Fit For Purpose

by Julian D. Parrott

  Her phone dinged with an incoming text. Her heart began to race with anticipation only to be disappointed to see the text was from Jane, her agent. Nia called her.

  “Nia, how’s the shoot,” Jane began.

  “Fine,” answered Nia. “Slow and cold but good.”

  “And Goldenboy?’

  “Keeping a respectful distance… now,” Nia said. She sensed that Jane was hesitating.

  “You know the military advisor I had asked about Tom? Well, he called me this morning. He had heard some top-secret mumbo jumbo about Tom getting into a fight with some Russians in the city.”

  “Fuck,” Nia exclaimed. She was immediately frightened. “Is Tom okay?”

  “Don’t worry, Nia,” Jane said soothingly. “Tom’s fine. Probably drink involved. You know boys and their beer. But enough about our boy, now, I think you’re going to have to decide about our matron role.”

  Jane talked about the business, some additional interest in Nia, possibly even some other offers, but Nia didn’t really hear any of it. She was relieved when Jane rang off. Nia tried Tom’s number again. It rang to voice mail. She texted. “Call me or text me,” she wrote. “Love you.” She added a heart icon and hit send.

  The steady-cam operator waved to her; it was time for her scene. She turned her phone off and returned to work.

  London

  MI5 had spirited Tom out of Thames House and deposited him at a small plain hotel on the city’s outskirts. The plan was for Tom to spend the night at the hotel and then proceed to pick up his Land Rover the next morning and then drive back to North Wales. MI5 had already worked with his former hotel to collect his things, which were waiting for Tom when he entered his new room. The hotel was modern, low slung and basic. It was the kind of hotel that catered almost exclusively to businesspeople needing a night or two between travel and business meetings. There was a queen bed, a small desk and a basic bathroom. Tom was spent. He had had almost no sleep the night before and the morning’s chase across London and his interview with MI5 had left him both physically and emotionally exhausted. He worried for his friend, Gagnon, and he ached to be with Nia.

  Tom had called his editor and agreed to take the commission. A small advance would wing its way over to his bank account and Tom had received a promise that the publishers would cover the Periwinkle’s running costs for the year. The editor was thrilled but had been adamant that Tom’s voice be part of the book that the travelogue would have him appearing not just as omniscient narrator but as a character. It was to be a personal memoir in the Rolt vein but with Tom’s wit and charm and a little of his personal story undergirding the narrative. It had been a commission that Tom had previously balked at taking. But he felt now that if Nia would occasionally join him on his canal journeys then he could make it work.

  After the agent had ended the call, Tom checked messages and texts. None from Nia. He answered a quick text from Rachel as to his ETA and then he texted Nia. He briefly noted he had signed the book contract and that he was looking forward to seeing her again. There was no mention of his most recent adventures. He placed his phone by the bedside table, took off his watch, thought about a shower, but was asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

  ***

  London, January 15th

  It was light when Tom woke. He was momentarily confused as to where he was. He had slept late. He quickly showered and felt refreshed. He dressed, packed his bag and checked out. His Land Rover had mysteriously appeared in his hotel’s car park, courtesy of MI5. Still no calls or texts from Nia. He called the hospital for an update on Gagnon’s condition. Tom was relieved to hear good news. He left a message with Gagnon’s ward sister for the Canadian to call him once he was able to do so. He texted Rachel his anticipated time of arrival. He texted Nia that he loved her. He put his phone away, started up his vehicle and began the long drive through the busy commuter traffic.

  About an hour outside of the city, both Tom and the Land Rover needed refuelling. Tom was at a Little Chef eating a bacon sandwich and sipping a coffee when his phone dinged with incoming texts. He checked excitedly. It was Nia, “Call me or text me.” And then another, “Love you.” Tom was both pleased and concerned. He texted back but noticed the text was not delivered. He felt that something was wrong. He opened his phone’s GPS app and typed in the address of the inn where Nia was staying.

