Summer Loves

Chapter 8

‘Hello Millie.’

She started. She’d know that voice anywhere. It was inevitable, she supposed, if he was in town, that they’d bump into one another. ‘Hello Jed.’ Passing the tray of smoked salmon canapés to Clare, who was waitressing for her, she forced herself to meet his eyes. She drank him in. Thinner than she remembered, but browner. The suntan emphasised his fine cheekbones and there were new highlights in his blonde hair. He looked like a well-bred racehorse, nervy and on his toes before an important race. She gulped. He could still make her heart race and her knees buckle. But part of her, the ever-cautious part, remembered her fears over the long-term compatibility of Cinderella and Prince Charming.

‘How have you been?’

She nodded. ‘Okay thanks.’

‘And the café?’

‘Doing quite well.’ She added in a rush, ‘Thank you for helping Arthur out. With Daisy, I mean. He couldn’t afford the operation.’

Jed shrugged. ‘He’s a nice man. Daisy, I’m sure, is a nice dog.’ His brown eyes burned into hers. ‘But I really did it for you, Millie. Arthur is a friend of yours and I could see his being unhappy made you unhappy too.’

‘Oh.’ Millie swallowed. Every fibre of her being yearned to gather Jed in her arms and tell him she loved him, had always loved him, would never stop. ‘I said some things back in February.’

For the first time, Jed smiled. ‘You did and I deserved everything you threw at me.’ He spread his hands. ‘How could you not be angry?’

Clare yelled from the kitchen and Millie gave Jed an apologetic look.

‘I know, work calls.’ As she turned to go, he added, ‘Millie, do you think we could get together sometime? To talk things over? I’d like that.’

Millie was about to nod but the little voice of caution that always wreaked havoc between her and Jed piped up. ‘I don’t know, Jed. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

His face tightened. ‘I don’t understand you, Millie,’ he said through clenched teeth.

‘Did you think we could just start up again? Just like that?’

‘Yes. No. Yes. Maybe?’ He shrugged helplessly.

Millie looked at him. She doubted if anyone had ever said no to Jed. All his life everything had fallen into place for him. A golden boy with effortless charm. Well, she wasn’t going to be the latest in a line of easy conquests. He’d lied to her! ‘It’s just not that simple, Jed. And maybe, if you don’t like that,’ she added, as his angry expression deepened, ‘You’d better keep away from me altogether!’

Chapter 9

‘So, how did it go?’ Dora took a slug of wine, thinking she could get used to the stuff Millie had stashed away.

They were holed up in Millie’s flat, sharing a bottle of wine and a bowl of Kettle crisps. It was Sunday night and it seemed the thing to do.

‘What do you mean?’ Millie’s voice was guarded.

‘Last night between you and Jed?’

Millie concentrated on stroking Trevor. She hesitated before answering and then blurted out, ‘Oh Dor, it was such a shock seeing him like that!’ She hugged the dog to her and buried her face in his fur. ‘I told him … I told him to go away.’

Dora spilled wine on her white skinny jeans. ‘You did what?’

‘I just couldn’t face him,’ Millie continued miserably. ‘I mean, I knew he was in town, but I didn’t think he’d turn up at the launch party. I had no idea he even knew Mike!’

‘He doesn’t, not really. He’s a friend of that idiot Phil.’

‘Oh.’ There was a pause. ‘How do you know?’

‘Mike told me. I had a little conversation myself with your Jed. I rather fell for him actually. And he’s –’

‘Not your type!’

‘No need to shout, Mil.’

‘Sorry,’ Millie mumbled. ‘Hands off, though.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it, honeybun.’ At Millie’s glare, Dora put up her hands. ‘Honestly, I really wouldn’t go there if you paid me. But others might if you don’t sort this out. A man like that won’t stay around here for long.’ As soon as she said it, Dora knew it was the wrong thing to say. ‘I don’t mean –’

‘But that’s just it, Dor. Why would a man like that want to stay in Berecombe?’

‘Then maybe you need to give him a reason?’

‘Perhaps.’

Dora, annoyed at Millie’s mulish tone said, ‘On the other hand, he could be your ticket out of here, you know.’

‘And what about the café, Millie? Who’s going to run that? And who says I want to get out of Berecombe anyway?’

Dora sighed. Time to tread very, very carefully. ‘Millie, I know that the café was your parents’ dream but that’s just it, it was your parents’ dream. Is it yours? Haven’t you longed for something else?’

‘Yes!’ Millie yelled, making Trevor yelp. ‘Of course I have, but how can I? I have to carry on with the café, make a living.’

‘If you got together with Jed you could probably afford to put in a management team.’

