Summer Season on the Seafront. Katie Ginger
been childish at first, blaming Hannah for their one-night stand two weeks before. Then he’d blamed his best friend Marcus, whose stag do it was, for letting him get so drunk he’d ended up in bed with her. But Nate knew there was no one to blame but himself. He was still a married man. Okay, he and his wife, Emma, were just about to start divorce proceedings but still, the ring remained on his finger and that should’ve stopped him. He and Emma had been married a long time, and together since university, but slowly she’d fallen out of love with him. Perhaps it had been the pressure of them both being in the industry. Certainly, as his career had grown while hers had stagnated, her jealousy had turned to anger and she’d drifted further and further away from him and into the arms of other men. It had broken his heart. They’d been keeping the marriage together for the sake of their careers, looking for the right time to announce an amicable divorce, and it had been hell.
The lighting subtly changed again to illuminate Nate against the now darkened backdrop, and that was his cue. The performance was reaching its dramatic climax and he focused on the words as he spoke. True emotion came forth, as it always did, until a voice from the depths pierced the silence that fell between him and the audience. A sudden wave of nausea rose inside him and every muscle tensed. He knew that voice.
‘Look at you giving it the big star, Nathaniel Hardy. Forgotten to return my calls, have you? Just been too busy? Or am I not good enough for you now?’ Nate paused, trying to figure out if he was mistaken. But no, he definitely wasn’t. Despite her Spanish surname, the voice that came from the dark was pure Essex. ‘What’s the matter, Nate? Got nothing to say this time? You thought you could palm me off, didn’t you? Thought I’d just disappear like some slutty one-night stand. Well, I won’t!’
The audience gasped. Nate swallowed down the bile, hoping he wouldn’t be sick. Saliva gathered in his mouth and his head spun. It was like being drunk. What the hell was Hannah doing here? The theatre was silent and the air thick and unmoving, lit by fractured beams of light. He’d thought Robin had dealt with this. Nate had told him and Emma about his indiscretion the very next day after realising what a fool he’d been. When Hannah had un-subtly mentioned the media finding out about what had passed between them, he knew he’d been used. At first Nate had thought they were just two lonely people who wanted a night of comfort. Only afterwards did it become clear she was after a career boost in hitching herself onto him. It had been a major error of judgement and one that he couldn’t undo however much he wished it.
Emma couldn’t have cared less as long as it didn’t get out. She had irons in the fire that something like this could ruin, plus her dad, a big-name producer, would get caught up in it too, He’d do his absolute nut if this came out just now. Robin had advised Hannah to keep quiet for the sake of Nate’s and her own reputation. Though Nate’s marriage might be over behind closed doors, the world didn’t know that, and he couldn’t afford for them to find out. If this hit the papers, which it would now, all the offers that had been coming in so fast Robin couldn’t keep up, would disappear. He’d no longer be the sweet-hearted, loyal husband he’d always tried to be. The darling of the chat shows and women’s mags because he’d been with Emma since university – since before he was famous. He’d be a cheating bastard. They had no idea that things had changed for Emma and he’d slowly been coming to terms with it. They didn’t know she’d fallen out of love with him and he simply wasn’t what she wanted anymore. They’d planned to split in a month, announcing it through their respective agents before divorcing quietly. The papers would have been sympathetic then and it would have played out nicely with neither blamed, only each admired for their grown-up attitudes. Now a silly drunken one-night stand was going to ruin everything, and it would become a sordid mess.
‘Come on, Nate,’ Hannah began again. ‘You’re an actor, you must have something to say. You’re not exactly shy and you certainly weren’t that night at my flat.’ She was standing up, seven rows back. Even the ushers approaching her looked scared, her normally pouty face held in an angry grimace. She’d clearly planned for this moment. An expensive dress poured over her curvy figure, her make-up impeccable despite the heat, and long black hair hung down in curls that, he knew from Emma’s pre-awards-show routines, took an expert hand. Why was Hannah doing this?
Muttering crept forwards through the audience like a ripple on water, landing at his feet. Nate knew he should say something, but he had no idea what. His mind was gripped with panic at the consequences of his stupid actions, brought on by too much drink and far too much heartache. He’d loved Emma and admitting their marriage wasn’t working anymore had broken his heart. It had been exhausting putting on a brave face for the paparazzi. And then, one night, when he’d finally managed to get away from them, a chance meeting after one too many flaming sambucas had brought Hannah into his life. There she was, this gorgeous model telling him she’d just broken up with her boyfriend. Nate, fuelled by beer and shots, had let the pain and loneliness he’d worked constantly to keep at bay wash over him. The hurt of Emma’s rejection had finally become too much and he’d stupidly been swept away by Hannah’s flattery, by the little-girl-lost persona, and one thing had led to another.
The guy playing Lennie stepped forwards. ‘Excuse me, madam, I think you should leave. You’re ruining the performance for everyone else.’ Nate stared at him, knowing it should be him saying something. Every moment he kept his mouth closed he looked even more of an idiot. The audience – his audience – were agog.
Hannah folded her arms over her chest in a defiant stance, making sure her enormous boobs rested on top. ‘Do you know what this scumbag did?’ she asked, gazing around, playing to the crowd. Some people turned away, embarrassed, while others began filming on their phones. God, this would be all over the internet within ten minutes. His career was over. That was it. It was all going to fall into the toilet. The media wouldn’t be kind. It would be a highly publicised betrayal of his childhood sweetheart for a fame-grabbing model. They’d never know or understand the reality. He wasn’t an arsehole. Just an idiot. Robin would probably drop him. He wasn’t big enough news to weather a storm like this. And Emma would hate him even more. Hannah gleefully continued. ‘He told me he loved me. He told me he was going to leave his wife and—’
What? No! Jesus Christ on a bike. Had he been so drunk he’d said that? He had no recollection of it, and it didn’t sound like him, but the night had passed in a blur. Nate couldn’t even remember if the sex had been any good he’d been that drunk. Shit. This was all going wrong. So, so wrong. Why was she here now?
‘—and now …’ Hannah turned towards him and smiled. ‘Now, he’s trying to pay me off to save his reputation. Well, his agent is. Nathaniel hasn’t come near me since the night we spent together having sex! Lots and lots of sex. Which was crap by the way! But he’s too much of a coward to even face me himself, aren’t you, Nathaniel Hardy? Have you told your wife about us yet?’ Her head stopped wiggling and she glared triumphantly.
No, no, no, no, no, thought Nate. This wasn’t right. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, still being technically married, and he’d regretted it straight away, but did he really deserve all this? He couldn’t – wouldn’t – have said he loved her. Nate had only ever said that to Emma. And he was sure he wouldn’t have promised more than a single night of no-strings sex. She wasn’t his type. He’d never before been the sort to just jump into bed with someone. It was always the emotional connection he wanted. The curtain began to close, protecting him from the audience and Hannah.
‘Nate,’ whispered Lennie now they were shielded. ‘What the fuckery is going on? That silly tart’s ruining the bloody show.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, his brain slow and sluggish. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she was here. I thought it was all dealt with. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry …’ Nate’s legs wobbled beneath him and he collapsed onto one of the hay bales used to set the stage. In the play he was on a farm in California. He’d been there recently. LA, to be exact. For a small film role. He wished he was there now, or anywhere else for that matter. The erratic breathing returned, not helping his light-headedness at all. The lights seemed to be moving and Nate held his head in his hands trying to stop the flashes drifting across his eyes.
One