Spring at The Cornish Garden Café (The Cornish Garden Café #1)

1. Ellie Cordwell

1

ELLIE CORDWELL

T here will be a time in everyone’s life when they reach a crossroads, and for Ellie Cordwell, it happened during an audition for a play.

‘OK then, Ms Cordwell, we’d like you to perform your tap solo.’ The casting director looked up from her clipboard. On the stage, bathed in the full glare of the spotlight, Ellie tried not to tremble. In her black running tights (that had never seen a run), her black spandex vest top (that had also never seen a run) and her black lace-up pumps (purchased several months ago specifically for auditions), she had felt sophisticated and professional leaving the house, but now… not so much. The four people sitting in the third row of red velvet seats were staring at her, practically holding their breath in anticipation. She was here to be judged on her ability, her talent, and — there was no denying this — her looks.

A hush had fallen over the theatre (only a skeleton crew was present as it was a chilly Friday morning in February and only the brave had ventured out) and Ellie felt the pressure mounting.

‘A tap what?’ Her voice squeaked at the end of what , and she winced at how weak it sounded. Weakness was not a good look during an audition.

‘Your tap solo, Ms Cordwell. There’s a scene in the play that requires the female lead to perform a tap solo and…’ The casting director looked down at her clipboard again. Her green hair fell into her face, so she tucked it behind her ears. ‘Your agent was definitely informed that the ability to tap dance was desirable. She told you about this, surely?’

Ellie gulped. Her agent. Signing with the renowned Ramona Renoir, famous for her ferocity in defending her clients and her unwavering ability to negotiate the very best roles for them, had not really worked out well for Ellie. Her boyfriend’s parents were good friends with Ramona and had initiated the introduction a few years after Ellie had graduated. Ramona had been polite towards Ellie during that first meeting but had not offered to sign her. This had set a precedent for their following meetings, each one engineered by Barnaby’s parents. Mr and Mrs Beauchamp had been keen to see their son’s partner enjoy a successful acting career, which would also have benefitted him. Their only son was the apple of their eyes, and they wanted the very best for him. In fact, they would do whatever was required to facilitate it. Ellie suspected the reason Ramona had eventually signed her was not because the agent had eventually s een the light but because of some bribery on the Beauchamps’ part.

‘Ms Cordwell! It’s quite a simple question.’ This time, the casting director’s tone was sharp. She sat forwards, fixing Ellie with a steel-blue glare that would turn anxious actors to quivering wrecks. Just like now! ‘Did your agent tell you that you would be required to tap dance for the audition?’

Ellie inhaled slowly, flicked her long black hair, and gave herself an inward shake.

‘She did.’ The lie rolled off her tongue. ‘However, I have … uh… forgotten my tap shoes.’

‘Hmmmm.’ The casting director looked to the people on either side of her as if to check that they must also think Ellie was an idiot. But then she shrugged. ‘That’s fine. Just do what you can.’

‘Sure.’ Ellie sucked in another deep breath.

Tap dance?

She had never tap-danced in her life, but it couldn’t be that hard, surely? She’d done some dance as a young child, but that had been a long time ago. Accepting that she wasn’t the most coordinated of people, she had decided to focus on auditioning for more serious roles. Her dream had been to appear on an ITV or Netflix drama, to have the starring role in a psychological thriller that would have reviewers raving about her and casting directors flocking to sign this amazing new talent . However, so far, that hadn’t happened, although she was aware that some of Ramona’s clients had acquired such roles — including Ramona’s daughter.

‘Do you have some music I could dance to?’ Ellie asked, wringing her hands.

‘Nope. Just go for it.’ The casting director sat back and steepled her fingers under her chin.

Ellie’s cheeks started burning. She’d always known that showbiz was not an easy career path to follow, but hadn’t thought people would be so bloody cold. She’d imagined more lovey-dovey behaviour and thought she’d find dear friends and employers who would nurture her, encourage her to reach for the stars. That, however, did not seem likely to happen. Not that she didn’t think people could forge warm relationships in the showbiz world, but so far — she’d graduated seven years ago — it had not happened for her.

‘OK then.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Here goes.’

She started swaying her hips from side to side to loosen them and then tried to imagine music was playing. As she tapped her left foot, a memory struck her from years ago when she’d watched Singin’ in the Rain with her gran. There had been a scene in that when the three characters had sung Good Morning as they danced around. She started to hum the song softly, then she began to move.

Soon, she found herself getting into the rhythm.

Yes!

She could absolutely do this. It wasn’t that challenging and…

Wow!

It was quite energetic, though.

Breathe, Ellie! Breathe!

Somehow, the tune in her head morphed into Gloria Estefan’s Rhythm is Gonna Get You. She shook her hips, then threw in some jazz hands as she twisted and turned on the stage, skipping from one side to the other.

And now for a …

Shimmy… Shimmy! Shimmy! Shimmy!

Oh yeah, you’re really doing it, Ellie! You must look soooo good!

She glanced at her audience and saw that their eyes were wide and one of them had got his phone out. The fact that he was filming her meant she must be blowing their minds with her excellent performance. This would be the audition to end all auditions. She’d end up on Broadway and win awards and…

She started to can-can as the song progressed in her head, kicking her legs high, waving her hands at her sides.

And … One! Two! Three!

Kick! Kick! Kick!

A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, made its way down the side of her face, then plopped onto her shoulder.

Kick! Kick! Kick!

Almost there…

Kick!

And what followed seemed to happen in slow motion.

Her left leg went up.

Came down.

Went up again…

Her pump shot off… Hurtled through the air…

The faces of her audience changed from awe to fear as they watched her pump hit the casting director smack in the middle of her smug face.

Ellie froze mid kick.

Silence settled over the scene.

The casting director recoiled in her seat, a scream escaping as blood gushed down her face.

What followed was utter chaos as the team shuffled out of the row without so much as a backwards glance. Ellie was left alone on the stage. Breathless. Sweating. Wondering what to do next.

She waited for a few moments, thinking someone would come back and speak to her, but no one did. Instead, her phone pinged from her bag at the side of the stage, so she got it out and peered at the screen.

It was a message from Ramona.

Ellie,

You didn’t get the role. Again.

Our time together has come to an end.

Wishing you luck in your future endeavours.

Best,

Ramona

Ellie read the brief but very clear message three times, then stuffed her phone back in her bag, pulled on her coat and limped off the stage. She considered trying to locate her pump but decided not to bother, as it would probably be covered in the casting director’s blood.

It seemed her career in acting was well and truly over, and she had no idea what she was going to do next. All she wanted was a hot bath, a mug of tea, and a nap.

Her gran had always told her that everything happens for a reason. Right now, Ellie couldn’t possibly conceive of a universe where, in this instance, her gran would be right.