If ever.She told herself not to think like that, but started to feel anxious that she really would never return to London to work in a theatre again.
She managed a smile when she imagined what her grandad would say to her if he were there:Chin-up. It can’t be as bad as all that.
‘Oh, but it can, Grandad,’ she whispered to her reflection. ‘It really can.’
She thought perhaps it was for the best he had been out the previous evening, most likely enjoying a show with his friends and a meal afterwards instead of being burdened by her problems. He didn’t need the worry at his age, although she knew he worried about her anyway. And then there was the other thing – once she was there living with him in his flat, he’d be after her staying on. She wouldn’t mind, but it would be all the harder when she left, which she’d have to do eventually. She couldn’t stay living with her parents, or with a grandparent, indefinitely.
The difference at her parents’ house was that it would be easy to leave. Her parents were newly retired. They wanted to spend time together, not have one of their adult children living at home, cramping their style.
Bridie decided she needed a plan. She just had no clue where to start. ‘Start with washing and getting dressed, rather than staring at your reflection and feeling sorry for yourself.’
Bridie realised she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to be. If she wasn’t rehearsing for shows, she was learning lines, or dance routines, in between keeping an eye out and an ear to the ground for another show for when the current one had finished. Then there was the socialising. And the parties. Her social life was as hectic as her work life.
She willed herself not to think of the life she’d lost overnight. ‘Get dressed, put on some makeup, and face the day,’ she said aloud to herself. She brushed her hair in front of the mirror and applied a bit of makeup to hide the dark rings under her eyes and her puffy eyelids. Despite the best sleep she’d had in ages, she still felt very tired. But no matter, she decided. She still had to face the day – and her parents.
Chapter 8
‘Sleep all right?’ her mother asked, too cheerfully, as soon as Bridie walked into the kitchen. Although she’d seen her parents briefly earlier, Bridie had gone back to bed.
‘Fine,’ Bridie lied.
Her mother hesitated. ‘You’ll find something, Bridie. There’s always work for office staff.’
She must have caught Bridie’s expression. She may have done a typing course way back when, and she knew her way around a laptop, but she had no office experience – and she didn’t really want to gain any.
‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ her mum said unhelpfully. ‘You know there are lots of cafés and restaurants down the road in Southwold and Aldeburgh.’
Bridie gave her mum a sideways glance. ‘Anyone would think you’re trying to get rid of me, and I’ve only just arrived.’
Her dad still had his head in the newspaper. He lowered it. ‘Not at all, Bridie. What your mother is trying to say is that you don’t want to go moping around the house. It’s better to have something to do to take your mind off things, and if you do get a little job, who knows where it will lead.’
Bridie put a slice of bread in the toaster. ‘Like back to a job in the theatre?’
‘Well, um …’
‘Dad, I was only joking.’ She was also being sarcastic. It wasn’t going to lead to where she wanted it to – back to the life she’d had.
‘Sweetheart,’ her mum said, sidling up to her. ‘I think it’s time you …’
Bridie winced, thinking, please don’t say grow up.
‘Had a rethink.’
Bridie didn’t not want a rethink.
‘That’s where we come in.’
‘You know someone who can help me get a job back in theatre?’
Her mum and dad exchanged a glance she couldn’t quite fathom, before her dad coughed awkwardly and said, ‘Well, no. We’re talking about you living here for as long as you need while you sort yourself out.’
‘Oh.’ Bridie realised they were talking at cross-purposes. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, and gave a brittle smile. ‘Maybe. I’ll … see what work is around. Do me good.’
Bridie thought of her childhood bedroom as she joined her parents at the kitchen table with her plate of toast. ‘You knew it would all fall to pieces, or at least that’s what you were anticipating.’
Her mother reached across the table, fingers brushing Bridie’s hand – the gesture awkward but well meant. ‘You look tired. Perhaps don’t get into the job search straight away. You just need to rest, love. You’ve been through a shock, finding out …’ she trailed off.
Nobody needed to mention Julian. Or the fact that she hadn’t done herself any favours by reacting the way she had, on stage, in front of a live theatre audience. If only she hadn’t found outin the middle of a show, then maybe she’d still have a job. She hadn’t told them everything in her text; just enough so that they knew she wouldn’t be returning to her job any time soon.
