The Wedding Pact

by Isla Gordon

  She pressed play again and saw Flynn, who stood with two other boys, deliver a line about going to class, in which he stole a peep at the camera at both the beginning and the end. She laughed.

  ‘I had a little problem with the “don’t look into the lens” instruction,’ Flynn explained with a chuckle. ‘I was never pencilled in to be a recurring character beyond three episodes anyway, but even so, it wasn’t surprising I never got called back.’

  With one more ‘See ya,’ from little Flynn, he was gone from the screen, and August asked, ‘Do you have access to any more clips of you?’

  ‘There is one more of my episodes on YouTube,’ he reached across and typed in a new search. ‘Get ready for some great egg beating in a home ec class.’

  August watched, mesmerised by his younger self on screen. ‘How old were you here?’

  ‘Eleven, I think? Maybe twelve? I was playing a Year Seven, so around that age.’

  ‘Did you do any other acting?’

  ‘No, it was a passing phase for me. I think my next big obsession after this was playing the guitar.’

  ‘You play the guitar?’

  ‘Nope,’ he admitted. Flynn stopped the video after his ‘big scene’ and said, ‘See, I have no moral message to relay to you, but if it made you smile for a minute then that’s the desired result.’

  ‘It did, thank you, Flynn. Maybe I, like you, should give up on this career and turn instead to the guitar. Or law. How hard can international law be anyway, right?’ she joked.

  ‘Because of one bad audition? You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘I’m just so … humiliated, Flynn. I almost wish I’d only found out about the whole audition the day before, but over these past weeks I’ve let the idea of getting the part rise and rise to the point I really believed it was mine. I could see myself on that stage. I’d imagined the conversation with my boss about handing in my notice. Not just taking a break, because the leading role in a professional play would have opened the door to this whole other side of my career, and it … it would have meant I could do it. I was good enough. I’d imagined telling my mum, my friends, I’d imagined coming home today and telling you.’

  ‘I know,’ he sympathised. ‘I was hoping you were going to come back with good news too. But again, it’s one bad audition.’

  ‘I am a big stupid failure and I’m chasing after the wrong career and Hilary Swank wouldn’t even deem to use her Oscar to beat me out of the way.’

  Flynn had no idea why poor Hilary Swank was being brought into this, but August, usually so gung-ho and confident, was steering back towards meltdown city. And he didn’t have any more Grange Hill to show her.

  ‘But you can act, August, you know you can, because it’s what you already do – you’ve had loads of success in voice work and you’ll be getting calls for more really soon, now your booth is set up. You can do this. But maybe being a stage actress takes some different skills, which you could work on.’ He paused, putting a hand on her back while she gave a big sigh. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. Maybe having talent in one area doesn’t automatically give you talent in the other. I know I couldn’t just walk in to court as a barrister because I’m currently a solicitor, it would take time and training.’

  August gasped. ‘What if it’s karma? What if because I short-cutted one dream, living here by lying about who I am, what if that’s it for me and now—’

  Flynn began to laugh at this, causing August to see the funny side too. ‘You know, I’m shocked you didn’t get this part because you can be dramatic as hell.’

  ‘You’re dramatic as hell,’ she retorted. But then she turned around and wrapped her arms around Flynn, giving him a huge squeeze. He heard her whisper into his shoulder, ‘You’re a good guy. This new girl of yours better know how lucky she is.’

  Chapter 48

  August

  She was in bed that night when she finally checked her phone. She looked at it with one eye, fearing the official message telling her she hadn’t landed the role – although she already knew that, of course. But August’s face lit up like the screen in front of her when she saw a text from Abe.

  Hello, it’s Abe. Just wanted to check in on how your audition went. Nice to see you this morning.

  Formal, to the point, sweet. August replied, downplaying the audition – and her disappointment – but thanking him for asking.

  Are you back in London now? She added.

  His response came quickly, and she wondered if he too was lying in his bed, two lonely hearts across the other side of the country but under the same night sky.

  Yep, back in the Big Smoke. See you, and Flynn, next weekend?

