Chapter 6
The late train to Suffolk rattled through the darkness.
Bridie watched her reflection blur in the glass, her eyes red-rimmed, her mouth set in a thin line.
Every stop carried her further from the city she loved and closer to the place she’d sworn never to return to live. Suffolk. Her parents’ house. Failure.
Going home felt like defeat. Her parents had never believed she’d make it in theatre. They’d said she should get a proper job like her older sister. That night, she was proving them right.
When the taxi dropped her outside her childhood home, she stood for a moment staring at her parents’ beautiful home, the like of which she imagined she’d never afford in her lifetime.
It was a red-brick detached thatched cottage down a long winding country lane.
They’d extended the property years earlier as their family had grown, adding an extension to turn it into a three-bedroomed house with a large modern kitchen extension that had skylights and patio doors leading out into their large, neatly turfed garden, complete with a patio and garden chairs.
The biggest change to the property had been just recently when her father had used his last bonus to build a granny annexe – or a grandad annexe, to be precise. Built on to the property at a right angle, it looked like a single-storey cottage with little cottagey windows under a pantile roof.
As the taxi sped off, Bridie eyed the annexe. It would be good if it was completed, but from what she’d heard, the plaster walls were still drying out, waiting to be decorated, and the kitchen and bathroom were on order. It was an empty shell.
The annexe had surprised everybody considering that her dad and her grandad still weren’t speaking to one another. Bridie and her brother and sister agreed that whatever the problem between them was, it was very childish of them not to just be grown-ups and bury the hatchet.
Bridie was pleased that her parents had built the annexe. Her grandad was very independent, but there would come a time when he’d appreciate being looked after, surely. He’d still have his independence in the annexe, but with the security of family right next door.
The only thing that niggled at Bridie was the question of whether they had thought it through.
It was a good idea in theory, but she could foresee a problem.
How would he get on out here, in the middle of nowhere?
Her parents lived in a small village. There were the countryside and the coast to enjoy, but her grandad enjoyed going to West End shows – that evening was a case in point.
In conversation, Mrs Hughes had mentioned that she’d seen him all dressed up in a suit. It was a theatre night, obviously.
Bridie had decided not to check into a hotel and return to see her grandad in the morning.
She didn’t want him to know just yet what had happened.
She knew she could return to London and move in with him.
It was bad enough facing her parents, but she dreaded having to tell her grandad what had happened with Julian, and about her behaviour, losing her theatre work on top of it; she just couldn’t bear the thought that she’d let him down – the one person who had always encouraged and supported her. She’d rather face her parents.
The porch light flicked on as she approached the cottage, highlighting the ivy creeping up the walls and curling around the window frames. Her mother opened the door, arms folded. Her expression, pinched and unsurprised, said everything before she even spoke.
‘So.’ Her voice carried all the judgement Bridie remembered. ‘It didn’t work out.’
Bridie didn’t know whether she was referring to her relationship, her job, or both.
She was too tired to care. She had texted her mum on the train, giving a very truncated version of events.
She and Julian had split up, and she wasn’t returning to the show; she was heading back home for a few days while she figured out what to do next.
Her father, in his slippers, hovered in the hallway behind her mother, silent as ever. He cleared his throat and retreated back into the safety of his armchair, as though he wanted no part in the performance.
Bridie forced a smile, dragging her suitcase past her mother. ‘It’s temporary.’
Her mother’s eyebrow arched. ‘Of course.’
And just like that, she was twelve again, standing in the hallway being told her dreams were too big.
Bridie was about to take her suitcase upstairs when, of all the things, she heard a toilet flush.
Kate appeared at the top of the stairs, a smirk curling her lips. ‘Mum told me what happened. I knew it was only a matter of time.’
Bridie’s cheeks flamed. They had never believed in her.
Never thought she’d make it beyond bit-parts and chorus lines.
For a while she had proved them wrong, playing real roles, working real theatres.
And then – this. Bridie’s one consolation was that nobody had taken her up on her offer, on Friday at Jeremy’s house, for them all to come and see her in the matinee performance on Saturday.
They would have had front row seats to her spectacular downfall.
Bridie looked at her sister in surprise as she walked down the stairs. ‘What are you doing here?’
She frowned at Bridie and held a finger to her lips as she cast a glance through the open doorway into the lounge.
‘I would have said the same thing to you if Mum hadn’t told me.
’ Lowering her voice, she whispered, ‘I thought as I’d pop round to have a word with Mum about … ’ she raised her eyebrows.
Bridie was too tired for guessing games. ‘About … what?’
Whatever it was, Kate could have phoned Mum. She probably had, and had discovered that her little sister was on her way home with her tail between her legs. Kate must have wanted to be there to see it.
‘You know …’ Kate continued, lowering her voice to a whisper, ‘the arrangements for the surprise retirement party we discussed yesterday when we were all round at Jeremy’s.’
‘Oh, right.’ To Bridie, that seemed like a lifetime ago, along with her first visit to her grandad’s that day – just that morning she’d stupidly tempted fate and told her grandad that she and Julian were ‘solid’ and nothing bad was going to happen.
Her grandad had yet again broached the idea of her moving in with him so that she could get her name down as his immediate next-of-kin to have the council flat.
With no money, no job, and no partner, she might qualify for it, making her feel less guilty about taking it.
But then she felt it still didn’t seem fair.
There were lots of people on the housing list who’d probably been waiting an age.
And besides, although it wasn’t ideal, she did have a roof over her head.
And her grandad wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. Bridie had left Mrs Hughes her phone number to contact her as soon as she knew he was home safe. But would she remember? And what if her grandad turned up really late and Mrs Hughes had gone to bed?
If she couldn’t get through on her grandad’s landline, Bridie intended to phone Jeremy and tell him to go round, and check he had got home safe and sound. She knew her grandad didn’t always answer the phone if he’d taken his hearing aid out. She tried not to worry.
‘Are you staying for dinner, Kate?’ Mum asked.
‘Oh, yes. I wasn’t going to.’ Kate turned to look at Bridie. ‘But now I’ve changed my mind.’
‘How wonderful. After dinner, when your father is watching the footie, the three of us can discuss the party further.’
Bridie glared at her sister. They both knew that was not what she was staying for.
She wanted to know all the juicy details of Bridie’s break-up and her fall from grace in theatre land.
She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks at the thought of that embarrassing centre-stage fight, all the phones held aloft in the audience, and what might soon be posted on social media – if it hadn’t been already.
Dinner that night was excruciating. Forks scraped plates. Kate quizzed Bridie about jobs she might actually be qualified for. Her mother suggested temping. Her father said nothing at all, which was somehow worse.
Bridie forced down mouthfuls of shepherd’s pie, staring at the family photographs lining the wall – her parents on holidays, Kate’s wedding, her brother’s wedding. No space for her theatre posters, her reviews, her achievements. It was as though she’d never left.
By the time she trudged up to her old room, climbed into her childhood bed, duvet pulled over her head, Bridie felt she was right back to being the girl no one believed in, the dreamer destined to disappoint.
Tomorrow. Bridie didn’t want to think about tomorrow and becoming an internet sensation for all the wrong reasons. But tonight wasn’t any better, there in the small Suffolk town. She was already branded: the one who had left, had failed, and had come crawling home.