by A. E. Radley
The money she’d made from the script sales had gone some way towards her feeling like an equal. She’d paid for some of the furniture in the house, as well as contributing to the honeymoon. Olivia had seemed quite confused by Emily’s insistence on paying for certain things. Especially as they shared a central bank account for most living expenses.
Emily looked around the cabin. She decided that it would be the last first-class flight she would take until she could afford to pay for one herself. Then maybe she would feel like she deserved to be there.
She let out another sigh and reached forward for the paperwork she had shoved into the magazine rack earlier. She flipped through her handwritten notes, prepping herself for her first day at the theatre.
Up until then, she had worked from home, occasionally going to meetings in England with Nicole. But now she was actively working on a production. And that meant being at the London office and the theatre every workday. Now everything felt a lot more real.
The irony that she was now in Olivia’s position was not lost on her. Not long after Olivia had stopped her exhausting weekly commute from New York to London, Emily was starting hers.
Although she drew the line at sleeping on the plane and then going straight into a full day of work. No, she was leaving a day early to check into her hotel and get a proper night of sleep. She couldn’t imagine going straight to the office on Monday, meeting her colleagues, and diving into work, having stepped off a seven-hour flight just hours earlier.
She smiled to herself, remembering Olivia’s rigid schedule aboard the flight. Requiring her meal as soon as possible before slipping into her pyjamas and going straight to sleep.
She recalled standing beside the impressive executive and enquiring about her meal. Olivia delicately wiping her mouth with the corner of her linen napkin and saying it was wonderful.
They’d come a long way.
She shook the memories away and refocused on the work in front of her. If she had to be away from her family, she was going to make every second count.
6
Olivia looked at the never-ending traffic and let out a long breath. She pressed a couple of buttons on the steering wheel, and the radio sprung to life. She’d learned from experience that Henry would start complaining of boredom if he sat in traffic for too long without a distraction.
She’d only been separated from Emily for an hour and she already felt like an essential part of her was missing. Once the airport had swallowed up her wife, Olivia’s mood had soured.
“When are you going to have a baby?”
She turned to regard Henry in his booster seat beside her. Henry was usually in the back, playing games or reading. She’d moved him up to the front in case he was missing his mother. She realised a little too late that Henry was going to utilise the opportunity to quiz her.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
“Tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
“Next week?”
She turned her attention back to the road.
“Will it be a boy or a girl?” Henry continued. “Or a fish?”
“Definitely a fish,” Olivia said.
She’d learnt to not be so literal with everything Henry said. Emily had even encouraged her to sometimes engage in his ridiculous statements.
“Will your belly be made of glass? Like a goldfish bowl? Will I see it swimming around?”
Olivia quashed down a feeling of disgust at the very idea. Henry was off on a tangent, and she knew she had to pull him back to reality.
“Are you looking forward to school?”
Henry shrugged. “Yeah,” he replied half-heartedly.
“You’ll make lots of new friends,” she repeated what she’d heard Emily say the day before.
“I don’t want new friends.”
Olivia didn’t know what to say to that. She felt the same. New friends were awkward and irritating. Learning what they liked and didn’t like. Cultivating the friendship, taking time to see them when you’d rather be doing something else. And then often realising that they really aren’t the kind of friends you want anyway and spending the next few months nicely turning down every opportunity to meet.
Friends were exhausting. New friends were akin to some horrific challenge from one of those ghastly reality TV shows.
“There’s a playground at your school,” Olivia pointed out.
“Really?” Henry perked up.
“Yes, it has a slide.” She wondered if she should be spending time instilling the values of the playground equipment rather than the learning activities. “And a library.”
“Lucy said we should get a cat.”
Olivia looked at him and raised her eyebrow. “When did you speak to Lucy?”
“After the wedding. She said we should get a cat.”
“I thought you wanted a kitten?”
“I thought about it, and now I want a cat.”
A car horn sounded. Olivia crawled the car forward the few feet that were so important to the driver behind her. She turned back to Henry.
“Why a cat and not a kitten? You were adamant about getting a kitten.”
“Lucy says that we should get a cat because there are already too many cats in the world that don’t have families. And we’re a family. And kittens become cats anyway,” he explained as if Olivia had no idea of the connection between kittens and cats.
“Why bring another kitten into the world when there are already so many cats in need of a good home?” Henry asked, clearly repeating Lucy’s speech verbatim.
The thought touched a nerve, and Olivia felt her body run cold. It wasn’t much of a leap to reach the same conclusion when it came to babies. Were they being selfish thinking about having a baby when there were already children in the world who needed a loving family? Would Olivia be the right type of personality to adopt? Would the authorities even allow her to?
“Olivia?” Henry shook her from her thoughts.
