Chapter 9 #3
Spencer closed his eyes a beat, a vision of Clem Crossley appearing in his mind.
Even though she had a cafe to run, two little girls to raise, and she’d made no bones about her opinion of the reality TV program, he could see more of a future with her than the Loxton orchardist who had made it clear he only had a future with her if he stepped into a full-time farming role.
Clem wasn’t sure who was more nervous—her or Harriet—and when the Sunday of the auditions finally dawned, she was up at sparrows to ensure everything was set for Kev, Sebastian and Selina to run the cafe in her absence.
‘You’re a worrywart,’ said Kev, shooing her away from the stainless-steel island bench, where she was mashing avocado for their top-selling spring bagel combination.
‘Sebby and I can handle that, you go and make sure our little actress is all sorted for today. At least if she decides to swap the rollerblades for the stage, she’s got a lot less chance of injuring herself.
I haven’t seen her outside half as often. ’
Kev was right—the rollerblades had taken a back seat to learning lines—though Clem suspected a bad case of stage fright and wounded pride would prove harder to fix than a broken bone.
Harriet was showered and dressed when she got back to the house, and after wrangling Indi into leggings and a jumper instead of the princess costume she’d chosen, they were at the hall ahead of the ten am session.
‘What if I fluff my lines, Mum?’ Harriet took another nervous sip from her water bottle, looking at the three empty chairs in front of the stage in Penwarra’s tiny town hall.
It was a postwar building, made with limestone and paddock rock, filled with framed photographs of lost soldiers, and honour boards remembering those who served.
Clem looked away, trying not to think of her father, whose name surely graced one of those boards in a hall somewhere near his Adelaide hometown, though there were no photos of him as a war hero, felled in the midst of battle.
While his death hadn’t actually taken place on the battlefields, it was undoubtedly linked to the ghosts that had followed him home from the conflict. She’d been on the cusp of high school when he took his life, and ANZAC Day had felt every bit as painful as Father’s Day long after his death.
‘Mum, look, we’re seventh in line. Do you think everyone will be watching my audition too?’
Clem jolted back to the present, chasing away the memories as her daughter counted the hopefuls who had arrived ahead of them. Clem saw a few of her customers among them, and familiar faces from the community, and she was more than a little curious to see how they’d go on stage.
They watched several locals go through the audition process, reading from texts as varied as their ages. It was a relief to see that Harriet wouldn’t be the only one reading from a book, instead of a theatre script.
Finally it was their turn. Louisa Brealy beckoned Clem’s daughter to the stage.
‘Harriet, we’re ready if you are?’
Clem crouched down until she was level with her daughter and tweaked her chin. ‘You are going to crush this, Harri. You’ve practised, you know your lines, plus you’re already a superstar in my eyes. Go show them what you’ve got.’
Harriet took one last sip of water, opened her book and strode forward.
Indi lay sprawled on the floor by the stage, immersed in her new sticker book, while Clem watched from the seats, tears welling as she watched Harriet deliver a near-flawless performance as Anne Shirley, the plucky young character who had stolen a place in her and Harriet’s heart over the last few weeks.
‘Look at her go,’ a voice whispered, and Clem turned to see Spencer beside her.
They watched together, both laughing at Harriet’s triumphant little fist-pump when she finished her audition.
Clem’s shoulders sagged with relief and she realised she’d been sitting on the edge of her chair.
She shuffled back, getting comfortable as the next hopeful moved into place under the spotlight.
‘I’m not sure who was more nervous then, Harri or me. But she aced it, didn’t she?’
Spencer’s soft chuckle landed near her ear. ‘She absolutely did.’
Harriet turned at the base of the stairs and gave them a big thumbs up before being ushered off to group activities.
‘How long does today’s session go for?’
‘Half an hour at least. Once they’ve all done their auditions, Louisa runs them through a few exercises to help them loosen up, then walks them through the timelines, character list and expectations for the production.
