by Isla Gordon
‘Volunteer with the production?’ Flynn said. ‘That’s some rubbish-old-flat-August talking there, not Elizabeth-Street-August. I thought you went after your dreams these days, instead of being content with being a wall shadow.’
‘A wallflower.’
‘Huh?’
‘The expression is wallflower.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t be a very good one of those anyway because you can’t keep flowers alive.’
August laughed and grabbed a towel to mop her face. ‘But this is a big deal, and I haven’t done much acting work in months.’
‘You literally have built a studio inside the wall and have been getting all amped up to start taking on more voice work.’
‘But theatre acting uses all sorts of skills, which I haven’t flexed for a long time.’
‘What about your new role at the Roman Baths?’
‘I’ve not done much flexing there yet either.’
‘Then let’s flex them.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Come on, you’re warmed up from your run, you’ve just had a big, protein-filled smoothie, let’s run some lines.’ He picked up a copy of Gone Girl from the bookshelf and tossed it to her. ‘You be the man; I’ll be the woman.’
‘Why would you be the woman? Why can’t I be the woman?’
‘Because you already are a woman and you need to flex those acting muscles.’
August flipped through the pages of the book. ‘I have all of Jane’s books in my room, you know, we could read one of them.’
Flynn shook his head. ‘We’ll do that tomorrow. For now, we’re starting with this.’
‘Aren’t you in the middle of something … else?’ she asked, really not sure she wanted to do this.
‘Hey,’ Flynn said, coming over to her and slinging an arm over her shoulder. ‘You’ve shown me some of your audiobook voices before. Why are you shying away from this?’
‘I’m not. I’m just … ’ An audition like this is what she’d been waiting for. In fact, part of the deal she made herself when she left London was to try and expand her career to include the theatre, specifically in period acting. But shouldn’t she start smaller? Join a local amateur dramatics group first or something, like she’d been thinking about? The only in-person acting of any kind she’d done since moving here was her recent first day at the Baths as a costumed character. ‘I can’t go for this audition, Flynn, what if I don’t get it? What does that say about me?’ What does that say about my dreams?
‘What if you never try? You’d feel like a right … ’ he searched for a word and landed on, ‘ … bell-end.’
‘I would not feel like a bell-end,’ August insisted, but she laughed. ‘What a thing to say. But I want to pick something I’m a bit more familiar with.’
Flynn succumbed. ‘All right, you choose the text, whatever you want, but you can’t play you, or someone like you. Even if that’s the role you’re going for. We’ll get to that but I really think this will take you out of your head for a minute.’
August disappeared into her room for a moment and brought back out with her a tatty old paperback of Romeo and Juliet that she’d had since school. She loved this play so much. She also loved Leo DiCaprio playing Romeo in the movie so much. ‘How about this?’
‘I guess this could work,’ Flynn answered. ‘But, I’ll be Juliet and you have to be Romeo. Shall we do the fish tank scene?’
‘From the movie? But there wasn’t any talking in that bit, plus we don’t have a fish tank.’
‘Oh. Can I take a look?’ He reached his hand out and she handed him her book.
‘Shall I change first?’ She pulled her damp dress away from her skin.
Without looking up Flynn said, ‘No, don’t shower, it’ll make the scene more intense if you’re a bit disgusting.’
‘Ha, thanks.’
‘Got it,’ he said. ‘Let’s do the big fight scene between Tybalt and Mercutio.’
‘Juliet’s not even in that scene – even Romeo is barely in that scene.’
‘Doesn’t matter. You’re playing Tybalt.’
‘I am?’
Flynn handed the book back to her, open on Act Three, Scene One. ‘Here, you take this, I’ll find the script on my phone.’
‘That’s okay, I don’t need it. I know this play like the back of my hand.’
‘Whatever you say. You’re Tybalt, I’m Mercutio. And just so you know, I’m picturing the movie version. We’ll start from where Benvolio says By my head, here come the Capulets and then I say,’ Flynn cleared his throat and stood proud. ‘By my heel, I care not!’
