‘It’s lovely, probably the best village in the area,’ Nick said. ‘Have you thought about living here? Be nice for your gran to have you around.’
Lily gave a little laugh. ‘I don’t think I could have a career and live here – bit hard to commute after the shows.’
They drove past the shop, run by Mrs Douglas, from which Gran had her small selection of groceries delivered every week, and the post office, run by Jean Harris, which was only open Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. The Crumpetty Tree pub was open but it looked close to empty as they passed it by. Everything was on half time in Appleton Green, she thought as they drove.
As a child she had dreamed of living in the cottage when she was an adult. There was a safety and security there that was unlike anything she had at home. Not that her childhood was terrible; it was simply lonely, even though being an only child she did lots of activities and she had school. But when she was at Pippin Cottage, she never felt lonely. Gran was her best friend. She had Gran and the villagers who all knew her name, though many of them had gone now; she had the owl who called at night; she had the stream she walked along and sang beside; she had the little garden and a sense of peace she had never really known anywhere else.
If she could live in the cottage and then go to the West End every day she would be as happy as a lamb, but that wasn’t possible.
Her phone pinged in her bag and she took it out.
A text from Nigel.
What’s happening? Voice better? Run has been extended. Won’t be back for an extra eight weeks.
She texted back.
No voice yet. Am going to try and sing tonight at the am dram audition. Don’t ask. It’s an experiment. I might stay with Gran for the summer. She’s frail.
Nigel sent back a sad face and some hearts and she slipped the phone back into her bag.
‘That’s my housemate. He’s on tour withThe Wizard of Oz. He’s a swing and in the chorus,’ she said proudly.
‘That’s great,’ said Nick. ‘Did you two do a show together?’ he asked.
‘No, we met at university. He’s an incredible dancer. He does the big dance sort of shows, whereas I try and do the acting with singing shows or light opera,’ she said.
Nick turned the corner in the car. ‘LikeThe Secret GardenorLight in the Piazza?’
Lily half turned towards him in the car. ‘How do you know those shows?’ she asked. ‘Knowing that is more than just liking a bit ofHamilton. That’s, like, serious knowledge.’
Nick laughed. ‘My secret is out. I’m a massive musical theatre nerd. I try and go to shows as often as I can and have a large collection of soundtracks. I’m a bit of an MT tragic actually,’ he said. ‘Which is funny, because people make assumptions about men who like musical theatre but I’m just a straight guy who loves a great sing in the car and on an amateur stage.’
Lily remembered her own thoughts and felt a little embarrassed about them.
‘And you said your ex-girlfriend was also into musical theatre?’
‘Oh yes, very much,’ Nick said as he parked out the front of the village hall. ‘She’s a great singer, beautiful soprano.’
Lily wasn’t sure why that jarred with her but it did, and her competitive streak came forth.
‘Oh that’s nice,’ she said and wondered what Nick would think of her voice.
‘What’s her name?’ she asked as she got out of the car.
‘Jessica,’ he said as he closed the car door and they walked up to the hall. ‘But she’s in London, so I think Eliza will be all yours if you want it.’
‘I’m just practising; I’m not staying,’ she said. ‘It’s just for a test,’ she said again but she wondered if she was trying to convince herself. A summer with Nick, singing and staying at the cottage with Gran, could be just the distraction she needed. Or was she simply wasting hers and the societies’ time?
9
Nerves flooded Lily’s body and she wondered if she could escape. What was she doing here? This was so stupid. She had long passed by amateur theatre and her voice wasn’t working anyway.
Nick opened the door and she heard a piano playing, and talking and laughing as she stepped inside. Lily hesitated for a moment at the doorway while Nick kept the door open. Her heart hammered in her chest.
There was that lovely energy she remembered about being in a show in the room. It didn’t matter that it was an amateur show, everyone was there for the same goal: to be a part of something. Along with the happy gathering of people and music, the warm glow of light spilt out into the street. Breathing deeply, she steadied herself and entered.
Unlike the calm lanes of Appleton Green that led them to the village hall, inside was a hive of activity. Coffee and tea were set up and some cake and biscuits were on a trestle table to the side, all beautifully laid out on a pretty blue tablecloth. Lily could smell the cinnamon cake, along with the subtle mustiness that seemed natural in all community facilities. To her left, a makeshift café with mismatched seats surrounding unsteady trestle tables had been set up. Sitting around hot cups of tea and coffee, a small group of people chattered, their eyes curious at this interloper to their auditions. She smiled at a few and they thankfully smiled back at her.
