Chapter 32 #2
Bridie place a hand on his arm. ‘It’s all right, I know what you meant. And I do see your point. I could sell up and pay you back, but I’d rather you didn’t invest your money in the first place, in case something goes horribly wrong and you lose it all.’
‘But you don’t mind Jack investing his money.’
She lowered her voice, glancing at the theatre door, although she guessed he was still in the auditorium. ‘Because from what you’ve told me, Jack can afford to back a bad investment and lose money.’
Oliver frowned. ‘Jack never makes a bad investment.’
‘That gives me every confidence, then, that things will work out.’ She knew that was not what he’d meant, and it wasn’t what Bridie thought either, but she didn’t tell him the other reason she was letting Jack invest; he might just be her secret benefactor.
Bridie was feeling increasingly convinced of this; what other reason would there really be for him to get involved?
‘You remember I told you that he’s always wanted to get his hands on the theatre?’
Bridie nodded.
‘I would be very wary, Bridie, very wary. You could find yourself losing the theatre if you’re not careful.’
‘I own it. How could that possibly happen?’
‘I don’t know, Bridie, but I’ve heard stories about how ruthless he can be in business to get what he wants.’
‘Ruthless?’ Bridie scoffed. ‘He’s my friend.’
‘Is he?’
The door flew open behind them, startling Bridie. She felt a hand on her shoulder. ‘There you are, Bridie. Everything all right?’
‘Um … yes. Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘Good, good. Let’s start working on some plans – shall we?’
‘Oh, yes, great idea.’ She threw Oliver an apologetic look. ‘Rein-check on the coffee?’
‘Actually, I think I’ll stay.’
Jack did an about-turn. ‘Why?’
Oliver shrugged. ‘Keep an eye on things.’
‘You mean, keep an eye on me.’ Jack shrugged. ‘Whatever.’ Jack held the door open for Bridie as Oliver opened the other double door. Bridie stepped inside, looking from one to the other as they stepped inside too.
‘Takes me back,’ said Jack, ‘the three of us here.’
‘Certainly does,’ agreed Oliver.
Jack smirked. ‘Race you!’
‘Really?’ Bridie said, watching two grown men competitively diving for the door to the auditorium like they were teenagers.
As she approached the door, swinging back towards her, she heard the sound of their footsteps racing down the aisle towards the stage.
She stepped inside in time to see them both holding out their arms, trying to bar each other’s way to the stage.
They collapsed in a heap on the stage floor, laughing.
She caught up with them, lying there staring up at the ceiling, and stood over them, hands on hips. ‘Really?’
They both grinned, and said in unison, ‘Yes, really.’
‘God – that took me back,’ said Jack, the first to stand up.
Oliver rose to a seated position to find Jack standing over him, holding out his hand. He looked as surprised as Bridie did.
Jack said, ‘Come on, don’t be an arse. I’m not going bite.’
Oliver lifted his arm and grabbed hold of Jack’s hand. A moment later they were standing facing each other. For a moment, Bridie wondered what they’d get up to next. She didn’t hang around to find out. ‘I’m going to use the powder room.’
The previous evening, while she had been picking up all the old letters and rubbish in the foyer while her friends cleaned the auditorium, she’d discovered the public toilets – a ladies and gents off the foyer.
They were still in working order, which had come as a welcome relief after a couple of large coffees from Mabel and Marjorie’s flasks.
The loos, like everywhere else, needed a thorough clean, but she didn’t mind that; she was just glad that the plumbing still worked and they had a water supply.
She’d just walked out into the foyer when she heard them. She turned around and listened at the door.
‘So, what are you really doing here, Jack?’
Bridie opened the door a crack. The question seemed to catch Jack off-guard. To Bridie’s surprise, he hesitated. She didn’t know why. He was there to start planning the restoration work.
Jack said, ‘I’m doing some estimates for the works on the leaky roof and the electrical work, getting a plan together – that sort of thing.’
Bridie nodded.
‘So,’ Oliver continued, ‘this so-called plan investing in the theatre – it’s not an excuse to see Bridie?’
Bridie was surprised by the question. She was even more surprised when Jack didn’t reply.
‘Your wife knows you’re here?’ Oliver continued.
‘Look, either lend a hand or … or go home, Oliver.’
Bridie saw Oliver fold his arms across his chest.
Jack said, ‘I often go and price jobs up after work. Running a business doesn’t stop at the weekend, you know.’
Oliver persisted, ‘But does she know you’re here – with Bridie?’
‘I don’t think that’s relevant.’
‘I don’t think your wife would agree with that sentiment.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I think you know very well, Jack.’
‘I’m married – remember?’
‘Happily married?’ Oliver asked.
