She thought miserably how hindsight was a wonderful thing. It was not like she had any amazing friends she could call on in London who would help her out or just be a shoulder to cry on. All her friends were his friends, and as he was an influential producer, nobody was going to side with her even though it was he who was in the wrong.
‘Are you going to catch up with him, now you’re back?’
Bridie had just been stepping out of the door, her eyes drawn to the unfinished granny annexe, when she did an about-turn, surprised by the question. ‘Who do you mean?’
‘Why, Oliver – of course. Who did you think we were talking about?’
For some reason, Jack came to mind. She knew why. It was her own fault for reading those teenage diaries, taking her back to a happier, more innocent time, when she’d had the whole world at her feet and was in love.
‘What is it, darling?’ her mum asked. ‘Don’t you want to see Oliver?’
Maybe now, after all that had happened with Julian, she didn’t want to be reminded of the past. She had enough of that just by being home with her parents. If only the granny annexe had been finished. She would have moved in there like a shot. It wasn’t just her childhood home, but her childhood bedroom that wasn’t helping one bit.
She wanted to move out. But where? She immediately thought of her grandad, but returning to London and being reminded of her old life at every turn wouldn’t do her any good either – she was convinced of it.
‘Oliver always asks after you when we bump into him shopping.’
They’d told her on numerous occasions that he’d often said to tell her that if she was ever in town, he’d love to meet for catch-up.
She hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to stay in touch and meet up with him on her rare visits from London. Now she needed a friend – they’d been best friends once – but she imagined he wouldn’t be interested in resuming their friendship. Perhaps that was for the best.
She had a real reason to avoid him now, too; she’d be too embarrassed to tell him what had happened and that she was back living with her parents for now. Her face coloured at the thought that he probably knew already – her embarrassing outburst would be on social media. In fact, she could just imagine that everywhere she went, people would be looking at her, pointing her out and whispering to whomever they were with that she was the stage actress who had lost it and had a fight in the middle of a production.
Bridie had a sudden thought. ‘I’ve forgotten something.’ She barged past her parents, ran up to her room, rifled through her wardrobe, which still contained lots of her old clothes – her parents hadn’t thrown out a single thing – and found what she was looking for.
‘That’s a good idea, Bridie,’ said her dad. ‘It is chilly out. You know, they’re predicting snow flurries.’
Bridie nodded and pulled the large, knitted hat in the shape of a peaked cap further down her head. It wasn’t the weather that had persuaded her to wear it, but the thought of going incognito. Who would recognise her in her big, old bobble hat? She wrapped an equally large scarf around her neck.
Chapter 10
The sea mist hung low as Bridie walked along the promenade, gulls crying overhead. Waves broke against the sea wall with rhythmic indifference. Every landmark carried a memory: the beach hut in Aldeburgh where she’d first kissed Jack – they hadn’t known who it belonged to but had discovered someone had failed to lock the padlock.
The two teenagers had taken refuge inside from a sudden downpour as they’d walked hand in hand along the promenade during what had started as a lovely Sunday in spring time. She remembered the month – it was Easter, and an April shower. Drenched, they’d tried each beach hut, not expecting to find one open. She hadn’t been there for years. When she occasionally visited her parents, she didn’t tend to venture to the coast, although it wasn’t far. That had partly been Julian’s fault. He didn’t like the coast, especially the east coast with its biting easterly wind.
That wasn’t fair. It was true there was an easterly wind, but it wasn’t always harsh or ‘biting’ as he called it. In hindsight, she realised it had just been an excuse not to prolong their trips down to see her parents by visiting the nearby towns.
She’d always vowed that the next time, she’d visit her parents on her own. She sighed as she stared out to sea, berating herself as she thought,you shouldbe very careful what you wish for. She was also thinking how you never knew what life was about to throw at you. It had taken a break-up to bring her back to her favourite town on the Suffolk Coast with its shingle beach, fishing boats, little huts on the beach selling the fresh catch of the day, and the lovely old three- and four-storey townhouses, painted in different pastel colours, fronting the cosy promenade.
Bridie continued walking until she neared her favourite building of all. She was disappointed to find that it was still closed but was not really surprised. The Little Theatre by the Sea. She stared at the small venue. There was one stage inside.
She wondered what condition the interior was in. If the outside was anything to go by, with its peeling paint and rotting windows, there was no hope of it reopening as a theatre any time soon. It made her wonder if there would even be a demand for a theatre there. She supposed the fact that nobody had stepped inside to revive it for so many years answered her question.
She recalled going exploring with Jack and Oliver one Saturday night for want of anything better to do. They’d discovered a stage door at the back with a broken lock and had ventured inside.
She had the impulse now to walk down the little alleyway between the cottage next door and the theatre and see if that door was still unlocked. Of course, she did no such thing. She was an adult now, not some teenager mucking around.
The memory of her outburst on the stage made the colour rise to her cheeks. That wasn’t the behaviour of an adult. Still, she wasn’t going to make things worse for herself by getting caught breaking and entering, or, if the door was unlocked, trespassing. She could just see something bad happening. She pictured herself falling over something and having an accident in there.
That hadn’t happened when she’d ventured inside with Jack and Oliver. But something else had. She recalled standing on that stage, the floor covered in dust, the curtains full of cobwebs. Despite those things, she’d known for the first time in her life that it was where she belonged – in the theatre, and if she had any talent, on the stage. It was where her second love affair begun, the one that had ultimately ended her first – with Jack – when she’d left for London at eighteen.
She stayed standing outside the theatre, wondering where her life would be now if, back then, Jack hadn’t watched videos about urban exploring and come up with the stupid idea to explore the old, closed-up theatre. Perhaps she would never have joined the drama club. Perhaps she would never have gone to live with her grandad in London, breaking up with Jack in the process. Maybe she’d have stayed in Suffolk, married Jack, and bought a little cottage with a garden just like her parents.
But she hadn’t wanted that life. Not back then.
She hadn’t seen Jack for years, and the odd time she had bumped into Oliver when she’d visited her parents, he had been reluctant to bring up the subject of Jack. But then, so had she.
She shook her head. She remembered joining the theatre club at school, the same high school her niece now attended, but apart from the small school hall there had been nowhere to stage plays. And then miraculously The Little Theatre by the Sea had reopened. She didn’t remember who had come to its rescue. She didn’t think anybody really knew. But its reopening had been short-lived.
