The Little Theatre on the Seafront: The perfect uplifting and heartwarming read

‘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 down. ‘Morning, everyone,’ called David. ‘I found this young man outside. Does he belong to you, Lottie?’

A young man with dyed black hair gelled forward over his face and a piercing through his bottom lip shuffled in. He gave Lottie a quick smile then kept his eyes on the floor.

Lottie took a few steps towards him. ‘Hi, you must be Conner. Thank you so much for coming.’

‘S’alright,’ he replied, removing his laptop and a small portable amp from his backpack. ‘Shall I set up over there?’

‘Yes please,’ said Lottie. ‘There must be a power point somewhere.’

‘I can find one.’ Conner wandered off with his laptop under his arm.

‘I’m just getting coffees,’ said Sid to David. ‘One for you?’

‘Oh, yes please. That’ll go down a treat.’ He smoothed down his thinning hair.

Sid looked over to Conner. ‘How about you, Conner? Do you want anything, mate?’

Conner looked up from under his long fringe. He seemed surprised at being included. Lottie wondered how he could ever see where he was going with his fringe all over his face then chastised herself for sounding like her nan again. She was getting old. ‘Umm, can I have a Coke, please? I can give you the money.’

‘That’s alright, mate. I can spare it. Be back soon.’

Lottie smiled at Sid. Conner was relaxing already and she was sure some of it was because of Sid. A hint of a smile had passed over Conner’s face when he talked to him. She turned her attention to David and the mayor. ‘I thought we should sit a couple of rows back from the front. We don’t want to end up with sore necks at the end of the day.’

‘Good idea,’ replied David. ‘Lead the way.’

Lottie indicated the third row back. ‘Here we are then. Sid will be back soon with the coffees. Conner, is there anything I can help with?’

He shook his head and Lottie noticed his fringe was gelled so firmly it didn’t move. ‘I’m pretty much done. I’ve found all the music on the list you gave me.’

‘Great, thanks.’

‘Who’s that boy?’ asked Mayor Cunningham.

‘He’s the first member of the Greenley Players,’ announced Lottie.

The mayor eyed her, his face growing redder. ‘You’ve appointed someone without speaking to anyone first?’

Lottie felt a shiver of nerves at his tone then pulled her shoulders back. ‘Yes. Yes, I did. He doesn’t need to audition as he wants to direct and do more on that side of things.’

‘But don’t you think you should have spoken to us all first?’

‘Well, no,’ said Lottie. ‘We’re going to need people on both sides of the stage, so to speak. So I didn’t see the point.’

‘Well I disagree,’ Mayor Cunningham replied huffily before plopping down on his seat. ‘It’s almost nine-fifteen. Your young man better hurry up.’

Lottie rolled her eyes and hoped he would keep his temper under control for the auditions. She had a feeling they’d need all the help they could get today.

Twenty minutes later Sid returned with a dozen bottles of water, plastic cups, a Coke and four coffees precariously balanced in a cardboard holder not quite up to the task. He handed out the drinks, placed the water and cups by the stage and took his place behind the mayor and David.

The first auditionee arrived looking terrified and Lottie went to meet them with a beaming smile. The young man with shoulder-length blond hair looked like a surfer, and climbed up onto the stage carrying a guitar case.

Lottie returned to her seat but couldn’t stop jiggling her legs.

He opened the case and readied himself to play. After clearing his throat, he began to sing. At least, that’s what he was supposed to be doing. Lottie’s face froze as he played the guitar badly and shouted out the lyrics to a song he’d clearly written himself about his dead dog. She waited for him to finish and cleared her throat. ‘Thank you, we’ll let you know.’

The mayor gave Lottie a smug smile. ‘Let’s hope the next one’s better,’ she said, giving a cheery one in return. But the rest of the auditions followed suit. The acting was on a par with the worst primary school nativity play and the singing would have made Simon Cowell’s eardrums run out of his head screaming and stab themselves on the first sharp object they could find. Someone even did some interpretive dance, though what they were interpreting, Lottie couldn’t quite figure out.

At about eleven o’clock and twenty people in, Deborah McCray arrived in a flamboyant red dress with a green scarf draped across her shoulders. Sid leaned in to Lottie and whispered, ‘Isn’t she the mad artist from Primrose Cottage? The one who paints those awful watercolours?’

Lottie gave a single nod, not wanting to draw Mrs McCray’s attention, and whispered, ‘Yeah. Do you remember that picture of someone’s kid in her gallery window? It was the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘It still haunts my dreams,’ Sid replied and they both chuckled as Lottie stood up to meet her.