Nate didn’t look like he agreed.
Despite being a decent actor, Nate wasn’t a confident reader, so often tripped up over the text. Unfortunately, the show’s director didn’t possess the art of tact, and if someone messed up, he wouldn’t hesitate to humiliate them in front of the whole room – as Nate had discovered at the audition, when he’d mispronounced his line, ‘Tarry, rash won ton!’ causing the director to bellow, ‘Wanton, not won ton! You are not ordering Chinese food, Mr Jones!’
Jonathan Myers was a typical theatrical type, who wore glasses on a chain around his neck and sported a terrible comb-over. Appearing at the front of the stage, he asked everyone to take a seat. ‘As you all know, my name is Jonathan Myers. I’m a professional, RADA-trained actor’ – as he liked to remind everyone on a regular basis – ‘and the director of this year’s summer extravaganza, William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I think you will agree, this will be the Isolde Players’ most adventurous production to date.’ He started clapping, encouraging everyone to join in, always eager to receive a round of applause. ‘We shall begin this evening with an improvisation, something to warm up our bodies and focus the mind. The single most important attribute an actor should possess is …?’ He cupped his ear, encouraging a response.
The group mumbled, ‘Focus’, only to be met with a shaking of Jonathan’s head and an exasperated, ‘Louder!’ to which everyone dutifully yelled, ‘FOCUS!’ – except Nate, who yelled, ‘Louder!’ and then cringed when everyone laughed.
Jonathan waited for calm. ‘Thank you. Now, I would like you all to pair up and prepare a short mime entitled “A Fool in the Forest”.’ Before he’d even added, ‘You have ten minutes’, Kayleigh Wilson had sprinted the length of the hall and ‘bagsied’ Barney as her partner, ever hopeful that their brief spell dating would turn into something more meaningful. But there was no spark – not on his side at any rate. She was a nice enough girl, but he wasn’t interested in getting serious with her. Trouble was, she had other ideas.
Nate didn’t fare much better. He lost out on partnering Lauren to seasoned actor Daniel Austin.
A despondent Nate was stuck with Paul, who, never one to take offence, said, ‘It’s just as well we’re mates,’ and slung an arm around his shoulder. ‘Your enthusiasm for working with me is quite touching.’
Ignoring Paul’s sarcasm, Nate shoved his hands inside his jeans pockets, staring daggers at Daniel. ‘He does it to wind me up.’
Paul sighed. ‘Then don’t let him see it affects you, or he’ll keep doing it.’
In contrast, Kayleigh was beaming like she’d won an Oscar, sparkling like the diamanté lettering adorning the backside of her pink velour tracksuit. Kayleigh had big eyes and waist-length brown hair, making her an official ‘babe’, as Nate would say. But she wasn’t Barney’s type. Too girly, too annoyingly bouncy, and far too young aged just twenty. He was only twenty-seven himself, but five years studying for a medical degree, followed by two years completing his foundation programme, had induced a level of maturity that defied his age … not that his parents agreed. ‘Immature’ and ‘irresponsible’ were accusations regularly thrown in his direction.
Someone’s phoned beeped, making Barney flinch.
It’d been over a year since he’d left Queen Mary’s Hospital and yet the sound of the dreaded doctor’s bleeper still brought him out in a cold sweat. It was every junior doctor’s nightmare. Day or night, whether you were sleeping, eating or on the loo, the damned thing would go off and panic would set in. You never knew what awaited you at the other end, and no matter how junior you were, you were expected to know the answer, incurring the wrath of the nurses if you didn’t. People often had a preconceived idea that being a doctor was somehow heroic. They wanted to hear stories about saving lives, but would they want the reality? The daily horrors, the tiredness, the uncertainty; being sworn at, spat on and shat on? Feeling so crushed by responsibility that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry? Probably not. Was it any wonder he was resisting a return?
‘I would be grateful if phones could be turned off,’ Jonathan said, looking around for the culprit. ‘Distractions are not welcome in the sanctuary of creative space.’ He gave a theatrical bow. ‘Much obliged.’
Barney switched his phone to silent, noticing another text from his mother. The frequency of ‘call me’ messages was increasing. The topic of conversation never varied. When was he coming home? When would he be resuming his medical training? If the questions never changed, neither would his answers.
Once all the mimes had been critiqued by the director, who’d frowned the whole way through Barney and Kayleigh’s very un-Shakespearean offering of a ‘pair of clowns camping’, he signalled for quiet. ‘Please join me now in a vocal warm-up.’ He puffed out his chest and walked around the room. ‘Breathe in for the count of four …’
There was something surreal about standing in a circle, breathing in unison. Tony looked relaxed, Nate looked focused, Paul’s efforts were half-hearted, and Daniel sounded like he was doing yoga, letting out a low hum with each breath – whilst Kayleigh sounded like she was having an orgasm, panting like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.
Jonathan stopped behind Glenda and placed his arms around her middle. ‘Feel your diaphragm expand … two … three … and contract … two … three …’
Glenda started giggling. ‘Jonathan, I didn’t know you had it in you. Naughty man.’ She wiggled her bottom and winked at Tony, who was standing opposite her in the circle. Her dirty laughter resulted in a disgruntled look from Sylvia, who pursed her coral-pink lips – the colour as stark as her salmon trousers.
If Glenda favoured the natural look, her neutral linen clothes creased and loose-fitting, Sylvia’s style could only be described as an homage to Dolly Parton.
‘What’s her problem?’ Glenda said, pretending she didn’t know that Sylvia had the hots for Tony. Tormenting Sylvia seemed to be one of Glenda’s favourite pastimes. She was a nice enough woman, who helped out in the community and undertook lollipop-lady duties at the primary school, but there was something hard about her too. Barney couldn’t put his finger on what, but he wouldn’t want to cross her, put it that way.
‘Excellent.’ Jonathan clapped his hands, encouraging everyone to breathe normally. ‘Now, I’d like everyone to sing the note of C.’
Before he could twang his tuning fork, Kayleigh, Glenda and Sylvia had let rip, their collective sound on a par with a cat Barney had once helped escape from a drain.
Thankfully, Kayleigh ran out of breath and the sound improved. As the seconds ticked by, it became clear that an unspoken competition was taking place between the two rival women. Each getting louder, trying to outdo the other, as their note reached its crescendo.
Sylvia’s face grew redder.
Glenda began to physically shake.
Freddie and Florence started laughing, which set Barney off. It was childish, but he couldn’t help it. He felt a momentary pang of remorse when Lauren told her kids off for being rude. But he felt better when he heard Paul snort and Tony start chortling.
Finally, Sylvia broke off, almost collapsing from a lack of oxygen. Glenda whooped and punched the air, only curtailing her celebrations when Jonathan glared at her. ‘If you two ladies have finished?’ He struck his tuning fork against the table.
As with the breathing exercise, some people found it embarrassing, some hard to pitch, others like Freddie and Florence sang out as though they didn’t have a care in the world, just as eight-year-olds should do. Florence began twirling on the spot. Freddie followed suit. Barney thought ‘what the heck’ and joined in, followed by Tony, and then a smiling Lauren. It wasn’t long before everyone was twirling, singing horribly off-key and letting go