to fade, she felt nothing but tired and exhausted.

Somehow, she had managed to hold it together that afternoon at the surgery, smiling at the patients and answering the phone. She’d even managed to laugh with Mandy about the soap opera they both watched. Mandy had questions, but they were ones Sarah wasn’t prepared to answer yet. Finn had grabbed her once during a quick tea-making round to see if she was okay. As they stood together by the boiling kettle, a part of her had wanted to tell him everything. She just knew that he’d understand how angry she was and not judge her for it. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him anything at all. The risk of lowering his opinion of her made her shy away from opening up. But she was sure that when she left that day, saying goodbye to him across the empty surgery, there’d been something between them. He’d kept his eyes on her a moment too long and there’d been a spark in the air, something new that hadn’t been there before.

‘Are you coming in, Sarah?’ It was Luke, the guy playing Caliban. Without thinking Sarah took a step forward; it seemed she was going in after all. Besides, she still needed to tell Lottie what had happened. It was strange that after being so secretive for so long, she actually wanted to tell someone. She couldn’t imagine not telling her best friend and bottling everything back up. Lottie would know what to say to make her feel better. She always did. ‘Are you all right?’ Luke asked, giving her a concerned look when she didn’t move any further inside.

Sarah plastered on a smile. It was time to act normal, even if she didn’t feel it. ‘Yes, I’m fine thanks, Luke. Just a busy day at work.’ They entered together, making polite conversation about the weather and how the play was going, to see most of the main cast had already arrived. Sid and Lottie were setting the stage with a circle of chairs ready to have another read-through, whilst the other players stood around chatting or muttering their lines to themselves.

Sarah approached her best friend. ‘Hey.’

Lottie’s high blonde ponytail swished as she turned. ‘Hey, you.’ Her smile quickly faded. ‘Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Sarah as Mrs Andrews waltzed in, waving to everyone like the Queen on a state visit. ‘Can we catch up later, though?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Lottie replied, gently rubbing Sarah’s arm. Sarah gave a weak smile and forced down the anger and hurt still pushing up from her chest. Diverting her attention, she fumbled in her bag for her copy of The Tempest and climbed onto the stage to find a seat. She would have preferred talking to Lottie before the rehearsal, but they only had just under four weeks till showtime and there was a lot still to learn in that time.

The stagehands were busy painting the large jagged boards of wood at the back of the stage that were being made to look like rocks. Debbie McCray had already sketched out what they were to look like and two of the guys were painting them as instructed. It was like painting by numbers, just bigger. As a local artist Debbie was proving amazingly useful in designing sets. In the middle, between the boards, stood an MDF cut-out of a sparse, leafless tree. It was yet to be painted but even in this half-decorated state the theatre was coming together and that always sent a thrill down Sarah’s spine.

Debbie had just arrived herself, and her strong Scottish tones echoed around the theatre. ‘Sorry I’m late, everyone,’ she called, eyeing the work being done on stage. ‘I had a wee accident in the gallery.’ She lifted bright red hands, stained with paint, but her smile was wide and cheery. She was wearing a green tie-dye dress that clashed wildly with her newly dyed cherry-red hair. Quite possibly, it was this that was all over her hands.

‘Whatever happened?’ asked Mrs Andrews. Since last year Mrs Andrews had softened somewhat towards her fellow players, but that didn’t stop her being a right old snooty boots when it suited her, or trying to take over. She looked at Debbie as if she was a knife-wielding lunatic smothered in blood.

‘Och, I didn’t realise a tube of cadmium had a split in it until I squeezed some out onto my palette and the whole bloody thing exploded onto my hands. Now look.’ Debbie wiggled her fingers. ‘Never mind though, it’ll fade in a week or two.’

Mrs Andrews shook her head. There was no way she would have waited that long. She liked everything to be spotless; her housekeeper was working overtime dealing with the dust and debris from the kitchen extension.

Gregory and Cecil were the next to arrive in matching bright white loafers and long tailored shorts. They looked like they were on the Riviera rather than in Greenley; all they lacked were straw boaters. From the way they fidgeted, they were still incredibly excited about their little secret and took a seat either side of Sarah, grinning at each other like pantomime dames.

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