ONE
“Janice! Have you seen my cummerbund!”
The shout from Robert Hawthorne, patriarch of the Hawthorne family, rang out in the hallway of the family wing of Hawthorne House so loudly that Nally burst into laughter in the middle of shaving.
And promptly cut the side of his jaw.
“Dammit,” he hissed, though he continued to laugh as he dropped his razor and grabbed at the loo roll beside his small vanity. He loved his parents, really, he did, but they did have a way of causing small disasters everywhere they went.
Not that Nally cutting himself shaving was much of a disaster. Or at least it wouldn’t have been on any other evening. But the big gala premiere ofTo Serve Himwas in London that night, and since all of the exterior shots for the potential blockbuster film had been shot at Hawthorne House the year before, the entire family was getting all dolled up to attend.
“Has anyone checked the time?” Nally’s brother, Ryan, who had recently returned to the bosom of the large and eccentric Hawthorne family after a long stint in Milan, building his fashion career, bellowed down the hall a moment later.
Nally dabbed at the spot of blood on his jaw, pressed a wad of toilet paper over it to stop the bleeding, and picked up his razor to finish shaving. He didn’t really need to shave all that often, if he was honest with himself. It annoyed him that at twenty-three, he still looked like he could plausibly be in sixth form. He was the baby of the extensive Hawthorne family, but he didn’t need to look like it that literally.
“We’re fine for time,” Nally’s mum’s voice rang down the hall. “I have your cummerbund here, Robert. Nally, darling, do you need help with your cufflinks?” his mum asked at last as she stopped by the open door to Nally’s small flat.
“No, Mum,” Nally called back through his half-open bathroom door. “I’ve got it.”
A second later, his mum pulled the door open all the way and stepped straight into the room, regardless of the fact that Nally was dressed only in his pants.
“Mum!” Nally gasped, nearly cutting himself a second time.
“Oh dear, sweetheart,” his mum said, completely unfazed by her youngest’s state of undress. “You’ve cut yourself.”
“Yes, Mum, I noticed,” Nally said with a slightly hysterical giggle. He wanted to snap at his mum and tell her to go away, that he wasn’t a child anymore, but it was physically impossible to be cross with Janice Hawthorne, no matter what the situation.
“Let me see,” Janice said, looping the cummerbund over her shoulder like a suffragette’s sash and grasping Nally’s chin with one, graceful hand. She turned his face to her, scrutinized the small, bleeding spot, then burst into a smile and planted a quick kiss on his other cheek, despite the remnants of shaving cream. “We’re so proud of you, darling,” she said.
Nally melted. His mum could do that to anyone, but it felt especially wonderful to hear those words from her. “I didn’t really do anything,” he said, turning on the sink and rushing to rinse his face once his mum let it go.
“Didn’t do anything?” Janice asked incredulously. “You composed the entire soundtrack forTo Serve Himall by yourself.”
Nally blushed as he patted his face dry. She was right. It had been a whim on the part of Heath Manfred, one of the executives of Silver Productions, the company that had produced the film, and Miles Ferrier, the director, to hire Nally to take over composing duties when the big-name composer they’d originally signed had a scheduling conflict.
Nally had never composed on commission in his life, let alone for a film. He’d spent months in a constant state of being freaked out as he’d attended story meetings, discussed mood and nuance with Miles, and written more music in a shorter period of time than he ever had in his life. Then he’d recorded the score with a razor-thin deadline. It was the first time he’d heard a major symphony orchestra play his work.
Now here they were, less than an hour away from piling into the family cars to drive into London so they could attend the premiere of a film that would have Nally’s fingerprints all over it. He’d already seen the industry screening a few weeks before, and it had thrilled him, but tonight would be the first time he’d be part of a real audience seeing the final product.
“Nobody pays any attention to a film’s soundtrack at the premiere,” Nally said, searching for a better solution for his cut. “People go to premieres to ogle the stars.”
“Why not let them ogle you?” Janice said, sweeping a cheeky glance down his unclothed body.
“Mum!” Nally laughed. “Gross!”
“You are objectively handsome, my boy,” Janice said, opening the medicine cabinet behind Nally’s mirror and taking out a small box of bandages. “All of my children are dazzlingly beautiful. Of course you are. You have my DNA.”
“Mum.” Nally shook his head.
“Speaking of which, where’s that young man that’s been courting you lately?” Janice went on.
“Sam? He should be here by now to drive into London with us.”
The fact that Nally’s date for the evening wasn’t there yet was just another concern to add to his list. Along with the fact that the bloom had kind of gone off the rose of his budding relationship with Sam Walters. Tonight was shaping up to be a test of whether they should keep trying or give up.
“If Sam doesn’t appreciate you then you shouldn’t bother with him,” Janice said as she took one of the small, spot plasters from the box, opened it, and applied it to his jaw, like he was still ten and had scraped his knees again. The part of Nally that found the whole thing indignant took a backseat to the part of him that loved his mum, his whole family, really, and appreciated how much she cared for him.
“There you are,” Janice said when she was done, kissing the plaster for good measure. “Now run along and put on that suit Ryan picked out for you. I told the others that we have plenty of time, but that was a lie. I heard the traffic report on the radio. We should have left five minutes ago.”
