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Lucy tugged at her waistband once more and gave up the battle. “Are you headed to the National after work?”
Alex looked ahead as they turned onto New Kent Road. A parade of five double-decker buses with steamed up windows chugged towards Elephant and Castle Tube station. “Yeah, but it’s a pain. From London Fields station, it takes forty minutes to get there.”
“Well, go somewhere else. You don’t have to travel all that way.”
“No, I like it there. I just wish it were closer. By the time I arrive and unpack my laptop, it’s already two o’clock.”
“You’re just going there to see Mark.” Lucy nudged her with her elbow. “Smitten kitten, gagging for a snog!”
Alex squinted. “I am not. I’m going there because it’s a quiet, inspiring place to write.”
“Think I was born yesterday? I’ve seen you stalk his Facebook page. So what did you drool over most? The shirtless vacation photos from Majorca? The shot of him giving his sister away at her wedding? No, I know! I bet you went all gooey over the picture of him riding his Vespa.” Lucy sang out of tune. “Memories…”
Alex suddenly became very interested in chipping nail polish off her thumb.
“All his posts are tags from friends, funny that…well, if you do go, ditch that ponytail. Your hair looks much prettier down,” said Lucy.
Alex squeezed her ponytail. “For your information, I’m making good progress on the play I started in June. The one about the women who built Waterloo Bridge.”
The Tube station loomed straight ahead. Both girls pulled Oyster cards from their bags.
“But you never talk about it. I think that means it’s not grabbing your heart like your suffragette play did. You used to blab on about that one all the bloody time.” Lucy looked at her friend. “There’s no passion with this new idea, I can tell.”
Alex waved her Oyster card above the ticket barrier’s yellow disk and slipped through its gates, waiting on the other side. “I am passionate about it. It’s still early days. But I’m also working on an outline for another idea in case the bridge story doesn’t pan out. The new one involves time travel.”
Lucy lifted her satchel through the barrier. “Ooh, Doctor Who influenced. Nice.”
They stepped onto the escalator headed downwards towards the Northern line. Lucy sneered at the posters sailing by, advertising the latest Halloween slasher flick.
“If Olivia’s theft taught me one thing, it’s that I should have more than one idea in the works,” said Alex. “It was naive to put all my eggs in one basket. Live and learn. I won’t make that mistake again.”
• • •
Alex arrived at the National Theatre just shy of two o’clock. Normally, she would have four and a half hours before theatregoers started to overwhelm the halls, but today being Wednesday, a matinee had just begun in the Olivier Theatre. The place would be still until the play’s interval in about an hour’s time.
The cavernous building boasted many quiet nooks and corners spread out over several floors. Today, Alex picked a ground floor table just to the right of the theatre’s bookshop. She released her hair from its high ponytail, her roots sighing with relief. A quick hair toss and make-up check in her compact’s mirror…
“She lives.”
Alex jumped, bobbling the compact. Mark stood in front of her, dressed in a blue t-shirt and black jeans, carrying a large box sagging with wine bottles. She followed the curve of his biceps, flexed hard under their weight. His brown eyes sparkled in the dim light. A car could have crashed through the lobby, and Alex wouldn’t have noticed.
“It’s been a while. I was beginning to think you were a figment of my imagination.” He smiled warmly.
“Hello, stranger.”
“Hey!” Alex waved enthusiastically and then felt silly for doing so at such close range. The lost compact on the floor could wait. “It’s great to see you.” She shot up to hug him, but he half-laughed and juggled the heavy box to get a better grip. Awkward.
Alex sat back down, her cheeks getting warmer. “I’m usually writing on the second floor by the windows, but workmen are repairing the heating in the ceiling there. How are you?”
Mark nodded. “I’m good, yeah. I wasn’t scheduled to work today. A friend’s at an audition so I’m covering for her.”
Her? Jealousy pinched Alex’s stomach.
“My turn’s next week. I’ve got an audition for a TV series. Just a small part, but the director’s a favourite of mine.”
“That’s amazing!” Alex angled forward. If her smile stretched any further, it would need a French postcode. “I can’t wait to see you on TV!”
Mark tipped his head back and broke out into an eye-crinkling grin. “Thanks. We’ll see.”
