Olive could now see that she was speaking to an elderly gentleman in a flat cap who she vaguely recognised.
‘I know the show well.’ He nodded. ‘But I don’t want to keep you.’
‘No, I’d best get back. You workon stage door though, don’t you?’ she asked. ‘I feel like I’ve not really been introduced to anyone behind the scenes. I’m doing my best to learn all the crew’s names, though!’
‘Yes, I work at stage door. Have done for many years. Walter,’ he said, but didn’t make a move to shake her hand as she would have expected.
‘Lovely to meet you, Walter. I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you.’Olive gave him a small smile and hot-footed it down the wing just as she heard Michael call her name.
Walter retreated through the double doors, trying to ignore the dull yet persistent ache in his chest. He leant against the wall in the corridor before slowly making his way up the stairs. As he did so he glanced upwards and shook his head. ‘Why did they have to cast someone who looks somuch like you?’ he sighed.
‘Olive?’ Oscar gently tapped on her half open dressing room door.
‘Hello, you.’ Olive was sitting in a green armchair wiping dark lipstick from her mouth. ‘I’m sure thisstuff is staining my face.’ She scrubbed a little harder, desperate to be rid of it in case Oscar wanted to kiss her. He walked behind the chair and leant his arms and his head along the top of it, speaking to her via their reflections in the mirror and for a brief flicker of a moment, everything around them seemed to pause. As their eyes met through the glass, the noise of London outside the windowbecame muted, and even the tiny specks of dust seemed to swim through the air a little slower. Then in an instant, the moment was gone.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ he asked softly.
‘Going home?’ she said, her eyes flicking up to his face in the reflection.
‘Is that a question?’ He smiled, a wave of warmth making his back sweat under the weight of his black rucksack.
‘No,’ she laughed. ‘I’m going home but it sounded as if you were going to try and change my mind. I guess I didn’t want my riveting plans involving sitting on my sofa staring at my telly for the evening to sound too set in stone.’
‘So, you’d be happily persuaded into doing something else?’ He raised his eyebrows. Olive’s heartbeat had picked up speed from the moment he’d walked intothe room, but now he seemed to be asking her out for the evening, she could feel it in her fingertips.
‘Well, it depends on what that is. I won’t change such irresistible plans for just anything, y’know.’
‘Or just anyone?’ Oscar rested his chin on the back of his fingers in an attempt to look sweet and innocent.
‘Or just anyone.’ She nodded.
‘Well, I was wondering ifyou fancied coming back… with me tonight. Maybe.’ He ran his fingers across the velvet on the chair and fiddled with a frayed edge of the fabric that had come loose.
‘Maybe?’ She shrugged, hiding a smile underneath the make-up wipe.
‘Definitely.’ Oscar stroked a stray curl on the back of her head and she shivered.
‘No dinner? No movie? Just a straight invitation to go backto yours.’ She turned to face the real him, rather than his reflection. ‘Bold move!’
‘We can have dinner and a movie! At my place.’ He grinned, showing all his teeth, like a child being asked to smile for a photo.
‘Is this about sex? It sounds like it’s all about sex.’ She turned back to the mirror and started to scrub at her eyes.Please don’t let it be just about sex, she thought.
‘It’s not about sex!’ He laughed and placed his hands on her shoulders, giving her a light shake.
‘So, you’re saying if I came back with you tonight… we wouldn’t have sex?’ She tossed her make-up wipe aside, slid her make-up bag towards her and looked only at her own reflection.
‘If that’s what you wanted.’ Oscar glanced up at himself to see if his sincerity was showing.
‘Am I that easy to resist?’ she asked, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her shoulders.How much are you supposed to make a guy sweat before it starts being cruel, she wondered when she caught his pleading eyes in the mirror.
‘What? No? I want to have sex with you!’ he said, a bead of sweat dripping down the small of his back.
‘So, itisabout sex?’ She squirted foundationonto the back of her hand and then started smearing it onto her cheeks with her fingers.
Oscar sighed. ‘No! Let me be perfectly clear. I want to have sex with you, but this isn’t just about sex.’
‘Sure,’ she laughed. Olive’s romantic past hadn’t been squeaky clean and although it hadn’t put her off putting herself out there for life, she was much more cautious as to whom she washanding her heart over to. She couldn’t help but think of the actors she’d had romantic encounters with over the years. Whilst many had been brief spontaneous affairs which had eventually simply fizzled out, one in particular had been rotten from the word go.
