Forty Theo
Forty
THEO
T he chintz hell of Lilia’s cottage is a fitting cell to return to. I feel like I’m a condemned man, judged by every rose.
How the hell did that utter git Duncan Harrow get hold of those texts? Not that it makes my part in this any less damning, but why did it have to be him?
I don’t go to bed: I can’t. How can I sleep in it again, knowing Lucie was there only hours ago? Lying in the cold without her would be torture. Instead I crash on the rose-patterned sofa, my body and heart aching.
I didn’t go along with Greg’s assumed plan. I’m innocent of that. But I didn’t refuse, either. I didn’t dare cross him for fear of damaging my career.
My precious career.
Before I arrived in Stratford, it was all I could think about. The injustice done to me by Xavier Michel, the fall from grace with the industry that felt unearned, the fear of being forgotten. I didn’t care about anyone or anything else.
But now …
Lucie changed more than just my preconceptions about her. I love her. I love her – more than this stinking industry, more than my own future in it. Why did it take me so long to get it?
The sharp tone of my phone jabs at me from the arm of the sofa. I want to ignore it, but it’s the tone I chose for my agent. The Greatest by Lady Gaga. It sounds crass now, the sentiment as far away from how I feel as it’s possible to get.
‘Lucie quit The Tempest ,’ Barry barks, an accusation that slices my heart like a blade.
‘I know.’
‘Greg’s not happy.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘Don’t care? What the hell?’
I don’t want to furnish him with the details. He wouldn’t hear them, anyway. All Barry is concerned with is keeping me in the show. I suppose I should be grateful that he’s finally on my side, but the victory feels hollow. When I saw him for drinks earlier, he was all smiles and big promises for the future. I can’t bear to think of us laughing and joking over beers now, knowing that Duncan was dropping the text message bombshell on Lucie while Barry and I were at the bar.
‘Listen, it’s her choice to duck out of the show,’ he says, clearly hoping he sounds pragmatic. But I can hear his panic in every word. ‘And anyway, I’m more concerned about you. We need this gig, Theo. Now more than ever.’
‘I’m not skipping out of town, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘I never thought you were! I’m just saying: this is still the real break. All the stuff over the summer was … an amuse bouche …’
Nobody’s ever equated a shattered heart with a free bite of food in a restaurant before, but I guess if anyone was going to be the first, it would have to be Barry.
He isn’t going to indulge me with words of comfort, so I just let him jabber on about the plans and the upcoming rehearsal schedule. I learned a long time ago that your agent isn’t your friend, whatever they write in your first-night cards. Do the work, earn the commission, find the next job. Must be good to live your life like that. Until this summer, I thought that’s what I was doing.
But I’m not like that. It’s a revelation I wasn’t prepared for and I’m floundering.
I manage to get through the call without spooking my agent, relieved when he finally hangs up. The practical side of me understands the importance of keeping on, even if the rest of me wants to curl up and hide.
An hour later, I’m finally veering towards sleep when my mobile buzzes again.
Grabbing it in the hope a message is there from Lucie, I blink at the screen.
Hi Theo
Duncan told me what happened.
Can’t imagine how upset you are.
I know it’s been a while, but I’m here if you want to chat.
I hate to think of you being alone with all this.
Call me, babe.
Amy Jo x x x
It’s too much.
Throwing the phone to the chintz carpet, I slap a hand over my eyes and will the world away.