The Beach Book Bundle: 3 Novels for Summer Reading: Breathing Lessons, The Alphabet Sisters, Firefly Summer (58 page)

Anna, in the middle, put one arm around Bett and the other around Carrie. “Then it seems that someone was wrong, Kylie.”

“Kaylene.”

“Sorry, Kaylene. We wouldn’t let a silly thing like a row about a man upset us, would we, Bett, Carrie?” Behind their backs, she was pinching them both hard.

“Of course not.”

“No.”

“If anything, it’s brought us even closer together,” Anna added.

There was no need to lay it on too thick, Bett thought. She didn’t dare look at Carrie.

Kaylene seemed disappointed.

“And you’ve come to audition, Kaylene, have you?” Anna asked nicely.

Kaylene colored. “I thought I’d give it a try. I like dancing, and my mother says I’m a good singer.”

Bett took pity on her. “Thanks for coming, Kaylene. Take a seat, won’t you, and we’ll get started as soon as we can.”

As she moved away Anna grinned. “Good thing she left when she did. I was about to tell her I’d slept with Matthew, too.”

“Anna!” Carrie and Bett were genuinely shocked.

Anna’s eyes were full of mischief. “Only joking.”

Turning back to the piano, fighting a smile, Bett didn’t see Daniel Hilder come into the room behind her. Or see Lola greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Or see him take a seat at the back, out of her line of vision.

T
wenty minutes later the room was filled to capacity. The plan was for Lola to welcome everyone, briefly sketch the musical, then pass it over to Anna, who would run the auditions. “It’s your baby, now,” Lola had told them that afternoon. “I’ve done my bit. I want to enjoy it all at the end, when all the hard work has been done.”

“You’re not going to sit in on every rehearsal, making comments?” Anna asked.

“Me, make comments? What do you take me for? No, I’m leaving it all to you and spending the time with Ellen instead.”

Lola hadn’t been surprised when Ellen had said she didn’t want to be in the musical. She’d already noticed how self-conscious the little girl was. “Excellent news, Ellen,” she’d said cheerfully. “That means you and I can keep each other company while the others get on with the hard work.”

Lola made her way to the front of the room now. Bett enjoyed some of the group’s reactions as they took in her outfit—the blue silk shirt, so shiny it could have been a Barry White castoff, the flared trousers, the crocheted vest in enough colors to rival Joseph’s technicolored coat. Lola waited dramatically for the chatter to stop, then gave a little bow. “Thank you all for coming. It’s the most wonderful turnout. You may have heard this is my life’s work, something I have been planning for nearly ten years—”

Two months, Bett corrected.

“And I am thrilled that so many of you are here tonight to audition, or to at least be entertained by the others’ auditions while planning on sneaking off yourselves before we call you up. Hello there, Rebecca. Yes, I can see you edging out the back there.” There was a ripple of laughter. “Let me set the scene—
Many Happy Returns
is based on the true story of the American war hero General Douglas MacArthur, and his historic visit to the tiny town of Terowie in 1942, in the middle of World War II. My story begins …”

Bett gazed around the room as Lola gave a précis of the story line. There were several people she remembered from her newspaper days, but many she didn’t know. A late arrival coming in the door caught her eye. Richard Lawrence. She wasn’t surprised to see him. He’d been curious about the whole musical since Lola’s party. She brought her attention back to Lola’s speech.

“So you’ll see it’s the age-old story of family against family, young love thwarted, a town pulling together against the odds, the tyranny and ferociousness of war, all to a sound track of lots of marvelous old songs from my favorite—sorry, everyone’s favorite—musicals.” There was a burst of applause, then Lola held up her hand again. “So now, over to my granddaughter Anna.”

Anna moved forward, all glamour and poise. “Good evening, everyone, and thanks for coming. We’ll have a warm-up or two, and then we’ll hear you do your individual pieces.”

At the piano, Bett watched as Lola made a poor attempt to slip unnoticed out of the room with Ellen. At Anna’s nod, she played the intro, then moved smoothly into the first song, “Do-Re-Mi” from
The Sound of Music.
There were only a few voices to begin with, but as she kept playing, more people joined in. By the end of the third verse everyone was singing, even if not all of them were in tune. Bett ignored what looked like Anna wincing, and moved into the second warm-up song, “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.” Things got a little livelier.

