‘She opened the play,’ said Joe.
‘Oh, yes, the big girl. She was very good.’
Jo gritted her teeth. ‘Well, we seem to be blocking the aisle here,’ she said, grabbing Oliver’s arm and falling in with the stream of people making their way to the bar area. But as the crowd spilled out into the open space, she realised Joe was right on her heels, with Sarah trailing along behind.
Just then Will bounded up, registering a faint but fleeting surprise when he saw them all together.
‘Hey, everyone . . .’ he said. ‘Jo, hi, haven’t seen you in ages.’ He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Wasn’t Angie great?’
‘She was. I’m gobsmacked.’
‘What did you think, brother?’ he asked Joe.
‘Oh, Angie was wonderful.’
‘But of the whole thing?’
‘It was terrific,’ said Joe. ‘You guys have really got your act together.’
Will rolled his eyes. ‘Very punny.’
‘Yeah, well I couldn’t help notice they kept you out of sight.’
‘Where I was indispensable,’ Will pointed out. ‘The whole thing would have fallen apart without me.’
Joe nodded with a grin. ‘Seriously, it was a fantastic production, and the writing was first-rate. Was it published material, or did someone here write it?’
‘It was someone here,’ said Will. ‘Though everything is a collaborative effort.’
‘Don’t try and take some of the credit for yourself.’
‘Will Angie be out soon, do you think?’ asked Jo. ‘I’m anxious to see her.’
‘Come on, I’ll take you back to her dressing room, I have a pass,’ he winked, grabbing her hand. ‘Catch you, guys.’
‘I’ll get us a drink,’ Oliver called after her as Will whisked her away through the crowd to a corridor at the back of the building and then into a room packed with all the actors and crew.
‘When I said her dressing room,’ said Will, shouting a little over the excited din, ‘I was overstating it. We all share here.’
Jo was swamped, she couldn’t see past the person in front of her. But Will could easily see above the rabble at his height. ‘There she is.’
They weaved their way through to a corner of the room just as a champagne bottle popped nearby.
‘Jo!’ Angie squealed when she caught sight of her. She lurched at her, throwing her arms around her neck. ‘What did you think?’
Jo pulled back to look at her, tears in her eyes. ‘I thought you were so wonderful.’
‘You’re not going to cry, are you?’ said Angie. ‘You’ll make me cry!’
They hugged again, as somebody tried to pour champagne into the plastic tumbler in Angie’s hand.
‘Quick, grab a cup, Jo,’ said Angie, but Will was already passing her one. ‘We have to make a toast. Everyone,’ she said in a loud voice. ‘To Will, playwright extraordinaire.’
They all raised their cups, echoing her salute. Jo turned to him wide-eyed. ‘You wrote it?’
‘Didn’t he tell you?’ said Angie.
‘It was a collaboration,’ he dismissed.
‘It was not,’ Angie berated him.
‘We had to workshop it.’
‘That’s what you do with plays, dodo,’ she returned. ‘Besides, barely a word was changed, it was too good. He’s brilliant, isn’t he?’ she said to Jo.
‘He is. You both are.’
‘It’s the words, I’m telling you,’ said Angie. ‘It was a gift for me, this play. For all of us.’
Somebody burst into the circle and threw his arms around Angie. Jo turned to Will. ‘Why didn’t you tell Joe out there when he brought it up?’ she asked him.
‘I wanted to make sure he really liked it before I owned up.’
‘Why are you being so coy?’
He looked at her with a sheepish smile. ‘Everyone in my family is involved in writing, in one way or another,’ he explained. ‘I resisted it, I wanted to be different, do my own thing with the acting. But you can’t escape your genes, I guess.’
‘Why would you want to?’ said Jo. ‘You’re so talented.’
‘Now you’re going to make me blush,’ he grinned. Then his expression grew serious. ‘How are you anyway, Jo?’
She shrugged. ‘Getting by.’
‘We missed you at Christmas.’
A lump formed in her throat. ‘That’s nice of you to say, thanks.’
