We hope you will welcome our new family with open arms, as you always do. Attached is a cast list to help you get acquainted with them all. They start rehearsals in East London at the end of January and will be rehearsing in the theatre from February 12th, ready to open on April 1st.
Sad to say goodbye to such a successful run of Gone With The Wind but we’re all very excited here in the office about this new production and hope you are too.
Kind Regards,
Susie Quentin
Toastie Productions Ltd
He sits back in his chair, his breaths coming fast and quick. It’s only when his gaze settles on the pair of eyes looking out at him from the photo on his desk that he calms down.
‘Oh, darling. I wonder what you’ll make of this.’ He picks up the frame and looks at the glint of mischief in her eyes. ‘You’ve caused havoc for the shows you do like and pure hell for the ones you don’t. What will you do when you’re watching someone else play Eliza? Not to mention when they survive each performance?’ His desk lamp flickers. ‘Come now. You have to play nice. When The Curtain Falls is a good show. All casts are family but this one more so because this is your show. OK?’ His desk lamp flickers again. ‘Oh, sweetheart.’ He clicks on the attachment in the email and scrolls down to find the face of the actress who is destined to play Eliza.
‘Olive Green.’ The lamp turns off with a loud clunk. ‘I have a feeling you may be sorry you ever said yes.’
1
Enjoy
Where the lights were the dimmest and the carpets were the dampest. That’s usually where you would find Oscar Bright. He’d turn down the brightness setting on his phone and yet would still shield it with his hand just in case anyone might see his face as they passed the quick-change room in which he was hiding.
‘Well, this is… classy,’ Olive whispered with a smile as she slunk in through the doorway after glancing back, making sure no one had followed. She closed the door behind her.
‘Shhh…!’ said Oscar, rushing to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her as close to him as he could manage.
‘I’m being quiet!’ she laughed into his shoulder. ‘Is this really the best place we could have met?’ Her green eyes squinted at the peeling wallpaper and the props and odd bits of costume strewn across the chairs that lined the walls, bits of gaffer tape with names written on them stuck above them. Then she looked at him, taking him in properly even though she’d seen him the day before. His short black hair had clearly had nothing more than his fingers run through it that morning and the bags under his eyes were fuller than usual but even so, the blue of his irises shone down at her and his big toothy smile made her stomach lurch. As he sighed, happy to be close to her again, she caught the faint whiff of beer on his breath.
‘Were you out again last night?’ she asked, stroking his cheek.
He ignored her question and gestured around him. ‘This is best I could do at short notice.’ He shrugged, the movement bringing her closer to his face. ‘I wanted to see you before everyone else got here.’ He squeezed her tighter.
‘Before anyone was around to see us, more like,’ she sighed.
‘Hey, now. You know it’s not like that.’ Oscar rocked her from side to side.
‘Then why are we hiding? Why are we always finding the dingiest corners to be together in if it “isn’t like that”?’ Olive turned her face away but still stayed close to him. Oscar snaked his fingers under her blonde, sun-kissed hair and stroked the back of her neck with his thumb.
‘Okay, okay. It kind of is like that but you know it’s not because I’m hiding you. We’re hiding. Together.’
She raised her eyebrows, her lips pursed.
‘I know this isn’t ideal,’ he went on and kissed the top of her head. ‘But it’s all I can really give right now.’
‘I’m not asking for a grand announcement. I don’t want fancy hotels, flash cars and cocktails on tap, Oz. That’s not me, you know that. I’m just asking for…’ The word you got caught on her tongue and it melted before she could say it. ‘I’m just asking for a little more of your time. I’m asking not to be made to feel like you’re embarrassed of… whatever this is.’ She checked her phone. 8:55. ‘I’m asking to not have to meet you at the crack of dawn before rehearsals start and I’m asking if we can meet somewhere that doesn’t smell like dead mouse.’
Oscar pulled away and lifted her chin with a finger. ‘Is that what that is?’
‘Yes, Oz. That is the unmistakable smell of rotting rodent somewhere in the walls of this room.’ They both took a moment to take in the room and all its (former) glory. Although the door was closed and neither of them said it out loud, they shared the feeling that they weren’t entirely alone, but they both put it down to the adrenaline of hiding and the fear of being caught.
‘Wonderful. You don’t get many of them on set.’
‘The mice in the walls are harmless. It’s the rats in the cast you usually need to worry about.’ She pulled her face away from his touch and he noticed that the look in her eyes had grown a little colder, sadder.
‘Don’t do that.’ Oscar shook her lightly. He had seen her roll her eyes a thousand times. Heard her say things specifically designed to push him away. Watched her harden and put up walls within seconds. Whilst he knew it was all to protect herself, he already felt tired at having to fight against the barriers she built up between them.
‘What?’ she said, fiddling with the sleeve of his T-shirt, nibbling the inside of her lip.
