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“Art? Is that what we’re calling it now?” A clean-shaven Tom in a lilac-coloured tie, white shirt, and slightly wrinkled white linen suit strode up to the two women, smiling widely. He wrapped his arms around both of their waists, but only one was the recipient of a steamy kiss.

“Is this what happens now? No bouquets at curtain call, just big juicy snogs?” Alex laughed and threaded free of Tom’s grasp. “I’ll leave you to it. Have fun, guys.”

Her elegant black lace-up heels tapped down the steps, letting the happy couple go at it from a safe distance. A wave of hot, humid air greeted her at the bottom, the July heat and crush of bodies—four deep at the bar—conspiring to suffuse everyone with a natural celebratory glow. Alex zigzagged towards the spot where Michael, Helen, and Joan stood wide-eyed and laughing with drinks in hand.

“Alex, love, aren’t you glad you didn’t quit?” Michael’s smile practically stretched to Manchester and back. “When the car dropped us off at the front door, I couldn’t help myself. I cried like a baby.”

“We all did,” laughed Helen.

“Seeing Alexandra Sinclair in neon lights above the theatre’s entrance…are you trying to give your poor old Dad a heart attack?”

“Never mind you. What about me?” Joan took a quick sip from her pint of ale. “It’s not every day you have a play performed about your life.” She kissed Alex on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, love, we all are. I take it you saw your mother’s Facebook post? I always knew she was a braggart, but chasing up her local paper for an interview?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, the Tallahassee Democrat. Anything to boost interest in her real estate business, I guess. Did you see the photo they used of the two of us? She really had to dig to find that one.”

Joan rubbed her granddaughter’s back. “She’s the one missing out, love.” She peered towards a man standing a few feet away. “See that reporter over there? He wants a word with me, ‘the real Joan’. Wait until I post photos from tonight on Instagram. My followers won’t know what hit ‘em!” She toddled over to the scribe, pint in hand, to bask in her second chance at fame.

“Did you get the bouquet of snapdragons from Robbie?” asked Michael.

“They’re gorgeous! I put them in a vase in the dressing room. I’ll collect them when we leave tonight. I wish he could’ve been here. He said he’d try for closing night if the hospital gives him time off. Glad I never became a doctor. I like staying out late too much.”

“Lex!” Lucy and Freddie bobbed through the crowd, careful not to spill their drinks. “Did you see who’s here, talking to Isabella? Only Amanda Abbington.” Lucy nearly tripped over her own feet in excitement. “Here’s your chance to right a wrong. Go have a word.”

“She’s here with Molly, too—I mean, Louise Brealey. She’s lovely.” Freddie craned his neck back towards the corner nook. “I know you met Loo at the con back in January, but you can play your I’m a Celebrity card now. And then you can introduce me and Lucy.”

“Are you using me, Freds?” Alex laughed.

“Well, knowing the playwright certainly has its benefits. Sobbing through your play, the cute guy next to me handed me a tissue—and his mobile number. Thirteen might become my lucky number.”

Alex hugged him. “Anything for you Freddie, anything.” Her eyes settled on the stairs. “And we’ll meet Loo and Amanda in a sec. There’s someone I have to see first.”

She pulled away from her friends and family, approaching a single figure walking down the stairs.

“I’m so glad you made it,” said Alex.

Harry hugged his friend. “My God, Alex. A standing ovation—twice. Your name lit up outside the theatre. You’ve come so far.”

“Isn’t it crazy?”

“And look at this crowd.” Harry surveyed the room. “They’re all here because of your writing. That’s got to feel good, especially with everything you’ve faced.”

Alex blushed. “Well, ‘that which does not kill us makes us stronger’, right?”

“So true. I hope you don’t mind, but when I sell my flat, I’m mentioning in the listing that a Royal Court playwright used to live there. I think that will instantly give it an increased cool factor. The Hackney hipsters will be biting my hand off.”

“Just don’t divulge that I lived in the closet. I’ve got a rep to think about.” Alex winked.

“I’d never,” said Harry with a smirk. “Hey, did you hear? Olivia’s moved abroad. She’s trying her luck in New York City. London can breathe easy.”

“Tom told me.” Alex leaned in. “Can you believe it? He’s been dating Naomi exclusively for nearly eight months. She tells me all the Olivia gossip, so I’m up-to-date whether I want to be or not. I think Tom’s breathing easier, too. He seems happier, and he’s been going on auditions! Blame lust…or love?”

Harry grinned. “A lot can change in a year.”

“Correction. A year and…two months,” said Alex.

“I thought you were terrible at maths?”

“I still am. Why do you think I’m in the arts?”