Anna stood up hurriedly at the end of the second verse, stopping them there. “Terrific, we’re off to a good start. Now, then, time for the solo spots.”

“There’s not hidden cameras here or anything, is there?” Bett overheard one man ask another. “This is getting a bit too much like that
Popstars
program for my liking.”

“Just sing any old way. Think of the free beer afterward.”

Bett grinned. It had been Carrie’s idea to add the offer of free drinks to the advertisements. “Otherwise we won’t get any men at all, and we need them for the villagers, and the soldiers, not to mention General MacArthur.”

At the desk, Anna picked out a registration form at random. “Right, then. We’ll start with Louise singing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ When you’re ready, Louise.”

I
n room seven, Lola was sitting on the side of Ellen’s bed, telling stories about the girls’ childhood. “I called it my Collection of Cries, Ellen. I had a whole row of jars and as soon as I’d hear your mother cry, or Bett, or Carrie, I’d sneak up behind them and capture their cries in the jar, then quickly put the lid on. It was marvelous. They’d stop crying immediately.”

Ellen was giggling. “And have you still got all the jars?”

Lola sadly shook her head. “No. Unfortunately three bold little girls opened all the lids one afternoon. You’ve never heard such a racket. Five years’ worth of tears and tantrums released in a moment. It took me some quick talking to convince the police nothing terrible had happened. As for the poor motel guests—they didn’t know what had hit them.”

Ellen moved farther down in her bed. “Can you tell me another story?”

“I will, of course. But not tonight. It’s past all good great-granddaughters’ bedtimes.”

“But wait, Lola. I’ve got another question.”

Lola waited. She was well used to these delaying tactics. Anna had been exactly the same as a child. “One more question, then.”

“Why have you got a funny voice?”

“What do you mean a funny voice?”

“You talk differently to other people. You talk like this: ‘It’s past all good great-granddaughters’ bedtimes.’ ”

Lola laughed out loud. Ellen had just perfectly mimicked her Irish accent. She was definitely Anna’s daughter. “That, my love, is called an Irish accent, not a funny voice.”

“I like it.”

“Good. I’ll keep it, then.” She kissed Ellen’s forehead. “Night night, sweetheart. Sleep well. And I’m three doors down if there’s anything you need, okay? And Mummy will be here soon, too, just as soon as she’s finished the auditions.”

“Night night, Lola.” Ellen’s voice was barely audible. Lola waited at the door for a few minutes until she was sure the little girl was content. After a minute she heard the sound of regular breathing and let herself out. Dear little thing.

Letting herself back into her own room, Lola suddenly felt exhausted. She’d have liked to sit and watch every moment of the auditions. She’d have liked to sit in on every production meeting, too. Painted the sets, helped Bett work out the music, sew the costumes, even. But she didn’t have the energy for it anymore. The spirit was more than willing, but the flesh was getting weaker all the time. Oh, yes, she was in better nick than most eighty-year-olds, there was no doubt about it, but it was all downhill from here, and she didn’t like it one bit.

She opened the bar fridge and mixed herself a gin and tonic. She’d have a little read, a little think, a little drink, and then a good night’s sleep. She was longing for her bed, in fact. They didn’t warn you of that in the growing-old books, did they? That some days all you would ever want to do is sleep, just like a baby. It was true, the older you became, the more your life went backward, your hair thinning, your teeth falling out, your bladder getting a life of its own. What would be next to go? Her marbles?

She sat upright in her chair. No, she was damned if that was how she was going to go. She’d made it this far; she was going to keep at it. As soon as she started lolling about, getting lazy, giving in, it would all collapse around her. She hadn’t let it happen when she was young, and she wouldn’t now.

She deliberately moved to the hard chair, and sat there, more awake, remembering Bett asking her if she missed being young. She’d thought about it since and decided she missed one very simple thing. Running. She missed being able to run, wished, just one more time, that she could run like she used to run as a child in Ireland, across the fields behind the house, through the soft rain or on the mild summer days, with the grass and the chestnut trees lush with new growth all around her, feeling the ground beneath her feet, muddy at times, and the long grass against her bare legs. Her favorite route had been from the front door of the big house, down the drive to the oak tree outside the main gate. She’d touch it once, twice, three times for luck, then run back as fast as she could.

