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“You might get it.” They spoke at the same time. Evie grinned as Nick faced her.
“Do you want me to go?”
She reached over the box of socks and held his hand. “I want you to be happy, whatever you decide.”
His knee slowing, he squeezed her fingers. “Tigs, I am happy.”
“You didn’t look happy the other day, reading articles about the film on your laptop.”
Releasing her hand, Nick’s head dipped in a slow rueful nod. “Busted.”
“It’s okay to be sad. I know how much you miss acting. You’ve said it yourself, when we sat behind the shop that day—you’re lost without it.”
Nick drew back. “Christ! So dramatic! I sound like a complete tosser.”
“You sound like someone who misses their true calling,” said Evie. “You love acting, right?”
“Yeah…but it doesn’t always love me back.”
“But I do. I’ll love you regardless of what happens—good or bad. And if things don’t go as planned, I’ll be here for you. I’ll listen, take you for a meal. We’ll tape those stupid casting agents’ faces to dartboards and punching bags and—”
“Bowling pins?” A toothy smile broke through his lips.
“Well, I would, but…”
Nick sighed. “Still no bowling alley on the island.”
“I could watch Grease 2 with you again?”
“I’ll hold you to that!”
“I know you will.” She grinned empathetically. “I don’t want you having regrets about staying here with me and missing out on these auditions. And I think you might…”
He paused for a few seconds then scrubbed both hands over his face like he was carefully considering his options. “Okay…if I did go, I might be gone a week.”
“That’s fine. We’ll still have the rest of August and half of September. You’re not due back at Salford till the twenty-first, right?”
He nodded and picked up the packet of candy eggs again. “What if you came to London with me?”
“Oh, your mum would love that!” Evie smiled sarcastically. “I would too—for different reasons, obviously! But I have to work. Next week will be busy with cruise ships, and Mum’s relying on me. Besides, you don’t need me distracting you with geeky questions about the West End and all the musicals playing there.”
“I guess.” He fidgeted, the cellophane candy wrapper crackling in his hands. “You know, this film’s scheduled to shoot in London next summer.” Nick looked Evie in the eye, his gaze gentle, hopeful. “If by some fluke I do get it, we could still get the flat like we planned.”
“Well, there you go!” Evie spoke quickly, clasping his hand again. “Auditioning is a win-win.”
“Kinda feels that way, yeah.” He matched her grin. “Okay, fuck it—let’s give this acting lark one more shot.”
* * *
Four days into Nick’s spree of London auditions, severe cramping and frequent vomiting sent Evie to hospital. Blood tests, ultrasounds, and an endoscopy followed, but their investigative limitations, along with a lack of gastrointestinal expertise in Kirkwall, left many questions unanswered and Evie and her mother on a tiny, tartan-tailed plane to Inverness.
“I wish we didn’t have to travel for this MRI thing.” Pale and tired, Evie loosened her seatbelt and leaned into Marianne. “I’m scared, Mum.”
She lowered the latest issue of Cheer magazine. “Honey, it’s gonna be okay.”
“I don’t want to drink some weird gunk.” Evie spoke loudly, fighting the loud drone of the plane’s propellers. “The nurse said it tastes awful.”
“If you pinch your nose while you drink, it’ll dull the taste.”
