Forty-Seven Lucie
Forty-Seven
LUCIE
I hated how it ended. But I couldn’t stay.
Theo looked lost in the sea of people flooding the crew room. Part of me wanted to push a path through the bodies to get to him. When our characters kissed during the last performance, I was torn between wanting to stay there and wanting to escape. But he lied to me. I couldn’t ever return.
So I wove my goodbyes into every line and kissed Theo Larkin out of my life.
That was two weeks ago, but it hurts as much to remember it now as it did on the last day of the summer season. Not wanting to dwell there, I’ve thrown myself into my other jobs. The gap in my income that my Garden Players tips had filled all summer was worrying – so I chatted to Cass and accepted some extra shifts in Cheerily’s.
It’s lovely for many reasons, not least that working alongside my best friend is wonderful. We’re still taking Betty out until October half term, making the most of Stratford’s autumn visitors, but working in the café, serving smiling people with fabulous ice cream, is the best distraction from everything else.
It’s busy today, almost every table occupied by a steady stream of customers since we opened at 9 a.m. It makes the shift pass quickly and the buzz of a busy café is the best. Cass has been sending surreptitious texts all morning, when she thinks I’m not looking. I suspect she’s talking with Lyle, the two of them in cahoots about how best to look after me. I love them for it, even if they shouldn’t have to. I made my choice: it’s up to me to find my own way forward now …
‘Lucinda Hart?’
‘Yes?’ I turn to see an opulent older lady dressed entirely in shades of pink, pearls shimmering at her ears, throat and wrists.
‘You don’t know me. I am Lilia Hetherington-Lynes. Actress, retired. And fortunate landlady for Mr Theo Larkin.’
Oh no …
I can’t escape from behind the counter, so I pin a smile firmly over my discomfort. ‘Miss Hetherington-Lynes, what a lovely surprise.’
‘Is it, now?’ She chuckles. ‘I imagine the sight of me is anything but lovely. Bloody awkward, I’d wager.’
She’s got me. ‘Maybe just a little.’
‘There we are. Life is so much tidier without the burden of niceties, don’t you think?’
Her bluntness is blindsiding. ‘What can I get you?’
‘A rose tea. And one of those cherry scones.’ Her lashes lower. ‘And ten minutes of your time.’
My heart plummets. It’s a battle to keep my smile in place. ‘The first two I can do. But we’re busy, I’m afraid, so I can’t leave the counter.’
‘Nonsense, you need breaks. I imagine your employer can spare you for ten minutes in order to speak with a valued customer.’
She gives a flourish of her hand and as if by magic, Cass appears at my side.
‘Go. I can handle things here.’
‘But we’re busy,’ I protest, already aware this won’t dissuade her.
‘Never too busy for Lilia.’
I see the grin my traitorous friend gives to Lilia and the conspiratorial wink the old lady sends back and it all makes sense. This is a set-up, isn’t it? And I just blundered right into it.
It’s further confirmed when Cass leads us over to the table in the window that’s had a reserved sign on it all morning. She’s unrepentant as she pulls out a chair for Lilia, her chin high over the vintage actress’s shoulder.
I should have seen this coming.
I should have known I couldn’t walk away.
I take my seat opposite, wishing myself anywhere but here. I have been so concerned that Theo might walk into the café any minute that I failed to see other possibilities that might play out. He doesn’t need to be here: his team are already hard at work.
Cass delivers tea and scones, then hurries away. And even though the café is packed and people and conversation surround us, it’s as if we’re the sole focus of a spotlight, every other sound muting to nothing.
‘So what did you … ?’
‘He’s devastated.’ Lilia’s statement cuts my line dead.
I swallow hard. ‘I’m sure he is.’
‘Beside himself. Blames himself. Caught between a rock and a hard place, trying to fulfil his contractual obligations while dealing with what he’s lost.’
‘With respect, I—’
‘He was an idiot. Green beyond belief, for sure. I’ll lay odds that Theo Larkin never encountered a Greg Dabrowski before, odious director that he is. Couldn’t move for the bastards in my day, of course, but nobody ever talks about that. It was the lay of the land – you accepted it, even if it constantly kicked you.’
‘You shouldn’t have had to.’
She acknowledges this with a wave of her butter knife. ‘I’d like to say it’s changed, but I see very little evidence. The difference now is that young actresses are caught in a conspiracy of silence. They fool themselves that they’re in control. But how can they be? This business chews you up and spits you out, Lucinda. You of all people should know that.’
‘He lied.’ I’m not about to forgive Theo and no amount of scarily reasonable argument from this former titan of the stage is going to persuade me otherwise.
‘He didn’t tell you the truth.’
‘That’s the same thing!’
‘Is it?’
She’s a treasure of the theatre, but I’m not having this. ‘Mrs Hetherington-Lynes …’
‘Lilia. Or I’ll scream the house down.’
Her projection is her secret weapon, making Ophelia’s voice control seem meek by comparison. I sense the eyes of neighbouring tables flicking towards us, anticipating a scene.
‘ Lilia . Theo used me. He made me believe he genuinely cared. But it was all Greg Dabrowski’s plan. So, forgive me, but I don’t believe he’s devastated that he lied to me. He just hates that he was found out.’
Lilia rests slowly back in her chair and observes me through perfectly curled lashes. ‘So cynical for one so young.’
‘Not cynical. Realistic. Which is what I should have been all along.’
With a sigh she reaches for the knife and cuts her scone with a single, deliberate stroke that shakes the bone china plate beneath. ‘So forget him.’
She might as well have sliced that knife through my heart. I can’t forget him , I want to spit back, that’s the problem . ‘I already have,’ I reply instead, convincing nobody within earshot.
‘… And work for me.’
‘Sorry?’
A slow smile waltzes across her fuchsia-painted lips. ‘I’m putting on a production. For old time’s sake, you might say. Me and my boys – luvvies all – and you.’
‘When?’
‘A month hence. A gala night, in aid of some charity or other. I’ll decide which nearer the time. But you’ll be paid. I need a young actress with fire in her belly. From what I’ve seen, you fit the bill.’
I stare at her because any words I needed have fled.
‘Rehearsals begin Monday afternoon. I’ve spoken with Ophelia and she assures me your commitment to The Garden Players won’t be affected. In her opinion, and I quote, it’s just what you need . So, we have a deal?’
‘How much?’ I haven’t agreed on anything and I won’t. But I need money and maybe a well-paid, one-off gig could help.
‘Five hundred.’
‘For the performance?’
‘Per week. And double for the performance.’
‘How?’ I can’t help the question escaping my lips. ‘If it’s a charity gig, how can you afford that?’
When Lilia Hetherington-Lynes laughs it’s as musical as a wind chime and as terrifying as a ghoul. ‘My darling, I am five-times divorced from men who could well afford to pay to be rid of me. I am fabulously wealthy. Paying a modest sum to secure your services will not dent my balance. So – will you accept the job?’
I should tell her no – absolutely not. She’s too close to Theo and I don’t want to be reminded of him. But finances are tight; especially now the summer season has finished. That money could make all the difference.
And it’s a paid acting job. I get to do what I love and worry a little less about paying bills. When I look at it like that, how can I refuse?
‘Yes,’ I reply, shoving all other concerns away because I need this. ‘I’ll do it.’