Everyone who auditions gets a role of some sort, we’ll work out exactly who plays what character in the coming weeks. ’
Clem’s gaze darted to his broad chest. He was dressed in the same shirt he’d worn the day she’d seen him in the hospital, and she found herself recalling how soft it had felt when he’d comforted her, and how soothing it had been to be wrapped in his arms. It was an effort to drag her eyes back up to meet his.
‘And what about the script? Are there enough characters to suit this size cast?’
Spencer’s face lit up as he explained the premise. ‘Pirates, murder and romance on the high seas. The beauty of writing the script ourselves is the ability to stretch and contract the story to fit the cast. It’s more about fun than a Broadway-level production.’
‘I’ve always wanted to write,’ she found herself admitting. ‘It’ll probably never happen, but wouldn’t it be cool to go into a library and see your books sitting on the shelves, your name on the spine, your photo on the inside back cover. Does it feel like that when you see your plays performed?’
Clem wasn’t sure she’d ever considered scriptwriting or acting a turn-on, but the idea of the quiet widower co-writing a play with his mother-in-law, creating something from nothing but his imagination, added an extra layer of appeal to his already too-appealing status.
He shook his head slowly. ‘It’s mostly Louisa’s work, I come in after she’s done the hard yards and zhoosh it up a little, add a character here and there, look at the overall story arc.
I’ve heard fiction writing’s a talent that gets better with age, unlike sport.
You could be the next JK Rowling, writing bestsellers between customers. ’
She laughed. ‘Maybe in another life, when I’ve got a little more free time.’ And though she waved away the suggestion, it wasn’t lost on her that he hadn’t laughed and dismissed the idea with a flippant, ‘everyone thinks they’ve got a book in them’.
She smoothed her hair, fiddled with the ribbon she’d tied around her ponytail that morning and tried to get a read on the situation.
So you’re attracted to him … big whoop. He’s got a type, and you’re nothing like the blondes he chose for the TV show.
And there’s still the unknown Emily factor.
Any chemistry she’d dreamed up between her and Spencer was as fictional as her future career as an author. A figment of a single mum’s imagination, confusing kindness for something entirely different.
She reached for the flyer on the chair between them at the same time as Spencer. He jumped back as their hands brushed.
Or maybe there was a zing there?
Ask him about Emily, and then you’ll know. The quicker you can evict this ridiculous idea from your mind, the more brainpower you can devote to things that matter, like the girls, the cafe and the coffee van.
‘So, how’s Emily? She still loving life on the land out there at South Giddi Giddi?’
She’d tried for light and breezy, but the moment the words left her lips, she wished she could gobble them back up.
‘I’m not supposed to talk about the show, but Emily and I weren’t a good fit, as it turns out.’
Clem had to bite her bottom lip to stop the grin that was forming. ‘That’s too bad. The producers won’t be happy about that.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘If you saw how pushy they were behind the scenes, you’d know why I don’t give a fig what the producers want. The show wasn’t what I thought it was going to be.’ He shrugged and gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘Odds of those relationships working are pretty slim, it seems.’
Clem settled back in her seat, absorbing the news. She’d been searching for information that would help her put this little crush to bed, but now that she knew Emily was off the cards, she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to let herself fall for a guy like Spencer.
Spencer had lost count of the people who’d asked about the show since filming had finished in June, from his students and colleagues at school, and even the parents in the school car park.
Only once had he revealed the outcome of the show outside his immediate family circle, and Jeff had been sworn to secrecy.
Jeff hadn’t even told Mia, despite her threats to file for divorce if he kept holding out on her.
But now, Spencer looked into Clem’s pretty blue-green eyes at the Penwarra Players auditions, wondering why it had felt so important to tell her Emily was gone.
After last weekend’s outrageous suggestion from Ian and Louisa, he’d been left with a sudden urge to flee town and get some distance to sort his head out. He didn’t know whether he was coming or going. He certainly wasn’t in the right headspace to start a new relationship.
