The First Time I Saw Your Face (30 page)

‘You wait till tomorrow,’ Doug said, giving Mack a huge hug. ‘Having an audience will give you a bigger buzz.’

‘That’s true,’ Angus agreed, ‘I’ve had some of my best sex after opening nights.’

Lydia was picking up pieces of discarded costumes. ‘Only with yourself, I should think,’ she said.

Once dressed, Mack went to the kitchen, just to have an excuse to wait for Jennifer, and found a piece of flapjack in a biscuit tin on the side. By the time he had taken a bite, Jennifer was there and he had to surreptitiously take it back out of his mouth, knowing he would not be able to swallow it down.

‘You were good,’ she said, coming and standing by him and touching his arm lightly, and he wanted to shout,
No, I haven’t been good for a long time, can’t you see that? Can’t you see how I’m playing you? Stop being so bloody nice to me!

Instead he rolled his eyes. ‘What, even the bit with Jocelyn?’

‘Yes, even that bit.’ She gave him a shy grin and he felt disconnected from everything around him, only aware of how close she was and the smell of her. He forced himself back to the surface and said the first thing that came into his head: something about her being a dreadful liar, and part of him wished she would look right into his eyes and say, ‘Not like you, then.’ This was all getting too intimate, tripping over into something else.

He wasn’t sure if he’d leaned towards her, he seemed to be closer, and then she gave a start and her hand was off his arm and she was reaching into her pocket. Out came her phone, and she was frowning down at it.

‘Not another weird call from your cousin?’ he asked, trying to focus. ‘Although you never did tell me if it was weird-upsetting, or weird-funny.’

‘It was weird-weird,’ she said, and then she was closing the kitchen door and he knew he was close, soooo close, to the reason why he’d come here.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘you mustn’t breathe a word of this … but Cress has fallen in love. She’s so shocked she’s not doing anything about it for a few days. I mean, not, you know … acting on it.’ He sensed she was embarrassed that he’d know she was talking about sex. He kept his face blank, and she went on, ‘The other person … well … it’s going to mess their life up, evidently. Wouldn’t even tell me who it was.’ She shook her head. ‘And now I’ve had this text.’ The phone was tilted towards him and he read:

Brenda, brick.

‘Why’s she telling you your mother’s a brick? Not that she isn’t, of course,’ he added, a little too quickly.

‘It’s code. She’s telling me to get Brenda’s old phone, it’s huge. Cress is a bit paranoid about the press; probably worried someone’s twigged it would be worth trying to listen in to my phone.’

‘That wouldn’t happen, would it?’ he said, having to unclench his teeth to get the words out.

‘After what the tabloids have been up to recently?’

‘Yes, I see. Suppose I’m a bit naive … but you shouldn’t
worry about Cressida.’ He waved his hand, hoping it looked light-hearted. ‘She sounds as though she’s a sensible woman. She’s not going to do anything silly. She’s not going to tell you she’s fallen for the Rodney chap, is she?’

He was trying to read her face, but although she corrected him with a hurried, ‘You mean Rory’, there was no indication of what she did or did not expect Cressida to tell her. What he did see was a general softening of her look again.

‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about Cressida right now?’ she said and there was a warmth to her eyes and mouth that made him feel it would be so easy to reach out and pull her into him and say, ‘You’re right, let’s not talk at all.’

‘Of course, of course,’ he said, understanding that he had to leave right that minute, get back on track, stop looking at that mouth and those eyes. ‘I know how tired you must be … I’m going to peel off home, give you some peace.’ She made as if to speak, but he started to move away. ‘I won’t have a lift tonight, if you don’t mind. Feel a bit like I want to be on my own, you know. Clear my head. See you tomorrow. Bye.’

He wasn’t sure he hadn’t broken the record for sharp exits from difficult situations, and he didn’t slow down until he reached his old friend, Peter Clarke. He waited for O’Dowd to answer the phone, feeling as if any kind of thinking was going to rip him apart.

When O’Dowd answered, he simply spilled the whole story.

‘What did I tell you,’ O’Dowd crowed, ‘… and it’s the
real thing, eh? Mind you, surprised Cress has got a heart, always seemed a toughie to me.’

