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

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.’

Chapter 7

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.