‘And become what? One of those women who have nothing to do but have lunch and gossip? You know that’s not me, Dora. And besides, I’ve always earned my own money.’

‘But it’s kept you trapped here.’

‘It’s where I want to be, or it was until Jed Henville came along and ruined everything.’

‘Or rather, made you question everything.’

Millie blew out an enormous breath. ‘I’m not sure what I want any more. I don’t know how I can even begin again with Jed.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘I’m not sure of that either.’

This was going to be a harder task than Dora thought. ‘Look Mil, when I had my little chat with Jed last night I thought he was rather desperate to get back with you.’

‘Did you?’

The look on Millie’s face so echoed that of Jed’s it made Dora even more determined. ‘What about a challenge?’

Millie threw herself back on the sofa. ‘God Dor, we’re not kids any more.’

‘You always enjoyed my challenges.’

‘Like the one where I had to nick the flag out of the town hall? And then there was the knitted graffiti.’

‘One of my more imaginative ones, I agree. Okay, so I challenge you, Emilia Susanna Fudge to -’

‘Please don’t say I’ve got to go out with him!’

‘One step at a time and stop interrupting. I challenge you to talk to Jed and explain your feelings. That you and he are from different worlds, that you feel inadequate and chained to your parents’ café by some misguided grief and sense of loyalty to them.’

‘Bit harsh, Dor,’ Millie huffed.

‘Okay, the last bits were, but you have to agree that you tie yourself to that café because you want to keep your parents’ memory alive.’ Dora took a breath, wondering if she’d gone too far.

‘Wouldn’t you feel the same?’

‘Quite possibly, honeybun, quite possibly, but I don’t have anything like the relationship with my parents that you had. I hope it wouldn’t stop me from being with the man I love and who obviously adores me.’ Dora watched Millie flush and waited.

‘All right then.’

‘So my challenge is accepted?’

‘Suppose.’

Dora drank her wine in triumph. Piece of piss, this matchmaking malarkey. Her feelings of accomplishment lasted two seconds.

Millie raised her head, a mischievous look on her face. ‘But I have to give you a return challenge.’

‘Oh. Okay. Yeah.’ Dora shrugged.

‘Then I challenge you to take on the role of Anne Elliot in Mike’s production of Persuasion.’

‘That’s not fair!’

‘Why?’

The image of Mike, with Kirstie’s hand on his arm, flashed into Dora’s vision. Of his blue-eyed, penetrating gaze across the shabby space of the Workshop last night. To work with him, be close to him on a day-to-day basis would be torture. Exquisite but mostly torture.

‘I couldn’t –’

‘Why not? Do you think my challenge is going to be easy?’

Dora slid herself up Millie’s sofa and glared at her best friend. Of all the things she could have asked. As ever, when feeling threatened, she channelled her inner diva. ‘I have starred in one of American TV’s biggest-grossing shows. I trained at Central. I am nationally and internationally known. I can’t act in a cheap, tin-pot production of Persuasion in a shabby little theatre in a not very well-known seaside town in Devon!’

‘Why?’ Millie’s tone was unforgiving.

She couldn’t tell her the real reason. That she was still in love with Mike. Always had been. And, even worse, that he had a perky little blonde called Kirstie attending to his every need.

‘Why, Dora?’ Millie repeated. ‘Why can’t you do Mike’s play? If you don’t there’s no deal. I won’t talk to Jed.’

‘Oh alright, I’ll do it!’ Dora yelled. Then threw a cushion at her friend to shut her up.

Chapter 10

Dora was confused. She’d contacted Mike (through gritted teeth) and he’d asked her to meet him here, in the Regent Theatre on the far end of Berecombe’s sea front. She’d assumed the meeting would be a private affair. The theatre, however, was buzzing with people. She spotted Kirstie briefly, who waved hello and promptly disappeared. A group in the unofficial theatre uniform of ripped jeans and black t-shirts were earnestly discussing a large piece of paper – stage designs maybe and another group of youths were sweeping and collecting litter in black bin bags. They were chatting loudly about the latest Bond film.

The place felt very different. It had been a second home to her for the two years she did A levels. She’d spent more time in here, with Mr Latham and the drama group, than she had revising. Until her parents had tried to put their foot down.

An assistant, who looked about twelve but who was gratifyingly star-struck, led her to the front of the theatre. There was nothing to sit on and no one had offered her as much as a coffee. It wasn’t how she was usually treated when negotiating a role. It couldn’t have been further from how things were organised in LA. She suppressed a frustrated giggle.

