you make full use of the notes section at the back of your script.’ He smiled at Daniel. ‘As you were.’
Daniel obliged. ‘“You have her father’s love, Demetrius – let me have Hermia’s.”’
Jonathan lifted his hand. ‘Wonderful diction, Daniel.’
Daniel gave a theatrical bow. ‘Why thank you, kind sir.’ He glanced at Nate. ‘One tries.’
Nate mumbled, ‘Knob,’ under his breath.
Daniel approached Lauren. ‘“My love is more than his.”’ He pointed to Nate. ‘“My fortunes every way as fairly ranked. I am beloved of beauteous Hermia.”’ He sneered at Nate, who was now looking really pissed off. ‘“Why is your cheek so pale, my love? How chance the roses there do fade so fast?”’ Taking Lauren’s hand, he kissed her on the cheek. ‘“The course of true love never did run smooth.”’
His dramatic delivery was met with a round of applause, accompanied by the sound of a phone buzzing.
Nate turned to Barney and mouthed, ‘Smug git.’
Barney’s laughter faded when he realised that Paul was looking sheepish. ‘Sorry, I thought it was my phone vibrating, and I answered it.’ As if passing over an explosive device, he handed Barney his mobile. ‘It’s your mum.’
Bollocks.
As he took the phone and headed outside to face the music, Barney heard Lauren deliver her next line. ‘“By all the vows that ever men have broke …”’
Oh, the irony … as Paul would say.
Tuesday, 24 May
Lauren Saunders nudged the wok further onto the gas stove before it toppled off and sent fajita mix flying across the kitchen. The fat hissed, spitting oil over the bank statement she’d received that morning. Perhaps trying to sort out her finances whilst cooking wasn’t the most sensible idea, but when else was she supposed to do it? What with school runs, rehearsals, and her shifts at Piskies café, it didn’t leave much time for anything else.
There was a loud crash from the lounge. Keeping one eye on the spitting wok, she turned to see what mischief her children were up to. Living in such cramped conditions was an annoyance, but the open-plan living area at least allowed her to supervise while cooking.
Freddie was crouched behind an upturned dining chair ready to ambush his unsuspecting sister. Both children were wearing the ninja outfits Sylvia Johns had bought them for their birthday last month: black jumpsuits trimmed with red piping, and a large belt, complete with silver buckle and plastic sword.
‘Mind what you’re doing with that thing,’ Lauren warned Freddie, even though her son probably couldn’t hear above the blaring TV. The flimsy weapon might bend on impact, but it could still take an eye out.
Her daughter was crawling along the floor like an SAS operative, outwitting her brother, whose focus remained fixed on the bedroom door. When his twin prodded him in the back with her sword, Freddie let out a cry of indignation, and gave chase.
Lauren turned back to the stove. She didn’t mind the mayhem. In fact, she loved it. As a kid, she’d constantly been told to calm down and be quiet. She didn’t begrudge her parents preferring a peaceful house, but the experience had shaped her views on child-rearing. Rightly or wrongly, her kids were encouraged to be noisy and playful.
Lauren placed the tortillas in the ancient microwave. She noticed a splodge of oil had stained the bottom of the bank statement. That was one way to deal with a minus balance – obscure it from view so she couldn’t be reminded that it was another week before payday.
Wafting away the steam rising from the wok, she opened the window above the sink, thumping the frame with her palm to get it to shift. Like everything else in the local-authority flat, the windows were in desperate need of replacing.
On the street below, she spotted a post-office van pull up outside the Co-op. She found herself hesitating in case Nate Jones appeared, allowing herself a moment’s wishful thinking. She’d met the local postie soon after moving to Penmullion seven years ago. He’d proved to be a good friend, who frequently looked after the kids for her. They’d regularly hung out when performing in plays together or drinking at Smugglers Inn, but when it became clear he wanted more than she could offer, she backed off. It wasn’t as though she could allow anything to happen between them, so why torture herself fantasising? Life might be challenging as a single parent, but adding another adult into the equation would only upset the balance and confuse the children. So, until they were older, relationships were off the table … no matter how tempted she might be.
Moving to Cornwall had been the right decision. The kids loved living by the seaside, and so did she. The local school wasn’t overpopulated, and the teachers often took the children outside for lessons. It was a wonderful education for them. The town of Penmullion was quaint and full of history. There was a relaxed sense of well-being about the place, as well as a tight community spirit. They enjoyed early-morning walks along the beach, picnics in the summer, and fresh air all year around. It made an ideal setting to raise a family.
Removing the guacamole and salsa from the fridge, she sniffed the contents. Both were past their sell-by date, and consequently half price, but there were no signs of mould, so hopefully they were safe to consume.
Moving down from London had been good for her too. She’d made friends, joined a drama group, and enjoyed lots of free time with her kids. Penmullion was beautiful, and her dad was on hand to help, so there were lots of positives. There were a few negatives too. Lack of money being one of them.
She hid the bank statement on top of the fridge. Out of sight, out of mind … Who was she trying to kid?
With no professional skills, and a lack of available jobs in Cornwall, money was tight. She loved working at the beach café, but the hours were part-time and the salary was minimum wage. She received a top-up of welfare benefits, but it didn’t cover all her rent and household expenses. As a result, over the last year, she’d managed to run up a debt. She was sticking to the repayments, but it was hard going. She didn’t mind denying herself stuff, but she hated the thought of Freddie and Florence going without.
Returning to the wok, she gave it a shake, smiling as the kids practised their kung-fu kicks. The sight of them, collapsed in a fit of giggles, rolling around the floor, made every sacrifice worthwhile. They were happy, and they were loved, that was all that mattered.
But it still pained her that she couldn’t afford to buy them the new bicycles they so desperately wanted. Maybe one day. But not yet, and certainly not until she’d repaid Glenda Graham the five hundred quid she owed her.
She’d borrowed the money late last year to buy Freddie and Florence their Christmas presents, pay the winter gas bill, and clear the balance on this year’s school trip to the Isle of Wight. As per the loan agreement, she’d been dutifully paying Glenda back twenty-five pounds per week. With only a couple more weeks to go, she’d soon be debt-free. Maybe then she could save up for the bikes. In the meantime, it was discounted food, home haircuts, and a pay-as-you-go mobile … which at that moment started to ring.
Lauren couldn’t have been more