  ***

  Brecon Beacons

  Nia was tired and cold as she entered the inn. The day’s shoot had gone well. Nia’s scenes were comprised of long takes in close up. The director had asked her to move through a range of love to loss, from yearning to gut wrenching disappointment. She had been asked to display a moment in her character’s evolution when she realises that her life would never be the same again, that her hopes and dreams were, essentially, shattered. Nia didn’t consider herself a method actor, but she had dug deep into her own history to tap the rich vein of experiences to create authentic emotions. Her tears had been real. As had her exhaustion.

  The director had been pleased with Nia’s performance and felt that the whole day’s shoot had been satisfactory enough to bring the location filming to an end. Most of the cast and crew were looking forward to the traditional end of location wrap party and then moving on back to Cardiff and the warm and dry studios there. Nia wanted nothing more than a warm bath and a text from Tom.

  Tom was standing at the inn’s bar, chatting good naturedly to the landlord when Nia walked in. Her emotions were already on edge, frayed, after the shoot’s requirements. She saw Tom and immediately went up to him at a run and embraced him in a long hard hug. Her eyes were wet.

  “Oh, Tom,” she began. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  Tom held her like a drowning man would a lifebelt, his fear for her safety evaporating. The darkness of his recent experiences, the unease that churned in his gut, dissipated. He felt her quiet sobs. Tom looked at her with concern.

  “Hey, hey,” he said gently. “Are you okay? I missed you too.”

  “It’s been a bit tougher than I expected,” Nia whispered. “The shoot, my character, Goldenboy.”

  They embraced again. Tom wanted to tell her about London but the flood and melding of their emotions took over.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Nia said and she held Tom’s hand and led him up to her room. They showered together and then made love slowly on the soft, squeaky hotel bed. There was now a familiarity with their lovemaking each knowing the other’s wants and needs. There was burning, frenzied passion along with a comfort of experience and the confidence that came with love. Nia bit her lip and held Tom tightly as she climaxed. Tom wasn’t far behind and they fell together when he came. They spooned through the afterglow.

  Tom, again, wanted to tell her about London, Kamenev, and MI5 but didn’t feel the time was right. Nia shifted position and laid with her head on Tom’s chest. She began to talk excitedly and rapidly about the shoot in her stream of consciousness fashion that Tom had grown to realise signified happiness. Tom listened and smiled. Nia drew a breath and asked Tom about his new book contract. Tom briefly explained the plans for the book, his need to travel along the canals Rolt had travelled some eighty years before. He would update Rolt’s observations and expand with his own experiences and anecdotes. Nia was excited to discuss options for her joining him on the Periwinkle for research trips. Her mood elevated by Tom’s appearance and the options for elements of a future together, Nia suggested they join the cast and crew for the hastily planned end of location party.

  They dressed, Nia in jeans and a black T-shirt emblazoned with a Sun Records logo, Tom in chinos and a blue denim shirt, and they went down to join the shindig. The cast party was in full swing. The inn’s restaurant was doubling as an event space. It made for a good party room. Tables had been cleared, lights had been dimmed and filtered, and beer and wine were flowing. The room was full with cast members and crew alongside some invited locals and inn staff mingling around the room and its long
bar. Tom quickly checked the room’s egress options while assessing the crowd to see if he could make Nia’s MI5 shadow. He couldn’t. An assistant director from the film crew was belting out a passing rendition of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ on a small karaoke stage; her voice pure and high and obviously trained. Nia grabbed a small table while Tom went up to the bar.

  “Hello Tom,” the landlord said with a genuine smile. “’Tis nice to see you and Nia down for the party. I was hoping you two would come down. Nia’s much liked by the folks round here. Drinks on the house tonight, courtesy of the production company, what you after?”

  Tom ordered the usual; wine for Nia and a cider for himself. ‘Total Eclipse’ came to its final crescendo.

  “Brave that,” Tom noted. “English girl singing Welsh girl’s big hit.”

  The landlord nodded as he recorked the wine bottle after pouring a generous serving for Nia. There was an explosion of laughter from the corner of the room where Goldenboy was holding court.

  “Prick,” the landlord said quietly. He looked at Tom. “I’ll tell you what was brave, the way she put him in his place when he came on to her.” He nodded towards where Nia sat.

  Tom raised an eyebrow.

