When the Curtain Falls

by Carrie Hope Fletcher

  ‘She has. And you never did anything to ward her off because she’s a pretty girl and you liked the attention.’ Olive dusted powder over her face and enjoyed the excuse of being able to close her eyes briefly and not look at his puppy dog eyes pleading at her in the mirror.

  ‘Is that so awful?’ he said, fiddling with the frayed fabric on the rips in his jeans.

  ‘Not when you’re unattached, no. Not at all.’ Olive blew powder off her brush and for a moment was lost in the way the particles billowed into the air, catching the light of the bulbs around her mirror.

  ‘Exactly,’ he said, more quietly than if he’d been feeling confident about the situation he was currently in.

  ‘And you’d describe yourself as unattached?’ Olive asked.

  ‘Well… I’m single. We’re single. We said this was casual. I technically didn’t do anything wrong here!’ Oscar replied, knowing any answer he gave might upset Olive so opting for honesty being the best policy.

  Olive stood up, her emotions now far too large to be contained by such a small chair.

  ‘Oh, Oscar. If that’s where your head is at then we can’t have this conversation.’

  ‘I don’t understand —’

  Olive took a step towards him, cutting him off, her blood hot, the colour flooding her cheeks and the tips of her ears.

  ‘Do you really think you can get that close to someone, sleep with them, share yourself with them as much as you’ve shared with me and vice versa, do you think you can tell someone you “choose them” and spend every waking moment with them and… then think it’s okay to kiss someone else based on the technicality that we said it would be casual?’

  ‘But we said —’

  ‘Yes, we said casual, but we didn’t act casual. You didn’t act casual. We have never been casual. And you know that, Oscar.’ Olive felt the familiar tingle behind her eyes and her throat started to close around those last few words. Her arms were limp by her sides and she felt exhausted before the day had even begun. Why don’t you get it? Please just… understand, she pleaded with him in her mind.

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ He shrugged, and she threaded her fingers through her hair, almost ready to tear it out.

  ‘Oscar, I don’t know if this is some kind of macho, laddish front you’re trying to put on but I’m not an idiot. You’re making me feel like some kind of psycho for knowing with a hundred per cent certainty that you have feelings for me. But you can’t behave how you’ve behaved around me and then tell me I’m just some casual work fling that was bound to end when the next pretty face came along. Am I wrong?’

  ‘No, you’re not wrong. Of course, you’re right. You know that.’ Oscar sighed.

  ‘I only know that because I’ve had to piece it all together. You’ve never actually told me how you really feel about me. If this is all some kind of game to you… like… you playing hard to get then…’ Olive trailed off, not knowing what she would do if that were the case. To purposely kiss someone else in an attempt to get her to like him even more would be completely unforgivable.

  ‘Olive, of course I have feelings for you. You aren’t just some casual fling. I understand that we’ve not exactly been casual, right from the off, but I was telling the truth when I told you I can’t handle anything more than what we are right now.’

  ‘I’m not asking you for anything more. I understand not being able to handle a relationship. I get that, honestly. What I don’t understand is essentially starting one anyway but getting rid of the label, just so you could get out on a technicality when you got bored and started kissing other people.’

  ‘Please don’t think of me like that. You know me better than that. It was one person. One mistake.’ Oscar’s voice had also started to wobble.

  ‘If these are the kinds of mistakes you make then I don’t know if I can handle any more of them.’ Olive sat back down heavily, two nights of missed sleep suddenly catching up with her.

  ‘There won’t be any more. We said we’d be casual, but… that doesn’t work for us. We’re closer than that and it hurts more than it should when we’re with other people. So… let’s not do that,’ he said, the bags under his eyes creasing as he gently smiled. I can do that, he thought. I can just be hers. I want to just be hers.

  ‘But you don’t want to be with me,’ she heard herself say, and it sounded so pathetic and childish and so unlike herself that she welled up.

  ‘I do want to spend my time with you. Just you. I like what we have and I really… really don’t want this to be the end, Olive.’ Oscar stood up straight, the back of his legs now burning from the radiator, and walked towards her.

  ‘You need to give me some time, Oscar. To think about all of this,’ she said, holding her palm out towards him.

  ‘Please let me hold you?’ he said, his own eyes starting to prickle.

  ‘I’m – I’m sorry,’ she said, trying to keep strong and not give in to the irresistible idea of his arms around her. ‘I just need a little bit of time.’

  ‘Okay.’ He nodded, picking up his bag and turning to the door before she noticed a tear had escaped and made its way down to his chin.

  ‘But for what it’s worth,’ she said before he left, ‘I don’t want this to be over either.’

  13

  Two Dozen Roses

  The theatre should have been ablaze with nervous energy. Jitters should have been rife, and butterflies should have been fluttering in many a stomach, but a spanner had certainly been put in the works.

  ‘Do you want me to hurt him? Because I will happily hurt him,’ Doug whispered to Olive, leaning across the back of her seat in the stalls.

  ‘And do you want me to have a quiet and calm word with him after I’ve stopped Doug from hurting him?’ asked Howard, flipping down one of the seats and sitting next to Doug in the row behind.

