Forty-One Lucie
Forty-One
LUCIE
T oday is our last performance in the garden.
Tomorrow, Theo Larkin will be out of my life for good.
I don’t know how I feel about that – or any of it – because right now I don’t feel anything.
I have been so blinkered by everything. Gullible. Too trusting. I’ve spent eight years in this business, yet I fell for the oldest trick in the book. Starlet seduced by leading man … It makes me sick to think I didn’t see it.
I’ve heard nothing more from Greg. I didn’t expect to: I made myself pretty clear when I called him yesterday evening. I didn’t mention the texts. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he’d offended me. He said they’d ask Amy Jo Everly instead.
Of course he did. That was probably the plan all along.
Someone must have called Ced because at seven he arrives, bringing breakfast and more hugs than I can reciprocate. My money’s on Lyle summoning him here. I’m glad he did: at least this way we can arrive at work together and face Theo as a team. Like it always used to be. Like it will be again, from tomorrow.
I turned my phone off last night and left it charging. As I retrieve it now, while Ced fusses around me, I see ten missed calls and five voicemails from Theo.
‘You know he called me last night,’ Ced says, nodding at my screen. ‘Twice. He’s in a hell of a state, Lu.’
‘Because he got found out.’
Ced deflates a little. ‘Probably. I don’t know. I can’t believe he and Greg … I mean Greg, yes, and that horrible slimy Harrow absolutely. But Theo?’
‘The fact is he did,’ I snap, wanting an end to the endless speculation and commentary. I’ve been over this – we all have – and it’s pointless. There are no answers beyond the obvious: Theo used me.
‘Yes. And we hate him for that.’ He rests his hand on mine. ‘But you love him.’
‘No, I don’t.’
He risks a small smile. ‘You do. So it’s going to hurt like hell. But you’re stronger than this. And you’re not on your own. You have me – all of us.’
It means a lot and I love him for saying it, but the truth is the one person I want to be on my side isn’t. And won’t ever be.
Ced’s right, isn’t he?
I’m in love with Theo.
Hopeless, stupid heart of mine, complicating everything, just like it always has.
We walk together to Henley Street and the slow journey helps me gather my thoughts. I won’t run from this: I’ll face it today and learn from it tomorrow.
I just wish I’d found out after Theo had left The Garden Players.
Henley Street is quiet at this hour, the shops not yet open and the street almost empty. It’s going to be another warm day and we’re expecting large crowds for Theo’s final performances. That’s what I’ll focus on: making the last performances my best. I won’t allow emotion to derail me: this is my moment as much as it’s his.
He isn’t by the gate, which is a relief. I thought he might be, given his repeated attempts to contact me. Ced squeezes my hand as we near the entrance to the crew room. I offer him a smile, hoping it looks stronger than it feels.
‘Once more unto the breach, dear friend,’ he says.
I appreciate his words more than I can say.
Ophelia is waiting for us, her face set like stone. Behind her, Theo stands. Has he told her what’s happened?
‘Good morning, both,’ Ophelia says, stepping forward to take my hand with both of hers. ‘Lucinda, may I have a word?’
My heart drops. ‘Of course.’
She leads me out of the room and along the corridor to the tiny office she uses when we aren’t performing. We don’t speak on the way, which only increases my sense of dread. I don’t want to talk about any of this: just do my job and leave, as I’d planned.
‘Close the door, love,’ she says softly, leaning against her desk.
I do as I’m told. ‘Ophelia, I …’
‘Theo told me.’
I stare back. It’s what I suspected but it still kicks.
‘It won’t affect the performance,’ I insist.
Her expression softens. ‘Oh my darling, that’s not why I brought you here! I wanted to check how you were. Whatever Theo may or may not have done, you are my first priority. You and Cedric always were.’
‘It hasn’t always felt that way.’ She’s being kind and I don’t want to upset her, but Ophelia needs to appreciate that the moment she offered Theo a summer season with us everything changed.