“I’ll discuss it with your mother.” She turned back to face the road. She imagined that adoption required some kind of medical and psychological evaluations. What would happen if her quirks prevented them from being able to adopt? What would Emily think of her then?
“Olivia?”
“Yes?” She itched to turn the radio up to distract Henry. She was having a crisis, and she couldn’t focus on that and Henry’s cat discussion at the same time.
“If we got a cat, could I name it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Olivia?”
She let out a small sigh. “Yes, Henry?”
“When are you going back to work?”
She looked at him. “I-I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Because your mommy and I agreed that I would stay home and look after you while Mommy works in London.” Olivia nervously licked her lips, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
She recalled how she had strolled around the living room with a glass of red wine in her hand, explaining to Emily that it really was the absolute best thing for her to stay home and tend to the house while Emily focused on her career. Emily had seemed so relieved and grateful that Olivia would do such a thing.
She had felt pride swell within her that she was able to help Emily. Olivia had come to understand that writing was Emily’s passion, and Emily had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity laid out in front of her.
To Olivia, it seemed impossible for Emily to be able to take the work opportunity while caring for Henry. Emily had even stated that she was considering whether or not to continue working with Nicole, claiming that the time away from her family would be hard to take.
And so, Olivia had stepped up and offered to take hold of everything. She would look after the house, care for Henry, and carry the next child.
Emily had only been gone for a few hours and already Olivia was wondering what she had done. The idea of not working was supposed to be one that filled people with joy. People did all they
could to get to retirement age as early as possible, keen to throw off the shackles of employment. But Olivia already felt tense at the prospect of no longer working.
“Forever?” Henry asked.
Olivia felt the panic rise again.
She slowly nodded. “Yes, forever.”
“And I can have a cat?” Henry asked, seizing upon Olivia’s accepting mood.
“I’ll discuss it with your mother,” Olivia repeated. “We have to make big decisions as a family.”
“Can I name the new baby?”
“Probably not.”
“Why not?” Henry groused.
“Because you called a giraffe ‘Tiny’.”
“But that’s a great name!”
“Shall we turn to your station?” Olivia was already reaching for the radio knob before Henry could reply.
Classical music faded away and pop music started to play. Henry danced along to the familiar tunes.
Olivia breathed out a relieved sigh and slumped a little into the driver’s seat.
“I wonder how many cats there are in New York who need a new home?” Henry asked.
Olivia rested her head on the side window with a thud.
“I bet it’s a million,” he concluded.
7
“Are you nervous?” Nicole asked.
Emily hurried to match to Nicole’s pace as they walked along the busy London street together. Nicole weaved in and out of people like a professional and Emily did her best to keep up and not get lost in the crowd.
“Terrified,” Emily admitted.
“Good. That’s normal.”
Nicole turned down a side street, and Emily scrambled to catch up with her. Luckily, the side street was much quieter. Emily easily caught up and they started walking side by side.
They’d met for a quick breakfast at Emily’s hotel before walking to the office together. Emily was regretting the second croissant as her stomach started to twist and turn with nerves.
“The team is excellent,” Nicole explained. “Obviously. Seeing as I hired them all.”
Emily chuckled.
“First there’s Carl, he’ll be your co-writer. He’s an exceptional writer, he knows our styles and requirements, so he’ll be able to lead you in the right direction. You’ll learn a lot from him, but he isn’t your boss, you’re a team.” Nicole threw her a meaningful look.
Emily nodded. “Team, got it.”
“Don’t sit back and let others take all the glory. Just because you’re new doesn’t mean you’re not as good as they are.”
Nicole had been throwing pep talks into most of their conversations over the last few months. From the day Emily had first shown her the scripts she had written to Nicole becoming her agent, the British woman had been very keen to bolster Emily’s flagging self-confidence.
“Absolutely,” Emily agreed.
“So, you’ll be sharing an office with Carl. Then there’s Martin, the stage manager, and Hannah, the set designer. At this point, you’ll mainly be working with them. Until we move to live production in two weeks, that is. Then there will a whole company of people for you to meet.”
“Carl, Martin, and Hannah. Got it.”
“Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday we have a morning update meeting. We all sit down and catch up, usually bemoan how little time we have, that kind of thing. I’ll be at each meeting, but outside that, I’m afraid I’m in and out of the office.”
Nicole turned her head to look up and down the street. She took Emily by the elbow and pulled her across the road, weaving in between black cabs.
Emily allowed herself to be dragged along. Nicole had been a lifeline during the scary transition from unemployed and almost destitute to scriptwriter. In the back of her mind, she knew she was living a rags-to-riches story that she would one day have to write. She just wanted to get a little further into the riches part before she put pen to paper. At the moment, the whole thing still felt surreal, like a bubble about to burst in her hands.
“Here we are,” Nicole announced.
