Lottie giggled. ‘Are you going to pretend that I’ve broken my leg again?Because seriously, Sarah, people are going to cotton on sooner or later. According to you, I’ve broken my leg about twenty times this year.’
Sarah felt a slight pang at Lottie’s words but only because they were true. She had been on more bad dates than good ones. Why did people have to lie on their profiles? Life would be much easier if they didn’t. She let her mouth form a circle of surprise. ‘How bad is it?’
‘Oh, it’s terrible. Terrible! It hurts! I think it might need chopping off! To be fair though, it’s a pretty useless leg, what with it breaking all the time, so I probably wouldn’t miss it. Perhaps we could turn it into a prop. Does anyone in The Tempest get their leg chopped off? Either that or I could bash Sid over the head with it whenever he annoys me.’
Sarah heard a muffled ‘Oi!’ in the background and had to bite her lip to stop a smile from creeping out. Sid was Lottie’s boyfriend. Soulmate, really. And a nice guy. They were the cutest couple ever.
‘I’ll be there right away,’ Sarah said, her voice full of concern. Lottie giggled.
‘Okay. Byeeee!’
Sarah placed her mobile in her bag and looked at Dean who couldn’t have cared less if she was there or not. He was busy watching another video on his phone, guffawing and snorting with laughter. Sarah couldn’t see what it was but found the donkey noises quite disturbing.
‘You off then?’ he asked, looking up from the screen. She stood up and grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair.
‘Dean, I’m so sorry, but my friend’s broken her … arm and she needs me to go and get her from the hospital.’
‘Christ, that’s bad luck. Hey, are you still gonna pay your half before you go?’ He picked up his beer but paused, putting it to his lips. ‘Hang on a minute. You can’t drive, you’ve had too much to drink.’ A flicker of suspicion passed over his eyes and was instantly replaced by a flash of hurt. ‘You’re not trying to make a run for it, are ya?’He was joking but his tone was uncertain and the way his expression changed made Sarah’s heart twinge with guilt. Poor Dean. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t her type. Sarah ardently believed there was someone out there for everyone, even first-date disasters like Dean. Someone, somewhere, was waiting for Dean to find them. Someone who hated black-and-white movies, dog walks on the beach, and from the smell of grease hitting her nostrils, nice food. But that person wasn’t her.
‘Don’t worry, I’m going to get a taxi,’ she added hastily. ‘I just can’t leave her there all on her own.’ The excuse seemed to work and he smiled.
‘Right you are then.’
Dean’s balding head glistened in the light and Sarah felt a wave of unutterable sadness. Was this really what her life had come down to? Escaping second-rate dates with men who had no real idea how to treat a woman? With an inward sigh, she laid some cash on the table. Sarah always carried cash for first dates just in case she needed to make a quick getaway. No one wanted to wait around for the waiter to bring a card machine and then faff about. She’d learned those lessons long ago. ‘Here you go. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.’
‘I’ll probably finish up here and nip along to The Bell for a swift one with the boys.’ He rested his hands on top of his belly. ‘Are we doing this again, then?’
A drop of Hoi Sin sauce had stained his chin. It was a round, fleshy chin, not like Dr MacDonald’s which was smoothly chiselled and sometimes scattered with blond stubble. He was the only thing that made working at the doctor’s surgery manageable. Stunned that Dean even thought a second date might be on the cards, Sarah was momentarily unable to speak. Then checking her phone again for dramatic effect, she said, ‘I’ll call you sometime,’ before darting out of the door just as Bewitched were cracking into ‘C’est La Vie’. Sarah rounded the corner and hurried on until she was away from the Szechuan Palace and its overpowering aroma of spicy fat.
A cool sea breeze blew on to her face and eased the heat from her cheeks. It was early July but the sun had been shining since the end of May. Temperatures were higher than she’d ever known and even at nine-thirty in the evening it was still warm. The sun set slowly behind the pier painting the sky in streaks of gold, and the few clouds that were dotted about were like patches of purple velvet. The waves lapped gently on the shingle beach and music carried on the air from the pubs that lined the promenade. As the relief subsided, Sarah’s heart became heavy. Once again, she’d have to trawl the dating sites and go through all the hassle of arranging another date. The nervous excitement she used to feel at the prospect of a date was now replaced by a bored drudgery. All the magazines said she had to get out there to find the one, but she was quite fed up of it now. And what did you do if the one you thought you were supposed to be with had no idea you existed? Sarah had been single for ages, until Vince, but that hadn’t ended well and she was still unable to think about it without a stabbing in her heart. Their relationship had been the best three months of her life, but she’d misjudged the cheating git completely. She’d learned her lesson then that whirlwind romances didn’t work out and there was no such thing as love at first sight. To cheer herself up, Sarah concentrated on the thought of taking her make-up off and getting into her pyjamas as soon as she was home.
A beep resonated from her pocket and she read the message from Lottie. ‘I’ve got half a bottle of wine with your name on it and Sid saved you a Cornetto if you want to come round?’ A grin lifted the corners of her mouth. She was so lucky to have Lottie, but wished she was as lucky as Lottie and Sid had been in finding each other. They were one of those couples who were just meant to be together. Sarah gave a heavy sigh and pushed her brown hair back. There was something decidedly miserable about being 31 and single in a town like Greenley-On-Sea. As much as she loved her sweet little home town by the sea, she was running out of men to date. It was another reason Dr MacDonald was just so perfect. He wasn’t from around here and was clever, funny and a great doctor. Everyone loved him.
Looking down at her phone, Sarah texted back, ‘See you in five minutes,’ and headed off towards Lottie’s house. At least she had rehearsals to look forward to tomorrow – though the Greenley Players’ rendition of The Tempest wasn’t going quite as smoothly as they would have liked. Even with four weeks to pull it together. And who knew, maybe Dr MacDonald would walk into work on Monday morning and suddenly see her for the first time, or bump into her on the street and realise he’d loved her all along. A girl could dream, after all.
Nate glanced out from centre stage at row upon row of happy, smiling faces and paced about reciting his lines. The floorboard that always creaked underfoot moaned as he circled the stage. He ended up at the same spot he always did, and the spotlight shrunk until only he was lit. An imperceptible change the crowd would barely notice, but it made what he had to say even more impactful. In a second, it would enlarge as the action moved on. Hell, it was hot. The old West End theatres didn’t have air conditioning – it was impossible to make any changes to the historic listed buildings – and he was boiling in his costume of heavy denim jeans and a thick shirt. Sweat soaked the back of his neck and ran down between his shoulder blades.
The words came to him as second nature, like breathing. They’d been said so many times every intonation was ingrained on his brain, just as every move was imprinted on his muscle memory. He’d enjoyed playing the part of George Milton in a new adaptation of Of Mice and Men, and the critics loved it, but he was secretly glad that the eight-week run was coming to an end as exhaustion was creeping in. The final push to the finish was always hard and it was the exhilaration of performing that carried him, and the rest of the cast, through the last few shows. Thankfully, there were only a few more days to go. He concentrated on his co-stars as they recited their lines.
Thanks to its