Free The Understudy: A Novel by David Nicholls Page A

laughed. “So why did you buy it?”
    “Oh, I didn’t, Josh did, just before we got married. Technically, I’m just the lodger. Most of my stuff’s still in storage in the States. It’s not exactly to my taste, but you know what they say: a house is not a home without a skateboard ramp.”
    “You should see mine. What a
dump
…”
    “You live alone?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Single?”
    “Recently divorced.”
    “A little young to be divorced, aren’t you?”
    “I’m precocious.”
    Nora laughed, and Stephen felt a quick jab of delight watching her laugh, then there was another pause, as she drew hard on her cigarette.
    “So why did you get divorced?”
    “Ah…”
    “If it’s not a personal question.”
    “Well, let me see…”
    “Let me guess—she beat you up?”
    “No. Well, not physically.”
    Nora winced. “Hey, you’re not going to hurl yourself off the roof, are you?”
    “No.”
    “Because I’d hate to be responsible for the death of a guest. Well,
certain
guests, anyway…”
    “Except I’m not a guest.”
    “Even so. It’s none of my business. I apologize. Change subject…okay, tell me, why the hell do you do this ridiculous job?”
    “You mean acting or catering?”
    “Well, catering isn’t a ridiculous job, so…”
    “You say what you think, don’t you?”
    “Stephen, between you and me, I’ve possibly had a little too much to drink.”
    “Well, I do it because I love it. Even if it is ridiculous. When I’m actually doing it, I love it. The bits in between aren’t great.”
    “So why do it, then?” she asked—a little more harshly than necessary, he thought. It was a conversation he’d had innumerable times, usually with concerned elderly relatives at Christmas, and he never enjoyed it.
    “Don’t know—overactive imagination? Watched too many movies growing up, I suppose.”
    “A lot of people watched the moon landings too, but they didn’t all try and become astronauts.”
    “No, but you know how it is—you do a couple of plays at school…”
    “You went to the theater a lot?”
    “Not really. I was
in
plays, but I didn’t really go to the theater at all, only panto. The Isle of Wight doesn’t really have a West End. Well, it does, but it’s called Ventnor.” Nora looked blank. “So I liked acting in plays, but I always preferred watching movies.”
    “Me too! You know, I’m probably not meant to say this—Josh thinks it’s some kind of blasphemy or something—but I can’t
stand
going to the the-ater. Every time Josh hobbles out on that stage on his orthopedic shoe and starts talking in that weird, crazy, warbly voice he puts on, I just want to burst out laughing. I just want to shout out, ‘Talk
properly
!’ Don’t you agree?”
    “No comment.” Stephen smiled, and looked back out at the view.
    “So which do you prefer, acting in theater or movies?”
    “Difficult to say.” He could, of course, come out with the party line about preferring the immediate response of a theater audience, but his main screen experience came from playing the title role in
Sammy the Squirrel Sings Nursery Rhymes,
and he suspected that this fell outside of what is generally meant by “movies.” He decided to change the subject. “How about you? What do you do?”
    “What do I
do
? Well, that’s a very good question. When I met Josh, I was a waitress in this bar in Brooklyn.”
    “Is that where you’re from?”
    “Brooklyn? Yeah, well, no, no, New Jersey. My family’s from Jersey, which is near New York but not, if you know what I mean. Anyway, that’s how we met, in a bar. A humble waitress brings Josh Harper his club sandwich, and the rest is showbiz history. All of this”—she swept her arm across the view—“is like the world’s greatest tip.” She took a long swig from the bottle of champagne she held by her side, holding it by the neck, as if it were a beer bottle, then passed it to Stephen, adding, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and I once