With Jem, it had always felt as though she could never quite twist herself into the right version – the best version – to keep him. But Damien … Damien hadn’t wanted her to try and be anyone but herself. He hadn’t wanted her to hide, he’d wanted her to be honest – about her craft, about what she wanted, andwhyshe wanted it.
And perhaps that was why this, now – all felt so overwhelming.
Because with Jem, at least she’d had somewhere to hide. She could say that she’d tried to be a different version of herself, and it wasthatversion he did not love. It wasn’ther– not truly – it was a performance, and if he did not love it then it was only a reflection of her as a performer, and not her as a person.
But if Damien walked away from her now, he would be walking away from the truest version of herself. And she did not know if she had the strength to survive something like that.
But he didn’t walk away, did he? Not until you pushed him.
Ava sighed. It was moments like this she wished her mother were here. That she could run to her – and let all the thoughts screaming in her mind spill out. Her mother had always been so good at that – for she wouldn’t just listen, she would hold each thought up to the light, and have them look at it together. Have them question where it came from – what purpose it served – and in doing so, she’d help Ava sift the true thoughts, those rare glimmers, from amidst the worry, the shame, the fear.
And now, Ava had no voice to turn to but her own. Shewantedit to mean something – she knew that from the way her breath caught in her throat when she thought of it, thought of him – but she was afraid. Afraid that it would happen, all over again.
And she would be left alone once more, to try and pick up the shattered shards of her heart.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It was still early when Ava arrived at the theatre, and she thought the dressing room entirely deserted until Miss Fairchild poked her head out of one of the narrow doorways, her voice a hissing whisper.
‘Help me with this, would you?’
The room was little more than a mop cupboard, a single streak of light coming in through the high window. One wall was cluttered with old scenery – spindly birch trees painted to mimic a forest, or wooden beams for an old building – and against another was Miss Fairchild’s chaotic dressing table. ‘What do you think?’
Miss Fairchild had pilfered one of the mirrors, and now she stood before it – wearing a gown of obsidian silk.
‘I think it looks expensive,’ Ava said, crossing to tie the corset strings at the back.Very expensive, she amended – as she took in the delicate lace stitched into the bodice.
‘I got a new dressmaker,’ said Miss Fairchild. ‘I figured that come opening night I would need to not only act the part butlookthe part.’
She met Ava’s eye in the mirror, and for a moment Ava expected there to be something sharp beneath her words.Instead, her mouth tightened at the corners. ‘I believe I owe you an apology, Ava.’
Ava fastened the corset strings with a neat, quick bow. ‘What for?’
‘For how I treated you, that first day you came back. For what I said.’
Ava hesitated, her gaze stilling on her hands. ‘It was only the truth,’ she said quietly. ‘Which I suppose is why it was so difficult to hear.’
‘Made me realize you were just flesh and blood though,’ said Miss Fairchild, her gaze sliding to Ava’s in the mirror. ‘Like the rest of us.’
Ava snorted. ‘As opposed to what?’
‘Perfect, I suppose.’
Ava couldn’t help it. The laugh spilled from her lips before she could stop it. ‘You saw me up there, Miss Fairchild. On that stage.Thatwas far from perfect.’
Miss Fairchild rounded to face her. ‘And yet it wasn’t the great disaster you always thought it was, Ava. I thought you were wonderful up there. Different from your ma, yes. Butbrilliant.’
‘It was a lie, though, wasn’t it? I used stooges. Because every time I stood on that stage under her name, I was afraid I’d falter.’
Miss Fairchild shrugged. ‘And? We’re actresses, aren’t we? We aren’t paid to go up there and tell everyone the truth. Our job isn’t to remind people that dishes need washing, or bills need paying. We’re supposed to give them something else. A slice of somewhere else entirely – if only for a moment. And that’s what youdid, Ava.’ She turned back to the mirror, letting the skirts fan one way and then the other, before running her hands down the fine silk of the bodice. ‘You thought you had a hard time filling your ma’s shoes? Imagine me trying to fill yours.’
Ava watched her for a moment. The dress suited her – it brought out her pale skin, her dark eyes. ‘I would imagine so long as you stay on the stage for the duration of the act, you’ll have done a far sight better than me.’
Miss Fairchild’s expression flattened in the mirror, and she turned to Ava.
‘Do stop that,’ she said.
‘Stop … what?’