‘If it’s any consolation, Joe’s miserable.’
‘You know what, Will, that isn’t any consolation at all,’ she said honestly. ‘I don’t want him to be unhappy, that’s the last thing I want.’
‘Then you’re a better man that I am, Gunga Din.’
Angie rejoined them then, and Will excused himself as someone called him from across the room.
Jo turned to Angie. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were so incredibly talented and amazing?’
She just laughed. ‘You mean you didn’t recognise my elusive star quality in that printing paper ad I did, or my memorable turn as shopper number three in the series of training films on customer communication?’
‘Well, at least you won’t have to do crap like that any more,’ said Jo.
‘Of course I will,’ Angie chided. ‘This is a fringe production with an amateur theatre group, Jo. There were no Hollywood producers in the audience, we’ll be lucky if there was an online arts critic out there.’
‘But –’
‘Angie!’ someone grabbed her by the shoulders from behind.
‘Listen, I’m going to leave you to it,’ said Jo.
‘But you won’t go yet?’
‘I won’t, Oliver’s waiting for me out there.’
‘Oh, he made it?’ she said happily as she was dragged away. ‘Okay, I’ll find you guys when this commotion dies down and we’ll have a drink together.’
Jo had a feeling that was going to take a while. She walked back up the corridor to the main space, and stood just inside the doorway, scanning the crowd for Oliver. There seemed to quite a line-up at the bar. She really didn’t want to bump into Joe again, and especially not Sarah. Maybe they’d left already; she probably tired easily in her condition.
‘Jo?’ said a female voice behind her.
She swung around to come face to face with Sarah. Or more like forehead to chin. God, she wished she’d worn high heels.
‘Where did you come from?’ Jo blurted.
‘The loo,’ she admitted. ‘My second home these days,’ she added, patting her belly. Her expression turned serious. ‘You’re the Jo, aren’t you?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The Jo he was having a relationship with.’
Oh God. ‘I think calling it a relationship might be overstating it a bit,’ she dismissed. ‘We had a couple of dates. It wasn’t serious.’
‘I’m not sure that’s how he sees it,’ she said wistfully.
Jo really didn’t want to be having this conversation.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Sarah.
Jo looked at her.
‘I am. I’m sorry about the way things turned out. It’s all a bit of a mess, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘But I didn’t know about you, Joe and I weren’t in contact at all after he left. I nearly didn’t come, I kept telling myself it wouldn’t make any difference, but it does, don’t you think?’ She broke off, gazing out into the crowd. ‘I knew he would be the best father for my baby,’ she murmured. Suddenly she seemed to snap out of it. ‘I couldn’t deprive either of them of that. It didn’t seem right. I hope you understand.’
Jo didn’t know what she expected her to say.
‘There you are, blossom.’
Thank Christ. She turned to see Oliver making his way towards her, holding two glasses aloft.
‘I best get back to Joe,’ said Sarah, and she slipped away into the crowd.
‘What’s the matter, cherub?’ asked Oliver, handing her a glass. ‘You’re positively white.’
Jo held
the glass to her lips, and drank, and drank, and drank some more until there was nothing left.
‘My Lord, Josephine,’ said Oliver. ‘What’s spooked you?’
‘I have to get out of here,’ said Jo. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t stay any longer.’
‘Then we’ll go,’ he said simply.
‘You don’t have to –’
‘Nonsense,’ he dismissed. ‘I can’t let a date of mine go home alone. I’m a gentleman.’
‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully.
They made it outside without sighting either Joe or Sarah again, and Oliver led her smartly up the street to the main road where he hailed a taxi. He gave the driver the address of the Trib building.
‘Where are we going?’ Jo asked.
‘Back to the café, you need a drink . . . another drink.’
‘But your place isn’t even licensed.’
‘And I won’t be charging you,’ he said.
They travelled the rest of the way in silence. Well, not exactly, Oliver chatted away to the taxi driver, but Jo tuned out. She kept going over the conversation with Sarah in her head, there was something not quite right about it. Joe was the ‘best’ father, what did that mean, exactly? And why was she sorry, and why was it all a bit of a mess?’
