Page 68 of The Wedding Pact
Elaine rested her elbows on the table, a move which caused both Jan and Bill to sit back in their chairs. A move which had to mean business. ‘May I be honest, August? Because I can’t always give feedback, but I can tell how much you must have wanted this.’
Must have… No, please no.
But out loud August said, ‘Yes, please do.’
‘While we appreciate the effort with the costume, and you clearly spent a lot of time learning the script, I just can’t see you as our Catherine.’
‘But, I am Catherine. I mean, not literally, but … ’ August lost her words, yet again.
‘What we saw today felt like watching you – August Anderson – playing Catherine Morland. What we wanted to see was simply “Catherine Morland”.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Although it’s nice to see your personality, once you begin reading you need to know how to leave that at the door. Catherine is young and naïve and almost timid, in a way, despite her love of gothic novels. You played a totally different person to that. You practically played Isabella Thorpe.’
The penny dropped. Isabella was confident, high-spirited, flirty. August had known Catherine wasn’t those things, she knew who she was, but she’d still barrelled on with a performance that was more focussed on showing off herself than showing off her acting. She felt stupid, like a rookie. Like an amateur. ‘Can I try again, delivering the piece in a different way?’
She saw Jan glance at Elaine and for a second she thought she might get another shot. ‘I’m sorry, we’re on a tight schedule and we’ve already seen other actresses who got it from the off.’
‘Could I audition for Isabella?’ August asked, clinging onto one last hope.
‘We cast her this morning,’ Jan said, her eyebrows lowering, pity in her voice.
‘I see.’
Elaine sat back and shuffled her papers; the universal sign for ‘meeting adjourned’. ‘Thank you for coming, August, pleasure to meet you.’
August managed to whisper a thank you before racing out of there, afraid that if she allowed herself to say another word she might throw up all over the floor. And the worst part was, she didn’t know if things had gone badly because of nerves – because she’d put so much importance on this audition, on this play – or whether it was simply that she really was an awful actress. Oh God, it was way too big a question.
It was over. It was over before it had even started.
Chapter 47
Flynn
Flynn heard a noise in the corridor and hesitated, wondering if it was August home already. He put the bottle of Prosecco and box of Jaffa Cakes he’d bought for her as a celebration out on the side, and then changed his mind, stuffing them in a cupboard in case it was bad news. He then took them out again – if it was bad news, maybe she’d want to guzzle some fizz and eat chocolate.
He went to listen at the door, and when he realised what he could hear, he swung it open and burst out.
August was on their landing, sitting on the top stair with her face in her hands, soft sobs coming from her. Her handbag lay beside her, and appeared to have been thrown down, with items spilling out of it including the script pages, a water bottle, a lipstick and the copy ofRomeo and Julietthey’d read from together.
‘August?’ he said, sitting down beside her, and she responded with an almighty sniff.
She said nothing, but turned and let him pull her into his chest, where she stayed, crying, for a while, and Flynn’s heart sunk to the bottom of the ocean for her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually. ‘I shouldn’t be crying on you, that’s not your job.’
‘It’s kind of my job as your husband,’ he teased, quietly. ‘Do you want to come inside?’
August shook her head.
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’
‘I was … awful,’ she choked.
While she’d mulled on this for a moment, Flynn had extracted himself and gone back into the flat to retrieve and open the bottle of Prosecco. He handed it to her now, and she took a swig from the bottle, scrunching her nose as the cold bubbles fizzed about in her mouth. ‘Thank you.’
Flynn didn’t push her for details. He knew August well enough now to know that if she wanted to talk she would talk for England. She’d open up about this too eventually, probably later this evening when the shock of whatever had happened had died down.
