phoned beeped, making Barney flinch.
It’d been over a year since he’d left Queen Mary’s Hospital and yet the sound of the dreaded doctor’s bleeper still brought him out in a cold sweat. It was every junior doctor’s nightmare. Day or night, whether you were sleeping, eating or on the loo, the damned thing would go off and panic would set in. You never knew what awaited you at the other end, and no matter how junior you were, you were expected to know the answer, incurring the wrath of the nurses if you didn’t. People often had a preconceived idea that being a doctor was somehow heroic. They wanted to hear stories about saving lives, but would they want the reality? The daily horrors, the tiredness, the uncertainty; being sworn at, spat on and shat on? Feeling so crushed by responsibility that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry? Probably not. Was it any wonder he was resisting a return?
‘I would be grateful if phones could be turned off,’ Jonathan said, looking around for the culprit. ‘Distractions are not welcome in the sanctuary of creative space.’ He gave a theatrical bow. ‘Much obliged.’
Barney switched his phone to silent, noticing another text from his mother. The frequency of ‘call me’ messages was increasing. The topic of conversation never varied. When was he coming home? When would he be resuming his medical training? If the questions never changed, neither would his answers.
Once all the mimes had been critiqued by the director, who’d frowned the whole way through Barney and Kayleigh’s very un-Shakespearean offering of a ‘pair of clowns camping’, he signalled for quiet. ‘Please join me now in a vocal warm-up.’ He puffed out his chest and walked around the room. ‘Breathe in for the count of four …’
There was something surreal about standing in a circle, breathing in unison. Tony looked relaxed, Nate looked focused, Paul’s efforts were half-hearted, and Daniel sounded like he was doing yoga, letting out a low hum with each breath – whilst Kayleigh sounded like she was having an orgasm, panting like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.
Jonathan stopped behind Glenda and placed his arms around her middle. ‘Feel your diaphragm expand … two … three … and contract … two … three …’
Glenda started giggling. ‘Jonathan, I didn’t know you had it in you. Naughty man.’ She wiggled her bottom and winked at Tony, who was standing opposite her in the circle. Her dirty laughter resulted in a disgruntled look from Sylvia, who pursed her coral-pink lips – the colour as stark as her salmon trousers.
If Glenda favoured the natural look, her neutral linen clothes creased and loose-fitting, Sylvia’s style could only be described as an homage to Dolly Parton.
‘What’s her problem?’ Glenda said, pretending she didn’t know that Sylvia had the hots for Tony. Tormenting Sylvia seemed to be one of Glenda’s favourite pastimes. She was a nice enough woman, who helped out in the community and undertook lollipop-lady duties at the primary school, but there was something hard about her too. Barney couldn’t put his finger on what, but he wouldn’t want to cross her, put it that way.
‘Excellent.’ Jonathan clapped his hands, encouraging everyone to breathe normally. ‘Now, I’d like everyone to sing the note of C.’
Before he could twang his tuning fork, Kayleigh, Glenda and Sylvia had let rip, their collective sound on a par with a cat Barney had once helped escape from a drain.
Thankfully, Kayleigh ran out of breath and the sound improved. As the seconds ticked by, it became clear that an unspoken competition was taking place between the two rival women. Each getting louder, trying to outdo the other, as their note reached its crescendo.
Sylvia’s face grew redder.
Glenda began to physically shake.
Freddie and Florence started laughing, which set Barney off. It was childish, but he couldn’t help it. He felt a momentary pang of remorse when Lauren told her kids off for being rude. But he felt better when he heard Paul snort and Tony start chortling.
Finally, Sylvia broke off, almost collapsing from a lack of oxygen. Glenda whooped and punched the air, only curtailing her celebrations when Jonathan glared at her. ‘If you two ladies have finished?’ He struck his tuning fork against the table.
As with the breathing exercise, some people found it embarrassing, some hard to pitch, others like Freddie and Florence sang out as though they didn’t have a care in the world, just as eight-year-olds should do. Florence began twirling on the spot. Freddie followed suit. Barney thought ‘what the heck’ and joined in, followed by Tony, and then a smiling Lauren. It wasn’t long before everyone was twirling, singing horribly off-key and letting go of their inhibitions. Even Paul looked better by the time Florence had made herself so dizzy she’d fallen over and everyone had run over to check she was okay. That was the thing about community. Everyone cared.
Barney glanced at Glenda. Or if they didn’t, they at least pretended to.
Jonathan gave up on the warm-up. ‘My ears can stand no more.’ He minced over to the front of the stage. ‘Let us begin reading through the script. But first, I would like to share with you my vision for the show.’
Barney sat down next to Paul, who was busy checking his phone. ‘Everything okay, mate? You seem distracted?’
Paul switched his phone to silent. ‘My brother’s getting married.’
As Jonathan spouted on about ‘blue-filtered lighting for the forest scenes’, Barney lowered his voice. ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I thought you got on well with Will?’
Paul shrugged. ‘I do, of sorts.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’ Barney ignored Jonathan’s complicated explanation of swivelling set changes.
Paul chewed on his lower lip. ‘Dusty’s not invited.’ He waited until the director had moved on to the topic of rehearsal schedules. ‘Apparently, his fiancée is unwilling to have a drag queen ruin her special day. If I don’t agree, then I’m not invited to the wedding either.’
Barney frowned. ‘That’s a bit harsh. When’s the wedding?’
‘September.’
‘Then you have four months to make them see sense. No way should you miss your brother’s wedding over something so narrow-minded.’
‘Have you finished, gentlemen?’ Barney realised that Jonathan was looking at them. ‘I hate to interrupt such an in-depth conversation, but I am trying to direct a masterpiece here.’
Barney squirmed. ‘Sorry.’
Jonathan nodded curtly, rubbing a smudge away from his glasses. ‘Now, let us start with our lovers plotting to run away together. It will give everyone an opportunity to see how Shakespeare should be done.’ He gestured to where Daniel was sitting. ‘If you would oblige?’
Never one to turn down a chance to show off, Daniel sprung from his seat, followed by a reluctant-looking Nate, who was also in the scene in his role as Demetrius.
Ignoring Daniel’s yoga hums, and attempting to ‘focus’, Nate addressed Lauren. ‘“Relent, sweet Hermia; and, Lysander, yield thy crazed title to my certain right.”’ Nate turned to look at the director. ‘I have no idea what any of this bollocks means.’
Daniel smirked.