She took a sip of gin and moved to turn on the TV, then changed her mind, preferring her own thoughts. She’d been remembering a lot from her childhood recently, ever since she had gone through the few photos she had, picking them out so Frank from the electrical shop could turn them into slides for her. He’d dropped the originals back that afternoon, and come in for a chat, full of questions. He was off to Ireland himself for a holiday in a few months and was keen to hear tips, asking did she want anything brought back or did she want him to call at her old house and take photos?

She’d patted him on the hand. “Kind Frank, thank you but no. Bett did that for me when she was there a few years ago.” Not that Lola had ever looked closely at the photos Bett sent back that time. Well, there’d been no need to, had there? It wasn’t as if they had meant anything to her. All the same, she’d sent Bett a note, thanking her for going to all the trouble of traveling there, talking to locals, taking the photos. And then she had never raised the subject again. She’d had more than the occasional twinge of guilt. Wanting to tell someone the truth. But too much time had gone past by now for it to matter anymore, surely.

She took another sip of her drink and turned to her crossword. She’d finish the last few clues, then go to bed. As she reached for her pen and reading glasses, there was a crackle and a fizzing sound and the ceiling light went out. The wall light was on, so she could still see, but it wasn’t bright enough to work by. She’d been telling Jim for years he ought to improve them. She had a spare lightbulb in the wardrobe. She stood up and felt the desk chair. Yes, it was sturdy enough and the ceilings were so low, she’d easily be able to reach. It wouldn’t take a moment, and she must have changed hundreds, if not thousands, of lightbulbs over the years. And made thousands of beds. And set thousands of breakfast trays. And cleaned a
million
lavatories. She must count them all up one day; it could be amusing.

She took a scarf off the end of her bed to unscrew the hot bulb. Opening the wardrobe door to give herself something to hang on to, she climbed up onto the chair. As she did, the chair shook slightly. She turned to grasp the wardrobe door but misjudged the distance. The chair tilted some more and she felt herself falling. She put out both arms to stop herself, but it was too late. Her head knocked sharply against the wardrobe door and she fell to the floor.

T
he break was nearly over. Everyone was milling back in from the bar next door, complimentary beer and wine in hand. At their table in the corner, the three sisters were flicking through the forms.

Bett glanced down her list. Many of the names had enthusiastic ticks beside them. “What did you think, Carrie?” She was quite surprised how easy it had been tonight to make conversation with her sisters. Then again, Lola’s ban on difficult subjects was still firmly in place.

“I thought there was plenty of talent. And these here, see. What about them for the lead roles? Anna, who have you picked out?”

Anna moved her hand. Her sheet of paper was blank, apart from a few swirling doodles.

Bett bit back a smile. “Anna, it’s an amateur musical, remember. We’re raising money for a new ambulance, not going for the Tony Awards.”

“But if we’re going to do it, we may as well—”

“Do it well,” the other two chorused. The times they’d heard Lola chant that.

Anna sighed heavily, then flicked through the forms again. “Have we heard this Daniel Hilder audition? He filled out the form, and he’d be the right age for the Jack-the-Lad character, wouldn’t he?”

Bett stiffened. “Daniel Hilder’s here?”

“The photographer?” Carrie looked up. “I didn’t see him. Shall I go and ask him to audition?”

“No.” Bett spoke louder than she intended.

Anna and Carrie looked surprised. “You don’t want him to audition?” Anna asked.

“No, I mean I’ll go and ask him.” Bett stood up, taking her glass of wine with her. What would Lola have said to her? Face your fears. You are thirty-two. What happened was years ago, embarrassing and all as it was. Exactly. Of course she could handle this.

She did a circuit of the room, then spotted him walking in from the bar, a drink in hand.

“Daniel?”

He turned. As she came near him, someone behind her stepped back suddenly, bumping her elbow and sending her glass of red wine flying. She stood there with red wine dripping from her chin to her knees and all down the front of her dark blue dress.

For a split second she was tempted to run out of the room. Then she had a brainwave. React as if you are Anna, not Bett, she told herself quickly. It worked. “I’m going to ignore the fact that even happened,” she said coolly.