Miss Wrong and Mr Right

  ‘Tall americano, right?’ said the barista.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, and scuttled off to find a table. I was so annoyed. Why did Jamie have to introduce me to the coffee guy, and tell him about our past? We say hello and he knows my order, I even tip, and that’s enough for me. I grabbed a table at the back, facing a side street through the window. Jamie came over a few moments later with our coffees.

  ‘Are you going to blurt that out to everyone?’ I asked.

  ‘You left me at the altar Nat, do you know what that does to a guy?’ he said.

  ‘For what it’s worth… I’m sorry…’ I said.

  ‘Thank you. Although, you’re only saying sorry because you’ve bumped into me.’

  ‘Have I just bumped into you?’ I asked.

  ‘Of all the theatres in all the cities in all the world…You choose to walk into mine,’ he said, doing a terrible Humphrey Bogart impression. Despite myself I laughed.

  ‘I thought you were happy living in Canada?’ I asked.

  ‘I was, but I’ve been back a few times, and now I’m back for good, so you can stop avoiding me.’

  ‘I have never avoided you. Sharon invited you to her wedding, but you never came.’

  ‘You were invited to mum and dad’s fiftieth birthday… My nan’s eightieth… You were invited to them all!’

  ‘I was busy…’ This wasn’t true. I had chickened out of seeing him on all three occasions. The latter made me feel very guilty. I had always loved Jamie’s nan. ‘Okay Jamie. Cards on the table, I’m really sorry. I should never have let things go so far and then have done what I did… But I was right back then, wasn’t I? Would either of us be doing what we do now if… if we’d got married?’ I paused and took a sip of coffee. Jamie smiled.

  ‘I accept your apology Nat… It’s just, I never quite got over it and the past fifteen years have been tough,’ he said.

  ‘They have?’

  Jamie nodded and took a sip of coffee.

  ‘That day, when I left you, I went straight to the pub on the green and started to drink… I didn’t stop for days. I carried on and then got into drugs. Marijuana, crack, smack…’

  I put my hand to my mouth in horror. ‘Really? Crack and smack?’ I asked. He nodded.

  ‘After that I spiralled out of control. I missed my rent, and ended up homeless on the streets…’ He looked around and lowered his voice. ‘I even ended up giving blow jobs on the street, for cash.’

  ‘What?’ I whispered wide-eyed.

  ‘Which is tough in Devon, ‘cos it’s all country lanes…’ he said.

  ‘Hang on. I heard you lived with your mum and dad… They wouldn’t have let you…’

  Jamie dissolved into fits of laughter.

  ‘Your face Nat… was a picture!’

  ‘What? It’s not true?’ I said, blushing.

  ‘Course it’s not true!’ he guffawed. ‘I moved to Canada, got into theatre production, and started up my own company. A few months ago I sold it for a fortune. Cher-ching!’

  I stared at him with my mouth still wide open. I went to protest, but heads were turning in Grande, as the big glass door was pushed open by Tuppence Halfpenny.

  Despite the balmy weather, she was dressed in a floor-length fur coat of soft pink. Her caramel-coloured hair tumbled down her back and she was immaculately made up, with huge lashes and her glossy lips slightly parted.

  ‘Hello,’ she said icily looking between me and Jamie. She placed a small square Louis Vuitton case on the table.

  ‘Hey sexy,’ he said leaping up. She raised her palm in front of his face.

  ‘No Jamie, I’m camera-ready. I can’t be smudged.’

  ‘Are you going to be on camera?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a figure of speech. Shouldn’t you know that, working in the theatre?’ she said.

  ‘I do know that, but seeing as you don’t have a theatre yet, I presumed otherwise,’ I said, bristling.

  ‘You see, she doesn’t know today is our launch!’ said Tuppence.

  ‘I told you it’s…’ started Jamie, but Tuppence cut him off.

  ‘The ex-fiancée, who probably stalks you on social media, doesn’t know about our launch! What hope do the ticket-buying public have?’

  ‘Tuppence, I told you. It’s a soft launch,’ said Jamie looking between us.

  ‘Any softer Jamie, and it’ll be through the eye of a bloody needle!’ snapped Tuppence. ‘I hope this flash mob thing doesn’t leave us with egg on our faces. If there are less than a thousand I am NOT going up on that…’

  Jamie stood up and went to put a hand to her mouth.