Bugger, she just remembered. She told Angie she’d wait for her. She got out her mobile phone and sent her a text message.
So sorry, had to go. Explain later.
You were stupendous. Bask in it.
They arrived at the Trib building and Oliver unlocked the doors into the café, standing back to let her in. ‘Quickly, inside, before anyone gets the idea I’m opening up.’
Jo ducked past him and Oliver locked the door again. ‘Take a seat,’ he said as he strode off around the counter. ‘I’ll fetch the refreshments.’
She sidled into a booth, the lights from the street providing enough illumination to find her way.
Oliver returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses and sat down opposite her. ‘So what’s ailing you, Josephine?’ he began as he set the glasses on the table. ‘You look like you lost your best friend after you dropped a pound and picked up sixpence.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Fine my Aunt Beulah.’
‘It’s nothing. Nothing I can do anything about anyway,’ she said despondently.
‘Okay, Jo,’ he sighed as he twisted the corkscrew into the bottle, ‘you know that game heterosexuals play? The one where the man asks “What’s wrong?” and the woman says “Nothing” a certain number of times until someone breaks? Well, I’m gay and I don’t know how to play that game, so I give up. What’s wrong? What did that fecund woman say to you?’
Jo was thoughtful. ‘You know, I’m not exactly sure.’
‘What, you couldn’t hear her above the din?’ he asked as he poured wine into the glasses.
‘No, I heard her. I’m just not sure what she was saying.’
‘You’re being rather cryptic, my girl,’ he said, sliding a glass over to her.
‘So was she.’ Jo picked up the glass and took a mouthful, and then another.
‘You really have to stop guzzling your wine, darling, it’s most unbecoming. Now focus, what did she actually say?’
She set the glass down again. ‘Oliver, do you think it’s important to tell the truth, no matter what?’
‘I see, so we’re going to take the scenic route via the long and winding road of Life’s Big Questions,’ he said dryly. ‘I’m glad I opened a bottle.’
‘All right, I’ll try to be more specific,’ Jo conceded. She leaned forward. ‘Just say you heard something, something that could change everything, but you don’t really know what you heard, for sure . . . should you tell the person involved anyway?’
‘That’s being more specific?’ He pulled a face. ‘What did that woman say to you?’ he pleaded. ‘Out with it, Josephine.’
‘It was more the way she said it. She asked me if I was “the” Jo. She knows Joe and I were together.’
‘Awkward,’ he remarked.
‘And then she said she was sorry about the whole mess, but that Joe was the best father for her child. What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Sounds like he was the winning candidate for the job.’
‘That’s what I couldn’t help thinking,’ said Jo, her eyes wide. ‘I mean, why would she put it like that?’
Oliver sighed, twirling the stem of his glass. ‘Because she didn’t realise that you would take every word she said and dissect it in the hope of finding some hidden meaning.’
Jo’s face dropped.
He leaned forward and took her hand. ‘This is not really a bad soap opera, Jo, darling, no one scripted her lines; she just had to get something off her chest. And you desperately want to believe that things may not be as they seem. But unfortunately they usually are.’
‘But what if there’s even a small chance they’re not?’ said Jo. ‘Listen, I haven’t told anyone this, but I did a little research. Do you have any idea how many babies are not the biological child of the man who believes he’s the father? Women used to be able to keep it secret quite easily, but now with DNA testing, more and more cases are being discovered, and the statistics are mind-blowing.’
Oliver was just staring at her. ‘You do realise you’re beginning to sound . . . mm, what’s the word I’m looking for . . . Crazy?’
‘Just hear me out,’ Jo persisted. ‘Apparently she was really pissed off when Joe left her, he told me she was angry that she’d wasted all her childbearing years with him. So what’s to stop her getting pregnant, then marching out here and claiming it’s his?’
‘Oh, a few months, at a guess.’
‘Pardon?’
