Summer Loves. Georgia Hill

sharing a bottle of wine and a bowl of Kettle crisps. It was Sunday night and it seemed the thing to do.

      ‘What do you mean?’ Millie’s voice was guarded.

      ‘Last night between you and Jed?’

      Millie concentrated on stroking Trevor. She hesitated before answering and then blurted out, ‘Oh Dor, it was such a shock seeing him like that!’ She hugged the dog to her and buried her face in his fur. ‘I told him … I told him to go away.’

      Dora spilled wine on her white skinny jeans. ‘You did what?’

      ‘I just couldn’t face him,’ Millie continued miserably. ‘I mean, I knew he was in town, but I didn’t think he’d turn up at the launch party. I had no idea he even knew Mike!’

      ‘He doesn’t, not really. He’s a friend of that idiot Phil.’

      ‘Oh.’ There was a pause. ‘How do you know?’

      ‘Mike told me. I had a little conversation myself with your Jed. I rather fell for him actually. And he’s –’

      ‘Not your type!’

      ‘No need to shout, Mil.’

      ‘Sorry,’ Millie mumbled. ‘Hands off, though.’

      ‘Wouldn’t dream of it, honeybun.’ At Millie’s glare, Dora put up her hands. ‘Honestly, I really wouldn’t go there if you paid me. But others might if you don’t sort this out. A man like that won’t stay around here for long.’ As soon as she said it, Dora knew it was the wrong thing to say. ‘I don’t mean –’

      ‘But that’s just it, Dor. Why would a man like that want to stay in Berecombe?’

      ‘Then maybe you need to give him a reason?’

      ‘Perhaps.’

      Dora, annoyed at Millie’s mulish tone said, ‘On the other hand, he could be your ticket out of here, you know.’

      ‘And what about the café, Millie? Who’s going to run that? And who says I want to get out of Berecombe anyway?’

      Dora sighed. Time to tread very, very carefully. ‘Millie, I know that the café was your parents’ dream but that’s just it, it was your parents’ dream. Is it yours? Haven’t you longed for something else?’

      ‘Yes!’ Millie yelled, making Trevor yelp. ‘Of course I have, but how can I? I have to carry on with the café, make a living.’

      ‘If you got together with Jed you could probably afford to put in a management team.’

      ‘And become what? One of those women who have nothing to do but have lunch and gossip? You know that’s not me, Dora. And besides, I’ve always earned my own money.’

      ‘But it’s kept you trapped here.’

      ‘It’s where I want to be, or it was until Jed Henville came along and ruined everything.’

      ‘Or rather, made you question everything.’

      Millie blew out an enormous breath. ‘I’m not sure what I want any more. I don’t know how I can even begin again with Jed.’

      ‘Do you want to?’

      ‘I’m not sure of that either.’

      This was going to be a harder task than Dora thought. ‘Look Mil, when I had my little chat with Jed last night I thought he was rather desperate to get back with you.’

      ‘Did you?’

      The look on Millie’s face so echoed that of Jed’s it made Dora even more determined. ‘What about a challenge?’

      Millie threw herself back on the sofa. ‘God Dor, we’re not kids any more.’

      ‘You always enjoyed my challenges.’

      ‘Like the one where I had to nick the flag out of the town hall? And then there was the knitted graffiti.’

      ‘One of my more imaginative ones, I agree. Okay, so I challenge you, Emilia Susanna Fudge to -’

      ‘Please don’t say I’ve got to go out with him!’

      ‘One step at a time and stop interrupting. I challenge you to talk to Jed and explain your feelings. That you and he are from different worlds, that you feel inadequate and chained to your parents’ café by some misguided grief and sense of loyalty to them.’

      ‘Bit harsh, Dor,’ Millie huffed.

      ‘Okay, the last bits were, but you have to agree that you tie yourself to that café because you want to keep your parents’ memory alive.’ Dora took a breath, wondering if she’d gone too far.

      ‘Wouldn’t you feel the same?’

      ‘Quite possibly, honeybun, quite possibly, but I don’t have anything like the relationship with my parents that you had. I hope it wouldn’t stop me from being with the man I love and who obviously adores me.’ Dora watched Millie flush and waited.

      ‘All right then.’

      ‘So my challenge is accepted?’

      ‘Suppose.’

      Dora drank her wine in triumph. Piece of piss, this matchmaking malarkey. Her feelings of accomplishment lasted two seconds.

      Millie raised her head, a mischievous look on her face. ‘But I have to give you a return challenge.’

      ‘Oh. Okay. Yeah.’ Dora shrugged.

      ‘Then I challenge you to take on the role of Anne Elliot in Mike’s production of Persuasion.’

      ‘That’s not fair!’

      ‘Why?’

      The image of Mike, with Kirstie’s hand on his arm, flashed into Dora’s vision. Of his blue-eyed, penetrating gaze across the shabby space of the Workshop last night. To work with him, be close to him on a day-to-day basis would be torture. Exquisite but mostly torture.

      ‘I couldn’t –’

      ‘Why not? Do you think my challenge is going to be easy?’

      Dora slid herself up Millie’s sofa and glared at her best friend. Of all the things she could have asked. As ever, when feeling threatened, she channelled her inner diva. ‘I have starred in one of American TV’s biggest-grossing shows. I trained at Central. I am nationally and internationally known. I can’t act in a cheap, tin-pot production of Persuasion in a shabby little theatre in a not very well-known seaside town in Devon!’

      ‘Why?’ Millie’s tone was unforgiving.

      She couldn’t tell her the real reason. That she was still in love with Mike. Always had been. And, even worse, that he had a perky little blonde called Kirstie attending to his every need.

      ‘Why, Dora?’ Millie repeated. ‘Why can’t you do Mike’s play? If you don’t there’s no deal. I won’t talk to Jed.’

      ‘Oh alright, I’ll do it!’ Dora yelled. Then threw a cushion at her friend to shut her up.

       Chapter 10

      Dora was confused. She’d contacted Mike (through gritted teeth) and he’d asked her to meet him here, in the Regent Theatre on the far end of Berecombe’s sea front. She’d assumed the meeting would be a private affair. The theatre, however, was buzzing with people. She spotted Kirstie briefly, who waved hello and promptly disappeared. A group in the unofficial theatre uniform of ripped jeans and black t-shirts were earnestly discussing a large piece of paper – stage designs maybe and another group of youths were sweeping and collecting litter in black bin bags. They were chatting loudly about the