August laughed, involuntarily. It wasn’t that he’d done anything wrong, it was just funny to her, and endearing really, that he was willing to stop what he was doing on a Saturday to help her with some acting. And he seemed very into it.
She then realised she didn’t know the next line. ‘I need the book, sorry, I guess I’m a little rusty.’
They read the lines together, August reserved to begin with, doing no more than read what was on the page aloud, until Flynn said. ‘You’re supposed to be mad. Tybalt is mad here with Romeo and his cronies. Be mad with me.’
‘I can’t be mad with you.’
‘Of course you can, you’re an actress. If you can be married to me you can be mad at me.’
‘What do you know about this stuff?’
Flynn’s eyes narrowed and he folded his arms, a smirk appearing on his face. ‘I do know a little, you know. Just because you’re too afraid to go on an audition, even though that’s what you say you want more than anything to do, don’t take it out on me.’
August was shocked. ‘I’m sorry, I just—’
‘Don’t be sorry, just read the damned lines or let’s stop wasting time.’
The pink that had been fading in her face flared up again and August fumed, ‘Wasting time? This was your idea, not mine, I didn’t even know if I wanted to do this stupid audition, and I really don’t think I need your help with it.’
‘Prove to me you aren’t a coward,’ he provoked, that smirk staying put though she wanted to wipe it clean off his face.
‘I don’t have to prove anything to you!’
Flynn shook his head and put down his phone. He turned and muttered, ‘Coward.’
August Anderson was not a coward. Her eyes flickered to the book, but she was remembering now, she was remembering the words she’d learned and practised over and over again in her youth. ‘Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this – thou art a villain.’
Flynn switched roles and read Romeo’s line, glaring at her every time he looked up. ‘ … Villain am I none. Therefore, farewell. I see thou know’st me not.’
August was inside Tybalt now, full of rage, bitterness, she felt the character, she empathised. ‘Boy,’ she snarled, stepping close to Flynn, right up to his face. ‘This shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me. Therefore turn and draw.’
She was close to Flynn’s lips now and something unexpected happened.
August wanted to kiss him.
That was most certainly not part of the script, but the instinct was so overwhelming that she nearly toppled, sensing he wanted it too.
The adrenaline pumped through her, keeping her on a knife edge, until before her eyes Flynn’s face changed, and he stepped back, saying, ‘There she is! Brava, brava, and the Oscar goes to Ms August Anderson for playing Tybalt with such ferocity I was afraid for my own testicles for a moment there.’ Seeing August’s confused face as she came down from the sugar-high that was being fully in character, he stepped forward and gave her sweaty frame a hug.
‘That was an act?’ she said into his chest.
‘Are you angry?’ Flynn asked. ‘I didn’t mean any of it, I just wanted you to forget your insecurities and go for it. I just said things that might make you a little pissed.’
‘It worked,’ she said, nodding. ‘You’re a good actor.’
‘Hardly, but thanks.’
August was still a little dazed, but that was okay, because it actually felt good to have her insecurities contested, to feel accountable for making her dreams happen. ‘I think I’ll do the audition, you know,’ she stepped back from Flynn but kept a hand on his arm. ‘I’m still a little surprised you knew which buttons to press to kick me into gear, but I appreciate it.’
‘You know I didn’t mean any of it, right? In actual fact, you’re the least cowardly person I know. And I know you can handle this audition.’
She spent a long time in the shower thinking about what just happened. And she just kept coming back around to two things: one, it felt good to surround yourself with people who challenged your own self-doubts. And two, a question more than a thing, really. Where did that near-kiss come from?
Chapter 31
Flynn
‘Does this feel a little over the top to you?’ Flynn called.
‘Whatever do you mean?’ August shouted back, trying to be heard over the howling wind, and the flapping of the hem of her dress.
Flynn rubbed the sand, that was swirling in mini tornados around them, out of his eye. They were stood on Weston-super-Mare beach at dawn, on a day which was both sunny and enjoying forty-mile-an-hour winds. Because this morning, pre-work, August and Flynn were getting married.
