Five Lucie
Five
LUCIE
‘L ucinda.’
I don’t reply, grabbing my things and picturing Theo Larkin’s smug, entitled face on each one before I punch it down into my rucksack.
I already know what Ophelia is going to say and I am not going to stay here to hear it. She stood there and offered him a third of our tips from the event! While his smarmy, smiling agent looked on. He doesn’t deserve any of the money Ced and I earned. And like he needs it, anyway! As soon as his agent said his name I recognised him. Almost A-list actor, directors falling over themselves to cast him. Only last month he was in some dreadful staged home shots for Hello! magazine that no doubt he was paid a fortune for. More than I earn in a year, I’ll bet.
‘I understand you’re upset …’
You don’t , I argue back (only in my head of course, because I bloody need this job and I’m not daft). You just made my summer a million times harder. Not to mention cutting the generous tips Ced and I both rely on from Patron events. The next one won’t be until Christmas and that’s a lifetime away.
I don’t say anything, but I don’t look at her either. Beside her, I know Ced will be watching us, wringing his hands. Atmospheres send his nerves into overdrive. He’ll get one of his ‘heads’ and be out of action for the rest of the day. I was going to invite him for coffee before I go home, precisely to avoid this happening. But I’m so incandescently furious that my company would probably bring on the very thing I would be trying to stop.
Ophelia Henry, however, is not a woman who gives up easily. She isn’t about to be dissuaded from speaking her mind by a pointed silence from me.
‘Lucie …’ Her tone is softer, closer to me now. The scent of her beloved violet perfume already betrays her position before she even speaks. I wait for the consoling hand on my arm. Sure enough, it appears, theatrically shiny French manicure perfectly catching the glow from the single working spotlight in our crew room. ‘We need him.’
‘We don’t.’
There’s a pause as she regroups. Then the soft sigh I was expecting joins the consolatory hand in a two-pronged assault on my conscience. ‘We do, my darling. He’s a bona fide star. Someone who could bring the crowds in. It’s getting harder to guarantee our tenure here, what with cash being tighter for everyone these days …’
That’s it. If she was looking to provoke a response from me, she’s succeeded.
‘Cash is tight for everyone. Which is precisely why neither Ced nor I can afford to give up any of our income from tips.’
‘But think of the extra tips once word gets out.’
She just doesn’t get it, does she? ‘Which we’re now going to have to work twice as hard for, thanks to a three-way split …’
‘We’ll manage, Lucie,’ Ced offers, nerves dancing in his tone. I should pull back and calm the situation down. But I’ve done that for years and where has it got me?
‘We shouldn’t have to, Ced. That’s the point.’
‘If we could just sit down and talk about this …’ Ophelia suggests.
But I can’t hear it now.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’
Both of them are staring at me. If I could stand outside my body I’d be staring at me, too. I love this job. It’s the only one I have that is anywhere close to the career I’ve relentlessly chased for seven years. Without it, I’m just a newsagent’s early morning help, a waitress and an occasional ice cream bike vendor. I’m no actress without The Garden Players.
But I can’t do an entire summer battling the likes of superstar Theo Larkin just to try to break even. It’s too much to ask.
‘What are you saying?’ A dangerous edge appears in Ophelia’s tone.
What am I saying?
‘She needs some time to think about it,’ Ced interjects, glaring at me when I open my mouth to disagree. ‘We both do, Pheels. What you’re proposing is a vast change for the company. It means more rehearsals, a complete change of programme, neither of which can be achieved here, now.’ He places a hand protectively on my shoulder and lifts his chin like his whole body isn’t shaking. ‘I’m calling an adjournment on this discussion.’
‘But we need to …’ Ophelia’s mouth flaps soundlessly for the rest of the sentence at the sight of Ced’s raised eyebrow. I watch her pack away her consternation while Ced holds his secretly shaky ground. ‘Very well. But Mr Larkin is due to start work with us on Monday morning. I will need to know if you plan on joining him by six p.m. on Friday.’
