‘Where are you going?’ Olive pulled her cardigan sleeves over her hands.
‘The Hideout.’ Tamara shimmied, leaning in towards Oscar.
‘The Hideout?’ Oscar stepped back again. ‘Oh, well then, I’m definitely not going. That place is constantly crawlingwith paparazzi.’
‘I know. Why do you think we like it there?’ Jane added as she passed them.
‘I’m not really big on clubs.’ Olive’s palms started to clam up.
‘No, I didn’t think you would be,’ Tamara said with a glance down at her boots. ‘I don’t suppose much dancing gets done inthose.’ She laughed.
‘I dunno!’ said Oscar. ‘I reckon she’s got some secret moves.’ Hedid a ‘raising the roof’ gesture with his upturned palms.
‘Oh, they’re not secret. Pole dancing’s my thing, actually.’ Olive nodded.
‘Yeah?’ Oscar smirked.
‘Yup.’ Her expression only wavered a fraction as she bent down to collect her script. She brushed her hair back from her face to let Oscar catch a glimpse of her smirk.
‘Well, maybe weshouldgo tonight, then? Youcan show off your moves.’ He folded his arms.
‘And you can just… show off?’ she smiled, and Oscar gasped, holding a hand against his heart.
‘Ouch! Hurtful,hurtfulwords, Miss Green.’
‘So, youarecoming?’ Tamara asked, taking Oscar’s hand and clutching it between her perfectly manicured nails.
‘Is it happening?’ Oscar looked at Olive, raising his eyebrows.
‘Well…’
Oscar pouted at her.
‘Oh, all right. We’re in,’ Olive surrendered, and Oscar wrenched his hand free from Tamara’s talons and held it out to high five with Olive.
‘I just hope you’re ready for this.’ Olive bit her bottom lip mock-seductively, and started to body ripple over-enthusiastically.
‘There are those moves I was talking about!’ Oscar stuck out his bumand started to shake it, Beyoncé style, mimicking her face of concentration. Olive laughed but it died in her throat when she caught Tamara rolling her eyes over Oscar’s shoulder.
‘Enough of that, you two!’ Michael said, giving them the side eye but smiling all the same.
‘Is it true this theatre has a mouse problem?’ asked Jane, and although she had obviously changed the subject,Olive was grateful that the heat was off her.
‘All theatres have mice,’ Michael replied without looking up, flipping through his script to find the right page.
‘It’s the ghosts you’ve got to worry about,’ said Doug, wiggling his fingers around Jane’s head in an attempt to spook her, but she simply batted him away.
‘Ghosts?’ Oscar raised an eyebrow.
‘Nearly every theatrein the West End has a ghost,’ Olive said, dragging a chair into place as part of their makeshift rehearsal set.
‘Some have more than others,’ Howard added, hauling a table on its mark.
‘The older ones, for sure!’ Doug continued, sitting himself onto Howard’s table.
‘And this is just an accepted thing. That ghosts exist and the West End is infested with them?’
‘Absolutely.’
