Lucky Break by Esther Freud

hour.’
    The stage manager handed Nell a broom and went back to his clipboard, checking items off with a pencil as he collected up the props. She and Cath glanced at each other and together they trailed the room, gathering up the scattered chairs, stacking them into the corner, sweeping the dust-black floor. Dominic and the short, neat actor, Kyle, sat at the bar and opened wine. They hunched together and talked in great earnest about what worked and what didn’t about the play, while Nell wondered what training Kyle had had and if he knew about the six basic character types, the conscious and unconscious states, and why so far at Drama Arts, no one had mentioned the importance of learning to do an American accent.
    â€˜Girls,’ the tall actor, Richard, was calling to them, ‘if you’re finished, come and have a drink,’ and so they went and stood over by the bar while Dominic poured out warm white wine. ‘Here’s to us.’ He raised his glass. ‘Cheers.’
    Snakeskin didn’t arrive till late. They’d called in from a service station to say their engine had overheated not far from the border. If they were careful they’d most probably make it without having to stop again.
    â€˜Where will we eat?’ Richard asked, concerned. ‘They’re bound to be starving.’ But Dominic waved his glass and said they’d find somewhere. ‘There’s a little Italian on the corner. We can go there.’
    They opened more wine and waited, perched on red velvet seats, watching as the nightclub staff arrived and adjusted the lighting, bathing the room in pools of pink. They tested the strobe above the dance floor, dimming the spots around the bar, so that finally, when the music blasted on, Dominic conceded defeat, and heaving himself up, bustled everyone out.
    It was freezing on the street, the sun long gone, the sky grey with fading light. ‘Smell the sea air.’ Dominic pointed his nose east, and they all turned to stare into the distance where the sea apparently lay. Nell shivered. All she could smell was the baking of potatoes from a Tasty Tatty booth at the end of the road. Her stomach contracted with hunger. ‘Shouldn’t be long now,’ Dominic said, and Nell wondered if she should unzip the bag at her feet and pull on a jacket and a pair of socks. I’ll hold on, she decided, and she tucked her hands under her arms for warmth.
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    The mini-van hooted as it turned the corner. It rattled slowly over the cobbles, its windows rolled down, heads and hands stuck out. ‘Yoohoo,’ voices called. ‘We’re here! We made it.’
    â€˜Well done!’ Dominic strode towards the van. ‘Welcome,’ and he yanked open the door. A tall boy staggered out, his legs stiff at the hips. He stood for a moment, grinning, and then he leant back in and pulled out two grey crutches. Next came a girl, delicate, in a delicate pink shirt, pushing a white stick before her, its fine end feeling for the pavement, sending small vibrating messages up to her white hand. The driver was unpacking a wheelchair from the back, and when he had it ready, he lifted out a man. The man seemed older than the others, with a proud dark face, long arms and huge, strong hands. The driver lifted him under his arms, and as he swung free of the van, Nell saw he had no legs. Instead of legs there were two bare feet protruding from a rolled-up pair of shorts. The feet were twisted, set at an odd angle, their soles turned upwards like palms.
    â€˜Anish, my friend,’ Dominic exclaimed. ‘Good to see you.’
    Anish swept the welcoming party with his large black eyes. ‘Good to have finally fucking arrived.’
    â€˜Are you all starving? What a journey that must have been.’
    The driver was unpacking another wheelchair, and this time Dominic helped him as they shifted an older girl on to the stretched seat. ‘Helen,’ he said.