Page 4 of Crying in the Rain

“So have you been in anything I’ve seen?” the woman asked.

“No, but you might’ve heard me. I’m a radio actor.”

“Oh, really? I’d swear I’ve seen you on TV.”

Kris shook his head, while she tilted hers, studying him intently. He had a good idea what was coming next, although maybe she was a little too young to make the connection. Whether she would’ve done so in time, he’d never know, as that was the moment when the hydraulics powered up and with a very welcome judder and a sarcastic cheer from the passengers, the train slowly but surely left the station.

3: Empty

Ade

The building wassomehow colder and more formidable without the bustle of delivery drivers and admin staff. Ade hurried along the windowless service corridor, pausing to calm his nerves before he stepped through the door into the public foyer, where a lone security guard sat behind the desk. The sign above him was still dark, but light from the computer monitor flickered across the guard’s face as he glanced up to see who was there.

“Morning, Mr. Simmons.”

“Morning, Abdul.” Same bad-ventriloquist act.

“Did you wet the bed?”

Ade made an amused grunt in his throat. “Something like that.” He wanted so much to enjoy a few minutes’ conversation with someone he knew was safe but who didn’t know him well enough to ask awkward questions.

“Want me to put that in the bin?”

“Mmm?”

Abdul nodded at the takeout cup Ade was holding by its rim.

“Mmm! Mmm-mmm.” He tried to unlock his jaw, by some miracle keeping the scream silent as he took a sip to prove he wasn’t done with it. “Nicer than the coffee here.”

“You’re not wrong. I bring my own.” Abdul raised a shallow plastic Thermos cup above the desk. “Cheaper too. Cheers,” he said and slurped a mouthful, grimacing. “Bit cold by now, mind.”

“When do you finish?”

“Another twenty minutes.”

“Not long, then.”

“No, thank goodness. I’m ready for my breakfast this morning. Actually…” Wheeling his chair a few feet along the desk, Abdul grabbed the signing-in book and wheeled back again. “I think one of your actors is here already.” He tapped the last entry on the page.

“Guess I wasn’t the only one who wet the bed,” Ade muttered to himself, but Abdul heard him and chuckled.

“I sent him up to the cafeteria.”

“OK. Thanks. See you later.”

Ade continued past the reception desk to the lift and pressed the call button, pondering while he waited. Should he find his early arrival or head straight for the studio? On the one hand, he was in no fit state, mentally or physically, for small talk with strangers; on the other, he might keep his precarious hold on his sanity if he had company, and other than the breakfast show and news teams, upstairs would be a ghost ship.

The lift arrived; Ade stepped in and automatically pushed the button for the fourth floor.

Studio it is.

Now he was alone and somewhere he wouldn’t be heard if he did scream, he poked experimentally at his face, hitting a couple of spots that made him swear. He stopped prodding; the pain once again dwindled to a miserable ache, which was bearable but would dog him all day.Should’ve bought painkillers instead of cigs, idiot.Failure number three of the day, and it’s not even eight o’clock.

The lift stopped and the doors opened onto yet another empty corridor. Ade set off, concentrating on the warning jolts from his jaw that accompanied his every step. Better that than listen to the destructive thoughts. People saw the bruises; they didn’t hear the voices ridiculing, undermining.

To-do list. Those helped. They didn’t silence that whining, sneering chorus of insults and judgements—nothing did—butthere were things he needed to do before the actors arrived.The rest of the actors, the voices sniped, seeing as one was sitting upstairs in the cafeteria.Who was it again?

Jotting ‘revisit CVs’ as point #1 on his mental list, he veered off into the toilets, tipped the rest of his coffee into the hand basin and ditched the cup in the bin, then took it out again.

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