Thirty-One Lucie
Thirty-One
LUCIE
‘H e’s impossible! Smug, entitled, joking when he should be serious. He’s even distracting Ced now with his completely unfunny jokes. And suggesting I should carry his performance, like he’s the big star that doesn’t need to try? Ridiculous! I don’t get it, Cass. On the stage I understand him: away from it he’s just … impossible .’
‘You said impossible already.’
I look at my best friend, who has patiently listened to me rant on about a certain annoying thesp I have the misfortune to work with. ‘I did, didn’t I?’
Her smile doesn’t help.
Groaning I turn back to the river. ‘I’m too tired to think about this.’
‘Then – don’t?’ Cass offers a smile when I wince. ‘You’ve had a hell of a week – two shows a day, early mornings at Dev’s, breaking in a new programme, not to mention that mammoth shift at Gonzalo’s that would have broken anyone else … You are allowed a break, you know.’
‘I know. I’m trying. Maybe I’m just not good at Sundays.’ I grab a handful of oats from the bag in my lap and chuck it at the line of hopeful ducks beside the riverbank. They fuss and bicker over every bite. Apt, considering my fellow player’s behaviour. ‘It would just be easier if Theo wasn’t there.’
‘ And back to Theo …’ Cass sighs.
I twist on our bench to look at my friend. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Cass raises her hands. ‘Nothing, okay? It’s just that, for someone who doesn’t want to think about Theo Larkin today, you’ve spent an awful lot of time talking about him.’
That pulls me up. ‘Have I?’
My best friend nods. ‘For an hour so far. Impressive, really.’
I slump back against the bench, the wood warm where the sun has bathed it. ‘I’m sorry. What’s happening to me? I never had this much stress with The Garden Players before.’
‘And you’ve never had to deal with being splashed all over social media before, either,’ Cass gently suggests, her hand resting on my shoulder. ‘It’s no wonder you’re overwhelmed.’
I bite my lip.
At the start of the week, it was a shock; then a surprise, as phone cameras were trained on us during every performance. But as each new audience posts their photos and videos online, what was a trickle has become a flood. I’m not used to watching myself perform and it’s unsettling to see it relayed so quickly after my performances. I’m bombarded every time I look at my phone. I see Theo doing the same – except that yesterday he scowled at his device and threw it into his bag, as if he was disgusted by what he’d seen on screen.
The headlines are starting to change, too: from Theo’s chest and our kisses to speculation about our relationship and questions about me.
I’m not comfortable with that.
Yesterday, in the hour between the lunchtime and late afternoon performances, I was summoned to a bench in the garden to meet a top showbiz journalist who’d requested an interview. I arrived, thinking Theo would be there, but found only the smiling woman and her young, blue-haired photographer.
‘Lucinda, hi. I’m Tiffany Truscott.’ She beamed, beckoning for me to join her on the bench. ‘This is Rhys, my photographer – he’s just going to do his thing while we natter, so don’t mind him.’
‘Okay, hi both. And it’s Lucie, please.’
‘ Lucie – great. I have to say I am a big fan. I saw both your shows on Tuesday,’ she said. ‘Who knew Shakespeare could be so hot?’
I smiled back, not really having an answer. ‘Did you want to chat to Theo, too? He’s around somewhere.’
I expected her to jump at the chance, surprised when she didn’t. ‘I’m sure that would be lovely – I mean, that chest and those cheekbones – but I’m here to talk to you. You’ve burst onto our screens, thanks to social media – rightly so, I might add. Your performances were wonderful …’
‘Thank you.’
‘But it occurred to me that we don’t know anything about you, despite the internet buzzing about Lucinda Hart.’
‘Buzzing?’ Cass repeats now. ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’
I’m still not sure. Tiffany said her piece would be up on Monday, so I’m reserving judgment until then. ‘If she writes nice things and mentions what we actually spoke about. What if it’s a hatchet job? What if I’m just Theo Larkin’s summer fling ?’
Cass laughs. ‘Or what if – and bear with me here, Lu, because I know this will be a unfamiliar concept – what if it’s a great article that celebrates your talent and introduces you to the world? What if something actually goes right for you?’
‘Because of Theo …’
‘Yes, because of Theo : the chemistry you two have on stage is bloody ridiculous! Why shouldn’t it win you an army of fans?’
‘I’m not a film star. Or a TV actor. I’m just …’
Cass snaps her fingers to silence me. ‘Stop it! You’re a hugely experienced Shakespearean actor who’s been overlooked for far too long. Maybe this article will unlock doors for you. Stop thinking every opportunity is destined for disappointment.’
She’s right. Of course she is. It’s just a lot to take in right now.
It doesn’t help that every photo and video being shared and discussed and, frankly, lusted over online, shows me wrapped happily in Theo’s arms. Smiling, yearning, gazing … our lips together, our bodies seeking each other out. It isn’t me, but it is . She looks like me but I don’t know her. She’s a mocking spectre with my face, my body, and my lips. My head’s a mess from the constant contradiction.
Miranda loves Ferdinand and wants him to kiss her.
Juliet loves Romeo and can’t stop kissing him.
Even Kate is fighting attraction to her nemesis, Petruchio.
Playing all of the above I follow their direction: reaching and kissing and fighting my man at their command. And Theo does the same, the other half to our respective characters, every move mirrored, every desire reciprocated.
But when we’re away from the stage, he is a complete mystery.
I have to stop obsessing over this. It’s my job to make our partnership work, both on and off the stage. I just have to focus.
I have this evening to cram lines to get ready for our rehearsal tomorrow and an empty house to do it in. Lyle is out rehearsing for a recital he’s giving for a local charity and won’t be home until late. I can switch off my phone, stay away from the social media feeding frenzy and focus on the new scene.
It won’t solve the issue with Theo being a frustrating knob off-stage, but that’s just something I’ll have to accept. I can handle this.
I just wish it didn’t feel like an uphill battle …