‘So what kind of photos do you want?’ Bel hollered to the happy couple, as she’d been roped in as the photographer.
‘Let’s just get a couple of us looking, um, coupley, here in front of the waves. Try not to get the pier or anything in the background. This has to look like it could be any beach in the UK.’ As August said this, another great gust caused her to nearly flash the lot of them.
She was wearing the only white dress she owned, a cotton sundress which didn’t quite fit any more so wasn’t done up all the way at the back. Flynn was in his work suit, and August had fashioned him a faux-pocket square out of a pair of her satin undies, which she’d made him promise he wouldn’t look at. They’d plucked a couple of flowers on the way down to the beach which were to go in his lapel but all the petals had blown off before they’d even made it onto the sand.
Bel got snapping, with Flynn and August grinning into the camera the best they could with the wind whipping at their cheeks, their arms around each other.
‘Do you want a kissing one?’ Bel called, in her most innocent, ‘whatever the client wants’ voice.
August gave her a look and shouted back, ‘No, that’s okay. Let’s just get one more with us looking lovingly at each other.’ She faced Flynn and added, ‘You need to look lovingly at me now.’
If Flynn stepped back for a minute and removed himself from this situation, if he let himself really think about what was going on, he’d notice how crazy this whole thing was. He was a grown up, why was he out here on a beach at the crack of dawn, taking make-believe wedding photos to fool their strict landlady, if she ever were to ask to see them?
August placed her arms around his neck and gazed up at him, lovingly, and that was why.
Bel took a couple of snaps and was just yelling ‘That’s a wrap!’ when a whoosh of mint fabric swooped past Flynn and August’s faces.
‘My knickers!’ August cried. Flynn’s makeshift pocket square had broken free and was dancing in the breeze above them. He reached a hand up but just missed, and they flew off into the waves.
August ran in after them, screaming at Flynn, ‘Get them! Catch them! No, don’t touch them! I’ve nearly … ’
Eventually she caught them on the crest of a wave, but by this point she was soaked, and in no state to be in any more wedding photos. Flynn, whose suit trousers were also soaked, wrapped his jacket around August.
And just for a moment, it was as if he was watching himself on an old home movie, a memory playing out before him as though it wasn’t happening in real time but was being treasured and tucked away and kept for ever. Splashed with salty water, wind whipping at their faces, August wrapped and laughing inside his jacket, he found himself imagining what it would be like if he really was marrying this girl today. In that moment, with tendrils of her hair catching the sun, his feet in the ocean, he couldn’t imagine being happier.
‘Do you think we got good pictures?’ Flynn asked, when they were all safely back in the car and could stop shouting.
Bel nodded, and handed her phone back to August while she started the car to drive them back into Bath. ‘Take a look.’
August leant forward, showing Flynn, who was in the passenger seat, the photos Bel had taken.
They were good – nice even! ‘We look very cute together,’ August joked to him, and Flynn couldn’t find a way to reply, the moment from the beach still on his mind, like a dream he was trying to cling to that was fading. And then she got to the final few pictures, where Bel had kept snapping, capturing the knickers in the air, August jumping through the waves, and Flynn walking a laughing August back up the beach, his jacket and his arms around her.
August peered at their faces in the photo. ‘I tell you what, it took every ounce of acting skill in me to play the adoring newlywed in all that wind and freezing seas. But you really got it there,’ she said, showing him. ‘This one is really good actually, you nailed the “looking lovingly” brief.’
Flynn laughed, agreed, and let the dream-like moment go without saying another word.
At the end of that week, a week in which Flynn had worked from dawn until dusk with the exception of one morning when he’d had a quick wedding on the beach (and had needed to work even later to get through his mass of paperwork), two of his co-workers invited him to The Bath Brew House – a smart pub in the centre of town with a rustic vibe and a lively Friday evening drinks crowd.
He was tired, and as much as he liked the company of these guys, he wanted to at least try and put anything work related behind him for the weekend.
