Chapter Forty-Seven

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

‘O h, that was wonderful,’ Jack said as he and Grace came into their private sitting room at Lassiter Court some hours later. He poured himself a whisky and pulled off his tie. ‘The play is extraordinary, and those notices will make it a sellout, I’ve no doubt. I’ll give De Witte his due. He did right by the play, even after the spanking he got. I suppose his reputation would be in shreds if he did anything else. But seeing that horrible little man chopped into mincemeat by Joe! The colour he went!’ His wife didn’t reply. ‘Aren’t you happy, darling? Are you feeling ill?’

Grace took off her shoes and sat in one of the armchairs near the fire, massaging her ankles. ‘No, those biscuits of Lillian’s did actually help.’

He poured a whisky and took a swallow. ‘Do you want one of these?’

‘No, it makes me nauseous at the moment.’

He hesitated. ‘How long have you known, Grace?’

‘A few weeks now. Do you mind I didn’t say anything? I was worried enough for both of us, and I was afraid you’d stop me helping in the shop.’

He sat down in the armchair opposite her. ‘I admit, I’d have probably given it a try. I’ll tell you what,’ he said. I promise I shall do my best not to make a fuss, as long as you promise to tell me how you’re feeling. Good or bad. Is that a bargain?’

‘It is.’

He sat back in his chair, happiness running through his bloodstream with the alcohol. ‘I’m glad to have seen De Witte. The horrible little man.’ He looked up and found his wife was giving him that look. The look that made him feel she was peering under his skin, like a mechanic examining an engine that’s making odd clanking noises. It was uncomfortable.

‘Are you, Jack?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I wanted to see him!’ He hadn’t even known that himself until the words came out of his mouth. ‘I wanted to see for myself this man whose opinion is so much more important to you than mine, more important than Ruby’s or Stella’s or any of the actors and directors and producers we’ve worked with! What is he? How can what he thinks matter to you more than me, or the audience?’

She curled her legs underneath her and looked away.

‘Well, congratulations, you’ve seen him.’

‘Yes, and he’s pathetic! He’s a stupid, self-important fool! Grace, he’s been this demon in your mind for months, and it turns out he’s not a demon at all, just a nasty little man Joe Allerdyce made mincemeat of in twenty seconds. He’s a nothing! How can you still care about the opinion of a nothing ?’

‘Because he’s right!’ she said. ‘Just because he’s rude doesn’t make him wrong. Jack, you like everything! So does the audience, as long as a show has enough dancing girls and a sentimental number in the middle of act two.’ She pointed at her chest. ‘I have a certain facile wit, and an ability to muddle through, but I don’t for one second think that anything I do is any good – not really good, I mean. And I know you don’t like Nikolai, but look what he did tonight. That was good. And don’t ever try and tell me you can’t tell the difference!

Jack put his hand to his forehead. ‘But Nikolai’s more than twenty years older than you. He’s been writing and producing serious political drama for years.’

‘See! You do know he’s better, you can tell the difference, because you’re not an idiot – though you like pretending to be one occasionally. But you bamboozle and tell me I’m marvellous, like I’m a child doing pirouettes and not falling over. That’s not the standard I want to be judged by. And I let you all convince me that I was better than I thought I was! Then De Witte took everything, the worst things I’ve ever secretly thought about myself and my writing, and wrote it all down in five hundred and forty-seven well-chosen words, then published them in a national newspaper!’ Her eyes were red. ‘He was right, Jack. He humiliated me, and he was right to do it, even if he is a pathetic little man, and you all set me up for it with your flummery, and since then you’ve just been telling me not to worry my pretty little head over the nasty man and write another jolly play. Jack, this matters to me!’

Jack blinked at her. Confident, efficient, loving and brilliant Grace was looking at him with an expression he had never seen before. He bit his tongue. All his usual blandishments and compliments would be salt in the wound now.

‘You counted the words?’

She pulled out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. ‘Yes, I did. It could be five hundred and forty-six, depending on whether you count “empty-minded” as one or two words.’

‘Oh.’

She glanced at him and offered a brave half-smile, which made him feel even worse. ‘Thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘For not telling me I’m a great writer again.’

‘You know I think you are, but I realise I can’t bludgeon you into agreeing with me.’ He put out his hand, but she turned away again. ‘I should have tried to work out why that notice bothered you so much, rather than just tell you it didn’t matter.’

A crooked smile appeared on her heart-shaped face. ‘Who are you, and what have you done with my husband, Jack Treadwell?’

He smiled a crooked smile of his own. ‘You know how I always want to fix things?’ She nodded. ‘Well, I was just thinking about how when the WCs started causing trouble, I was dashing in there with another brand-new plunger, and it took Miss Chisholm to do the sensible thing and actually look at the building’s insurance policy.’

‘Jack . . .’ There was a tremble of laughter in her voice now. ‘Are you comparing me to a malfunctioning lavatory?’

‘Cripes, yes, I suppose I am, but let me get to the end of this. If you want to get better, or find out why that foul little man’s criticism really bit you, even when we all do genuinely think you’re wonderful, you’ve got to take a longer view and ask someone you respect.’

She was silent for a while. ‘Someone like Nikolai, you mean?’

‘Yes, damn it, I suppose I do.’ He took a long swig of whisky.

Grace studied him cautiously. ‘Isn’t that presumptuous?’

‘Now you’re being daft, as Mum would say. I’ve heard you talking with him about drama, all sorts of plays and about technical things I’ve never heard of. He’s watched you direct. He respects you.’

She leant forward. ‘And you won’t make any snippy comments about it?’

‘No, of course not! Why would you think . . .?’ She raised her eyebrows and he stopped himself. ‘I’ve been a bit of an arse, haven’t I?’

‘Yes.’

He moved to sit on the arm of her chair, and she leant her head against him. He ran his fingers through her hair. ‘Such a small, elegant head, you have, Grace, and always such a lot going on in it. You do surprise me, you know.’

‘Telling me to go and ask Nikolai for advice was a bit of a surprise to me, too. It was remarkable, wasn’t it? What he discovered in all those people.’

‘Yes, I had no idea there was such talent in Highbridge,’ he said idly.

‘ Full many a flower . . .’ she said. ‘Jack, I may have an idea for Empire Records.’