  ‘It’s all in hand sexy girl… You just worry about looking gorgeous and I’ll…’

  She pushed him away again.

  ‘I mean it Jamie. It has to be perfect. I’m taking a chance on you…’

  She eyeballed him for a moment, then threw her shoulders back. Her coat fell open to reveal a show-stopping showgirl outfit of black corset, stockings and suspenders. Again I marvelled at her figure, how did she manage to pull in her corset so tight? Did she eat? Jamie slid his hand inside the coat and round her tiny waist.

  ‘You are going to be the biggest thing in the West End,’ he said puckering up and leaning in. Tuppence eyed me, sitting awkwardly in my jeans and blouse and grinned. Despite her perfect shaped mouth and straight teeth, it was a hungry grin. I wondered if she ate bog roll.

  ‘Bigger than Macbeth?’ she said spitting the words out cattily. Jamie laughed.

  ‘God, that puts me between a rock and a hard place,’ he said looking at both of us.

  ‘Tell her what she wants to hear, Jamie,’ I said. ‘Or you’ll be left to deal with your own hard place…’

  Tuppence narrowed her eyes at me.

  ‘I’m going to go Jamie,’ she said. She pulled a business card out of her coat and slid it across the table.

  ‘I have a friend who is great with waxing,’ she said tapping it with a manicured finger, and with a swish of her coat strode off to the door. Jamie followed, opening it for her and she allowed him a light kiss. He came back to the table.

  ‘Wow, she’s got being a bitch down to a tee,’ I said, still reeling. We watched as Tuppence stalked past the picture window.

  ‘Sorry about that, you know how it is, managing the talent,’ he said.

  ‘I think the talent is managing you,’ I said. ‘You two are an item?’

  ‘Yeah, I went to one of her shows, and…’

  ‘Spare me the details,’ I said.

  ‘What about you? How’s Benjamin?’

  ‘How do you know about Benjamin?’ I asked sharply.

  ‘It’s on Facebook Nat, your relationship status… By the way I friended you a few days back.’

  ‘Thanks, I haven’t been online for a while.’

  I realised I had to make myself single on my Facebook page.

  ‘So what does Benjamin do?’ asked Jamie.

  ‘He’s a yoga teacher. Runs his own yoga studio.’

  ‘So how did you meet?’

  ‘I went to one of his classes and…’

  ‘Spare me the details…’ shrieked Jamie mimicking my voice. Despite myself I laughed. We regarded each other for a minute.

  ‘Well, I should go, I’ve got a huge poster to deal with,’ I said, getting up.

  ‘Yes, I should too,’ he said. He held the door open for me and we walked slowly over to our theatres.

  ‘She’s different at home, Tuppence,’ said Jamie. ‘Under all that make-up she’s…’

  ‘A Rottweiler?’ I finished.

  ‘Very funny Nat. You wait till I meet this Benjamin…’ it hung in the air for a moment. I had a million questions: did they live together? Was it serious? Had Tuppence met his mum?

  We reached the tarpaulin still covering The Big O. A blond-haired guy with glasses perched on his thin ratty face emerged through the gap, and closed the plastic carefully after himself. He looked me up and down, then turned to Jamie.

  ?
??Tuppence is in her dressing room, and…’ he saw me listening.

  ‘Sorry Natalie, this is Brendan my PR manager,’ said Jamie. I held out my hand, and he took it gingerly.

  ‘Hi I’m Natalie Love, I manage the Raven Street Theatre,’ I said. Brendan dropped my hand mid-shake.

  ‘I don’t fraternise with the competition,’ he said cattily and walked away to talk to a group of builders parked by the kerb. It was breathtakingly rude.

  ‘Nice team you’ve got Jamie,’ I said.

  ‘Everyone is just worried,’ he said looking embarrassed. I’d had enough.

  ‘Grow a pair Jamie, or they’ll leave you…’ I closed my mouth.

  ‘Like you left me?’

  He stared at me for a moment and then went inside the huge blue tarpaulin. I stood for a moment in the sunshine.

  ‘Alright love,’ said a scratchy smoker’s voice. I turned and Eva Castle, a journalist from the Evening Standard, was standing beside me looking up at the giant image of Ryan. His head was just being uncurled and stuck in place.

