A Midsummer Night’s Dream
by
William Shakespeare
The characters in the play:
Hippolyta (Queen of the Amazons) – Glenda Graham
Hermia (in love with Lysander) and Peaseblossom – Lauren Saunders
Lysander (loved by Hermia), Philostrate and Pyramus – Daniel Austin
Demetrius (suitor of Hermia) and Thisbe – Nate Jones
Helena (in love with Demetrius), Snout and Wall – Paul Naylor
Oberon (King of the Fairies), Egeus and Snug – Barney Hubble
Titania (Queen of the Fairies) – Sylvia Johns
Puck (servant to Oberon) – Kayleigh Wilson
Nick Bottom (a weaver), Theseus and Mustardseed – Tony Saunders
Moth and Cobweb (fairies) – Freddie and Florence Saunders
Directed by Jonathan Myers
Backstage crew – Quentin and Vincent Graham
Thursday, 5 May
With a certain amount of apprehension, Charlotte Saunders watched her boss adjust the front of his pale-pink tie, his matching silk handkerchief folded into the pocket of his pinstriped suit jacket.
‘He said you assaulted him.’
Charlotte felt her indignation rise another notch. ‘I did no such thing.’ Why was she getting the third degree? It should be Dodgy Roger in here getting it in the neck, not her.
Lawrence raised a knowing eyebrow. It was a trait she’d become familiar with. It usually preceded a right royal bollocking. Fortunately for her, she’d rarely been on the receiving end of one of his rants. She was his protégé; the grad student he’d spotted at an exhibition and taken a chance on. She couldn’t believe her luck when he’d offered her a position with his high-flying design company – a position most designers twice her age would kill for – and now it was under threat, all thanks to Dodgy Roger.
‘It was hardly assault, Lawrence.’ She felt her cheeks colour. ‘I tapped him on the forehead with my notebook. He was asleep on the job.’ As she’d already told him.
Lawrence reacted with a disappointed tut. ‘He also said you called him a moron.’
She cringed. Not exactly her finest moment.
‘A poor choice of words, I admit, but I was upset.’ Charlotte straightened in her chair, wishing she’d stopped off to buy painkillers on her way over. The pounding in her head was getting worse. She wasn’t sure whether it was the same headache as yesterday, or a new one.
When it came to using CAD, SketchUp or Photoshop, she was an expert – all those late nights studying and unpaid internships had culminated in a first-class honours degree in Interior Design. But nowhere amongst space planning and selecting soft furnishings had it covered dealing with Neanderthal workmen who knew they could get away with murder because the boss was family and the young designer they’d been assigned to work with was still trying to prove herself in a highly competitive industry.
Lawrence’s other eyebrow joined the one already raised. ‘And stupid.’
Well, he was. Who else would paint emulsion over acrylic? ‘I may have been a little harsh, but Roger blatantly ignored my instructions. The radiator pipes weren’t sunk into the plasterboard and he failed to replace the cracked ceramic Verona basin.’
Lawrence sighed. He got up from behind his large leather-topped desk, flicking away the tiniest smidgeon of dust from the lapel of his jacket. ‘That’s as may be, but we need to work as a team here at Quality Interiors. Power through such negativity and stop spilling each other’s beers.’
She failed to understand his meaning.
He perched on the corner of his desk. ‘Bottom line, we can’t afford to lose this client or risk damaging the company’s reputation by engaging in a lawsuit. The negative publicity would ruin us. And there’s no popularity in poverty.’
Was he misquoting The Wolf of Wall Street? He must spend his evenings reading 101 Greatest Ever Sales Quotes. Glancing down, she spotted the button on her suit jacket was undone and quickly fastened it. ‘I agree.’
‘The client has complained and it’s a legitimate complaint. The job doesn’t meet the spec. It’s over budget and it’s late. I need to be seen taking action.’ He smiled, the white of his teeth jarring with his sun-baked, all-year-round tan.
Thank goodness, they were on the same page … Crikey, he had her using clichés now. ‘Quite rightly.’
‘I’m glad you see it that way, Charlie.’ He rested his hands in his lap.
She hated it when he shortened her name … although right at that moment she certainly felt like a right ‘charlie’.
Noticing her reflection in the glass cabinet, she tucked a wayward dark curl behind her ear, her natural waves defying the straighteners yet again. Not helpful when trying to present a polished exterior. Why was she worrying about her appearance? Focus, woman.
‘A company is known by the people it keeps.’ He walked over to the cabinet housing his many accolades. ‘Short-term pain, long-term gain, as they say. A sacrifice for the good of the firm.’ He picked up one of his industry awards and rubbed away a mark before placing it back on the shelf. ‘It’s not what I want to do, believe me, but my hand has been forced.’
And about time too. Lawrence Falk ran a hugely successful and profitable firm. They had a six-month waiting list for sales visits alone and their work regularly featured in all the top design magazines, so why he allowed such an incompetent man to damage that prestigious reputation, she didn’t know. Surely family ties weren’t worth that much? They certainly weren’t in her family. But then she rarely saw her family, so that might be why. Their move to Cornwall seven years earlier, coupled with her long working hours and demanding job, had hampered any attempts to maintain a close relationship. It was something that never ceased to sadden her. But she couldn’t think about that right now, she had more important things to worry about. ‘I appreciate it’s a difficult situation,