‘Maybe we should just forget this.’ Oscar loosened his arms around her and stepped back, but Olive stepped forward, caught his hands and put them back on her waist. ‘Olive,’ he groaned. ‘I’m not what you need.’
‘Of course you’re not,’ she admitted. ‘But you are what I want. It just sometimes feels like… I’m not what you want.’ Although I’m probably what you need, she thought. ‘I never feel like I’m good enough.’
Olive had been warned about Oscar when she’d found out she would be working with him. He was new to the theatrical circles she’d been part of for most of her life, but he’d starred in one of the biggest soaps on television and while he wasn’t quite a household name, he was certainly becoming more recognisable. His picture had appeared in various magazines, a different girl on his arm in each of them. Apparently, he’d broken up with each and every single one of them in quick succession because, according to the magazines, he’d deemed them all ‘not good enough’ for him. The latest dumpee had been his on-screen girlfriend, an actress called Zadie Lanette, and now her side of the story was splashed across every tabloid that would pay her enough. As soon as Olive had met Oscar she knew she was in trouble. It wasn’t just his ridiculous good looks or his excessive charm. It was how much he made her laugh and how at ease she felt when she knew he was just in the wings.
‘What do you mean?’ Oscar asked.
Olive looked down at her baggy grey dress and the chunky black boots that she wore nearly every day, even in the height of summer. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and her hair still had hairspray in it from rehearsals the day before. ‘I’m not exactly magazine material. I’m not the sort of girl you’d usually go for.’
‘Magazines…? Olive, what are you talking about? I don’t care about that. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m here telling you that I like you. Doesn’t that mean anything?’
‘Of course it does!’ she said, looking up into his face. His eyebrows pulled together in a frown and she felt her chest tighten. She went back to fiddling with his sleeve or she’d never get out what she wanted to say. ‘It means a lot,’ she whispered. ‘You just need to know that sometimes… I’m going to feel like I don’t match up to your expectations.’
‘I have no expectations. Besides… you don’t feel good enough, Miss Star-Of-The-West-End-Stage? People practically bow to you as you walk past. This is very much your territory. I’m the one who’s way out of their depth here.’
‘Being good at m
y job doesn’t have any bearing on how I feel about this, us, you,’ Olive said quietly.
‘And how do you feel about me?’ Oscar’s lips twitched into a subtle smile, any trace of concern forgotten and replaced with mischief.
‘I feel annoyed by you,’ she said, swallowing what she actually wanted to say. ‘I’ve made it clear how I feel. It’s you that insists we meet in secret.’
‘You know I like you but… It wasn’t all that long ago that I broke up with Zadie. Very publicly, too. Being seen out and about with you could be disastrous for everyone. I can’t do that to you.’
‘Or her…’ Olive muttered.
‘Or you. Don’t believe everything you read in those magazines, Olive.’ Oscar brushed his hair back with both of his hands and his chest heaved underneath Olive’s fingertips as he let out a heavy sigh.
‘I’m aware of the situation, Oz. It’s just… frustrating.’
‘Then, like I said, maybe we should stop. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Or make you feel like you’re getting anything less than you deserve.’ Oscar tried to pull away again, but Olive held his strong arms in her slim fingers and he stopped resisting.
‘Then don’t hurt me,’ she said.
‘Is it that simple?’ Oscar took her face in his hands and the eyes he saw staring back already looked fragile. ‘I’d rather have this than nothing at all. I don’t think I could see you every day knowing what we once had and not having it any more.’ Oscar moved a strand of her hair away from her eyes and held her cheek in his palm.
‘As long as this is what you want?’ Olive asked. She didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath until he said, ‘Of course it is.’
He kissed her then and Olive hated herself for feeling lucky. Of all the things she thought she could feel when someone’s lips were pressed against hers, she suspected lucky was probably one of the worst. Inwardly, she berated herself as Oscar’s teeth gently pulled at her bottom lip and she let her body lean against him for fear of her legs giving way beneath her. She wasn’t starstruck by Oscar, and nor did the novelty of having a fling with a celebrity appeal to her. She hadn’t put him on a pedestal and nor did she think he was a perfect god-like creature incapable of making mistakes. Olive had simply fallen for a good-looking man who was kind, funny and, self-admittedly, a little lost.
Olive had never been lucky in love. She’d had a handful of romances with fellow actors, but they’d all eventually ended due to commitment issues or worse, affairs with chorus girls in dingy corners of theatres much like the one she was now standing in herself. The chances of this time being any different were slim (she knew that, but he just felt so good) and so waiting for something to go wrong made Olive defensive and doubt if spending time with Oscar was worth it at all. Olive gently pushed herself away from his embrace when she felt the familiar urge to be closer to him start to pulse through her body.
