‘They’re usually terrible.’
‘Thanks.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Then a season finale.’
‘That sounds serious…’
‘You know what I mean!’ Olive lightly punched his arm, which made his coffee slosh out the little hole in the lid.
‘I know! I get it, I get it. But what can I do? I’m not ready to delve into anything serious yet but… I like you. A lot. I haven’thad fun with a girl in ages. It always gets angsty and expectations get thrown around and I just can’t do that, right now. But I can do this. This is cool.’
‘But you’ve got —’
‘Options? So do you! You’re an extraordinary woman, Olive Green. That’s why I choose to spend my time with you.’
‘But Tamara —’
‘Tamara what? Fancies me? Let her! Doesn’t mean I suddenly chooseher. I choose you.’
‘Youchooseme? What am I, a Pikachu?’
‘And you choose me too, right?’ Oscar ignored her joke and took her hand, pressing it against his face. When she didn’t answer, he pecked her palm with kisses over and over and over until —
‘I choose you!’ she giggled, trying to tug her hand away. ‘I choose you!’
‘Yes!’ Oscar swept her up in his free arm andnuzzled his face into her hair. Olive worried that someone might see them, but Oscar didn’t seem to care, which made her smile all the more. He offered her his arm and she gladly took it.
‘Er… HELLO?!’ Jane opened the door and it crashed against the wall with a loud bang.
‘Everything okay, Jane?’
‘I didn’t get a coffee,’ she said to Oscar with a nod to Olive.
‘Didn’tfancy one?’ Oscar squeezed Olive’s hand where she had it rested in the crook of his elbow. Olive squeezed his arm back.
‘Well, I don’t have any money with me!’ she scoffed.
‘That seems odd to come out to buy coffee and not bring any money with you… almost as if you expected someone else to pay for you. But it’s all right, Jane. I know you’re a nice girl who would never do such athing, would you?’
‘Well… no… but…’
‘And you’d never expect a man to pay just because he’s “the man”, right? Equality and all that! It’s okay, Jane. Next time, we know coffee’s on you. Come on!’ Oscar gave Olive a tug and turned her sharply towards the direction of stage door.
‘Don’t turn around! Don’t turn around! Just walk, walk, walk!’ Oscar whispered as he frog-marchedOlive back through stage door.
‘Was that mean? That felt mean,’ Olive said inside the safety of the theatre as Oscar signed them in.
‘Olive, she’s young and never going to learn she can’t always get what she wants if people don’t teach her. That, out there, was Learning Not To Be A Spoilt Brat 101.’
Walter lowered his paper a little to see the pair signing in and couldn’thelp but chuckle. Olive glanced his way and could only see his twinkling eyes over the edge of the paper but still gave him a timid smile which Walter, after folding his paper, returned. Oscar held the door open for Olive but before he followed her through he also caught eyes with the stage door man and, wondering how much he had heard, gave him a small roll of the eyes and a cheeky smile.
‘You’ve made a smart move there, boy,’ Walter said to Oscar, nodding his head in the direction Olive had walked, and whilst the old man’s words were complimentary, Oscar noticed the smile had gone from his face.
‘I’m aware.’ Oscar nodded, not knowing why the man at the stage door seemed to be so serious with him. The lamp on Walter’s desk flickered, followed by the light above theirheads and then the light further down the corridor. Holding the door open, Oscar followed the flickering until it eventually stopped.
‘Blimey. No wonder everyone thinks this place is haunted!’ he laughed, nodding his goodbye to Walter and following Olive up to her dressing room.
Walter reached under his desk and turned his lamp off at the mains. Then he unscrewed the lightbulb andopening his desk drawer, brought out a torch which he taped to the top of his lamp. He turned it on, feeling pleased with himself until that began to flicker too.
‘You have no idea.’