  ‘Now, now boys. No need for any of that. We just… plough on. It’s opening night, after all! Lots to be excited about!’ Olive said, turning her head over her shoulder only slightly just in case her face was still a little red from yet another bout of tears after Oscar had left her dressing room.

  ‘You’re a saint, Green. A bloody saint,’ Howard said, giving the back of her neck a squeeze, careful not to disturb her already prepped pin curls.

  ‘But if you ever feel like… y’know… not being a saint, dressing room fourteen is a safe place for slagging off anyone and everyone. We won’t breathe a word!’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind!’ She laughed, genuinely, and reached her hand over her shoulder. Doug interlinked his own fingers with hers and gave them a squeeze.

  ‘By the way, don’t look now but Little Miss I-Wear-Sunglasses-Inside has just walked in,’ Doug whispered as he kissed the back of her hand and slid along one seat, as did everyone else to make room for Tamara and Jane who were the last to join the cast for notes from their director. Olive groaned but found it very easy not to look. She knew seeing Tamara’s undoubtedly smug face would make her insides squirm more than they already were and Olive couldn’t risk actually vomiting before the dress run.

  ‘Here we are, gang! Let’s not mince words, tonight is the big night!’ Michael seemed already dressed for the opening show that evening. The shoulders of his black jacket were speckled in diamonds, making it look like he’d been caught in the rain and had not yet brushed off the droplets. ‘You’ve all done marvellously up until now so I say we just get up there and give it everything we’ve got, eh?’ He seemed oddly cheery for a man whose show wasn’t as tight as it should be for an opening night, but Olive was thankful. The pressure of an angry director may have been enough to make her crack and that was the last thing she needed. ‘Just a couple of things before we get on our feet…’ Michael pulled his notebook out of his satchel and flipped to a page somewhere in the middle.

  ‘Where are we? Ah, yes! Here we are! Oscar, where are you?’ Michael looked around the stalls and his eyes settled somewhere a few rows behind the main group. ‘There you are
! I just thought that maybe, in the scene with Howard that you could…’ Michael’s voice muffled in Olive’s ears as she heard her inner voice say Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t… but it was too late. Olive swivelled in her chair to see where Oscar was sitting. She saw him sitting a couple of rows behind, coat still on, baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, his feet on the back of the chair in front of him so that he was mostly hidden behind his knees, his coffee cup close to his face.

  ‘No worries, Michael,’ Oscar replied.

  ‘Wow. He looks miserable,’ Howard whispered to Doug.

  ‘Yeah. Looks like you broke him, Olive,’ Doug laughed, nudging Olive’s shoulder.

  ‘He broke himself,’ she whispered back, wiping her cheek.

  ‘He said what?!’ gasped Sammy. She was sitting up on Olive’s dressing table, cross-legged, after having moved all of Olive’s stuff out the way with a careful swipe of her arm.

  ‘He said we were casual and he was single and so technically he hadn’t done anything wrong.’ Olive rolled her eyes as she took off her stage make-up with a baby wipe, still in her burgundy dress and wig.

  ‘What a dick! Urgh!’ Sammy dipped her hand into the jar of hard-boiled sweets on Olive’s desk and picked out an orange one. ‘Does he actually think he can get out of this on a technicality? Please tell me he’s not that stupid?’ she said around the sweet in her mouth.

  ‘No, I think he’s just desperate for this mistake not to tarnish his reputation with the rest of the cast. And I get that.’ Olive nodded a little too hard.

  ‘A mistake? You’re seriously going to believe that?’

  ‘It’s Tamara,’ Olive said to herself in the mirror. ‘Any time someone knowingly kisses that nut job has got to be a mistake.’

  ‘WOAH!’ Sammy slammed her hand down on the counter and made everything on its surface wobble – even Olive jumped. ‘Stop. The. Presses. Did you actually just say something mean?’

  ‘Oh, God that really was bitchy, wasn’t it? Ahh, sorry, this whole thing has just got me all… blah.’

  ‘Babe, are you kidding? I live for that shit. Is it awful that I wanna see you this pissed off more often?’ Sammy laughed.

  ‘Yes! It is!’ Olive whipped her with the baby wipe and gave her a cold wet splat on the knee.

  ‘SAMMY! WE’RE GOING!’ Doug shouted as he passed Olive’s dressing room door, banging on it loudly with his balled-up fist.

  ‘Shit, I’m not even out of costume.’ Sammy scrambled off the desk and almost slipped over on the way to the door.

  ‘Oh wait, Sammy! What are you doing tonight?’ asked Olive.

  ‘The drinks thing, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Please don’t tell me you’re not coming?’

  ‘No, I’m coming, it’s just… my friend Lou is watching the show and as we’re not allowed to bring guests to the official drinks thing, I’ll probably just come for one and then go for a drink with her. Just wondered if you fancied coming?’

  ‘Is that the only reason you’re leaving early?’

  ‘Yes, of course! Well, that and… I don’t really like the idea of spending an evening with Oscar and Tamara in the same room. If they do want to make out again I’d rather not see it this time.’