‘That is none of your damn business.’
Bridie retreated from the door, having a feeling this conversation was not going to go good places. She turned for the loo just as Jack stormed through the door. He dumped a clipboard and pen in Bridie’s hands. ‘Sorry, I can’t do this with him here. He’s being an arse.’
She felt like asking her own questions: What are you really doing here, Jack? Did you gift me the theatre? She kept that to herself, although she did say, ‘I think you’re being an arse. He’s only trying to help.’
‘No, he’s not. Well, he’s not trying to help me anyway. He’s still got the hots for you.’
‘What? I’m not his type. And who still uses that phrase – got the hots for someone?’
‘Oh, Bridie, you’ve always been so blind, haven’t you?’ And with that Jack left, commenting over his shoulder, ‘Perhaps we can meet up here on a school night.’
A school night? Had he suddenly forgotten what year it was?
He paused at the door and turned around. ‘That sounded weird. I haven’t lost track of time. I meant when Oliver is teaching in school, and too busy marking schoolwork to make a nuisance of himself in the theatre.’
‘You don’t mean that,’ Bridie said.
‘Of course I do. I’ll make the time after work to come round when it’s just you and me.’
Bridie raised her eyebrows.
She ignored the thought, and clarified, ‘No, I meant what you said about Oliver. He used to be your best friend. What happened?’
‘You happened.’
‘Huh?’
‘He tolerated you and I being together when we were teenagers because if he hadn’t then we wouldn’t all have hung out together, and it was the only way he could still spend time with you.
But when I let you go to London, he blamed me.
Me! It wasn’t my bloody fault you buggered off and left us.
I obviously didn’t mean that much to you. ’
Bridie starred at him, stunned by the outburst. ‘I … I’m sorry.’
Their eyes locked for a moment until Jack said, ‘Too late for an apology. That was years ago.’
Although he was right about it being years earlier, the way he spoke didn’t convince her that it felt like that to him. He spoke as though she’d only just left him … hurt him. She did not know what to say.
‘I’ll call you,’ he said, and left.
She was staring after him, wondering whether they’d ever get the theatre fixed up, wondering if Oliver was right – enlisting Jack’s help wasn’t going to work after all. Not for the reasons Oliver thought, though, but because there was just too much history between them.
Oliver stormed out and looked at her. ‘Where is he?’
‘Gone – thanks to you.’
‘Thanks to me?
‘What’s it got to do with his wife? I overheard what you said.’
‘Oh, Bridie you’ve always been so blind, haven’t you? Is this what you want – him?’
‘Oliver – what on earth are you … talking about?’ she said to the empty foyer. By the time she’d finished her sentence, Oliver was gone too.
Bridie rolled her eyes. ‘That went well. Note to self, just make sure the three of us aren’t ever in the same theatre again.’ She stood there alone looking around the foyer. ‘Now what?’
She heard a noise coming from behind the counter.
She wasn’t scared, though. She walked behind the counter and looked at Barney in his crate.
He’d woken up. She knelt down and whispered, ‘Hello, my sweet boy. I’m surprised you slept through all that drama.
Now, would you like a little tour of the theatre before we leave? ’
She was just opening the crate door, about to get him out, when Barney cocked his head to one side in a way that she recognised instantly – his classic pose when he was listening to something. She looked at him. ‘What is it, boy?’ she asked as she reached in to take him out.
Barney backed up in the crate.
‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m not going to shout at you again, I promise.’
Barney still backed away, ears twitching.
That was when Bridie thought she heard something too – a sound coming from the auditorium.
She was about to take flight or hide behind the counter – she couldn’t decide which – when she suddenly shook her head.
‘Really?’ She stood up, recalling the flimsy lock on the back door stage entrance.
She knew what this was. Oliver had bumped into Jack on his way out, and they’d both decided to play a ghostly prank on her.
‘Wait here,’ Bridie said to Barney, who just whimpered. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just two silly boys who, when they get together, forget they’ve grown up.’
She stood up, brushed herself down, and marched to the auditorium door. She swung the door wide, and was just saying, ‘Boys, I know what you’re up to …’ when she saw her. There was a woman on the stage. The lights flickered. Bridie blinked. The woman was gone.
Bridie froze. Oh, god – it’s her. It’s Isobel Raine. Then she made a dash through the foyer to the main door, straight past the counter. A whimper reminded her she’d forgotten something.
‘Come on, Barney. Let’s get out of here.’ The crate was too big and bulky to grab in a hurry. Instead she leaned in, scooped Barney up, held him close to her chest, and ran out of the theatre door.
Shakily, she locked the door, turned around and ran, almost shrieking in fright when she ran into a woman.
‘Bridie?’