Centre Stage

Once More into the Breach

Tom spent the whole of Wednesday dreading Thursday. He'd hardly slept, he'd eaten less, and he felt like crap.

All because he'd tried to be smart. Even his mum, normally his biggest supporter, had slapped him about the head. Mentally and, more painfully, physically.

He'd got home on Tuesday night to an answerphone message telling him to sort himself out. She'd put her position on the line to keep Lucy from walking. He'd better not mess it up. She'd actually put it slightly more bluntly, but the thought of his mother swearing at him was not one he wished to revisit any time soon.

Now, 48 hours and a whole world of agony later, he was waiting for her to arrive.

He was in his office, pretending to read some notes when there was a gentle knock.

"Come in?" His heart pounded. The door opened, and he watched, breath held until he saw who it was. "Mum." He withheld the sigh that felt like a boulder in his chest.

"You ok, son?" She came in, closing the door behind her. "I'm sorry about the other day. Really." She came and stood behind him, bending over to hug him from behind, reading the notes over his shoulder. He leant into the hug, his head resting on her arm.

"Oh mum, I'm sorry too. I really am an idiot. You're right. I honestly thought that I was doing the right thing. She's so good. She could be amazing. I just want her to see that." He sighed. "And I let my... my personal feelings get the better of me."

"Personal feelings? What the hell are 'personal feelings'?." She smiled into the mirror in front of them both. "Maybe you should stop trying to be the professional all the time. Maybe you should just be Tommy that fancies Lucy?" She hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Now, she's back today, isn't she?" He nodded. "Well, let her set the pace. Let her decide if she's speaking, not speaking or anything in-between. Be nice to her, but dont smother her. Be firm with her on stage if you need to be. She deserves your best. But above all? Don't ever let her think she's unworthy. Of her place. Of this production. Of kindness. Of... love."

With the final word, she stood and squeezed his shoulder. He smiled weakly. "I think it's too late for that one mum, but I'll do my best." He sighed for the millionth time that morning.

"That's all anyone can ask." She walked away with a knowing smile.

Tom returned to reading, and about twenty minutes later, he heard the murmur of voices in the rehearsal room. He closed his laptop and stood, stretching. Well, if nothing else, he would sleep tonight through exhaustion.

As he walked along the corridor, he could hear the conversations more clearly.

"Do you think she's coming back? I heard she'd left."

"Nah, she'll be back. She was just sick yesterday. Tom said so."

"Yeah, sick of being overlooked, I think. She should have been Katherine..."

"Shhh, Jenny will be here soon, don't let her.."

The comments died as he walked in. Everyone except Jenny and Lucy were sitting waiting. Tom paused and contemplated whether he should admit he'd heard. He decided against it. What was it they said? Eavesdroppers never heard good about themselves.

"Morning everyone! Ready to rock n roll?"

There were nods and smiles all around. Tim looked out the window. "Here comes Jenny across the road, dont know about Lucy, though?"

Tom sighed, "Well, we can press on without her. It would appear she's still sick..."

The words died in his throat as the door opened and a flushed and puffed Lucy walked in.

"Sorry folks, slept in. Here now. Ready to go. Where's Jenny?" She slipped her jacket off, dumped her bag, and sat on a chair with a great display of 'normality'.

Tom looked at her, and she simply looked through him. Like he was someone she used to know. It cut him to the quick. He'd even have preferred her to shout at him. Something to show she still had feelings about him. Any feelings.

Before he had to make the impossible decision of whether to confront her directly, Jenny burst in. "Sorreeeeee, the bus was late. I almost broke a nail running here."

Everyone laughed, and the atmosphere warmed. Jennys surreal take on the world was quickly becoming the stuff of legends. After all, who else would say they wanted to be a flamingo in the next life so they could save wear and tear on their shoes. "After all, they only use one leg at a time!" She'd shrugged.

It was a quick day, rehearsals went well, and before they knew it, it was home time. They only had three weeks now to hone their performance. Week four would include the three nights of performance. Tickets were already sold out. Simply attaching Tom's name to it had made it the hottest ticket in town.

As they packed up, Tom tried again. "Feeling better?" He asked quietly, to the others simply a polite question. She looked up from her bag, where she was trying to shoehorn her script into it. She really needed to carry less crap.

"Yes, thanks. Quite myself again." She spoke quietly and calmly. Cool and collected. She eventually got the blasted zip to close and slung her bag over her shoulder. "If you'll excuse me."

And she was gone.

Tom stood and watched her walk down the street feeling helpless. He'd brought this on himself. He had to find a reason to get close again. He had to try.

He pulled out his phone and paused. His finger hovered over the call list. His eyes fixed on a number. Her number. He swallowed and pressed the call button. Putting it on speaker, he waited.

It rang once, twice, three times. Voicemail. Her beautiful voice filled the room. "Hi, it's Lucy. Sorry, I'm busy either being chased by a ghost or plotting the downfall of the French. Leave a message after the tone, and I'll come back to you when either Im dead or I win." He smiled despite his nerves. Typical Lucy. Irreverant and clever. Fiesty and funny.

He paused. He hung up. He couldn't think of a damned thing to say.

This was going to be torture.

As Lucy lay in bed that night, reading over her notes, she sighed. Rehearsals were going well. Truthfully? She was enjoying her part. Tom had been right. Playing the older woman had indeed stretched her. So had the french, and so indeed, had working in close proximity to Tom.

He'd been right all along. That little revelation circling in her head, she dozed off. Tomorrow, she decided she would apologise. Make things right. Try again.

Tomorrow was such a long time away.