  ‘Olive, I know he’s been a massive, massive idiot but… everyone can see how much he likes you.’

  ‘Then why did he kiss someone else?’ Olive said without a smile.

  ‘Because he’s a massive, massive idiot. Look I’m not making excuses for the guy but – you’d had a fight, he was drunk and from what it looks like, he suffers from serious low self-esteem.’

  ‘He seems confident enough to me…’ Olive folded her arms across her chest.

  ‘Oh, that’s all just a front! Let’s look at the facts, shall we? One. Michael calling him “TV” all the time has probably made him feel insecure and a little unwelcome here. I know it would if it were me. Two, did you see all that stuff in the papers about him and Zadie?’

  ‘How could I miss it?’ Olive sighed.

  ‘Oh yeah, and all the drama she caused about that picture of the two of you. He’s not exactly had the best of luck with women, has he? It’s all drama, drama, drama! It’s hard enough having a relationship in the public eye, let alone it going so pear-shaped with everyone watching and wading in with their own opinions. He might play the confident lad but I reckon he’s actually a little bit… I dunno… broken by it all? Getting with someone like Tamara, a girl who looks like she stepped off the Victoria’s Secret catwalk, probably made him feel good about himself – even if it was short-lived!’

  ‘A second ago you were ready to castrate him!’

  ‘And I still would! For you!’ Sammy grinned through a heart she made with her fingers. ‘I could be wrong but I’m just saying, he may have acted like a massive arsehole but I just don’t think he is an arsehole.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Olive turned back to the mirror and started to take the pins out of her wig.

  ‘Oh, please don’t be like that!’ Sammy skittered over to Olive, and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, swaying them both back and forth as she spoke to Olive in the mirror. ‘I’m being serious. I’m a very cynical, cut-throat person. Ruthless, I tell you! Ruthless! And if I thought saying goodbye to Oscar was the way forward, I would tell you so. But you both make each other smile and we’ve all loved watching you flirt back and forth since the beginning of rehearsals. We’ve all been dying to see where this thing between you might go.’ Sammy squeezed Olive’s shoulders and then started helping remove pins from her wig.

  ‘You’ve known about us since rehearsals?’ Olive asked, and Sammy stopped and looked at Olive in the mirror, raising her eyebrows at her with a smile.

  ‘Oh, honeeeey…’

  ‘Yeah, all right. We weren’t subtle, were we?’ Olive sighed, looking down into her lap.

  ‘No, babe. You weren’t. Look, he’s a good guy. He’s just at a point in his life where he’s a bit lost and he made a wrong turn. A big Tamara-shaped wrong turn.’

  Olive couldn’t help it, she laughed.

  ‘THERE SHE IS! Now get dressed, quickly. We’re going for burgers before the big show.’ Sammy slapped Olive’s thigh and ran back to the door.

  ‘Who?’ Olive said, her stomach rumbling at just the mention of food.

  ‘Not Tamara. Or Jane. So you’re coming.’

  ‘Only if you come for drinks with me and Lou tonight?’

  ‘Of course I’ll be there!’ Sammy scarpered, skidding down the hallway to the stairwell in just her tights, calling back, ‘GET DRESSED, OLIVE!’ and so Olive got dressed.

  Olive was grateful to be preoccupied by the company of Sammy, Doug and Howard but time managed to escape them all and before any of them had finished their burgers, they realised they only had ten minutes to finish up and pay before ‘the half’ was called. Back inside the theatre, actors were running back and forth between their dressing rooms and wardrobe, making sure they had all the right items of clothing they needed. Dressers were carrying baskets of costumes to quick-change areas and setting them out in a way that made it easier for the actors to get in and out of their clothes between scenes, and in amongst it all was Walter, worrying about how much the lights had been flickering since they’d been turned on that morning.

  ‘Fawn, I don’t know what you’re up to but I’m not entirely sure I like it,’ he muttered.

  ‘Hi, Walter!’ Olive bustled through the door with the others not far behind who all mumbled their hellos. ‘This is Sammy, Doug and Howard. Guys, this is Walter,’ smiled Olive.

  ‘Yes, I recognise them from the programme. Hello,’ Walter answered. ‘You’ve got some mail, Olive. Some in the pigeonhole and that package by your feet is yours too, I believe.’

  ‘Oh, wow. That’s exciting. Thanks.’ Olive grabbed her letters and Howard picked up the tall black parcel from the floor. It had a picture of gold flowers printed on the side.

  ‘Looks like someone’
s been rather extravagant! Says here it’s got two dozen roses inside!’ Howard said, reading off the receipt stuck to the side of the parcel.

  ‘Howard!’ Sammy turned and thumped Howard’s arm. ‘Why can’t you let the girl open the parcel and find out for herself?’

  ‘It’s got a picture of a bunch of flowers on the side of the box! It’s hardly a surprise that it’s a bouquet of flowers, is it?’ said Howard, peering around the side of the box.

  ‘Relax, Sammy! My agent texted me and said they’d be sending me something so I knew it was coming. Roses, though. That’s nice.’