The theatre was tinier than she remembered. There was a small stalls area and a narrow balcony running in a horseshoe around the walls. It would barely seat a hundred people when the seating was replaced. She understood it had been taken out for a craft fayre, which was held once a month. That was new since she was last in Berecombe. The walls and floorboards were painted a matte and rather sinister dark blue, making it seem even more compact. At the opposite end to the stage she recognised the kitchen and bar, currently hidden behind scruffy steel shutters that didn’t quite fit. The stage itself looked to be in fairly good repair but there was a motley collection of buckets and containers where the house seats, if the Regent went in for that sort of thing, would be. Water dripped mournfully through the roof. Dora wondered where it was coming from; it hadn’t rained since she’d been back. She was peering up, trying to work out the cause of the leak when Mike’s voice startled her.

‘There you are.’ He was accompanied by a large dark-haired man, who looked vaguely familiar. ‘This is Greg Symon. I’m sure you know him from The Gates of Almonhandez.’

‘Of course.’ Dora extended a hand. ‘How nice.’ She’d caught some of the series, a Game of Thrones rip-off in which Greg had been out-acted by the rest of the cast, including the horses. She hoped he had nothing to do with Mike’s production.

‘Greg’s our Captain Wentworth.’

Shit. Dora composed her face. ‘Wonderful!’ How the hell was she supposed to act besotted with this plank? And what was he doing back in the UK? She could only assume he had lots of time on his hands. The Gates of Almonhandez had been pulled after the first season.

‘It’s an honour to meet you, Theodora. I’ve always admired your work.’

I bet you have, Dora said silently. It’s probably given you an acting lesson or two. ‘Thank you so much, Greg. And may I say how much I enjoyed The Gates. So innovative.’ She was alarmed to see the tops of his large ears turn pink.

‘Thank you. Coming from you, Theodora, that means a huge amount.’

‘It’s Dora,’ Mike put in, curtly. ‘Now we’re back in Berecombe.’ He gave her a hard look. He knew she’d been lying. ‘Did you know Dora grew up here, Greg? Her parents ran the fishandchip shop.’

Dora swept him with a beatific smile. He wouldn’t belittle her that way. ‘They did indeed. And still do, as a matter of fact. They also now have three fish restaurants, including Samphyre. It’s tipped for a Michelin star.’ She raised her brows at Mike in challenge.

‘Really?’ Greg said, impressed. ‘In Exeter? I ate there last month. It was magnificent.’

‘Thank you, Greg. I’ll make sure to let my parents know. They’re so proud of their achievements.’

‘Could we get down to the matter in hand, do you think?’ Mike’s voice was brittle. ‘I want you to read the scene where Anne meets Wentworth, Dora. Where he re-enters her life as a successful sea captain. They meet each other seven years after he was jilted by her. Do you think you’re up for that?’

‘I think I can just about manage. Of course, as you haven’t sent me a script, I haven’t had a chance to look at it. It’ll be a sight-reading, but I think I’ll cope.’ Dora gave Mike a thin smile.

‘I’ll get Lily and Josh to read in for Mary and Charles and we’ll get going, then.’ Ignoring her sarcasm, he yelled for Kirstie, who went to find them. ‘If we could get a move on I’d be grateful. I’ve got quite a few to audition today.’

Dora stopped dead. ‘Auditions?’

‘Yes.’ Mike became very busy studying his script. ‘I’ve got at least another three Annes to see today.’

‘I’m auditioning?’ Dora exploded.

‘Of course.’ Mike met her fury. ‘You didn’t think you’d get this by not auditioning? That’s how it might work in American television, but I audition every actor in one of my productions.’

For a moment Dora was too incensed to speak. Then she caught the slightest of quirks at the corner of Mike’s mouth. He was bloody well testing her. ‘You ba ’

‘Come on, Dora. Not too big for your boots to audition, surely?’

‘Oh Mike,’ Greg began, ‘Surely someone of the calibre of Theodora shouldn’t be asked to –’

‘Where do you want me?’ Dora cut Greg off. She glared at Mike, knowing full well he needed her far more than she needed him. Her celebrity status alone would send the publicity for this production stratospheric.

‘If you could stand stage left, please, Dora,’ Mike said serenely. ‘And Greg, could you enter from the other side?’

As she began to stalk off, he stopped her.

‘You’ll need a script, Dora.’

Ripping it off him, she concentrated on finding her spot.

On the phone to Millie later, she explained what had happened. Expecting sympathy, Millie couldn’t stop laughing.

‘Oh poor Dora! But you’ll make a fantastic Anne. You know you will. And so does Mike.’

Dora made an unintelligible sound. ‘And precisely what have you done to keep up your end of the bargain?’

‘Ah. Well. Been too busy today. Rushed off my feet in the café.’

‘Likely story. I need to scrap the idea of Anne Elliot. Think my talents would be better served as an Emma instead. She had far superior match-making skills.’

As an answer, Millie just laughed some more.

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