‘I thought you did it brilliantly before,’ said Conner. ‘Let’s stick with that.’
At least it was better than Luke’s first attempt, which had involved some sort of lisp and a lot of spit spray. Rehearsals eventually finished for the day with Sarah stumbling over one of her lines again as Mrs Andrews tutted. For some reason she just couldn’t get the hang of this damn play. Maybe it was because the Greenley Players had been going for over a year and they were expected to be good – she was expected to be good. There was so much more pressure this time around.
‘Sarah, darling, you really need to stop mumbling and fudging your lines,’ said Mrs Andrews, tottering in her heels down the staircase at the front of the stage. ‘You should enunciate, dear, like I do.’
‘Yes, I know,’ replied Sarah. It just wasn’t worth getting into right now. Not only was she too eager to sneak over to Gregory and Cecil’s cottage, but her body couldn’t seem to decide if it was recovering from her hangover or not. One minute she felt fine, the next nausea swept over her, making her throat close over. She just wanted to get out in the fresh air.
Everyone said goodbye and Sarah watched as Gregory and Cecil raced off mumbling something about extra shopping including champagne and scallops. But from what she’d read she couldn’t imagine Nathaniel Hardy would be that interested in eating fancy food. She wouldn’t be if she’d had an affair and been found out. Chance would be a fine thing, she mused. The closest she’d ever got to marriage was a drunken proposal from a pervy fiddle player old enough to be her dad when she was at a wedding in Ireland years and years ago. Unsurprisingly she’d said no. Her heart twinged at the memory of her dad and she focused instead on the last time she’d seen Nathaniel Hardy on TV being suave and sexy.
‘Ready?’ asked Lottie, slinging her bag on her shoulder.
Realising she had been staring into space, Sarah quickly gathered up her copy of The Tempest and various multi-coloured pens she used for making notes, shoved them into her handbag and smiled. ‘Let’s go.’ The excitement was bubbling up in her stomach – or the Alka Seltzer was getting to work – she wasn’t sure which.
‘Where are you two off to?’ asked Sid.
‘Nowhere that concerns you,’ replied Lottie playfully. ‘You go home and I’ll be back soon. You can peel the potatoes if you like. We’re just going for a walk.’ Sid shrugged, probably assuming it was girly stuff and nothing he’d be interested in anyway. ‘And here, you can lock up today.’ Lottie threw the keys and Sid caught them just before they skewered his right eye.
‘You’re trusting me with the sacred keys?’He gasped and Lottie scowled. She’d always been very protective of the theatre as it was her nan’s dying wish that she save it from being sold off. For the last year she’d fought hard to make that happen and amazingly, had succeeded.
As they left the theatre, walking in single file through the small revolving door, the sunshine was blinding. Squinting, Sarah reached into her bag for her sunglasses. The sounds of tinkling crockery and chattering voices escaped from the busy pubs along the seafront where people were enjoying their easy Sunday lunches. The town was more alive at this time of the day and Sarah took a deep breath trying to separate the different smells in her mind: beer, gravy, rich roast beef, and the tangy saltiness of the sea. Suddenly she was hungry. ‘I wish my stomach would decide what it’s doing. I’m not sure whether it wants me to fill it up or go nil by mouth.’
‘I think you should eat something,’ replied Lottie as they threaded their way through the pub tables that faced the promenade. ‘Are you coming for lunch? I’m doing a big roast today.’
That sounded good, just the thing to fix her. ‘Okay. Hey, are you going to tell Sid about Nate?’ She was surprised Lottie hadn’t said anything earlier.
‘I will when we get home. I don’t often get to know stuff he doesn’t, so I thought I’d tease him for a bit.’
They crossed the main road, past the tiny but surprisingly well-stocked library, and took a left down a side alley into the narrow twisting lanes of the conservation area. For about half a square mile the houses were either small simple fishermen’s cottages or larger Georgian houses with shuttered windows, black iron door knobs, and antique boot scrapers. Sarah loved walking through this part of town. In her mind’s eye she could see various Jane Austen heroes cleaning their boots before knocking at the door and entering to woo some fine lady. Sarah couldn’t afford to live in one of these houses, but Finn could, and did. She wondered if she’d see him today and the thought of that was almost more exciting than the prospect of catching a glimpse of Nate Hardy.
‘Keep an eye out for Gregory and Cecil,’ warned Sarah. ‘Just in case they went to the shop first and are already on their way back. They were talking about getting some champers and expensive shellfish.’ Scampering down another side street, Sarah began to sing the theme tune to Mission Impossible. Lottie joined in and as they approached the road where Gregory and Cecil lived. They pressed themselves into the wall before ducking down and glancing round the corner. In a final muffled burst of song, they flung themselves round the corner and collapsed into giggles. ‘Shhh,’ Sarah said, pressing her finger to her lips.
‘You shush,’ Lottie replied, still laughing. ‘You started it.’
Gregory and Cecil lived in the third cottage along. The houses in this part of town didn’t have front gardens, the front door opening straight onto the street. From many a drunken dinner party, Sarah knew that the sitting room was at the front of the house with large sash windows that faced the road. Sarah hoped Nate was in there watching telly rather than in the kitchen which was at the back of the house. ‘Let’s take a slow walk past and see if we spot him,’ she said, gently pulling Lottie’s arm to bring her level. They strolled as slowly as possible past the window. Sarah peered from the corner of her eye, but a frilly net curtain blocked her view. ‘Pants. I can’t see anything. Can you?’
‘No. Damn their old lady net curtains.’
A man walked past, eyeing them suspiciously and Sarah pretended to be searching for something in her handbag. It was definitely excitement filling her stomach with bubbles now. The adrenaline was surging through her whole body making her feel jittery and giggly. ‘It’s no good,’ Lottie continued. ‘We’re going to have to get closer, right up to the window. Go on, you first.’
‘Why me?’ asked Sarah, her eyes wide.
‘This was your idea.’
‘But you’re smaller than me. You should do it.’
‘Don’t be heightist. Anyway, I’m not going on my own. Come on.’ Lottie grabbed Sarah’s arm and she had to push down the laughter filling her lungs, threatening to ruin their plan. ‘We’re the worst spies ever,’ whispered Lottie and Sarah spluttered as the laughter forced its way out again. MI5 certainly wouldn’t be recruiting them any time soon.
They came level with Gregory and Cecil’s house again and bent down before edging towards the window. Sarah placed her fingertips on the sill and slowly lifted her head just high enough to see. Her heart gave a double beat as there, in real life, was Nate Hardy, lying out on the sofa in jeans and a T-shirt, his hands behind his head, eyes closed. He was just as handsome in person – or at least through their friends’ window – as he was on-screen. Sarah’s mind wandered, picturing what it would be like to wake up, roll over and see that face every morning. He had long dark eyelashes and a manly, rugged sexiness. A hint of toned abs peeked out where his T-shirt rode up. ‘He’s absolutely bloody gorgeous, isn’t he?’ she whispered to Lottie.
‘He really is. I wish I had my long lens camera.’
‘Pervert,’ Sarah replied, and they giggled again.
A male voice that Sarah instantly recognised broke into the moment. ‘And what do you two think you’re doing?’ asked Gregory. A shiver of shock ran down her spine. Both