She drops her head. ‘I realise that. And I’m sorry.’
‘It served us well this time.’
‘It did. That was what I wanted to let everyone know this morning. The management committee has guaranteed our funding for five years.’
‘That’s amazing!’
She beams. ‘It means we can extend beyond the usual season, add some winter performances – indoor, thank heaven. And we’re commissioning wonderful new costumes. Not patch-ups. Purdy is designing them as we speak.’
‘How did you swing that?’
‘I didn’t,’ she replies, reaching for my hand. ‘You did.’
I frown. ‘Me? How?’
‘I just pointed out that in all of the most viewed videos of you and Theo your dresses looked dreadfully tired and hardly representative of the Birthplace.’ My director shrugs. ‘Apparently it was a convincing argument.’
‘Ophelia Henry, you legend .’
It’s such a relief to smile. I wasn’t expecting to be able to do that much today. But the toll of the last twelve hours is heavy and I’m tired. With three performances yet to do, I’m not sure if my energy reserves will be enough to get me through.
She gives a small bow, her smile quickly disappearing. ‘Now I hear you’ve turned down Tempest .’ She halts my reply with a raised hand. ‘I completely understand. But is depriving yourself of a career break really the best revenge on Greg Dabrowski?’
‘It wouldn’t be a break,’ I reply, hating that my argument will be flimsy in comparison to her common sense. ‘It would be a marketing ploy built on lies …’
‘Oh please. You’re an actor, darling. We leave our principles at the door of every bloody audition we attend. If it gets you on a stage, in front of an audience, what the hell does it matter?’
I’m bruised by her words. ‘It matters to me. And I’ve made my decision.’
She gives me a look. ‘Whatever else has happened out of your control, you owe yourself the greatest attention. No exceptions.’
‘This is the right decision for me.’
She knows I won’t back down. Raising an elegant hand she retreats. ‘As you wish. But don’t for a moment think that Dabrowski’s production will be better off without you. Because it won’t.’
‘Thanks, Ophelia.’
She nods. ‘Are you happy to proceed with today’s season finale performances?’
‘Of course.’
‘Because if acting with Theo will be too difficult …’
I laugh, realising we’ve come full circle. At the beginning of this summer the prospect of acting through it with Theo filled me with dread. Now, with our season almost complete, that feeling has returned. Part of me hates that it has. But I can learn from this. ‘I’ll be fine,’ I assure her. ‘We should get back.’
I don’t want to, but I’d rather get this over and done with. Once Theo is out of my everyday life, I’ll be able to think clearer.
He’s talking to Ced when Ophelia and I return to the crew room, not looking up when we walk in. Fine. I have my costume to prepare and my lines to look over, as I’ve done before every performance here. Returning to the steady familiarity of my routine calms me. This is what I need to focus on: what I’ve always done. It predates Theo and it will outlast Theo, too. My process. My plan.
I slip into the dressing corner and pull the curtain across. My Juliet costume is hanging there, waiting for me. Purdy has added more fake pearls around the neckline and delicate pale pink ribbons that criss-cross the bodice and trail down the flowing cream skirt. It’s beautiful and I’ve loved performing in it this summer. But how will I feel wearing it for the autumn and winter indoor performances when Theo is no longer there? I shove the thought aside. Maybe I’ll retire it until next summer, when my heart will have moved on.
I change quickly into my costume and pull my satin kimono wrap over it. I feel too exposed in the dress alone and we’ve at least an hour to wait until the first of our final performances.
The creased playbook in my hand feels like an old friend. I don’t need to look inside, Juliet’s lines as natural now as if I were speaking for myself. But it’s an anchor for my confidence and I need that today. I consider staying here to read through the scene, safe behind the curtain, then dismiss the thought. If I do that, they’ll all know I’m hiding.
I’m not hiding.
So, awful though it is, I pull back the curtain and, head high, walk towards The Garden Players.