A Seaside Affair Read Online Free PDF

public school, and how much he wanted to become a good actor. Their lives were different but something really clicked between them that night.
    But no sooner had they got together than her star had gone stratospheric.
    Ollie was twenty-eight. He loved life. Fifteen months ago he’d had a great social life, but all that had closed down for him. Thanks to Red and her fame. A big fat problem. Did he love her enough to accept it? Was she The One? He knew that she was the most exciting woman he’d ever known … so far … But in the time that he’d known her, she’d changed. The stress of her lifestyle had taken its toll. And the initial excitement of their relationship had been replaced by a kind of prison … That was it, he had lost his freedom … and she was losing herself.
    He stopped walking and stared at the swans floating elegantly on the river by the theatre. They were free. Free and wild. One of them got out of the water and waggled up to him, hoping for food.
    ‘Sorry, mate. Nothing for you.’
    He stood still while the large bird pecked fruitlessly at the chewing gum stains on the path, then stood tall, looking at him in disappointment, before giving a shake of its feathers and wandering off forlornly. Ollie saw the tag round one slender black ankle.
    ‘Not wild after all, boy, eh? Tagged, same as me.’ He shook his head. ‘Oh, to be free again.’
    *
    The matinee went well. The audience of GCSE students were attentive and seemed to enjoy the story. At the curtain calls one young female voice called out, ‘Ollie, I love you’ as he took his bow. He smiled and gave a wave, which provoked another shout: ‘Send my love to Red!’ One of the grander old actors sighed with utter disdain and walked off before the curtain came down.
    *
    Back in his dressing room, Ollie was sitting with his head in his hands, wondering how he’d got into such a mess, when there was a knock at the door.
    ‘Ah, Ollie – may I have a word?’ Nigel the company manager licked his wispy moustache.
    ‘Yeah, Nige. Come in.’ Ollie leaned over and took his costume off the spare chair. ‘Sit down.’
    Nigel carried on standing.
    ‘This is a bit awkward, but … your young fans. We appreciate you can’t,
we
can’t, stop them from calling out, but could you not acknowledge them?’
    Ollie slumped back in his chair. ‘Who’s complained?’
    ‘Er, it’s not a complaint as such. More a request for some respect towards your fellow artistes.’
    ‘Sir Terry? Is that why he walked off before the tabs came in?’
    ‘I’m not going to name names, that would be too sordid. The fact is you’re a young actor sharing the stage with colleagues who deserve your respect and that of the audience.’
    ‘Sir Terry it is then.’
    ‘Possibly.’
    ‘The Knight’, as he was nicknamed, was a grand old gay actor; charming, knowledgeable and with a seemingly bottomless fund of outrageous stories. He’d first joined the RSC in the early fifties, working with Olivier, Gielgud and Richardson. He was theatrical royalty and if he found a company member to be
upsetting,
that company member would never work with him again. Sir Terry had been considered the box office draw of the season, but as the weeks went by it was becoming clear that young Ollie Pinkerton, hitherto unknown jobbing actor but now a celebrity as a result of his relationship with rock star Red, was the one pulling in the punters.
    Ollie took a deep breath and stood up. ‘Nigel, I quite understand. And, as a matter of courtesy, I shall apologise to The Knight right away.’
    ‘Thank you, Ollie. You will make my life, and indeed your own life, much happier if you do so.’

4
    P iran, gutting half a dozen fresh mackerel with a ven-geance, was clearly in a bad mood.
    ‘I’m a historian. Anything after the Second World War is of no interest to me. The Pavilions could slide into the sea and I wouldn’t give a toss.’ He slapped a fillet into a plate of flour. ‘Unless it uncovered