Not like her cousin.

‘Still …’ O’Dowd said, thoughtfully, ‘need to be hundred per cent certain it’s Randy Rory. You sure Cressida wasn’t spinning a line about not doing anything about it for a while? We’ve got a couple of days to play with? Not going to read about it in some other paper?’

‘Told you, she’s not doing anything before she talks to Jen again. There will be nothing for anyone to know before Saturday – after the play is done and dusted.’

‘Let’s hope it’s early Saturday, we can hit this Sunday’s edition.’ There was a laugh. ‘Mind you, I bet she doesn’t hold out till then. Don’t know how she’s managed to go this long without sex. Must be getting through the batteries.’

Mack apologised yet again to Peter Clarke for having to listen to O’Dowd’s repulsiveness.

‘Yeah, this is going to be really messy,’ O’Dowd said with glee, ‘nasty divorce: he’ll be in the sin bin as far as Middle America is concerned, and South America will hate him for dumping Anna Maria. Could lose him a large slice of movie-goers. On the other hand, it’ll be great publicity for his and Cress’s first film together. Just don’t spook Scarface and we’re home and dry.’

‘Don’t bloody call her that,’ Mack shouted and felt the shock of what he’d just said ripple out around him.

There was an almost reptilian hiss. ‘Now then, what’s this? Going soft?’

Mack stayed quiet and looked at the countryside spread out in the gloom before him. If he launched himself into it and kept running, would ‘they’ ever find him?

‘Time for a reality check,’ O’Dowd said. ‘I have the diaries, I have that photograph, I have you by the short and curlies.’

Mack stomped back to the cottage and sat in the torture chair and desperately wished that he and Jennifer could just be a normal man and woman without all those things lurking behind them: her scarring, his lying, the timer ticking on this story. He desperately wanted to be the knight hacking through the briars, rescuing her, setting her free. Instead he was the villain. He might as well have a moustache that he could twirl.

Jennifer stayed in the kitchen till Finlay came and shooed her out to lock up. She had been so sure it was going to happen then, that kiss. How many inches had separated them? All he’d had to do was half a step, lower his head. Had he felt that same marvellous awkwardness as she had?

She wondered whether she had, unconsciously, been leaning towards him? She knew she’d given him her best loving look.

Then he’d run away.

Had she put him off with that look? Or was he simply not ready for the first step?

What if it kept on being ‘nearly, nearly’ until he went home?

That thought was too horrible; she wouldn’t even let
it back in her head. There had been real tenderness in the way he had been looking at her; she had to cling on to that knowledge. If only Cress’s text hadn’t landed when it did; it seemed to cool all that promising heat that had been building between them.

She stepped out into the cool night and smiled at how far she’d come. Only a few days ago she’d told Cress that Matt would have to make the first move. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe it was her who had to break the spell; do the kissing. Perhaps she had to dig down into the old Jen and see what she came up with.

CHAPTER 29

It was like skiing very fast, or how he imagined flying without a plane would be. He was coasting on emotions he was creating in the audience, lifted high on the laughter, steadied by the rapt silence. They were out there in the dark, listening to the story being woven for them.

Doug had been right; the audience had made the difference. From the moment they’d come into the hall and he’d heard the footsteps and the buzz of talk, he’d felt part of some magic that was about to start. It had compensated for his lack of sleep and made him forget what a nasty piece of humanity he had become – on that stage he was Sebastian, loyal friend to Antonio, brother of Viola, lover and husband of Olivia. A man to look up to.

He hadn’t even minded the warm-up, and once they’d had a last pep talk from Finlay, he’d wanted to rush on stage straight away. How come nobody had told him about this high?

Sure, there were sticky moments, but the whole play bowled along. The audience laughed when they should
and listened intently when they needed to. Ten minutes in he forgot the spectre of somebody ‘outing’ him.

Even when he wasn’t on the stage he enjoyed the camaraderie, standing silently in the wings with the others.

