Summer Season on the Seafront. Katie Ginger

the theatre manager said calmly, as if this happened every night of the week, ‘after we remove her from the audience, are you okay to carry on?’

      Was he? He had no idea right now. His world was tumbling down around him. Could he perform after this? He thought of his training, and something inside him clicked. He nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

      Hannah’s voice could still be heard in the background as what sounded like three or four different ushers tried to remove her from the stalls. ‘Get off me, you fucking idiots. Do you have any idea who I am? Don’t push me. You can’t do this. Oi!’ Her screeching faded and the theatre manager spoke once again to Nate.

      ‘Are you sure?’

      Nate looked around at his fellow actors. He couldn’t let them down, or the audience who had paid good money to come and see them. The play had been ruined enough for them already because of him, he wouldn’t cheat them out of the last twenty minutes. That was his only good bit of luck. They’d been so near the end when she’d started shouting, he didn’t have long to get through. The sneaky minx had obviously been waiting for the pivotal moment of the play. Pulling his shoulders back, he said, ‘Yes. I’m sure. Just give me a few minutes to get myself together.’

      ‘Okay.’ The theatre manager deftly moved the curtain aside and stepped onto the stage. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’m terribly sorry for the disruption to tonight’s performance. We’re going to have a fifteen-minute interval and then the play will continue. Thank you all for your patience and your support.’

      The quiet mumbles erupted into a loud chatter that filled the room. Nate couldn’t help but wonder what they were saying about him. Nothing good, he was sure. Lennie turned to him. ‘Are you okay, mate?’

      ‘Not really,’ Nate replied, studying his visibly shaking hands. ‘Just give me five minutes.’

      Nate rushed from the set, through a door at the back and down the steps to the dressing rooms. Using his hand to steady himself, he sped along the corridor and burst through the door. Collapsing into his chair he let his head drop into his hands. It was stifling in the small, messy dressing room. The London air was dense with heat and there was no breeze to cool him, only the whirring of a small desk fan that did nothing but blow droplets of cold sweat across his forehead. Nate’s face was ashen as he stared at his reflection in a mirror brightly lit by the bare bulbs encasing it. He wasn’t really seeing himself, just a pale version of the man he’d been when everything was going well. It was like he was looking at someone else now. Nate swigged from the bottle of water beside the abandoned make-up brushes, tossed aside as the thrill of the five-minute call and the eager anticipation of performing filled him. A buzzing from his jacket, hung on the back of the door, told him he had a phone call. Grabbing it, he saw it was Robin. Word was out already.

      Repressing the urge to ring back, Nate closed his eyes and recalled the lines he was about to recite, mumbling them to himself. At the start of his career he’d thought the phrase ‘The show must go on’ was a joke but right now, he really wasn’t laughing.

      ***

      The applause was subdued during the final bows and once the curtain had finally closed Nate didn’t wait around for the rest of the cast as he normally did. Tonight, there would be no congratulations on a job well done. Not for him anyway. Instead, he did his best to get back to his dressing room without speaking to anyone. The cast didn’t know what to say to him, which was funny considering they were actors. They simply exchanged awkward glances that they thought he didn’t see.

      A horrible queasiness rocked his body as he closed the dressing-room door and took his mobile phone from his jacket pocket. He had several missed calls, text messages and voicemails from Robin. Nate was beginning to feel angry now and wanted to know how everything had gone so horribly wrong. He felt so guilty, but Robin had promised he’d sort it. It took a ridiculous amount of time to find Robin’s number because his fingers felt like they were wrapped in cotton wool and wouldn’t go where his brain directed them. Several times he scrolled too far one way then the other. His whole body was shaking so much it took every last bit of energy to concentrate on what he was doing.

      Robin answered straight away. ‘Nate?’

      ‘Robin, what the hell has happened? I thought you’d dealt with it?’ Nate began to change out of his costume, undoing the dirty, dusty jeans his character wore, pulling them off and with one hand slipping on his own smarter ones. Where the hell was his top? Robin sighed and Nate could picture him scratching his forehead, like he always did when he was stressed. His thick cheeks would be red, his blood pressure rising. ‘Robin, she’s here saying—’

      ‘Yeah I know. I’ve seen but I did handle it, Nate. I told you, it was made clear that she needed to keep that night strictly between you two. No press and no further contact. She was … compensated accordingly and I thought she’d taken it well.’

      ‘Well, she clearly bloody hasn’t.’ Nate tilted his head and pinned the phone to his shoulder then undid the cuffs of his shirt. Taking the phone again he pulled the top over his head and grabbed his own T-shirt, threading through one arm, then the other. He knew he sounded like a complete dick but controlling the panic was proving difficult. Robin’s voice was so loud Nate could hear him even when he moved the phone away to pull the top over his head. Nate sat down and pushed back his dark hair. ‘Has anyone told Emma? I can ring her now. I just don’t want the first thing she hears about this coming from her agent, or worse, some shitty, insensitive reporter knocking on the door.’

      ‘I’ve already called her,’ Robin replied, calmly. ‘I told her I’d deal with it and that everything else remains as you guys agreed. Suffice to say, she went off like a rocket.’

      Nate pinched his temples. ‘What do I do now, Robin? This is going to be all over the net tonight and then in the papers tomorrow. They’re going to think I’m a complete scumbag.’ Nate’s voice cracked slightly. Emma already did, and he hated himself for still caring so much about a woman who hadn’t loved him in years. ‘I’m surprised she’s not taking the opportunity to put it all on me and get out while she can.’

      ‘Think about it, Nate, if the press go digging about in your private life to find out if you’ve done this before, what else might they find? Her affairs could be uncovered. She’s better off letting this die, but she doesn’t want you to come back to the house tonight.’

      ‘What?’ It felt like a punch in his ribs.

      ‘She said she doesn’t want to see you right now. Not until she’s processed what’s happening.’

      He paced around. ‘Processed what’s happening? It was a drunken one-night stand after our marriage was over! She had an affair with one of her co-stars for nine months before I even knew we were in danger.’

      ‘Never mind about that now,’ Robin replied. ‘The paparazzi will already be outside the theatre and you can’t go home so I’ve arranged for you to go somewhere else.’ Nate blew out his cheeks. He felt a stinging in his nose and gritted his teeth, refusing to let his emotions get the better of him. ‘But listen, I’m sure we can still work this to our advantage.’

      ‘How? How can we possibly do that? I look like some shady love rat. Like Hugh bloody Heffner.’ There was no answer for a moment and Nate opened his mouth to speak but then Robin began again.

      ‘I’ve arranged for you to go somewhere and I’ve got a car waiting outside. I’ll pack you some stuff tomorrow and send it on.’

      Nate shook his head. ‘I can’t just leave the show. There’s still three nights left.’

      ‘Your understudy can take over. We’ll say you’ve got pneumonia and you’re recovering. You need to distance yourself from this.’

      ‘Pneumonia? But it’s July.’

      ‘You can still get pneumonia in July. Stop being difficult.’

      Outside his dressing-room door, the theatre came to life again as costumes were collected, props were organised