Chapter 3 #2
‘And you know, if the worst happens, and it won’t, because we’ve been together for ten years, but …
if something happened to him, then I’ve always got you.
’ Her grandad had a spare bedroom. At least she’d have a roof over her head in London.
The absolute worst-case scenario was the thought of returning to Suffolk and moving back in with her parents.
‘But I’m not going to be here forever.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘I will say that. Move in with me now, then I can—’
‘No!’ They’d had this conversation many times. He’d suggested she move in just for six months, not even permanently, but just to put her name down on the council tax, and then he’d do his utmost to live a good while longer so he could pass the long-term tenancy on to her.
She knew how it worked. He’d told her that under the council rules, you could pass down your council tenancy to an immediate relative once, as long as that relative resided in the property.
Bridie wouldn’t hear of it. She’d move in with Grandad in a heartbeat if she was no longer with Julian, but that wasn’t going to happen, and she was not going to move in there under false pretences so she could take over the tenancy.
For starters, she didn’t want to think of her grandad not being around anymore.
In fact, she just couldn’t imagine it. But when he did pass on, there were single people, or couples or even small families who were homeless, living in cramped conditions in hotel rooms, who needed a place like this they could call their own.
She would not deprive people less fortunate than herself of a roof over their heads.
She tried to reassure him. ‘My relationship with Julian is solid.’
He asked her a question that surprised her. ‘You need something to fall back on if your theatre work dries up. Have you thought about that?’
Her grandad had always been the biggest supporter of her work in theatre. Why was he talking like this?
‘I worked on the buses.’
Bridie did a double-take. ‘Are you saying I should become a London bus driver like you?’ Bridie was only half joking.
‘No, but I’m saying I think you could do with a back-up plan, if … if the work dries up.’
Bridie stared at him, and thought, please, please don’t mention my age.
She was only in her early thirties, but theatre roles were physically demanding.
It had crossed her mind, more than once, to wonder how many years she could dance around a stage.
There were stage plays she might be able to do rather than musicals and pantos.
But as her grandfather rightly asked: what if she didn’t get the work? Well, I will just have to.
Maybe she should remind him that he was overlooking a huge advantage she had over other singers, dancers and actresses on the London stage: her fiancé was a producer. It was nepotism, pure and simple, but if anybody could keep her working on the stage, it was her future husband.
Even so, her grandad talking about her having a back-up plan still surprised her.
‘Now you sound like Mum and Dad,’ she joked.
Actually, he didn’t. They didn’t talk about the ‘back-up plan’, as she imagined most parents might whose children decided to go into acting or writing or professions that didn’t offer a permanent job with a guaranteed monthly salary.
All they had talked about was her not going into the theatre at all; the back-up plan should be the plan.
Bridie had never had a back-up plan. There was nothing else in the world she wanted to do but work in theatre.
‘You’re not getting any younger.’
Bridie rolled her eyes. And there it was – her age.
‘I just want to know that there’s something else out there for you to provide an income later on in life.’
You’re not getting any younger. Now she was getting paranoid, imagining some sort of conspiracy, and that her dad and grandad had been discussing her. She didn’t see how that could be the case. They’d been estranged for years, and Bridie had never known why.
She joked, ‘Are you and Dad talking again?’
‘Absolutely not.’
Bridie didn’t think so. Then she had a horrible thought. ‘Are you estranged because of me?’
He said, ‘I’m gasping for another cuppa.’
‘Oh, my god, it is because of me! Is it because you took me to the theatre when I was little and encouraged me to—’
‘It goes back way before that.’
‘Oh. Okay. But you’re not going to tell me.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t.’
She was about to ask why he couldn’t tell her, but thought better of it.
He looked tired. She didn’t want to press him.
She took his hand. ‘Will you tell me one day? I might be able to talk to Dad.’ She wondered if it was something really silly, trivial even, that they were just too proud to get over, and neither of them would admit they were wrong.
The problem was that until one of them shared what was going on, she had no clue how to help them.
‘You will tell me one day, won’t you?’ she asked again.
‘I will.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘So …’ Bridie took a deep breath, coming back to her original question. ‘Will you come to Dad’s retirement party?’
‘I haven’t been invited.’
Bridie was pretty sure that wasn’t true. Besides, the party wasn’t invitation-only. It was just a little family get-together: Jeremy and Caroline, Kate and Andy with the kids, herself and Julian, and her mum and dad. And her grandad if she could persuade him.
Even so, she knew her grandad – he would find any excuse not to come. Out of her coat pocket she produced a small envelope and grinned as she handed it to him.
‘What’s this?’
‘Your invitation.’
His shoulders sagged. ‘Why do I feel like this was a set-up? I bet there weren’t even any formal invitations handed out.’
‘It was. A set-up.’ Bridie leaned forward, grasping his hand. ‘Please say you’ll come. Please, please. For me.’
‘I can’t make any prom—’
‘Yes, you can. It’s not like you’ve got anywhere to be. Julian and I will collect you and drive you there ourselves.’
‘You don’t have to do that. I can get a taxi.’
‘Oh, but I do.’ Bridie wasn’t stupid. He’d conveniently forget to order a taxi and book his train. And besides, that would cost a lot of money, a taxi to the station, and a train ticket.
She smiled. ‘So, it’s all arranged.’
Grandad gave her a sour look. ‘Next time you call on me I’ll make sure to be out.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, Grandad. Sometimes you are such a riot.’
‘When did you say you’ll call round to pick me up for this retirement party?’
Bridie regarded him for a moment. ‘I didn’t.
’ He didn’t know when exactly the party had been arranged for.
Good. Then he couldn’t conveniently arrange to be out with one of his friends when they called round.
In any case, it wasn’t for a while yet. Bridie looked at her watch.
‘Sorry, Grandad, but I’ve got to run. I’ve got a Saturday matinee performance.
’ She stood and gave her grandad a kiss goodbye.
‘Oh, one piece of news. Layla is joining the drama club at school. She wants to be a stage actress just like me.’
‘She told me something about a permission slip when we chatted on the phone. I’m stunned that Kate has signed it.’
‘Oh, she hasn’t. It was Andy. Didn’t even check with Kate. Just signed it.’
‘Well, wonders will never cease.’
Bridie laughed. ‘That’s what I thought. Andy actually making a decision for once without checking in with Kate. Mind you, I think that was my fault.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘He’s seen how successful I’ve turned out with my career on the stage, and with no shortage of work. I’d just better keep it up. Don’t want to let Layla or Andy down.’
Grandad chuckled. ‘You are the consummate professional. I can’t see what could possibly go wrong.’