‘Everything okay?’ he whispered, a strand of black hair falling over his left eye, and Olive hated how he could make unkempt look so suave.
‘Yeah. Just… enjoying you.’ She smiled, her slightly crooked front teeth showing, and Oscar smiled back.
‘I’m enjoying you too.’ Oscar rubbed his nose against hers and held her tighter.
Olive Green was what people described as a ‘gem’. She was always where you needed her to be and perfectly on time. A million secrets from a million different corners of the West End buzzed around her head and when they were inevitably discovered, as is the nature of the loose-lipped theatre industry, you could guarantee it was not Olive’s lips that had come loose. Olive was the person you asked when you wanted something done. When it came to staying late after rehearsals to discuss a scene further, of course Olive would stay. In fact, when it came to pretty much anything, Olive would very rarely be able to say no. Whether it was a need to be liked, a fear of being disliked or just a love of helping people out when they needed her, Olive ran herself ragged for everyone, and yet always found herself alone at the end of the day.
When she’d first burst, fresh out of drama school, straight into a leading role as her peers and tutors had expected, she’d been unnervingly trusting. Behind the West End’s curtains were, of course, some of the world’s most beautiful humans, inside and out. However, lurking in plain sight were those who favoured fame, power and money over a love of telling stories and who would do almost anything to reach their end goal. It quickly became apparent that Olive wasn’t good at spotting the bad apples and would always be willing to help out those who would never return the favour.
After the end of year party for the cast of Oklahoma!, which Olive had organised whilst also performing eight shows a week and rehearsing for her next acting job during the day, she’d finally broken down and found a corner of the club to have a little cry. It was there that the oldest and most sober cast member had found her, weeping.
‘Don’t set yourself on fire to keep others warm, dearie,’ she’d said, and it was advice Olive had carried with her ever since, although she still had trouble following it. She looked at Oscar and she could already feel the flames around her feet from where she’d willingly thrown down a match because she thought she’d seen him shiver. Olive, who had already been badly burned herself, wasn’t very good at guarding her heart, although she certainly wasn’t naive. She was merely good at throwing caution to the wind and listening to her heart rather than her head, even when she knew there was a rather large possibility of getting hurt. Olive chased the feeling of being romanced and loved, and even if she only felt it for a day, she thought it was worth the scars she’d be left with. Despite her devil-may-care attitude, Olive always hoped things would work out for the best in each of her romantic endeavours. Actors seemed to be an untrustworthy kind and although she knew it was her choice of man and her choice to open herself up to potential hurt, it didn’t make the hurt any less painful when she caught that man kissing someone else in the darkened corners of the theatre or heard from her cast mates that he’d been seen outside of the theatre seemingly loved-up with someone else. Olive had started to wonder whether it was her but when she had those thoughts she reminded herself that no one was forced to cheat or treat people without respect. Sadly, Olive just hadn’t been lucky and she hoped with all her heart that this time, maybe this time, she would be.
‘Eggs Florentine?’ asked the waitress.
‘That’s me.’ Olive half raised her hand. The Southern Cross had a little café front of house in which Olive and Oscar often had breakfast and lunch (and sometimes even dinner). The theatre was the one place they felt it was justified they could be seen together without raising suspicion. They were playing opposite each other as onstage lovers, so why wouldn’t they spend time together when offstage?
‘And the Full English is yours, I assume?’ the waitress said with a giggle.
‘Yes, thanks,’ said Oscar, smiling at Olive, but Olive could only look at the waitress. She had tousled brown curls held loosely by pins at the back of her head, and a full face of simple, understated yet flawless make-up. The smell of her floral perfume wafted over the table as she walked away with a wink in Oscar’s direction. He didn’t notice.
‘What?’ Oscar asked, seeing Olive grasp her fork a little too tightly.
‘Hmm? Nothing! Nothing,’ she said, cutting into the poached egg, the runny yolk oozing over the spinach.
‘I hate it when you do that,’ he said, lightly grazing the tip of his shoe against her leg.
‘I’m not doing anything! Honestly, it’s nothing. I just…’ Olive dipped the prongs of her fork in the bright orange goo and drizzled it in patterns around the edge of her white plate.
‘You just…?’ He pressed her leg again a little harder.
‘I just sometimes wonder if you’d rather be sat here with someone else,’ she said into her lap, fiddling with the crumpled hem of her dress.
‘Who?’ Oscar looked around the almost empty café. An elderly man sat in the corner reading a newspaper and wiping
tomato ketchup from the corner of his mouth on the sleeve of his coat. ‘Him?’
‘The waitress.’ Olive nodded towards the bar where the brunette was twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger and flicking her eyes in Oscar’s direction.
‘Annie?’ he whispered, pointing so that Annie couldn’t see.
‘You know her name?’ Olive’s heart sank.
‘Only because she told me when I bought a coffee the first day we got here!’