  Smiling, August responded: Sounds great. Goodnight, Abe.

  Goodnight, August.

  Chapter 49

  Flynn

  In the house at the top of Elizabeth Street, it appeared to be a tradition to rotate get-togethers between flats monthly for awkward drinks and conversation. Flynn and August had just missed hosting one before they moved in, and tonight was their turn, so they’d been told by Callie.

  Typically, the drinks were no longer than an hour, and Flynn knew that August was happy for the distraction. Even though her disastrous audition (her words) was two weeks behind her, she was still feeling at a loss with herself, wondering where her future might lie.

  Flynn was pleased to host the drinks for not too dissimilar reasons. The past couple of weeks had seen his work ramp up to an almost unmanageable level. He was tired all the time and found it hard to step away. He’d barely seen Poppy, he hadn’t called home to Japan to speak to his parents for what felt like an age, and he was relying way too much on August to be his sounding board at the end of every long day. She said she didn’t mind, and that it stopped her having to think too much about her own issues, but even so; he knew he was snappy at times, and he could tell she was losing patience with his complaining. A forced break, a mandatory bit of social interaction, was just what he needed.

  Maud and Allen from the flat below sat on the sofa. Compared to Callie – who sometimes seemed like their third flatmate, the number of times she popped over to chat to August – they didn’t know Maud and Allen well. The couple kept to themselves and didn’t pry. Allen in particular seemed uncomfortable around so many women, in a shy way, and mainly just chatted with Flynn about aeroplanes, keeping his head low.

  August was refilling drinks when Allen grumbled softly, shifting in his seat, ‘What’s behind my back?’ Maud pushed him forward, sticking her hand underneath the cushion.

  ‘What’s that?’ August laughed, topping up Callie’s Prosecco, looking at the scrunch of black material Maud had dug out of her sofa.

  ‘It’s a – oh!’ Maud, in the manner of a magician, held the item up by one end and let it tumble down to reveal itself. And all of a sudden she held in her hand a black, very full-busted, bra. Maud, in a state of shock, shook it off her hand like it was a spider, and it landed on Allen’s lap, the clasp draped in his drink.

  ‘Oh!’ he mirrored Maud, fishing it out with his breadstick and passing it towards August, his face a neon pink.

  Callie burst out laughing. ‘All right, Maud, it’s not that kind of party! Get your undies back on!’

  Maud was now also pink head to toe, as evidenced by her shaking fingers. ‘It’s not mine,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s August’s brassiere.’

  August accepted the bra from Allen, breadstick and all, but was lost for words for a second, because this was most certainly not hers.

  At that point, Flynn pulled himself together and shouted, ‘August, the drink,’ and August looked down at her nonbreadstick-and-bra hand, to see that she was still pouring Prosecco with the other, and bubbles were foaming out over the top like lava and pooling on the tablecloth.

  Callie’s mum jumped into action with the napkins, Callie grabbed the glass and placed her mouth over it, trapping the remaining bubbles, Allen began a coughing fit and Maud glared at him because she knew full well
he kept glancing at the bra, which still dangled mid-air.

  Flynn and August met each other’s eye, and she did the only thing she could, really, given the situation.

  ‘I am so sorry, everyone, hard day at work yesterday and I was having a relax on the sofa when I got home. I must have forgotten to take this back to my bedroom. Our bedroom.’ She picked the bra off the end of the breadstick and held it in her hands like everything was perfectly normal. Like this wasn’t someone else’s bra.

  Callie, bubbles-problem-fixed, guffawed. ‘There is no way that’s your bra,’ she said, pointedly looking between the vixen-like cups and August’s own modest chest.

  ‘It was an audition, for an acting role,’ August thought on her feet. ‘I had to be a sort of Marilyn Monroe character and this helped … ’ Gulp. She avoided looking at Allen. ‘ … Create the shape.’ August telepathically shot daggers at Flynn.

  ‘Flynn, what’s it like having an actress for a wife?’ Callie asked, tucking into a sliver of watermelon wrapped in Parma ham.

