Centre Stage

Curtain Call...

"She's broken Tom, she doesn't want to see you." Mandy opened the door to find a pale and shaking man standing there.  If he thought it would have made a difference, he would have gone on his knees.

"Please. Mandy, PLEASE tell her I'm here." he begged, grasping her arm."I HAVE to explain. She's got it all wrong.  You have to make her listen to me." his eyes were full of tears, and Mandy couldn't help but feel for him.  

She'd listened to Lucy's tale of woe with an increasing sense it was "wrong end of the stick" territory, but she couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to.  And Lucy now didn't want to hang her heart out to dry for a second time. 

Mandy knew just exactly how special Tom had been - still was - to Lucy, exactly what she'd given for him. "Tom, I can't make her do anything. You of all people should know that much."  She sighed. "Come in, we can't do this on the doorstep.  For one thing, I don't particularly want the neighbours seeing how untidy our hall is, and two, it's far too late at night for you to be hanging around strange women's doors.  You'll get a name for yourself." she smiled, and despite his devastation, so did Tom.

"Oh Mandy I do have a name: Twat Hiddleston, I think you'll find."  

There was a small snort from further into the hall.  They both turned to see a slightly tipsy (the chocolate had been more alcohol than anything else to be fair) and very dishevelled Lucy standing at her bedroom door.  She walked forwards and on into the living room.  "Ok. Speak." 

Mandy stepped back and held her arm out, indicating that he should come in.  Tom nodded and walked past, looking at her with trepidation. "Will, will you come in too, please?  I think I might need moral support."

"Feck off!" Mandy snorted."You're a big boy." she paused and looked him up and down in her usual manner."Yep, a very big boy.  Handle it - and her - yourself.  Word to the wise though Tom?"

"Yes. Anything. Please?"

"Don't let her start with the waterworks. I guarantee you, she starts crying, you'll never get her to listen to you.  Speak first, then let her ramble.  I have a feeling she's not just barking up the wrong tree about you. She's not even in the same wood?  Now, go and sort it out man.  You're Loki. You're a GOD, for God's sake!  Use some of that bloody magic. Please?  I'm running out of tissues - and alcohol!" Cackling away to herself, she went into her bedroom and shut the door.  

Tom stood in the hall for a second, then, taking a deep breath, walked into the room where Lucy was now sitting huddled on the sofa.  She was hugging her knees, and Nightie pulled down over them to meet her rumpled bed socks around her ankles.  Her face was a little blotchy from too many tears, her eyes glazed from slightly too much alcohol.  He thought she was quite simply beautiful.

"What do you want Tom? Haven't I been through enough? What could you POSSIBLY have to say that I would want to hear at this point.  There is such a thing as too much information, Thomas." she said quietly, looking at him with eyes that were about to dissolve down her cheeks. "I SAW you.  I saw the way she looked at you, held you." she sniffed and looked down,

"You forget I've lived that look before. The look of someone in love." she paused, and he took his chance as she opened her mouth to speak again - probably tell him to get lost - he sat next to her and grabbed her.  With one hand, he held her arm, the other he placed over her mouth gently.   Her eyes widened in shock, and she mumbled something behind his hand.  

He shook his head. "No. Not another word. My turn." he spoke softly but insistently, his eyes staring into hers. "And no tears. Not till I'm done.  Then you can speak, and you can cry. You can tell me to go to hell, but I need you to hear me out.  If I take my hand away, will you let me speak?"