Page 69 of The Wedding Pact
She took another swig and Flynn asked, ‘How come you tookRomeo and Julietwith you? Did you show them your Tybalt?’
‘I don’t know, it just made me feel brave.’
‘It did?’
August nodded. ‘I liked doing that scene with you, it made me overcome that weird acting cowardice I had. So it was with me for, I don’t know, good luck or a motivational boost or something.’
‘Did it help?’
‘I don’t know, kind of.’ A big sigh escaped her. ‘I was a bit nervous to be honest, and anxious, but I still went into it with this feeling ofI’ve got this. Like I had the part already, I just had to not fuck it up for thirty minutes. But then … Oh, I don’t want to talk about it. I was awful.’ She sunk her head back into her hands.
‘Hey, everyone has bad days but that doesn’t mean you were awful. Sometimes when you’re acting you just feel off. And it sucks. But it’s just today.’
‘I don’t think you understand—’ August started but Flynn stood up and held out his hand.
‘Come on, I’m going to show you something.’
‘What?’
‘Come on. You have to come inside.’
‘What is it?’
‘Would you just come in?’
August lifted herself and her bottle of Prosecco off the ground while Flynn gathered up her spilled handbag, and she trailed inside after him, looking sorry for herself.
Flynn directed her to the sofa and went off to get his laptop, pausing at his door for a moment.
Do I really want to do this? Ah, what do I have to lose?
‘What is this?’ she asked, as he placed the laptop in front of her, and navigated to YouTube.
‘This is an answer to your question. To the question you asked me weeks ago, when you asked me how I know a little about acting.’
‘What?’ she said. She was smiling, and his heart jumped a level just seeing that.
‘Fair warning, there’s no message here, no words of wisdom in what I’m about to show you. It’s not meant as a success story or some kind of motivational speech. It’s just, really, because I think you could use a laugh.’
He found the video he was looking for and sat back, watching her reaction more than the screen, because he knew what was about to be shown very well indeed.
As a muted-toned 4:3 video started playing, showing a montage of run-of-the-mill school kids in Britain in the late nineties, supplemented with swirling lettering, August recognised the theme music before the title even slid into fruition. ‘Grange Hill?’ she said, glancing up at him, behind her. ‘Why are we watchingGrange Hill?!’
‘You’ll find out in about six seconds … ’ Flynn said, and smiled as she turned back to the screen, tears dried up, leaning forward with interest.
‘NO FUCKING WAY!’ she screeched. There on screen, buck-toothed in an ill-fitting blazer and a dodgy-looking fringe pasted across his forehead, was Flynn. Unmistakeably, adorably dorkily, Flynn. August paused the action and leaned in, staring at his little face. ‘You were inGrange Hill?!’
‘For all of five minutes, and definitely no more than five lines,’ he laughed.
August spun around to him. ‘But you were actually inGrange Hill? This is really you?’
‘It’s really me.’
‘You were a child star!’
‘I absolutely was not. You’ll see why if you keep watching.’
August was practically bouncing in her seat now, and Flynn knew he would do anything to make her happy; a thought which surprised him, though he pushed it from his mind immediately.
