Bridie forced a smile, dragging her suitcase past her mother. ‘It’s temporary.’
Her mother’s eyebrow arched. ‘Of course.’
And just like that, she was twelve again, standing in the hallway being told her dreams were too big.
Bridie was about to take her suitcase upstairs when, of all the things, she heard a toilet flush.
Kate appeared at the top of the stairs, a smirk curling her lips. ‘Mum told me what happened. I knew it was only a matter of time.’
Bridie’s cheeks flamed. They had never believed in her. Never thought she’d make it beyond bit-parts and chorus lines. For a while she had proved them wrong, playing real roles, working real theatres. And then – this. Bridie’s one consolation was thatnobody had taken her up on her offer, on Friday at Jeremy’s house, for them all to come and see her in the matinee performance on Saturday. They would have had front row seats to her spectacular downfall.
Bridie looked at her sister in surprise as she walked down the stairs. ‘What are you doing here?’
She frowned at Bridie and held a finger to her lips as she cast a glance through the open doorway into the lounge. ‘I would have said the same thing to you if Mum hadn’t told me.’ Lowering her voice, she whispered, ‘I thought as I’d pop round to have a word with Mum about …’ she raised her eyebrows.
Bridie was too tired for guessing games. ‘About … what?’
Whatever it was, Kate could have phoned Mum. She probably had, and had discovered that her little sister was on her way home with her tail between her legs. Kate must have wanted to be there to see it.
‘You know …’ Kate continued, lowering her voice to a whisper, ‘the arrangements for the surprise retirement party we discussed yesterday when we were all round at Jeremy’s.’
‘Oh, right.’ To Bridie, that seemed like a lifetime ago, along with her first visit to her grandad’s that day – just that morning she’d stupidly tempted fate and told her grandad that she and Julian were ‘solid’ and nothing bad was going to happen.
Her grandad had yet again broached the idea of her moving in with him so that she could get her name down as his immediate next-of-kin to have the council flat. With no money, no job, and no partner, she might qualify for it, making her feel less guilty about taking it. But then she felt it still didn’t seem fair. There were lots of people on the housing list who’d probably been waiting an age. And besides, although it wasn’t ideal, she did have a roof over her head.
And her grandad wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. Bridie had left Mrs Hughes her phone number to contact her as soon asshe knew he was home safe. But would she remember? And what if her grandad turned up really late and Mrs Hughes had gone to bed?
If she couldn’t get through on her grandad’s landline, Bridie intended to phone Jeremy and tell him to go round, and check he had got home safe and sound. She knew her grandad didn’t always answer the phone if he’d taken his hearing aid out. She tried not to worry.
‘Are you staying for dinner, Kate?’ Mum asked.
‘Oh, yes. I wasn’t going to.’ Kate turned to look at Bridie. ‘But now I’ve changed my mind.’
‘How wonderful. After dinner, when your father is watching the footie, the three of us can discuss the party further.’
Bridie glared at her sister. They both knew that was not what she was staying for. She wanted to know all the juicy details of Bridie’s break-up and her fall from grace in theatre land. She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks at the thought of that embarrassing centre-stage fight, all the phones held aloft in the audience, and what might soon be posted on social media – if it hadn’t been already.
Dinner that night was excruciating. Forks scraped plates. Kate quizzed Bridie about jobs she might actually be qualified for. Her mother suggested temping. Her father said nothing at all, which was somehow worse.
Bridie forced down mouthfuls of shepherd’s pie, staring at the family photographs lining the wall – her parents on holidays, Kate’s wedding, her brother’s wedding. No space for her theatre posters, her reviews, her achievements. It was as though she’d never left.
By the time she trudged up to her old room, climbed into her childhood bed, duvet pulled over her head, Bridie felt shewas right back to being the girl no one believed in, the dreamer destined to disappoint.
Tomorrow. Bridie didn’t want to think about tomorrow and becoming an internet sensation for all the wrong reasons. But tonight wasn’t any better, there in the small Suffolk town. She was already branded: the one who had left, had failed, and had come crawling home.
Chapter 7
Her father appeared behind her, still in his slippers, the morning paper tucked beneath his arm as he closed the front door.
Bridie had heard the paper boy delivering the Sunday papers as she crept downstairs in her pyjamas, hoping she could make herself a cup of coffee before anybody was up. She should have known better. Even though it was the weekend, her parents had always been early risers – both their jobs had meant getting up very early for work for years, and that routine had extended into the weekends. It had also extended into her mum’s retirement, and she imagined her dad would be no different now he had retired too. Friday had been his last day at work. It was going to be quite a change for him, but it was also something he’d been looking forward to for years.
‘I’m sorry I was a bit of an arse last night when you arrived. I was just so shocked and upset to hear what had happened – especially about Julian. I could have murdered him.’
Bridie was glad someone was upset about it. All she’d got from her mum and sister was that they had always known it wouldn’t work out.
Her mum brushed past in her nightie with a morning cuppa she was taking back up to bed. ‘Rufus, don’t exaggerate. Youdon’t have a murderous bone in your body.’ She plucked the newspaper out from under her husband’s armpit.
‘Yes, I know. That’s why I said I could have murdered him. Just a figure of speech.’ He watched his wife walked up the stairs, murmuring, ‘She always does that – nicks my newspaper and reads it first.’
