‘Right,’ said Nick, not looking at the papers. ‘If you leave it with me, I’ll have a read through.’
‘Actually,’ said Kitty, ‘I can’t decide if I’ve made things better or worse. It would help if we could have a quick run-through now, see how it actually flows when we’re saying it together.’
Nick had picked up his mug. Now his hand froze halfway to his mouth. ‘No. I don’t think so,’ he said.
‘Really?’ asked Kitty, surprised at his abruptness. ‘It seems logical, the best way to see whether I’ve made it better or worse. Certainly better than me reading it on my own.’
‘Yeah, except you’ve thrown me in at the deep end, haven’t you?’ said Nick.
Kitty bristled, not understanding the sudden change in mood. Every time she thought she was getting the measure of Nick Andrews, he did or said something to make her question her judgement.
‘Here,’ she said, pulling the papers out of the folder and handing one to him. She used her finger to circle a section of text. ‘It’s literally this tiny section. Nothing at all.’
Nick placed the paper down beside him. ‘I’ll look at it later.’
‘Oh, come on, Nick. It will only take a minute.’
Nick picked up the paper and turned it over, and then again. His knee bounced as though there were an electrical current pulsing through his muscles. ‘I can’t do it.’
‘Why are you being like this? Please? It’s this bit.’ Kitty began reading her lines.
Nick jumped to his feet, as if she’d physically assaulted him. ‘I said I can’t do it now.’ His voice was panicked.
‘Whoa.’ Kitty stood up and took a step away from him. The space between them was filled with tension. ‘Nick, what’s going on? I don’t get it.’
Nick stared at the ground. Beads of sweat dampened his forehead. ‘I need some time, that’s all.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Kitty. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you.’
‘It’s… it’s…’ Nick paced around the living room.
Kitty reached out and grabbed his hand to stop him. He turned to face her, his eyes darting over her face, his mouth opening and closing with indecision.
‘Sit down.’ Kitty gently pulled him to sit on the sofa beside her. ‘This can’t be about changes to the play. It’s got to be about something more.’
Nick let out a joyless laugh. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? No, it’s precisely about this.’ He picked up the paper and waved itin front of Kitty. Then he threw it down, bent over, and ran his hands through his hair. ‘It’s so embarrassing.’
Kitty decided the best thing was to stay quiet. Give him space to form the thought he needed to speak, whatever was on his mind.
‘I’ll tell you,’ he said, head in his hands. ‘And when I do, you’re gonna think I’m an idiot.’
‘Let me be the judge of what I think,’ said Kitty. ‘Don’t put words in my mouth.’
‘I can’t read,’ he said.
Kitty waited for him to look at her. He kept his eyes on the floor. ‘You can’t read?’ she said. ‘Not at all?’
‘No,’ Nick said. ‘Of course, I can read a bit.’
‘And you struggle with writing too?’ she asked.
Nick glanced at her, and she knew she was getting somewhere. A memory floated to the front of her mind of those early days in Saffron Bay when she’d helped Nick fill out the forms to enrol Emily in school.
‘Nick, when you try to read something, describe what it’s like for you.’
‘What do you mean?’ he said.
‘Well, is it you see the words but don’t know what the letters mean when they’re put together?’
