Page 51 of Mistaken Impression

“Really?” I’m intrigued by that. He seems like such a natural when he’s acting.

“Yes. When my parents died, I sold their house. It needed a lot of work doing to it, and I didn’t want to live there. But it was on an enormous plot of land, so I did quite well out of the sale and once I’d paid off their mortgage, I was left with enough to keep a roof over my head for a few years, while I earned absolutely nothing and slaved over writing my first novel.”

“You’ve written a novel?”

“Written, yes. Published, no.”

“Oh.”

He smiles. “It’s funny. That’s how most people react when I say that… with enormous disappointment.”

I feel guilty now. “I—I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay. I’m disappointed too.”

“Have you thought about trying to find an agent?” I ask, wondering if he’s lacking in contacts, rather than talent.

“I’ve got an agent. A friend of mine recommended her, and I sent her my book. We had a video call, during which she told me she thought my story wasn’t original enough… and then the next thing I knew, she sent me a message, asking if I’d be interested in coming over here to do some TV work, for a commercial.”

“To write it, you mean?”

“No, to act in it.”

“But why? You had no experience in acting.”

“That’s not strictly true. I’d done some stage work in the UK, just for fun, and it was on my CV, which I’d sent to the agent.”

“Your resume, you mean?”

“Yeah… I guess. In any case, there wasn’t a great deal of acting involved in the commercial.”

“Why? What was it for?”

“Fitness equipment. They had a ‘before’ guy, and an ‘after’ guy.”

I can’t help smiling. “Which were you?”

He smiles back. “I was the ‘after’ guy.”

“I’m not surprised. You’ve got the perfect physique.” I feel myself blush… again, but I don’t regret my words, or the smile that’s formed on his lips.

“Thank you… I think. It was hardly Hamlet, but it paid well, while it lasted.”

“How long did it last, then?”

“Initially, they just brought me over to do the one commercial, but it went so well, they gave me a six-month contract.”

“And you didn’t think about going home, rather than signing it?” I ask as he finishes his omelet, pushing his plate aside.

“No. I’d decided to make the move here when I got their first offer.”

“Even though it was just for one commercial?”

“Yes. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it work, but I felt like trying something new, and I certainly got to do that. I’d been here for about four months when I met a couple of people who belonged to a theater company, and when my contract for the TV commercials ended, I went to work with them.”

“Here in Boston?”

“Yes.”

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