The applause at the end of the play was hearty and fully meant, and they did three sets of bows before the curtains finally closed and he was suddenly part of a back-slapping, hugging mêlée. He wasn’t listening to what was being said though, he was thinking back to what had happened ten minutes before the end of the play, when he had turned his head and seen Jen sitting on her stool. With the prompt light shining on her blonde hair and her face turned to the hole in the flats that gave her a tiny view of the play, he watched her lips moving along with the actor speaking on the stage. It seemed a beautiful, tender thing to him, her keeping them on track, and he saw her loveliness shining from her as strongly as the light from that lamp. Even when he forced himself to seek out the scarred side of her face, his vision of her remained the same.

That’s when he knew what he had probably known since that day she knelt before him to take his measurements and he had wanted to raise her to her feet.

When he’d been given this job, he’d thought the worst that could happen would be that he would fail and O’Dowd would destroy his family. Then he’d thought it would be getting unmasked as an impostor and O’Dowd still destroying them.

Now he knew that the worst result was falling for the woman he was meant to betray.

So how come just at this very moment it felt so bloody marvellous?’

Jennifer closed the script, turned off the light and sat gathering her thoughts before she plunged into all that back-slapping and hugging backstage.

She didn’t begrudge them their happiness; they’d all raised their game tonight. A few minor wobbles, a bit of performing rather than acting, but a decent show – they had a right to be pleased. Especially Matt. She thought back to his audition and laughed. She and Finlay had been right, he was a good actor. A very good actor, the kind you couldn’t take your eyes off.

Or maybe that was just the effect he had on her.

She heard a sound behind her and stood up, her smile on her face ready to receive him.

‘Well, that was wonderful,’ Alex said, clasping her in a Barbour-clad embrace. ‘Well done. Well done. Really enjoyed it.’

She wanted to push him away, but he seemed disinclined to let her out of his arms until Doug came by and led them both into the changing room. Her need to be with Matt felt like hunger, but Alex stuck to her so closely that the only time she saw him was when he was shrugging his way back into his black, thermal T-shirt. A few seconds of bare stomach before her view was blocked, but enough to remind her of when she had fantasised about undressing him. Alex gave her a look as though he understood just what she was thinking and by the time the
general move was towards the pub he was still attached to her side. She had lost sight of Matt, and Alex kept stopping to talk to people with a great show of enthusiasm for all things Shakespearean that was news to her. She could have screamed, and whenever she looked like straying he pulled her into the conversation, asking her opinion, picking out little bits about the play he wanted to discuss and could Jen help him?

She kept looking towards the pub as if it was some kind of Holy Grail. Matt would be in there by now. Why was she standing here wasting time? What was stopping her just walking on ahead?

It was Gerry now whom Alex had pigeonholed, telling him how marvellous he had been and Gerry was lapping it up. Jennifer guessed from the way his bald head was as flushed as his face that he had already drained the hip flask he kept in the wings during a performance. When she saw him grasp Alex’s arm, she took her chance.

‘I’ll see you two in the pub,’ she said, speeding away before Alex could protest, buoyed up on her hope. She could have skipped and, who knew, she might later. Doug came out of the pub doors just as she got to them. He looked beyond her to Alex.

‘You’re going in the wrong direction,’ she said, smiling at him and knowing it was a wide smile, powered by the anticipation of walking into that pub and seeing the way Matt stood, the way he held his beer glass, that first look he was going to give her. She suspected Doug was exiting from the pub because Pat was in there. Well, tonight she
might engineer a way to bring Pat and Doug together too.

‘Matt’s not here,’ Doug said quietly, looking beyond her again to where Alex was now freeing himself from Gerry’s clutches.

She didn’t really understand what he was saying. How could that be possible?

‘Said he had a blinding headache, took off home before I could even offer him a lift. He did look like crap, mind.’

She didn’t even bother to hide what she was feeling from Doug, knew her face must look as if someone had deflated it. And now the pub faded as the object of her attention and she wondered how she could double back past Alex and … and what? She had no car, had got Brenda to drop her at the hall tonight in anticipation of being able to drink later … to drink and make that first step towards Matt.

She looked at Doug for help and heard Alex coming up behind her.

‘What’s the problem here?’ Alex said, standing too close.

‘I was just going to take Jen home.’ Doug kept a straight face. ‘She’s not feeling too good.’