Miss Wrong and Mr Right (9 page)

With a buzz of confidence, I got off the train at Collier’s Wood and walked round to his flat. He lives on the ground floor in a shabby chic area near the tube station, filled with organic shops and art galleries. When I got to the communal front door, the blinds were down in the front window. Light glossed from behind. I rang the doorbell and a few moments passed. I rang again. After another minute I heard, very softly, his twinkly sitar music coming from his flat.
 

I went round to the bay window at the front, which is his living room. The wooden blinds were drawn shut, but hadn’t quite been lowered all the way. There was a two inch gap at the bottom. I crouched down to the window sill and peered through. I gave a little squeal of shock. On the living room floor Benjamin lay naked and sat astride him, also naked, was Laura! I could see in addition to her face, she had her nipples pierced and – where Benjamin’s erection was buried between her legs – three more piercings.
 

I stared as they had sex, not quite able to turn my head away from it. The joint moans of ecstasy, the candles dotted around them, and the clinking sound of Laura’s piercings. It was like hearing someone sorting through loose change in their trousers. Their movements became quicker, then I jumped as I heard Benjamin shout, ‘
NAMASTE
!’

I stood up, unsure of what to do. I was livid and terrified at the same time. I walked back down the path and through the gate, then went back. I walked up the path to the front door where I rang the bell holding my finger down on it. I was about to leave when the light flicked on in the hall and the door was pulled open.
 

Benjamin stood there in his dressing gown.

‘Natalie.
Namaste
,
’ he said. He looked up and down and took in my short skirt and heels. The oversized bag. I was completely lost for words.
 

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I shrilled, sounding much like my mother. He looked furious.

‘I told you. I’m meditating Natalie. Why did you go against my wishes? Why do you act so passive aggressive?’

‘What? Me?’

‘Yes! I tell you I am meditating. That I want peace and quiet and you turn up unannounced, dressed provocatively so I can’t say no. And I have to let you in. Well I’m not going to bow to your passive aggressive behaviour!’ he said raising his voice. I stood there with my mouth open.

‘I just wanted to come and see you…’ I squeaked.

‘And I just want a bit of space. Maybe I want to be alone.’ He stared at me and I’m ashamed to say I didn’t speak. I opened my mouth again but nothing came out.

‘Now it’s still light. Go and get on the tube, and go home, and text me to let me know you’re home safe, ok?’ he said.

He smiled and closed the door. I stood there for a moment, but all my energy was gone. Defeated I walked back to the tube station, got on the train, and went home.

The woman in black

I went back to the flat and lay on my bed in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling. My building was very quiet, save for the pipes gurgling as water whooshed through the walls. As the time passed, the pipes fell silent until all I could hear was the ticking clock in the kitchen. I tried to convince myself I had imagined it all. But the image of them having sex wouldn’t leave me.

I spent a sleepless night trying to work out why.
What does Laura have that I don’t? Tattoos and piercings… What do I have that she doesn’t?
Hair. It went round and round in my head… Is that what Benjamin wanted?
 

I tried to picture myself with a shaved head, but I could never do it voluntarily, and as for all that body piercing… How often have I caught a hang-nail on a rug? All that metal attached to delicate skin didn’t bear thinking about.

I was glad when morning came and I could focus back on work. It was the first day of rehearsals for
Macbeth
.
I walked to the theatre, popping in to Grande, where I met Nicky. She was dressed in an electric blue trouser suit with matching blue heels and blue glasses.

‘No honey, get a pen and write it down…’ she said, berating a new barista, who wasn’t versed in the alchemy of her coffee ordering. ‘Decaf Colombian flat white soy, no foam, two pumps of hazelnut syrup, a little soy whip on top with a dusting of fair trade cocoa, and can you pour this Sweet’N’Low
slowly
into the soy milk as you steam.’ She handed him a little sachet of sweetener. He nodded. Sweat had broken out on his forehead.

‘Just a small americano,’ I said to the poor chap.

‘Hey Nat. I’m all in blue, but you look blue,’ she said giving me a hug.

‘I didn’t sleep all that well,’ I explained.

‘Don’t be worried about today… it’s gonna be great,’ she said. The barista handed over a huge coffee and she peered over her glasses, giving it the once over. I realised I had been obsessing over Benjamin when there were far more exciting things happening. Why was I putting so much emphasis on him and our dysfunctional relationship?

