Chapter 5 #2
Which makes sense, even as my heart nonsensically sinks at the thought.
Because I shouldn’t care what he thinks of my casting, at all.
And from his perspective, he could have been doing this job with his girlfriend opposite him in the leading role.
I can’t have been his first choice for this, even without our past.
‘Thanks,’ I reply.
‘You – you deserve it,’ he says. And hearing him say those words kicks off a myriad of emotions in me.
But I can’t engage with any of them right now. I’m already so overwhelmed – and this day has been so joyful so far. I grope for a change of subject and land on one before I can really consider what I’m saying.
‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt, my chest tightening. ‘About Sienna.’
There’s a pause. Oh, fuck. Now I’ve practically given him an opening to tell me he’s disappointed.
‘What?’ he says, eventually. Looking… confused? But that doesn’t make any sense.
‘Your girlfriend,’ I reply, stating the obvious. Continuing to dig myself into a hole. ‘You must be upset that she didn’t get the part.’
‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Ah.’ And I can almost hear him thinking of how to spin this, how to convince me he’s excited about the prospect of spending six weeks with me, rather than with his supermodel girlfriend. ‘You know, that’s not—’
But before he can finish the sentence, the door swings open again. Marissa and Suzanne come through it, chatting and holding their cups of tea. Suzanne with one in each hand, presumably having made one for me too. When they see Avi, they stop in their tracks.
‘Hi, Avi,’ Suzanne says her tone familiar. They must know each other. ‘I thought we weren’t seeing you for another ten minutes?’
‘I’m early,’ he says and shoots me a glance. ‘I’ll wait outside.’
Suzanne nods and he heads towards the door. But before he reaches it, he turns back to look at me, a slightly strange expression on his face.
‘Lara,’ he says. ‘You, uh… you look beautiful in that dress.’ And he chokes the words out as if there’s something stuck in his throat. But they still hit me like a truck.
What the ever-living fuck?
Suzanne and Marissa exchange a look and he leaves the room, the door swinging shut behind him.
I arrive back at my flat that evening, ready to pack up the last few boxes of my things.
Alison and I managed most of them in one car journey, and she’s lent me her car again to collect the rest. The new flatmate is moving in tomorrow, so this will be my last night in the flat.
I’ll be staying with my parents for the next week until filming.
I unlock the door, expecting Spencer and Hannah to be out; they said they were going for drinks this evening.
But instead I see them sitting at the table, an array of fajita accoutrements in front of them.
‘Surprise!’ Spencer says.
‘I-I don’t understand,’ I start, confused.
‘We couldn’t let you get away without a goodbye dinner,’ Hannah says. I falter – I hadn’t expected this at all. ‘Or without nailing down a day for you to come and give a talk at my school,’ she adds, half-jokingly.
‘This is so kind,’ I say, putting my bags down and walking over to the table. ‘But I have—’
‘Packing to do,’ Spencer says, with a sideways look at Hannah. ‘We know. But will you at least give us a chance to hang out with you before you become so famous you don’t want anything to do with us any more?’
It’s a joke, but something hits me as he says it.
Because that’s exactly what Avi did to me.
I’d never want to make anyone else feel that way.
I like Hannah and Spencer. I just never really imagined they were inviting me to their monthly dinners and pub trips through any other impulse than politeness.
I’ve not exactly added much to the flat in my time here.
And so I put my things in my room, come back to sit beside my flatmates and start to make myself a plate. Spencer asks me about how the costume-fitting went and I leave out the detail about Avi.
Hannah talks about her school play, and how the lead was suspended for stealing a goat and bringing it into school as a prank.
So now she’s had to recast, and the only person both interested and available has such terrible stage fright that Hannah’s worried the entire play is just going to be an hour and a half of silence.
Spencer tells us about the new lead in the musical he’s currently in the chorus of on the West End, and how much of a diva they are – insisting on never interacting with the rest of the cast outside rehearsals and performances.
Because they were on a few episodes of EastEnders and therefore apparently ‘too good’ for the rest of them.
And for the first time, pretty much since I moved in, I feel almost…
comfortable. Maybe it’s because I’m leaving tomorrow, so I feel less self-conscious.
But the thought occurs to me suddenly, out of nowhere – maybe it’s because I never really gave Hannah and Spencer a chance.
Because I assumed their interest in me couldn’t have been genuine, so I kept to myself rather than opening up to them.
Why haven’t I done more of this? I think to myself.
‘To Lara,’ Hannah says, raising a glass. My chest warms. ‘I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I’m really thrilled for you. And I know Spence is too.’
‘On that note…’ Spencer says, pulling out something from under the table. It’s wrapped and book-shaped. My heart thuds as he hands it to me.
I push my thumb under the paper and open it.
It’s a special edition of A Murder in London, the first book in the Amelia Blackthorn Chronicles.
Leather-bound with embossing and gold-foiled edges.
I run my hand over it, then open the cover.
They’ve written a note to me on the inside wishing me luck, and signed it ‘from your former flatmates’.
I’m so moved, I honestly don’t know what to say for a few moments.
‘Thank you,’ I finally manage. ‘This is… wonderful.’
No one has ever done anything this kind for me.
Well, except one person.
‘We wanted you to have something to remember us by,’ Spencer says, dramatically clutching his chest. I laugh and Hannah does too.
And the next morning when I leave, I feel – for the second time since I accepted this role – sad to be saying goodbye.