Her challenge laid, she sweeps magnificently out of the room.
Ced deflates beside me.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
The crew room, which always feels overcrowded with more than one of us in it, suddenly seems echoingly cavernous. I stare down at my half-packed bag. Ced’s hand leaves my shoulder to rake through his hair.
‘ If we plan on joining him ? Not really a bloody choice, is it?’ he says, kicking at a glove that fell to the floor when Ophelia left.
‘I’m sorry, Ced,’ I say, meaning every word. ‘I just don’t think I can do it.’
‘I’m not exactly cock-a-hoop about the situ, either.’ I hate the sadness I see in him, knowing that I’m powerless to alter it. ‘He’s exactly the reason I don’t get work these days. Strapping young man like that, jaw of sculpted steel and muscles in all the right places. It wouldn’t matter if his acting ability was so wooden you could make furniture out of it: he’s what every bloody director in this damn business wants.’
I offer a smile, wishing I could change the way things are. ‘You could act him off the stage.’
‘I know. That’s the tragedy!’ He flops down on a padded box where the props live when it isn’t being used in a performance. ‘But he’s a star and he’s good. Which is the biggest insult of all.’
I have to concede the point. I don’t want it to be true, but the fact is that Theo Larkin is good. He didn’t just speak those lines: he embodied them. You can’t teach someone that instinct: it’s natural. ‘Yes, he is.’
Ced catches my eye, the first wisp of a smile playing on his lips. ‘Bloody annoyingly talented, handsome bastard. What are we to do with him?’
‘Lock him in the crew room just before the performance?’ I reply, my own smile sneaking out. I could think of far worse things to do to Theo Larkin right now but this is the most amusing option.
‘And throw away the key!’ Ced’s expression softens. ‘Don’t leave us, Lu. It’s always been us two valiant players against the world of idiots.’
My heart sinks again. ‘I love this job. And I love working with you. But that man waltzing in here like he did today is just going to ruin everything. I thought we mattered to Ophelia, too. But she just practically dropped us in favour of him.’
Ced sighs. ‘It’s the bloody biz, darling. Even in a tiny company like ours. Pheels thinks he’ll increase takings. I think she’s wrong, but what’s one to do?’
I shoulder my rucksack and look at my friend. ‘I need to think about it.’ The combination of my early start and the drama of the Patrons event is conspiring against me: everything aches and I just want to crawl under a duvet until tonight’s restaurant shift.
‘Go. Get some rest, sweet. Heaven knows you’ll need it.’
‘I will.’ I offer him a weak smile and plant a kiss on the top of his head. ‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘Too bloody late for that, love,’ he returns, as he always does.
Cycling slowly home, weaving through the crowds of tourists filling the town with their buzz and colour and life, I’m torn. Part of me wants to walk away from The Garden Players, quitting on principle. I have every right to: Ophelia just completely railroaded Ced and me this morning. She didn’t think for a moment what bringing a third actor into the company would mean for the money we already struggle to make. I should walk away without giving her a second glance.
But why should Theo Larkin hound me out of the only job I love? If I quit, won’t he have won?
It is only for the summer.
That’s six weeks, tops, before he swans off to The Royal Shakespeare Theatre for his celeb-lead stint in Hamlet .
But it’s six weeks .
Six weeks of performing Shakespeare’s most iconic, most romantic love scenes with a man I can’t stand. Six weeks of having to share my stage with that smug-faced, entitled, Petruchio-loving git. Six weeks of convincing audiences that I am head over heels in love with Theo Larkin.
Ugh.
Wheeling into the small courtyard leading to the narrow, three-storey building I share with my housemate Lyle, exhaustion hits me full on. I need to find an answer for this – and soon.
But not now.
For now, I need to sleep (no perchance of dreaming).
And then, I need to formulate a plan.