In front of them was a door, coated in black paint that was sun-bleached and lightly peeling. Emily looked up at the rest of the façade. The building was in serious need of some maintenance. The old wooden windows needed replacing and the brickwork was occasionally visible in-between gaps in the plasterwork.
“I did tell you that there’s no money in theatre, right?” Nicole stage-whispered to her.
Emily laughed nervously.
“It’s fine inside,” Nicole reassured. “And it’s close to the theatre, I’ll show you that this afternoon. Ready to meet the team?”
Emily nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”
“And how, precisely, am I supposed to bring back that set for the final act? By then, we’ve already put two others in front of it. The space is tiny, I can’t get that set back out without moving everything in front of it. Or removing a wall. Your choice.”
Martin Faraday crossed his legs and turned to the side. He leaned heavily on the back of his plastic chair and looked away.
Emily tried to control her expression, but she could feel a smirk beginning to form. Martin was the perfect drama queen. He was exactly what she had expected to find in the theatre. Mid-forties, scruffy, and oh-so-artistically dramatic. He’d already dropped around thirty “darlings” into the short conversation and constantly huffed or turned his face away from the group in dismay at not hearing what he wanted to.
Emily turned to regard Nicole, awaiting the woman’s response to Martin’s latest complaint. Nicole was as calm and collected as Emily imagined, batting away each of Martin’s grievances with faultless logic and simple solutions.
It had only been half an hour since she had first entered the building, and they were already straight down to work. They had all been introduced, smiles and handshakes were exchanged, and tea and coffee in cups and saucers had been distributed. They’d gathered in a large and empty room, pulling plastic chairs with metal frames into a circle to start the meeting.
Contrary to Nicole’s statement, the inside of the building was as old as the outside. It had worn brick walls that had been covered over the course of many years with layer upon layer of white paint. The ceilings were high, and the single-glazed windows protected little from the elements. Emily had already written a note to herself to bring warmer clothes next time. The wind was unforgiving.
“You’re not packing up the hospital scene next to my landscape,” Hannah pointed out. Hannah was in her early thirties and had long, brown hair that was tied up in a messy bun. “If that gets damaged, we’ll never have time to repair before the next night.”
Martin spun in his chair and pointed towards Hannah. “You name one time that my guys have damaged one of your sets, one time,” he demanded.
“I’m just saying…” Hannah huffed.
Nicole held her hands up. “Okay, stand down, both of you.”
Martin lowered his accusatory finger and Nicole lowered her hands.
“I suppose we could move the scene to a new location, but we have to come up with a reason for the children to be out of school?” Nicole mused as she studied the script.
“A sports day,” Emily quickly said. “Then we can use the exterior and that should be in position two, if I’m not mistaken? Easy to get out in time for the final act?”
Martin smiled. He turned to Nicole. “I like her. We’re keeping her.”
Nicole turned to Carl. “What do you think, Carl?”
Emily turned to her co-writer. He’d been quiet since she’d arrived, offering her a quick handshake and a tight, silent smile.
He looked at the script in his lap and chewed on the end of a mangled pencil, his heavy framed glasses almost covering his deep frown.
Emily felt herself holding her breath as everyone awaited Carl’s input. She found herself second-guessing her suggestion. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea, maybe she’d just thrown a wrench in the works? She didn’t want to get off to a bad start with the man
she was going to be spending most of her time with.
Carl slammed the pencil down onto the papers and looked up. A smile crossed his face, and he nodded.
“Yep. Sounds good, I think we can make that work.” He smiled at Emily. “Great idea.”
Emily slumped a little in relief. “Thanks.”
“Well, that’s one problem dealt with,” Martin drawled. “I don’t want to bring anyone down, but need I remind you that we open in three weeks and we have yet to build the trap for the genius who suggested that an actor can vanish during a two-second power outage.”
Carl looked at Emily and rolled his eyes jokingly.
“It never ends,” he whispered with a wink.
8
Olivia paced the hallway as she looked intently at her watch. They were already three minutes behind schedule.
“Henry!” she shouted up the stairs.
“Coming,” he called back.
She picked up his backpack and checked the contents. Her heart clenched as she felt the lightness of the bag. It reminded her that Henry was far too young and far too small to be going to school, getting on the school bus, spending the day with strangers that she hadn’t personally vetted. And all he had to get him through the day were the measly contents of his bag. How would he survive the onslaught of school with some pens, paper, and snacks? It seemed ridiculous.
Henry appeared by her side. “Ready,” he said. He looked excited, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her stomach.
She eyed him critically, checking his clothes, shoes, and jacket were all going to be appropriate for the day ahead. She felt like she was throwing a baby bird out of the nest and hoping he’d learn to fly on the way down.
“Can we wait for the bus outside?”
Olivia shuddered at the thought of the bus. She’d been online the previous night, reading the horror stories other parents told. But, of course, the bus was one of the things Henry was most excited about.