30
Sebastian stared at the review in front of him. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Words hit him, assaulting his senses, “slight hobble”, “tremoring with nerves”, “lost his touch”. All of this fromThe Times, which had less than twelve months ago hailed him as the new Laurence Olivier. Sebastian gulped; his mouth had dried up. Surely it wasn’t that noticeable? Then he remembered the critic from the opening night, who was renowned for her direct, damning opinion and wasn’t afraid to pack a punch. He dully realised that it was now his turn to be the recipient of her sharp tongue.
He wanted to slap her, hard, and sue the bloodyTimes. How dare they? How dare they sully his precious production andhisacting ability? He was Sebastian Cavendish-Blake, the gifted, acclaimed actor of the Shakespeare Theatre!Yes, but only as Richard III,goaded a nasty, malicious voice inside him. Who could criticise his “hobbling” when playing the role of a crippled king? Sebastian’s eyes filled. Was this the end for him? Just when he had made it to the pinnacle of his career, was he about to have it all snatched cruelly away? A tear spilled out and ran slowly down his face. He’d never felt so helpless.
Then another sinister thought struck him – Tobias. What if he’d seen the review? Feeling the need of his brother’s support, Sebastian made the decision to tell him everything, now. He’d had enough of the secrecy, as if it was something to be kept hidden. Why? He realised how much he missed Tobias’ wise words and counselling. His brother had always been there for him throughout his life. Now more than ever he needed him.
Tobias was in his study when Sebastian knocked quietly at the door and entered. It didn’t help seeingThe Timesspread out on his desk. Tobias just looked at him, saying nothing. Sebastian swallowed then spoke.
‘Have you read the review?’
‘Yes.’ Again he just stared, waiting for him to continue.
‘Tobias, there’s something I need to tell you.’
‘About time.’ He wasn’t making it easy for him.
‘I’ve got multiple sclerosis.’
Tobias’ face remained deadpan. ‘When were you diagnosed?’ he asked flatly.
‘Just before Edward was born. I didn’t want to ruin things by telling you.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Sebastian!’ Tobias thumped his desk hard, making him jump.
‘Don’t be angry—’
‘Does Marcus know?’ interrupted Tobias.
‘Yes… only just—’
‘I see,’ he cut in again.
‘No, Tobias, you don’t see,’ Sebastian threw back forcefully. ‘Just when things were finally going well for you, with Megan and a baby on the way, I didn’t want my diagnosis to add a dampener. I certainly did not want Mother fussing round me either,’ he added. Then he moved closer to the desk. ‘Listen, Tobias, this came as a shock to me, I… I needed time to get my head round it.’
‘How could you keep this to yourself?’ Tobias asked, seemingly incredulous at his little brother’s secrecy. Theyneverkept things from each other.
‘I was always going to tell you, but in my time. This isn’t about you, Tobias, it’s about me and howIdeal with it.’
Tobias sighed and nodded his head, as if weakly understanding the situation. ‘Are you going to tell Mother?’
‘Yes, in time.’
‘How are you feeling?’ Tobias’ face was etched with concern.
‘In truth, fine. Apart from the obvious limp and fatigue, which comes and goes. Other than that, OK.’
‘Will it get worse?’
Sebastian shrugged. ‘Can’t say. Sometimes symptoms don’t, then again they could gradually worsen.’
‘Right.’ Tobias nodded his head again. Then he pointed to the paper on his desk. ‘This, by the way, is bollocks.’
Sebastian laughed. ‘I’m glad someone else thinks so too. It’s not that obvious is it?’
‘No.’ Tobias shook his head. ‘Your own brother didn’t realise, did he?’ he said sardonically.
‘Do you think I should give up acting?’
‘Absolutely fucking not,’ Tobias answered immediately. ‘Get out there and show them what you’re made of. You’re a Cavendish-Blake for God’s sake.’ Again, Sebastian laughed. Hadn’t he thought the very same just moments before?