  “Strong woman that one,” the landlord finished and went to serve another party goer.

  Tom took the drinks to the small table. He looked over at Goldenboy, his eyes met the actor’s and Tom held the stare until the actor looked away with a contrived smirk. Nia followed Tom’s stare.

  “Nothing to worry about there, darlin’,” Nia said with a sweet smile.

  “I hear he tried it on,” Tom said, matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, but I can handle myself,” Nia said and took a long drink from her wine glass. She reached over the small, round iron topped table and grasped Tom’s hand.

  “Nothing to worry about there, darlin’,” repeated Nia. “Nor anywhere else actually. I’m a one Tom woman.”

  Tom laughed. “I’m very glad to hear it,” he said with a full smile.

  They both took long drinks simultaneously.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Nia said. “I was missing you something awful.”

  Nia smiled shyly with her honesty and vulnerability. It was something she would have buried deeply before Tom. Almost no one who knew Nia thought of her as vulnerable.

  The small karaoke stage began to attract some more interest. One of the film shoot’s steady-cam operators had started to belt out an off key and drunken rendition of ‘Mac the Knife’ in a strong West Midlands accent. Nia went to the bar and the landlord poured another round. The steady-cam operator began ‘I’ve Got you Under my Skin’ as Nia deposited the glasses of wine and cider at their table and then went over to the karaoke area to use the system’s laptop to search for a song. She returned to the table grabbed her wine, took a long pull and smiled.

  “What have you done?” Tom asked.

  “A surprise,” Nia replied.

  Nia waited for the Black Country Sinatra to finish, took another gulp of her wine and went to the karaoke stage. She took the mic out of its stand as her music started.

  Already some of the cast and crew began to watch her. Tom barely recognised the opening bars of the song, Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Sad Eyes’, but then remembered Nia had mentioned it as one of her favourites.

  Nia had dropped her voice into a lower range and sang beautifully, imbuing the lyrics with personal meaning. She swayed in a simple side to side, two step movement and closed her eyes when she hit the high notes of the song’s chorus. Tom’s breath caught in his throat.

  Nia had captured Tom’s gaze. He was smiling as broadly as a circus clown. They were aware only of each other. No one in the room spoke, most eyes were on Nia. A few eyes were cast in Tom’s direction. Goldenboy looked at Tom. The actor telegraphed hatred towards Tom.

  Goldenboy hated the way Tom looked at Nia, hated his smile, hated the way Nia responded. But, most of all, he hated the surprise wave of envy that gripped him. Nia had never publicly and transparently expressed her feeling for him the way she was doing for Tom. He stared daggers at Tom.

  Nia ended her song to rapturous applause, whistles, and shouts for encores. She blushed a little and giggled as she made her way over to Tom’s table. Tom stood and they hugged, and Nia kissed him full on the lips, her eyes closed. The crowd applauded again, and wolf-whistled. Tom flushed as they sat down.

  “That,” he said, “was brilliant.”

  “The kiss or the song?” Nia replied her dark eyes glowing.

  “Both.”

  Tom leant over the table and kissed Nia again. When they broke the kiss, Goldenboy was standing at the table.

  “Nia, babe, why don’t you introduce me to your guy?” Goldenboy asked in his plummy accent.

  Nia knew his smile was phoney but smiled sweetly back.

  “This is Tom.”

  “Hi Tom, so how long have you known Nia then?”

  Tom didn’t like the way Goldenboy’s questions sounded like orders and he certainly didn’t like him referring to Nia as babe.

  “Oh, for a few months now,” Tom replied unsmiling. He caught Nia’s eye to see if he could read her thoughts. He could tell she was nervous as she leaned forward in her chair with her hands together.

  “You know she was my wife for a couple of years and girlfriend for a lot longer than that?” Goldenboy’s words were beginning to slur a little. Nia looked into his eyes wondering whether he was high or drunk, or both.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that,” Tom replied. “Quite some time ago though,” he added with a fake smile along with a hard stare, eyes like flint. “More like a lifetime ago, I believe, wasn’t it?”

  Goldenboy smiled broadly, “Yeah, but you never forget your first true love, though do you? Do you Nia?” He moved towards the bar before Nia could respond.