‘You really are going off the rails now, poppet,’ said Oliver, shaking his head. ‘In your scenario, she’d only be about three months along, wouldn’t she? She looked a lot more pregnant than that.’
Jo’s heart dropped into her stomach. Oliver was right. What the hell was she thinking?
‘Really, Josephine, clutching at the conspiracy-theory straw?’ he went on. ‘I would have expected more from you.’ He leaned forward on the table. ‘Tell me, does Joe strike you as stupid?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘And he’s sure the baby’s his?
She nodded reluctantly.
‘I’m well aware that many a woman has pulled the wool over the eyes of many a man, and vice versa, but given the circumstances, I’m thinking Mr Joe would have been pretty rigorous about checking the validity of her claim. The way he looked at you tonight, I don’t think he’d have done this lightly.’
Jo blinked back tears that crept into her eyes.
‘But here’s the thing, petal, I don’t understand why you both think this is the only way,’ said Oliver. ‘So she takes the sprog home to Mother England. Joe’s a big boy, he’s lived half his adult life overseas from what I understand; why not go too, share the parenting from different addresses like half the people with children do anyway?’
‘I don’t think that’s really the preferred option.’
‘Not everyone gets their first preference in life,’ he said. ‘You’d go with him to England, wouldn’t you?’
He’d have to ask her. It still niggled that he’d never suggested that.
‘Oliver, if there’s a chance for them to be a family, isn’t that the best thing for the child?’
‘Only if that’s where they really want to be,’ he declared. ‘They won’t be doing the child any favours sticking it out in a loveless relationship. My mother and father despised each other, but they nobly stayed together “for the sake of the children”.’
‘What happened?’
‘My mother drank herself into an early grave and my father promptly sold the house and everything in it and took off and we never saw him again. My sister and I both have massive commitment issues, she’s on her fourth marriage, while I’m so afraid to commit I have trouble buying green bananas.’ Oli
ver paused, taking a sip of his wine. ‘If you ask me, sticking it out for the sake of the kids is as bad as getting married just because you’re pregnant. Joe’s ticking both those boxes. It’s a doomed proposition.’
Jo shrugged. ‘Look, they loved each other once, there’s no reason they can’t rekindle that.’
‘That’s not how it works, Jo. If they loved each other once and something external drove them apart, then yes, maybe, but it sounds like Joe left her quite intentionally. He was over her, I assume. The fire had gone out, so there’s nothing to rekindle.’
Jo sighed. ‘Well, this is all academic anyway, because the decision’s been made. Joe will be an excellent father. Family means everything to him, he couldn’t have done this any other way.’
Oliver regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Well, we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, petal. But if the die is so cast, what about you? Where do you go from here?’
Jo had no idea.
‘Well,’ said Oliver after a while, ‘moving on, which I strongly suggest you do, let’s drink to a new year and new possibilities.’ He raised his glass. ‘And even, dare we hope, to a new love.’
‘I don’t think I can drink to that, Oliver.’
‘Ah but you must, my dear,’ he urged. ‘Life without love is like non-alcoholic wine. What the fuck’s the point?’
11 pm
Joe drove through the city streets after they left the theatre, absorbed in his own thoughts. He felt on edge. It was difficult not seeing Jo, but it was difficult seeing her as well. She hadn’t said goodbye. After Will had spirited her away he’d only caught sight of her once, over by the backstage exit, talking to Oliver. And then he hadn’t seen her again. He could still feel the dull ache of disappointment.
He had only planned to come back for the night. He wanted to see Will’s play while he was here, but he mainly came to convince Sarah to go up to the mountains with him tomorrow. Joe was still haunted by his father’s words, the anger in his eyes. Maybe if he saw Sarah and him together, and the physical evidence of a baby on the way, it would put him at ease, and he’d be reconciled that Joe was doing the right thing.
‘Listen, Sarah, you realise I want to head back home first thing tomorrow,’ he said firmly. ‘You are coming this time, right?’
Crossing Paths Page 45