  ‘Hi Eva,’ I said. She leant in for an air kiss. She was dressed in a crumpled beige trouser suit and had a pair of glasses, two mobile phones, and three e-cigarettes on lanyards around her neck. She pushed her hand through her short dark bob and squinted.

  ‘Is he ready for the interview? Cos I’ve got other appointments.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ll take you up to meet Ryan.’

  The Big O

  Ryan’s interview seemed to go well. Nicky and I sat in on it, as he chatted to Eva in our conference room. She was bullish, and in the mood to provoke, with questions like:

  Shakespeare is an ambitious leap for the star of a teen drama, do you think you’re up to it?

  and

  Do you think you’d be as successful if you weren’t so attractive?

  Ryan was a pro, batting her hostility to one side and managing to keep a professional level of cheer. When the interview was over he thanked her warmly and Byron escorted him back down to rehearsals. We walked Eva to the main entrance.

  ‘I think Ryan really enjoyed it,’ said Nicky pressing the button for the lift.

  ‘He’s very short,’ said Eva sounding unimpressed and tucking her notepad back in her bag.

  ‘He’s eighty feet tall on the front of the building,’ I said. She gave a half laugh and puffed at one of her e-cigarettes.

  ‘I’ll make something out of it,’ she said. ‘He came across as too polished, too cautious… That’s why I love interviewing people like Lily Allen or Noel Gallagher. You only have to bait them a little and they go off on one, slagging someone off. The story writes itself.’

  ‘So what do you think about us having tonight’s front page on the Standard? Online and print?’ asked Nicky.

  ‘There’s no absolute guarantee darling,’ said Eva taking another puff. ‘If the dear old Queen pops her clogs, or someone declares war we’ll have to clear the front page.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Nicky.

  ‘We’ve sold out all the tickets for the run, but we’d like to use this as an opportunity to increase our social media audience,’ I said. ‘You’ve got our Instagram and Facebook links?’

  ‘Insta-arsing-gram, Face-bloody-book, ugh,’ said Eva rummaging in her bag. She popped her glasses on her nose and read out the address for our Facebook page, and the handle for the new Instagram account.

  ‘Like it or not we need social media,’ I said. We all got in the lift and it began to descend.

  ‘I meant to ask. Off the record, of course. Is Ryan Harrison a poofter?’ said Eva.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said.

  ‘He’s not,’ said Nicky firmly.

  ‘I’ve heard he is,’ said Eva. ‘Apparently he’s had a thing going with one of the other actors on Manhattan Beach. They’ve even bought dogs.’

  ‘Dogs?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Eva. ‘Bella and Edward - named after the Twilight idiots. Now that would be a story.’

  ‘My friend Sharon mentioned the dogs earlier,’ I said.

  ‘I can confirm he’s not gay,’ said Nicky shooting me a look.

  ‘Easy love, I’m not gonna write about it. Can’t. The press commission makes it tricky for us to out people. Bloody European Court of Human Rights,’ said Eva.

  The lift came to a stop and we got out.

  ‘What do you know about The Big O?’ I asked as we reached the main entrance.

  ‘I haven’t had one of them for years,’ she quipped. We went outside where a grey-haired photographer was waiting. He had a camera slung around his neck, and he was fiddling with his balls.

  ‘Leave them alone, for fuck’s sake Larry,’ said Eva.

  ‘Is this it?’ muttered Larry staring up. The giant, smouldering image of Ryan Harrison towered above the street. He stood against a backdrop of dark mountains, storm clouds hanging ominously above. His hair was sexily tousled, his bare torso was artfully oiled and covered in mud. He had on a kilt, sporran and black boots. He stared into the camera with a crackling intensity in his piercing green eyes. Above his head was written ‘RYAN HARRISON IS MACBETH’.

  Larry started snapping away. Several people in the street had stopped and were staring, pulling out their mobile phones and taking pictures. It looked incredible.

  ‘Isn’t he a bit boy band to play Macbeth?’ asked Eva. Larry clicked away for another minute and then pronounced himself satisfied.

  ‘Boy band sells, honey,’ said Nicky.

