Page 46 of The Payback Plan
Maybe for the first time she was seeing him as a good guy instead of the asshole who jilted her friend at the altar. More importantly, maybe he was, too?
* * *
Oliver was contemplating that fact later that night sitting in the darkened media room as he stared down the Oscar – the BAFTA had been returned to its shelf on high – and a bottle of his father’s expensive vintage cognac which had also been under adon’t touchorder.
In for a penny, in for a pound, right?
It had been a cathartic day in lots of ways. And a much longer one than he’d initially hoped. Far from being home within the hour, it took almost four hours to depart the hall. Every time he’d tried to edge away, someone else would pounce, regaling him with some Roger Prendergast anecdote or other from St Ives or talk about how something had resonated for them in one of his plays or films.
He’d even been shown pictures of single daughters and granddaughters.
Not to mention that somehow, he’d been finagled into letting the six-year-old grandson of one of the women take the Oscar to school when it was his turn for show and tell.
Maybe they’d been spiking his endless cups of tea with gin.
He laughed at the thought mostly because it was preposterous but also because he’d had three generous slugs of the cognac and was on his way to hammered. Casper was upstairs somewhere with Paige who’d been head down in some work ever since they’d arrived home. Pavarotti was asleep in his cage, the lights of the flickering television shining in the reddy-gold streaks of his seemingly untamable quiff.
It was quiet, apart fromGroundhog Dayplaying on the screen but the volume was low and Oliver was barely paying it any attention as he stared at the Oscar. Seeing him being treated today like a curiosity – a fancy one for sure but still a curiosity – and not some revered precious jewel had been normalising.
And the pleasure the WI women had derived from holding it, the pleasurehe’dderived from watching them had helped break down the mystique of it. Oscar could be touched and held and enjoyed and that was okay.
Their stories today had also given him a deeper insight to his father. He was well used to hearing important people talk about his father’s acting greatness. Critics and peers and industry boffins. About his abundant talent, his formal training, his unrivalled technique –blah blah blah. But that wasn’t what the WI women had talked about. They’d talked about how something in a film had touched them or meant something to them in some way and it felt authentic rather than pandering or ego stroking.
And it had made him see his father in a different light. Not as a performer but as a conduit for people’s memories and emotions. It had certainly given him something to think about as he went forward with the book. More nuance and context.
He’d been grumpy all over again this morning as a painfully chipper Paige had dragged him to the hall but he was inordinately pleased he’d gone. For the first time in a long time he’d seen his father as a human being, something he’d felt less and less as he’d grown from a boy into a young adult.
Moving to the States to live with his father when he’d been fifteen had been his attempt to bridge that gap and they’d gone on to have what many of his friends would describe as an enviable relationship. Roger had been happy to have Oliver with him and very keen that they have a grown-up relationship.
That they be buds. Pals. But, deep down, Oliver had craved a deeper connection with his father. He’d wanted a dad. Not another friend. And he’d re-discovered a little of his dad with these women today.
His phone pinged and he reached for it absently.
Here’s your latest from HAMSTER FACTS! Did you know hamsters love toys? No – not that kind.
Oliver blinked. Either he was drunker than he thought or the work experience kid had been let loose with the texts today. For pure amusement value, he’d given up blocking them ages ago.
As well as wheels they love balls, tunnels and are especially fond of chew toys. Stimulate them daily by switching up their environment on the regular. Press 1 for links to recommended hamster safe products. Standard messaging rates may apply.
Oliver glanced over at the sleeping rodent. Chew toys, huh? His gaze swivelled to the Oscar, his golden hue a little dull in the dark without his spotlight glowing glory upon him. A smile spread across his face as a delightfully tipsy idea floated to the surface.
Pushing to his feet he grabbed Oscar around the middle and took three strides to Pavarotti’s cage. The rodent stirred when Oliver lifted the latch, one eyelid fluttering open, blearily assessing his visitor then shutting again. He was clearly too exhausted from his new fitness regime to be bothered by the interruption especially from his bro dude.
‘Sorry, old mate,’ Oliver said to Oscar, ‘I’ll break you out after a couple of days.’
Manoeuvring the one foot, eight-pound statue into the corner of the cage just behind the amazing wheel of lights and colour, he smiled to himself as he settled it into the nesting fluff. He wasn’t sure how Pavarotti would take the intimidating proportions in the morning or the fact his cage was rapidly resembling some kind of bizarre Las Vegas-style theme park but, with his cognac goggles firmly in place, Oliver thought it was hilarious.
Heading back to the couch, he admired his handiwork. Oscar look dour as ever and maybe the shock of waking to a one foot golden, graven statue in the morning may not be good for Pavarotti’s heart but it sure as fuck felt damn good right now.
His father would bepissed. And somehow that felt extra good.
Oliver raised his glass in salute. ‘Cheers.’ And took another slug.
Muted footsteps from behind alerted him to the imminent arrival of Paige but it was Casper who arrived first, leaping onto the couch and assuming his regular position stretched out on his side, his head propped on top of Oliver’s thigh.
‘Hey bud,’ Oliver crooned and absently fondled a soft, floppy ear, earning himself a couple of tails thumps.
‘Youarestill down here,’ Paige said as she rounded the couch in the semi dark and took a seat on the end cushion that Casper had so graciously left for her. ‘It was so quiet I thought you must have gone to bed. You normally have the TV up so loud I can follow along upstairs.’
