Chapter 36 #2
Bridie didn’t know why he didn’t appear happy about that. Perhaps his idea was that she stayed and ran it as a business.
‘Perhaps I’ll do more than one,’ Bridie mused. ‘Depends on what happens.’
‘What happens?’
‘Yes.’
‘You mean depending on the outcome of who comes to your play?’
Bridie didn’t quite understand. ‘Well, obviously if lots of people come then … maybe that will change things.’
‘I see,’ Jack said again. ‘Are you talking about it being profitable or something else?’
‘Something else?’ Bridie didn’t know what he was getting at. ‘Anyway, why all this talk of profitability? You weren’t talking about that last weekend, when you returned my call and we arranged to meet today. You mentioned development potential.’
Jack hesitated, just for a second. ‘I mentioned options.’
‘Flats,’ she said. ‘Or an infill. You said it would be worth a small fortune if I just sold it.’ She’d wondered at the time whether he was goading her to change her mind. But why would he do that?
‘Because it would be worth a small fortune,’ he replied evenly. ‘It’s prime seafront property.’
The words landed like a slap. Bridie felt heat rise behind her eyes, anger and something sharper underneath – fear. Had she got it wrong, and he wasn’t her secret benefactor?
‘This isn’t a development project,’ she reminded him. ‘It’s a theatre.’
‘For now,’ Jack said, the expression on his face one of immediate regret that he’d voiced his thoughts.
That did it.
She stepped forward, voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady. ‘No. Not for now. That’s the whole point. I was given this place to put on a play. One play. And I intend to do exactly that.’ She felt like adding, as you well know, but now she wasn’t so sure.
Jack studied her, expression unreadable. ‘And after?’
‘After,’ she said, lifting her chin, ‘I’ll decide.’
Silence stretched between them. The theatre seemed to hold its breath.
Jack exhaled slowly. ‘Bridie, I’m trying to help you not make a mess of this.’
Her laugh came out short and incredulous. ‘By taking over?’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘You’re not listening to me,’ she said. ‘You’re already talking like it’s yours.’
Jack’s gaze sharpened. ‘I’m talking like someone who knows how to get things done.’
The words stung because they were partly true. She did want things to get done. She was tired of chaos, tired of things falling apart – careers, relationships, dreams.
Jack softened then, just a fraction. ‘Look,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ve got a vision. That’s great. But vision without structure collapses. I can give you that structure.’
She searched his face, seeing the boy she’d loved once, layered beneath the man he’d become. Capable. Controlling. Still infuriating.
‘It’s what you want, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘For things to get done?’
Bridie hesitated. She noticed his eyes drifting to the contract in her hands. It hadn’t been witnessed, she realised. It was just between them. She could still change her mind, rip it up into tiny pieces.
Instead, she nodded.
Jack’s shoulders relaxed, just slightly. ‘Then let me do my job.’
The words echoed louder than he probably intended. She stopped in the middle of
She turned away, walking onto the stage. The boards creaked beneath her feet, but they held. She closed her eyes and imagined it – not the ruin, not the arguments – but light. Music. Voices rising into the rafters. An audience leaning forward, breath caught.
For the first time since she had left London, the thought didn’t make her flinch. It made her feel alive.
‘I’m doing this,’ she said, opening her eyes. ‘With or without you.’
Jack didn’t argue. He just watched her, something unreadable passing through his expression.
‘I know,’ he said finally. ‘That’s why I’m here.’ He held out his hand.
She went to take it, as though they were shaking on the agreement, but instead he shook his head and pointed at the contract. Despite every fibre in her being shouting not to hand it over, she did.
They left the theatre and walked into the foyer together, unresolved tension humming between them like a live wire.
Bridie knew she was taking a risk – letting Jack so close to something that mattered this much.
They had a history, it was true. But she hadn’t seen him for years before she had bumped into him in the café. Just how well did she really know him?
But as she headed to the door, heart racing with fear and excitement in equal measure, one thing was certain – she was dreaming again of a future on the stage.
She felt Jack’s hand close around hers. ‘Bridie.’
She stopped in the middle of the foyer and was just turning to look at him, her skin tingling at his touch, the look on his face suggesting he was about to say something, when a rap on the theatre door made her jump.
Unlike their last meeting at the theatre, which had gone wrong when Oliver had barged in, this time she’d had the presence of mind to lock the doors in case Oliver made another surprise appearance.
As she turned around, rolling her eyes in the direction of the door, thinking that she should have texted him with an excuse, she found herself doing a double-take. The face in the window was the last person she’d expected to see standing outside the theatre, hands on hips, shaking her head.
Bridie’s first thought was that she had been caught with Jack, a married man, holding her hand. When she unlocked the door, Oliver suddenly appeared behind Bridie’s mother.
‘It’s not what you think,’ Oliver and Bridie both said in unison.
Bridie glanced over her shoulder at Jack. She knew what she was talking about – herself and Jack. What was Oliver talking about? She looked at her mother, who was shaking her head as she said, ‘So, this is the reason you didn’t meet up with Oliver at the café this morning.’
Bridie looked at Oliver wide-eyed. So, she hadn’t passed by, and looked in the theatre by chance, catching her inside. When she saw her mum, Bridie’s immediate thought was that Layla couldn’t keep a secret, and now everyone knew. But she realised it hadn’t been Layla.
She turned to Oliver. ‘How could you!’
‘Seriously, it’s not what you think.’
What Bridie was thinking was that this was Oliver’s revenge for not letting him invest, choosing Jack over him.
She’d expressly asked everyone, including Oliver, to keep this a secret, and now he’d gone and told the one person who was about to try and scupper her plans for the theatre.
Assuming she knew that Bridie owned the place.
‘So, it is true,’ her mum said, before Bridie had a chance to ask Oliver how much she knew.
Bridie narrowed her eyes. ‘What’s true?’ Bridie asked, avoiding eye contact.
‘That you own the theatre.’ She pointed.
Bridie had the key in her hand. She felt like throwing it at Oliver. ‘How could you!’ she exclaimed again.
He held out a placating hand.
Her mum stepped forward. ‘Don’t blame Oliver.’
Bridie rolled her eyes. That was just what she would have expected her mum to do – side with Oliver.
‘I walked into the café and saw him sitting alone,’ she continued, ‘so I joined him, asking where you were. I thought you’d be there too. Then he said you were obviously too busy with the theatre.’
Oliver quickly added, ‘It just came out.’
‘The theatre? I said, wondering what on earth he was on about. I wouldn’t let it go. Eventually, I got it out of him.’
Bridie looked her mum up and down. She still couldn’t believe she was there, standing right in front of her in the doorway of the theatre.
She expected her to be on the phone to Bridie’s dad any minute.
Soon, her whole family would know and would be judging her, and telling her what to do with the theatre, and saying that she’d never stage a play there – that it couldn’t be done.
She swallowed. This was the last thing she needed.
‘What do you want, Mum?’ It was a stupid question.
‘I want to know why you’re here with him.’ She pointed rudely at Jack.
Bridie said, ‘He’s my friend.’
‘I thought Oliver was your friend?’
‘Please forgive me,’ Oliver said, stepping in to Bridie’s silence.
Her mum butted in before Bridie had a chance to respond. ‘Why don’t you want anybody to know about the theatre, apart from your friends?’ She looked at Jack with disdain.
Jack sidled past the three of them, whispering in Bridie’s ear, ‘I’ll get my guys started on the renovations.’ And with that he was gone, leaving her to her mother’s probing questions and disapproving glare.