The conversation had petered out. But what did it matter now? She didn’t even know why it had come to mind. But what she recalled next was the last conversation they’d had straight after the fight on stage.
‘It’s time you moved out of my flat.’
‘Your flat? But we rent together.’
‘Well, not technically. The rental agreement is in my name, and I’ve been paying it, remember?’
‘Yes, and I’ve been paying for food and bills. It was agreed.’
‘Look …’ He’d paused while some dancers walked by before continuing, but with his eyes still glued to their behinds. ‘You can go back to your parents’ house for a bit, while you sort yourself out.’
‘My parents? They live in Suffolk. How am I going to get to work?’
‘Commute. It’s doable. Isn’t Suffolk an hour or so from London?’
Bridie recalled not quite believing she was having the conversation. ‘Well, yeah, by train from Ipswich. But first you’vegot to get to the mainline station, and do you know how much commuting will cost?’
She didn’t even know why they’d been talking about it. What did he care? And now she thought about it, she’d been ignoring the signs. She’d seen him before, paying special attention to the dancers, the young dancers, thinking how that had been her when she’d first starred in his shows ten years earlier as a fresh-faced twenty-something.
Her thoughts turned to her grandad. She’d intended to surprise him, not letting on when she would be turning up to collect him for her dad’s retirement party.
It was going to be a surprise all right when she turned up, but not for the reason he imagined. Still, at least one person would be pleased to hear the news – that she and Julian had broken up.
Her grandad had always believed in her, even when her parents had said she was chasing shadows. She thought of all the times she’d visited his London flat, and he’d told her bluntly she’d be better off moving in with him than withthat slippery producer. He’d never hidden his dislike of her fiancé, and though Bridie had bristled every time, she knew now that he’d be very pleased by the split.
She slammed the case shut, pulled on her coat, and headed out into the cold London night.
Chapter 5
On the Tube, Bridie stared at her reflection in the darkened window, pale under the harsh strip lights. Her thoughts wandered back to old memories of her grandfather’s flat: the cluttered shelves, the faint smell of pipe smoke, his warm grin when she’d recited a monologue for him at fifteen. He’d always said she belonged on a stage. Maybe he was the only one left who still thought so.
By the time she reached his street, drizzle slicked the pavement. She wheeled her case up to his door and knocked. Fortunately, he lived in a flat on the ground floor, his front door accessed directly from the street. There was no answer.
That was strange. It wasn’t late. Just gone five, but in early January it was already dark. He didn’t usually go out after dark. She rang the bell, waited, knocked again. Nothing.
‘Looking for your grandfather?’
The voice came from above. Mrs Hughes, his neighbour, leaned out of her upstairs window, her hair wrapped in a scarf.
‘Hello, Mrs Hughes.’ Bridie could feel her cheeks growing hot in embarrassment at the thought that her grandad’s neighbours had seen her excruciatingly embarrassing fight on TikTok orwhatever social media sites the audience had uploaded their videos to.
Bridie remembered to breathe. Of course Mrs Hughes hadn’t been on TikTok. She doubted she was even connected to the internet.
‘I saw him go out, dear, soon after you left earlier in the day. Not like him to be out this long. He’s usually pottering about in the evenings.’
Bridie’s chest tightened. Where was he? ‘Do you think he’s had a fall or something?’
‘He’s probably fine. You know he goes to the theatre with his friends. Normally a matinee, though.’
Bridie knew that. He hadn’t been known to go to evening performances. She said as much.
‘Probably went to a matinee and stayed out for a meal or something.’
Bridie nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right.’ Annoyingly, her grandfather didn’t have a mobile phone. He refused to have one. It will be just an excuse to check up on me, and if I don’t answer the newfangled thing, you’d be getting all in a flap. We did survive without them before, you know. Don’t know why I have to change my ways now. You can contact me on the house phone, or just stop by.
Mrs Hughes disappeared, then moments later opened her door. ‘Come in for a cuppa while you wait. Can’t have you standing there in the rain.’
The flat was warm, with the scent of baking lingering in the air. Mrs Hughes bustled about making tea while Bridie sat awkwardly at the table, suitcase at her feet. That was when she spotted it – a laptop sitting open on the kitchen table. She didn’t know why she was so surprised. There were millions of silver surfers around the world. Why shouldn’t Mrs Hughes be one of them? Still, she couldn’t hide her reaction.