Nicky pronounced herself satisfied with the coffee. I grabbed my americano, and we made our way to the theatre. I stopped for a moment outside the Old Library. A skip was being lowered by the kerb, and a group of guys in hard hats were filing in through a gap in the faded tarpaulin covering the building. I tried to see inside.

‘Honey, that will keep,’ said Nicky. She pointed across the road. ‘The Raven Street Theatre is the place to be right now.’

Outside the main entrance a small group of press stood huddled, and slightly apart were some die-hard Ryan Harrison fans. They consisted of teenage girls, a couple of greasy old men, and a thin camp guy leaning onto the handles of a wheelchair in which a small blonde girl sat. They moved to one side to let us in.
 

‘What time does Ryan arrive?’ asked the thin guy.

‘Dunno. I’m just the cleaning lady,’ lied Nicky pulling open the door.

Beside the thin guy with the wheelchair, a sweet little girl, who couldn’t have been more than twelve, was waiting with her mother. Her mother, who was rather buxom and bursting out of a short red dress a few sizes too small, grabbed my arm saying,

‘Beffany ‘as got a cuddly toy fer Ryan ‘arrison…’ She nudged Bethany, who held out a small stuffed bear cradling a heart. Bethany smiled with a tooth gapped smile.

‘Okay, I’ll see he gets it,’ I said, taking it.

‘Thank you,’ grinned Bethany sweetly. I went inside where Nicky was waiting.

‘Nat, honey. Don’t engage with the crazies,’ she said.

‘I know, but she was so sweet.’

‘It’s eight thirty on a weekday and she’s stood in Soho. What about school?’

‘She could be on the way to school?’ I said.

‘Trust me, they’re crazy, like the rest of them.’

‘But look, that guy has brought his friend in the wheelchair, she’s clutching her autograph book,’ I said.

Nicky peered through the glass door. She rolled her eyes.

‘That’s the oldest trick in the book, bring the friend in a wheelchair…’

‘Nicky!’

‘I’ve met Bruce Springsteen four times. You know how? Thanks to Connie Bouvier…’

‘Who’s Connie Bouvier?’ I asked.

‘A girl from high school who was in a wheelchair. We stalked Bruce on his
Born in the USA
tour…
 
Even managed to get into his dressing room. No one ever questioned us when I was pushing Connie in her wheelchair. All fans are crazy, Nat. Remember that.’

I looked down at the cute little cuddly toy bear, and followed her up the stairs.

We were meeting at eight thirty in the rehearsal room on the fourth floor. It’s large and bare with high ceilings. The parquet floor glistened under the fluorescent strip lights, and the row of windows along one wall was painted black.
 

Byron, the stage manager, was adjusting a big circle of folding chairs which had been set up in the middle of the room. She nodded hello to us. Her mousy waist-length hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she had a ZZ Top t-shirt tucked neatly into her high-waisted stonewashed jeans. We were lucky to have Byron working on
Macbeth
. She’s a no-nonsense New Zealander who has worked in every theatre in the West End.
 

Xander was in the corner setting up a tea urn on a table with plastic cups, tea bags, and instant coffee. He came over and showed off a tartan waistcoat he was wearing in honour of the occasion. Craig, the director, was next to arrive. He’s a short, dark, rather intense-looking guy, but he has a wicked sense of humour, and when he laughs, which is often, his whole face comes alive. He’s directed loads of our plays over the years and is, like Byron, one of the best.

Byron stationed herself by the door as the actors started to arrive. They drifted in, saying hello, and made a beeline for the tea urn, talking in small groups. When Ryan came in, the atmosphere in the room changed, and became a bit heightened. He was wearing a grey tracksuit and carrying a backpack. Byron shook his hand and started to talk to him.
 

‘Awww. He looks really scared,’ said Xander.
 

‘You never said he was so short!’ added Craig.

‘Hollywood stars are like Christmas trees, you pay by the foot,’ said Nicky wryly.
 

‘Do you know how loud you all are?’ I hissed. A tall dark girl swanned in and joined the conversation with Ryan and Byron.