  Nia looked at Tom and reached over for his hand.

  “Wanker,” she said, and Tom nodded in agreement.

  Goldenboy returned from the bar with two bottles of red wine. He stopped at the table and put one bottle down.

  “Looks like you still like your vino eh Nia?” Nia nodded apprehensively. “Here’s a bottle on me. More for Tom than you babe.” He turned to face Tom, “She’s an animal in the sack after a few wines have been taken, in case you haven’t found that out yet.”

  Tom stood, immediately shifting weight to respond to any movement from Goldenboy. Tom clenched his fists but kept them down at his sides and took half a step towards the actor. Nia stood and moved quickly to Tom’s side. She noticed his eyes had darkened and his jaw had clenched. She put her hand on his arm and felt his body rigid and taught. Tom stared deep into Goldenboy’s eyes.

  “I think you’d better fuck off now,” Tom said slowly and quietly and almost in a growl.

  Goldenboy stood for a moment, mouth half open as if to respond. He was fit and strong, still sparred in the gym, but as he looked at Tom, he thought better of a comeback remark or any further physical posturing. He reflexively stepped back slightly and summoned up a broad innocent smile. He nodded slightly and returned to his table. Tom watched him as he sat down, leant over the table and said something to his group who laughed and looked over to Tom and Nia.

  Nia’s pressure on Tom’s arm grew as she tugged him to sit down. She kissed him until the storm in his eyes calmed.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t quick enough to stop him insulting you,” Tom responded.

  “No. Thank you for not beating the shit out of him,” Nia smiled and grasped his hand tightly. “I know what you can do, Tom Price.”

  In Goldenboy’s corner the laughter continued. The landlord went by and collected some dirty glasses and empty bottles.

  “You were lucky there, boyo,” he said in passing.

  “Lucky where?” Goldenboy asked.

  “Nia’s fella,” the landlord replied. “Would have taken you apart, mate. He’d have left you a quivering lump of jelly on the floo
r.”

  “Yeah?” Goldenboy said aggressively.

  “Yeah,” the landlord replied softly. “You may play a hard man on screen but that man over there is the real deal. He’s put men in the ground.” He caught Goldenboy’s eye and leant down to pick up a glass and whispered in the actor’s ear, “But, I think you knew that, didn’t you, boyo?”

  ***

  The hotel room was so dark that Tom struggled to adjust to the darkness. He had woken with Nia spooning him and his leg on fire. He had rolled onto his back to stretch his leg and Nia had snoozily repositioned herself, her head on his chest. He felt her breath on his chest hair. He reached his right hand up to her hair and gently, lovingly began to run his fingers through her thick locks. Tom relaxed deeply enjoying the warmth of the bed and the feel of Nia’s naked body stretched along his. He felt uneasy, however. He had meant to tell Nia everything about London, Gagnon, the Russians and MI5 but the opportunity hadn’t really emerged and now he felt the moment had passed, that it would feel more contrived, even dishonest, if he was to tell her now. Tom decided he would wait for some time in the future to bring Nia into the picture. Tom expected he would stay awake until morning but, feeling somewhat relieved of a burden, drifted back off to sleep.

  Nia woke as the room lightened. She slipped out of bed quietly and went to the bathroom. There, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She had wanted to ask Tom about what Jane had told her about the fight in London but had got carried away with the emotion of the evening. She smiled at her reflection in the bathroom’s mirror with a quick memory of the previous evening. She had been more nervous about working with Goldenboy than she had admitted to Tom, to Jane, to herself. It had been liberating when she realised that she felt nothing for him, that the only emotion he stirred in her was one of regret for ever marrying him. She felt a tiny bit superior as she felt only pity for Goldenboy’s continued emotional detachment, his shallowness, his self-absorption. It had been further liberating when Tom had not beaten the shit out of Goldenboy. Nia smiled, it had been enough that Tom had been willing to do so. She knew, after witnessing him in action, what he was capable of. But, more importantly, she felt, that he had been clearly in control. What a paradox he is, Nia thought, such a kind and gentle man but one who is capable of, how did he describe it, massive and controlled violence.