  ‘It’s great,’ Flynn replied. ‘She’s always doing something interesting.’

  ‘I bet it’s great,’ Callie said with a crude wink, and then leaned over, holding out the appetiser plate. ‘Maud, Allen, can I interest you in August’s melons?’

  ‘Just going to put this away,’ August sang, and she hurried into Flynn’s bedroom, with him in tow, the sound of Callie’s hysterical laughter following them.

  When they were out of sight, she pushed the bra against his chest. ‘I think this belongs to you,’ August hissed.

  ‘That’s not quite true.’

  ‘Your girlfriend, then. When did she even – you know what?’ August held up her hands. ‘I don’t even want to know. I don’t want to know anything about it. I love that you have a girlfriend, Flynn, it makes me so happy to see you happy, but just … well, I just ask that you stay away from my armchair if you’re going to do things in the living room.’

  Flynn could see she wasn’t too mad, and it was kind of funny, but even as he stuffed the bra into one of his drawers and followed August back out to their guests, he wondered when Poppy would have taken that off. She’d only popped over once last week before they went out on a date, and they’d not done anything more than kiss. He had left her alone for a few minutes while he changed, though. Perhaps she removed it in anticipation? And then when things hadn’t got as heated as maybe she’d expected, she’d … forgotten?

  Back in the living room, August was back in conversational flow and Flynn looked around to see if there were any more drinks that he could top up before he sat down next to Allen again. He hadn’t done a runner, though Flynn had half expected him to.

  He tried to focus on Allen, but his spirits had dampened. Three days on Grange Hill at the age of eleven hadn’t prepared him for how much work it took to be an actor. The lies, the being on edge, it sometimes felt like as much of a full-time job as his real job. He stole a look at his faux-wife as she glowed and glittered, and wondered if she ever wished to just come clean.

  As his gaze swept the room, Flynn caught Callie’s eye. She raised her eyebrows at him, her mouth set in a straight line, and for just a second before she readjusted her face and turned back to laugh at what August was saying, he swore she gave him the evil eye.

  Chapter 50

  August

  August loved her days working as a costumed character at the Roman Baths. Even though she only did a couple of days a month, hopefully a few more during the peak summer season, she looked forward to them with the same fizz of excitement every time.

  She often played Flavia, a Roman lady, and her role was to interact with visitors, giving them fun facts while never dropping character. It tested her improv skills and at the end of each day she had a new sense of motivation for trying to break into theatre work.

  Even today, with the memory of her failed audition so fresh that she thought it would sting to be in character, it calmed her to the point that she thought maybe she could love acting still, despite her recent failure.

  ‘That was so cool,’ a young boy enthused to his mum as they walked away from ‘Flavia’. ‘She was really from ancient Rome, wasn’t she, Mum?’

  August allowed a little smile to cross her face. Maybe she wasn’t completely awful after all …

  With the East Baths clear of visitors for a moment, August strolled out to the Great Bath, open to the cool air, the pièce de résistance and the centrepiece for the whole complex. A huge pool with steps descending into the hot spa water from all sides that once upon a time Romans would have stepped down into.

  Being November, the number of people milling around the venue was few, and August had a few moments uninterrupted while she sat at the side of the Bath and gazed into the warm water.

  She turned her thoughts to Abe, and how they were ever-so-slowly growing closer as time went on. Far from close-close, but they text each other occasionally, stopped for a chat when he visited his mum, and she felt she was beginning to peek beneath what had once been such a closed-off, hard shell.

  Only, thanks to this enormous lie she and Flynn were carrying around on their backs, it could never be anything more than that … could it?

  Shaking Abe from her mind, her thoughts returned to the audition again, only this time, rather than hiding from the sting of embarrassment, or the sadness of a dream down the drain, she found herself musing: at least I’ll be more prepared next time.

  Perhaps there were silver linings to be found in all of this, and perhaps she’d look for them one day soon. But not here, or now. She could hear the voices of people approaching.

  August hoiked up the huge skirts of her dress and turned away from the green-tinted water of the Great Bath and into the shade, and from behind a pillar, hand in hand, out came Flynn, with a woman who she assumed was Poppy.