  ‘Okay, that’s enough Larry. Keep your eyes peeled for the late edition,’ muttered Eva and she walked off up the road. Larry gave us a nod and made off in the other direction.

  ‘Are you okay Nat?’ said Nicky.

  ‘It does look great doesn’t it?’ I said.

  ‘It looks awesome. It’s going to be awesome,’ said Nicky and she gave me a hug. ‘She’s a hardened journalist Nat… and who cares what that old ball scratcher thinks!’

  Over Nicky’s shoulder I saw Eva in the distance. She had stopped, and then I saw Brendan standing waiting for her. They hugged like they were old friends and went into one of the restaurants, deep in conversation.

  ‘What do you know about Brendan O’Connor?’ I asked. Nicky pulled away.

  ‘Has Jamie hired Brendan O’Connor?’

  ‘Yes, why do you say his name like that?’

  Nicky furrowed her brow.

  ‘He gets results, but he’s a real snake, Nat… However, as I said, we’ve sold out our show. We’re different beasts, an established theatre and a pop-up venue… Don’t let it being run by your ex-fiancé distract you, or cloud your judgement.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ I said.

  ‘Now come on. We’ve got a meeting with the costume department about how short the guys’ kilts should be…’

  Ok, I vote we show lots of leg,’ I grinned.

  A little while later, Nicky and I were just finishing up in the costume department when Xander popped his head round the door.

  ‘You need to come and see this,’ he said. We went back out onto the street. The plastic had been removed from the Old Library opposite. It had been covered for so many years that I struggled to remember what the building was like before.

  The five-storey building in front of us was now completely covered by the most incredible frontage, a wall of video screens. The whole building had been turned into a giant video screen, with just a small gap left at the bottom for the huge double doors, upholstered in red velvet with THE BIG O inlaid in gold.

  The screens were blank, and then in the top corner, a pinprick appeared which grew into a full moon at night…Twinkling stars began to appear all across the building, clouds rushed across the moon and then a massive image of Tuppence Halfpenny came gliding across the building. She was sat on a swing, legs thrown out in front, wearing black knickers and suspenders. Her impossibly pert breasts were each covered with a little red heart. She threw her head back and laughed, glitter trailing in her wake.


  She froze for a second with her eyes half-closed, then the video ran backwards for a few seconds, and then the building became a multi-coloured test card. People in the street had stopped, a car honked to clear them out of the road.

  ‘Fuck-a-doodle-doo,’ said Nicky bathed in the coloured reflection from the video screen. Jamie emerged from the huge double doors. He came across the road to where we were standing.

  ‘What do you think ladies, and gent?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s remarkable,’ said Nicky.

  ‘Genius,’ said Xander.

  ‘I know, it’s a bit extravagant for a pop-up venue, but I’m banking on us being around for a while,’ said Jamie. ‘My mate from Canada owns a company who makes these huge video screen frontages…’

  ‘Well, I hope you’ve got your TV licence,’ I said. But the joke fell flat and made me sound bitter.

  Baps

  We went back up to the office. The only drawback of the huge Ryan Harrison poster was that all the windows in the building were now covered. I was dying to peer out and see what was going on in the street below, but all I could see was a dingy square of canvas covered with Ryan’s giant left eye. Over the next hour the street filled up with increasingly excited voices. Nicky went off to attend a telephone conference with Heat magazine about making Ryan ‘Torso of the Week’. As she left she turned to me.

  ‘Stop obsessing about The Big O…’

  ‘Said the actress to the bishop,’ I joked.

  ‘I’m serious, Nat. You need to move past this,’ she said leaving with a pointed look. However, it wasn’t Nicky’s ex- fiancé who had rocked up and opened a theatre over the road. I got up and paced round my office. Running the theatre is a constant source of stress and such hard work. Jamie’s theatre was at the very least another option for punters to not buy tickets for our productions.

  Xander knocked on the door.

  ‘Hi Natalie, I’m doing a late lunch run, do you want anything?’

  ‘I could murder pastrami and mustard on a rye bap,’ I said. ‘And get me one of their floury baps with cheese and Marmite for later on.’

  Xander added my order to his list then went off. I sat back in my chair. It now sounded like there were hundreds of people on the road below. Cursing the canvas blocking my window, I opened the fire door and climbed up onto the roof, making sure this time that I blocked the fire door open.