It wasn’t fair to let Clem Crossley think there was any chance of something happening between them.
But fairness hadn’t been on his mind when he’d seen her sitting in the hall, watching Harriet on stage.
Fairness hadn’t been his leading thought when he’d pulled her into his arms at the hospital, distraught as she was.
And fairness sure as hell wasn’t the primary emotion right now, as she sat there, close enough that he could smell her perfume, looking up at him as if she liked what she saw.
‘Was it really that bad, doing the TV show? It’ll be on air in a month or two, right?’
This comment thrust Spencer sharply out of his daydream.
Even if she was interested, and he made a move, everything would be shattered when the show aired.
He hadn’t been worried about it before he went on the show, but now he was fond of Clem, he had a sinking feeling he’d look like a proper dick dating five women on national TV.
‘Pretty awful actually, I’m dreading November.’
Clem’s lips twitched into a smile. ‘I can’t imagine it was that bad. I mean, unless you slept with them all, pitted them against one another and then trash-talked them on air—and I can’t really picture you doing that.’
Spencer laughed. ‘Yeah, that’s not exactly my style.
But I’ve started waking up in a cold sweat worrying about how they’ll edit the scenes.
I went on the show to try to force myself out of my shell, and at the start of the filming it did just that.
The stunts the producers made us do for the romance challenges were way out of my comfort zone, not to mention being surrounded by all these young things with crazy notions about what love looks like, thinking perfect bodies are a prerequisite for perfect lives.
Like living in a foreign country. I’m still shellshocked from the whole thing, if I’m honest.’
Clem leaned in a little closer. ‘And it probably doesn’t help that everyone wants the inside scoop?
’ She made a zipping action against her lips and gave him a smile.
‘I won’t breathe a word, pinky promise. But I’m annoyingly curious, and now that I know, I can’t promise not to pump you for further details.
’ She looked to the end row of chairs. Her youngest, who was the same age as Reggie, had finished covering herself in stickers and was now sliding around the hall’s timber floorboards on her elbows and belly, as if she was a soldier crawling through mud.
‘And if Harri gets this part, you’ll probably get sick of me bugging you every Sunday.’
Spencer shook his head. ‘Sadly, I suspect I’ll hardly even see you. Ian puts me to work in the props department, and the rest of the time, Louisa usually splits the cast into two, and we each take charge of a different group.’
‘And you also manage to squeeze in a full teaching load, farming and beekeeping? I’m beginning to wonder when you actually sleep. You must live for school holidays.’
‘Just a week or two to go, not that I’m counting,’ Spencer chuckled, and found himself relaxing into the conversation. She was easy to talk to, and before he knew it, Louisa and the cast were filing back into the main hall.
‘Mum, it was awesome! You should have seen the voice warm-ups we did, they were so silly. Hey Mr H, did you see me on the stage? I only missed a few lines, and I didn’t get tongue-tied, not much anyway.’
Spencer held up his hand for a high-five, and she gleefully tapped her small hand against his.
‘You did great, Harriet. Reckon you could show the Year 11 drama students a thing or two with that performance. And if you can remember all the lines, it’ll be an easy one to pull out for the camp talent show in November.
And guess what? I’ll be there to cheer you on. ’
He saw Clem’s look of surprise. ‘I got roped into going on the 4/5/6 class. They were short staffed. I’ve never been to the Grampians before, so I’m really looking forward to it,’ he told her. ‘You ever been?’
She nodded, and looked like she was about to say something when Harriet interrupted.
‘Mum’s coming with us too, you’ll both be able to watch my performance! At least I know I’ll have two people clapping,’ Harriet said, delight crossing her face. ‘Maybe you can share a cabin?’
Clem coughed, her face going red, and as Spencer passed her the unicorn water bottle by her feet, he wondered if she was appalled by the idea or if the news was a welcome surprise to her too.