  She gasped. ‘Hello!’

  Flynn took a moment to realise it was her and then laughed out loud (not cruelly) and said, ‘There you are!’ He reached in for a big hug, the chunky audio guide that dangled from his wrist tapping her side, and August noted Poppy watching the two of them.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting the hair, I thought we must have missed you,’ he said, prodding at her towering, dark, curly wig. ‘Poppy managed to drag me away from my laptop, thank God. I told her you worked here sometimes and thought we could come along and she could meet you.’

  August turned to Poppy with a big smile and said, ‘Greetings, the name is August,’ and then whispered, ‘If anyone else comes along I’ll need to hop back into character, okay?’

  ‘Hop back into character,’ Poppy murmured, not taking her eyes off August. ‘How many characters do you play?’

  ‘Just one, although it’s not always the same one. I’m not supposed to break character at all, that’s really frowned upon, so Shhh,’ August smiled.

  Poppy looked up at Flynn, her head tilted to the side. ‘Imagine having to pretend you’re someone you’re not at the drop of a hat.’

  For a millisecond, Flynn and August met each other’s eyes, before he pulled his full attention back to Poppy as if nothing had happened. ‘Ha ha, imagine that,’ he agreed. ‘Luckily, August’s a very good actress, great improvisation skills.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Poppy said.

  August brushed away the compliment, though it made her glow a little bit that he still believed in her. She then, too, focussed her attention back on Flynn’s girlfriend. So this was Poppy. This was ‘Mmm, that was nice’ Poppy. She was pretty, quite striking in a memorable way, and August wondered something. ‘Are you an actress?’ she asked her.

  Poppy shook her head. ‘Absolutely not.’

  August tapped at her chin. Where do I know you from? ‘I just feel like I’ve seen you before.’

  Poppy said nothing, just raised her eyebrows, as if she was waiting for August to finish her speculation.

  In the end, August gave up. ‘Must just be one of those small-world things, we’ve probably stood in li
ne together at the bus station or something.’

  ‘That must be it.’

  August shivered a little. It was frosty here, under all this shade. ‘Are you two enjoying the Baths?’

  ‘Definitely,’ Flynn enthused. ‘Are the Baths themselves ever open to the public to swim in?’

  ‘No,’ August replied. ‘But the Thermae Bath Spa is worth a visit for its open-air rooftop pool, all warm and minerally, just like these ones.’

  ‘Hey, that sounds nice, doesn’t it?’ Flynn said to Poppy. She nodded, though if she was a local, or even a long-term resident, August suspected she’d have visited at least once. ‘Anyway, we’ll let you get back to work, but maybe we could all have dinner together next week or something?’

  ‘Sure!’ answered August.

  ‘Sure,’ said Poppy.

  August watched as Flynn and Poppy walked away, their hands entwined, and his face turned towards her, smiling. August knew the warmth of how it felt to be on the receiving end of that smile, to be holding that hand, to kiss those lips—

  August, she scolded herself.

  Chapter 51

  Flynn

  Poppy was coming to dinner. Although Flynn would have preferred the three of them to meet out somewhere, maybe for pizza or a pub dinner, he was keen for August to get to know Poppy properly, and Poppy was quite insistent about coming to their home.

  ‘How are you feeling about this evening?’ August asked, chopping into a red bell pepper, side by side with Flynn in the kitchen, as if she were reading his mind.

  ‘Great,’ he answered.

  ‘Liar,’ August teased. ‘Are you nervous?’

  ‘A little … ’ They were prepping fajitas together and Flynn had been unusually silent. A thought was niggling at him, the one he’d been getting more and more recently. When was this going to end? He could tell Poppy what was going on but he’d rather get to know her a little more first, show her she can trust him, because right now he couldn’t imagine she’d be happy to know he and August role-played the happy couple on a daily basis. She definitely wouldn’t like that they’d kissed – not that he’d kissed August again since dating Poppy, and he wouldn’t, but that’s why he needed Poppy to trust him first.