The Little Theatre on the Seafront. Katie Ginger
Grabbing her jeans and slipping them on over her thighs, she didn’t care about the cellulite on the backs of her legs or her rounded stomach as she zipped them up. Most of the time Lottie was reasonably content with herself, or if not content, then not quite so preoccupied. The little extra weight she carried was nothing a couple of weeks of healthy eating and few trips to the gym wouldn’t cure, if she could be bothered. But when she was upset she focused on the bits she didn’t like as a way of not thinking about everything else. That today she didn’t care quite as much meant the darkness was lifting. She tied her long hair up in a ponytail and was just spraying some perfume when she heard the front door open and a voice call her name.
‘Lots, are you there?’
‘I’m just getting dressed, Sid,’ she yelled back down the stairs. ‘Be down in a minute.’
She opened the curtains and stared out over the town. Being on top of the hill allowed her a view of the skyline of Greenley. It wasn’t London, Miami, or New York, but it was home and the higgledy-piggledy rooftops, leading out to a calm, grey-blue sea, were a familiar and comforting sight. The kettle whistled and she knew Sid was making them tea.
‘Morning,’ said Lottie as she met him in the living room. He’d made himself comfortable on the sofa.
He blinked as he watched her. ‘Morning. You look nice.’
‘Do I?’ She stared down at her usual jeans, noticing they were slightly grubby in places and rubbed at the spots with a wet finger.
‘Yeah, you do.’ His forehead wrinkled slightly. ‘What’s different?’
‘Nothing.’ Sid stared at her, one eyebrow raised, and she held out her hands. ‘Honestly, nothing.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ Lottie laughed. ‘I promise, I’m not trying to catch you out.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘You look very chipper this morning, though.’
‘I’m excited! Aren’t you? It’s am dram day,’ she sang, making jazz hands.
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘Ha ha.’ Lottie grabbed her bag and coat. ‘Oh, I asked a guy called Conner to come and play people’s music. He said he has some device on his laptop that’ll take the vocal track off for the singers. He emailed to say he’s studying film and media at university and thinks it’d be good for him and his budding career. I told him he’s in.’
‘What, into the Greenley Players?’ Sid sat forwards.
‘Yes,’ Lottie said slowly. ‘He wants to direct and do behind the scenes type stuff.’
‘Does the mayor know?’
Lottie shook her head. ‘No. Not yet.’
Sid sat back again, an incredulous look on his face.
‘What?’ asked Lottie. ‘I’m the chairman. I can do that if I want.’
‘It’s nice to see you taking charge,’ he said, smiling. ‘Have you got the list of auditionees? Or should I call them victims?’
‘I’ve got everything together already. Ta da!’ Lottie picked up a folder and waved it in the air. ‘But we need to get going. I’ve got some setting up to do before the rest of the panel get there.’
‘Right-o.’ Sid swallowed his tea and grabbed his leather jacket.
Lottie took a few quick mouthfuls of hers, leaving her cup half empty. She drew level with Sid at the end of the sofa, gave him a mischievous look. He read her mind, and they both raced to the front door. Lottie won.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Sid asked, as he drove them to the theatre. ‘You seem a bit … odd.’
‘Odd?’ Lottie faked offence. ‘That’s charming. I’m fine, honestly, I’m just in a good mood.’
The outside of the theatre looked a mess. They’d need to come up with a way of fixing it at some point, but for now she had to concentrate on today. Lottie pushed the revolving door and they went inside. The musty damp air hit her nostrils and she grimaced.
Sid turned on the main lights then headed off to a small box at the side of the room that held the lighting and sound equipment. ‘Let there be light,’ he shouted and with the flick of a switch, the stage was illuminated. The lights flickered for a few seconds before fully committing to staying on and Lottie gave a silent prayer they’d last the whole day. She dropped her folder onto one of the seats before climbing up onto the stage to grab a broom and begin sweeping.
Sid came down and sat on the front row then checked his watch. ‘It’s eight-thirty, what time are the rest of the panel getting here?’
‘Nine o’clock,’ answered Lottie, sweeping with vigour. ‘The first audition is at nine-thirty.’
‘Anyone we know on the list?’
‘A few. You’ll have to wait and see.’ She’d kept the list top secret because she wanted to see his reaction when some of them turned up.
‘Spoilsport.’
Lottie stuck out her tongue, feeling playful. ‘Don’t just sit there, lazy bum, come and grab another broom. This place is filthy.’ She watched him open his mouth to moan. ‘No moans and groans. You’re my best friend, you have to help. I reckon if this place had a good airing it would make a big difference.’
‘You sound like your nan.’ Sid huffed and stood up to join Lottie. He found another broom and began sweeping at the back of the stage.
‘Thank you,’ Lottie replied, then stifled a laugh. ‘What are you doing now, you idiot?’
‘Dancing, of course,’ said Sid, wiggling his hips before leaping over the handle. ‘Come on.’
A grin grew on Lottie’s face and she began dancing too as they swept the stage. They were both giving a vague interpretation of a tango with their respective broomstick partners when the rest of the panel walked in.
Mayor Cunningham arrived first and coughed as his lungs filled with the damp air. ‘Goodness me. Are we going to be in here all day? It stinks.’
Lottie stopped herself from rolling her eyes and walked down to meet him. ‘I know it’s not ideal, but we need the acoustics of a proper stage and there wasn’t anywhere else. It’s probably worse because we just swept.’
‘Very well,’ replied Mayor Cunningham. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any tea or coffee is there?’
‘Damn, I didn’t think of that,’ replied Lottie.
‘Really, Miss Webster, if you’re to be our chairman, you must plan these things more thoroughly.’
‘No worries,’ said Sid, jumping down off the stage, moving to Lottie’s side. ‘I’ll nip out and get us all coffees and some bottles of water for the auditions.’
‘Oh, Sid, thank you,’ said Lottie, touching his arm. She’d always loved the feel of his old leather jacket. He’d worn it for as long as she could remember and it was part of him.
‘I’ll have a black filter coffee,’ ordered the mayor.
Lottie flashed her eyes, knowing Sid would be thinking the same as her. ‘Sid, can I have a—’
‘I know what you have, Lots,’ he replied and gave her a cheeky wink.
The revolving door squeaked and David, their editor, walked in. He was a great boss and a really nice man, but since his divorce seemed to be having some sort of midlife crisis. He’d recently acquired a tattoo in a language he didn’t speak and had turned up today in a suit jacket and open-necked shirt revealing the greying hairs on his chest. Lottie wanted to go and do the buttons up but resisted. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be noticeable when he was sitting