‘Look. Lady Macbeth is a foot taller than Ryan,’ said Craig indicating the girl. ‘We’ll have to talk to costume about shoes, maybe we can put a big crown on his head…’

‘It’s cool Craig,’ said Nicky. ‘Lady Macbeth could make a joke about them all being the same height when they’re lying down.’

‘You can’t add bits to the Bard,’ grinned Craig in mock outrage. Ryan turned to us, smiled and walked over.

‘Hey guys, what’s new?’ he said.
 

‘We were just saying how excited we are to have you on board,’ I said. The room fell silent, they seemed to think that I was starting a speech. I went on.

‘Good morning everybody, hello, please help yourselves to tea and coffee. For those of you who don’t know us yet, I’m Natalie Love, I’m the theatre manager and artistic director, this is Nicky Bathgate our head of publicity, and Xander Campbell our office administrator…’

The actors all gave us a round of applause. Nicky stepped forward and gave a little curtsey which got a big laugh. I grinned and went on.

‘Nicky and I started this theatre five years ago, and we’re very excited about the buzz this production has generated. Tickets are sold out across the run, thanks to the hugely talented Ryan Harrison.’

I paused as the actors all whooped and clapped, Ryan smiled bashfully.

‘And I’d like to add that Craig our director has found a truly talented group of actors, we’re so pleased to welcome you all here, and we can’t wait to watch the play on opening night!’

Everyone applauded.

‘And!’ I added. ‘Last but not least, Ryan, when I got here this morning I met one of your fans waiting outside. A sweet young girl called Bethany. She wanted me to give you this… To wish you luck.’

I handed the teddy bear to Ryan and everyone went ‘Ahhhh’.

‘Gee thanks,’ said Ryan looking at the toy. ‘I’m real pleased to be here too, and I’m looking forward to working with you all!’ He squeezed the little heart the bear was holding, and Bethany’s mother’s tinny recorded voice echoed throughout the rehearsal room.

‘Me name’s Dawn Matthews ‘an I love you Ryan. I can be really slutty in bed, ‘an me ‘usband works nights. Text me on 07984567341…
’

Everyone fell silent. I was mortified. Byron moved into the middle of the room,

‘Cin I just say that this has highlighted the need to be vigilant about fans of Mr Hirrison,’ she said in her broad New Zealand accent. She held out a small metal bin and Ryan dropped the teddy in. He had turned rather pale. Byron went on, ‘If you see something or someone suspicious please talk to me, or theatre management. And I’ll need all company mimbers to switch
awf
their mobile phones in the rehearsal room and hind them over to me.’
 

‘What did I tell you Nat?’ said Nicky when we were back in the office. ‘Crazy fans…’

‘I’m mortified,’ I said peering out of the window at the road below. ‘I’ve a good mind to go back down and tell that woman…’

‘Tell her what? We’ve got so much to do Nat. And there are a million more crazier fans out there.’

I sat at my desk and logged into my laptop.

‘I’m gonna call Val on box office,’ I said. ‘Make sure that no one gets past her and inside.’

 
The rest of the day was spent catching up on emails, opening post, and checking over contracts for everyone involved in
Macbeth
. I had meetings with the bar and box office managers to go over their figures, and I spent a few hours going through our budgets with the finance manager. Late afternoon, over another coffee, Xander went over the shows we were booked in to see during the week. Nicky and I try to see as much theatre as we can, to keep in the loop, and we often go along to see an actor we could cast in one of our future plays. Nicky had been due to come with me that evening to see an actor who was starring in
The Woman in Black
at the Fortune Theatre, but she managed to get a dinner date with the showbiz editor of
Heat
magazine, so I phoned Sharon to come and see it with me instead.
 

I met her at six thirty in the dark little pub opposite the Fortune Theatre. She had come straight from work, where she manages the Royal Mail sorting office in New Cross.

‘Hello Nat,’ she grinned giving me a hug. ‘I’m having a very large glass of wine. We had an anthrax alert today. Turned out to be a parcel full of Yardley talcum powder for some old biddy.’
 

‘Okay, I’m buying,’ I said. Sharon went to grab a table and I pushed my way through the crowded pub to the bar. I came back with two glasses of wine, and told her everything that had happened that day, which made her laugh, and then everything that had happened with Benjamin the previous night, which she didn’t laugh at. When I’d finished, she took a sip of her wine, and played with the stem of her glass for a moment.