Flynn went up to the bar – it was his turn to buy a round, and then he’d probably call it a night – and found himself wondering what August was doing this evening. Maybe when he headed back to the flat, if she was there, he could see if she fancied going through some her lines for the audition next month. Or even just watch a movie and switch off altogether.
He sighed. He had to shake off these thoughts of August that kept floating through his mind since their ‘wedding shoot’. She’d made it clear she was just acting, and yes, he’d had a moment of feeling like there was something more between them, but it was nothing but his imagination. Perhaps he was just lonely. Perhaps he was beginning to feel ready to move on from Yui, and he was just projecting it onto August because she was right there.
‘Has she stood you up?’ a voice said beside him, and he looked over to see a pretty redhead smiling at him.
‘I’m sorry?’ he replied. He knew a pick-up line when he heard one, but he was never very prepared with a slick answer.
‘Your wife, has she stood you up?’
She looked vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place her. She definitely didn’t live in any of the flats in his house. Maybe she worked on a different floor of his office or something. ‘I’m not … no, I’m not waiting for anyone, just getting some drinks for some friends.’
‘My mistake,’ the redhead shrugged. ‘You just looked like you were waiting for someone.’
‘Oh,’ he nodded, and went back to trying to catch the barman’s eye, which was difficult in this crowd.
‘So you aren’t married?’ she persisted, and then leant in closer and said, ‘Indulge me, will you? I’m with that hen party over there and they’re doing dares, and my dare was to come and chat you up. Very high school, I know. And so even though this doesn’t have to go anywhere, I still don’t want to be batting my eyelashes at somebody’s husband.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Flynn relaxed and gave her his full attention for the first time. ‘Well, no, not married.’ Unless you count a fake wedding on Weston-super-Mare beach a few days ago.
‘Girlfriend?’
/> ‘No.’ It still stung him though to be reminded that he was no longer part of a couple. August never pressed him on it, so Yui was beginning to cross his mind less often. When she did though … Maybe he wasn’t as over her as he thought.
‘Great,’ the redhead propped herself against the bar, creating a place for herself amidst all the business. ‘I’m Poppy.’
‘Poppy,’ he repeated. ‘Named after the hair or is the hair to match the name?’ Smooth, Flynn, could you sound any more like a sweaty-palmed retired businessman?
But she just laughed and said, ‘Don’t tell anyone, but the hair is dyed, so it came afterwards. What’s your name?’
‘Flynn.’
‘Good to meet you, Flynn.’ She studied him for a moment while he racked his brains for something to say. He felt so unpractised at flirting with a stranger.
‘What’s the end goal here? Of the dare, I mean; what are they expecting from you?’ he asked.
‘Honestly?’ Poppy gave him a direct look, her eyebrows raised. ‘I don’t think they’d be satisfied unless you threw me on this bar and made out with me.’
‘What can I get you, mate?’ the bartender interrupted them at that moment and Flynn had to splutter out a response.
‘Erm, three pints of London Pride, please, and … ’ he looked at Poppy. He hadn’t intended to buy her a drink too, but he could hardly not after that line.
‘I’ll have a Merlot, thanks,’ she said over her shoulder, her eyes on Flynn, a teasing smile on her lips. ‘Don’t worry though,’ she said to Flynn as the bartender went to fix their drinks. ‘I’m not about to accost you. Maybe you could just take my number instead?’
‘Okay,’ Flynn replied, and opened up a new contact on his phone, handing it to her to input her number.
‘Until next time, Flynn,’ Poppy said, taking her wine and heading back to the table with a wink.
Flynn paid for the drinks and paused for a moment, feeling like a whirlwind had just hit him.
Back at the table, he tried to focus on the conversation, but, like it or not, his eyes kept flitting towards Poppy, the redhead in the corner, surrounded by friends. And she seemed susceptible to glancing his way too. Flynn didn’t even mean to, it’s not like he was looking to meet someone, but it was one of those situations where you want to keep your eyes fixed forward but accidentally keep being drawn towards the flame.
