‘No, he’s not. Well, he’s not trying to help me anyway. He’s still got the hots for you.’
‘What? I’m not his type. And who still uses that phrase –got the hots for someone?’
‘Oh, Bridie, you’ve always been so blind, haven’t you?’ And with that Jack left, commenting over his shoulder, ‘Perhaps we can meet up here on a school night.’
A school night?Had he suddenly forgotten what year it was?
He paused at the door and turned around. ‘That sounded weird. I haven’t lost track of time. I meant when Oliver is teaching in school, and too busy marking schoolwork to make a nuisance of himself in the theatre.’
‘You don’t mean that,’ Bridie said.
‘Of course I do. I’ll make the time after work to come round when it’s just you and me.’
Bridie raised her eyebrows.
She ignored the thought, and clarified, ‘No, I meant what you said about Oliver. He used to be your best friend. What happened?’
‘You happened.’
‘Huh?’
‘He tolerated you and I being together when we were teenagers because if he hadn’t then we wouldn’t all have hung out together, and it was the only way he could still spend time with you. But when I let you go to London, he blamed me. Me! It wasn’t my bloody fault you buggered off and left us. I obviously didn’t mean that much to you.’
Bridie starred at him, stunned by the outburst. ‘I … I’m sorry.’
Their eyes locked for a moment until Jack said, ‘Too late for an apology. That was years ago.’
Although he was right about it being years earlier, the way he spoke didn’t convince her that it felt like that to him. He spoke as though she’d only just left him … hurt him. She did not know what to say.
‘I’ll call you,’ he said, and left.
She was staring after him, wondering whether they’d ever get the theatre fixed up, wondering if Oliver was right – enlisting Jack’s help wasn’t going to work after all. Not for the reasons Oliver thought, though, but because there was just too much history between them.
Oliver stormed out and looked at her. ‘Where is he?’
‘Gone – thanks to you.’
‘Thanks to me?
‘What’s it got to do with his wife? I overheard what you said.’
‘Oh, Bridie you’ve always been so blind, haven’t you? Is this what you want –him?’
‘Oliver – what on earth are you … talking about?’ she said to the empty foyer. By the time she’d finished her sentence, Oliver was gone too.
Bridie rolled her eyes. ‘That went well. Note to self, just make sure the three of us aren’t ever in the same theatre again.’ She stood there alone looking around the foyer. ‘Now what?’
She heard a noise coming from behind the counter. She wasn’t scared, though. She walked behind the counter and looked at Barney in his crate. He’d woken up. She knelt down and whispered, ‘Hello, my sweet boy. I’m surprised you slept through all that drama. Now, would you like a little tour of the theatre before we leave?’
She was just opening the crate door, about to get him out, when Barney cocked his head to one side in a way that she recognised instantly – his classic pose when he was listening to something. She looked at him. ‘What is it, boy?’ she asked as she reached in to take him out.
Barney backed up in the crate.
‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m not going to shout at you again, I promise.’
Barney still backed away, ears twitching. That was when Bridie thought she heard something too – a sound coming from the auditorium. She was about to take flight or hide behind the counter – she couldn’t decide which – when she suddenly shook her head. ‘Really?’ She stood up, recalling the flimsy lock on the back door stage entrance. She knew what this was. Oliver had bumped into Jack on his way out, and they’d both decided to play a ghostly prank on her.
‘Wait here,’ Bridie said to Barney, who just whimpered. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just two silly boys who, when they get together, forget they’ve grown up.’
