Free A Most Desirable Marriage by Hilary Boyd Page B

that pays me regularly, she thought. It had never been an issue before, with Lawrence basically supporting her writing, then money coming in from
Bumble and Me
. But what could she do? Trained at the BBC, she had written and directed
Play School
and other children’s programmes until she was in her forties, when the commissions dried up. But she wouldn’t be welcome at the BBC – or anywhere else – at her age. She was glad when Nicky interrupted her gloomy reflections.
    ‘So . . .’ Her handsome son stood in front of her, his hands held out expressively towards her. ‘Jimmy just called. It’s a play at the Bush, starting next week. Not a big part, but I’m the friend of the main character, who’s an alien who makes close relationships with me and a girl, but we don’t know he’s an alien, and it all goes pear-shaped.’ Nicky paused for breath, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘Jimmy says it’s about how much you can really know someone. The writer is this poet guy who sounds a bit bonkers, Jimmy says, but I don’t give a toss. It’s the
Bush
, Mum! Like, everyone who’s anyone in the theatre sees stuff at the Bush. It is
the
actors’ theatre.’
    ‘That’s brilliant, darling.’
    ‘And . . . and, wait for it. Guess who got the part of the alien?’
    Jo barely had time to shake her head, when Nicky burst out, ‘Travis . . . Travis Rey!’
    Jo wracked her brain. She never got used to her children’s assumption that she could recall every inch of their life with perfect clarity. And if she failed to, they would look dismayed, shocked that these people, events, schedules didn’t hold equal significance for her and the rest of the world. Luckily she managed to recall who Travis was.
    ‘Umm . . . American Travis from drama school?’
    Nicky nodded approvingly. ‘Didn’t even know he was back in town. God, we had such a laugh at the audition. Neither of us thought we had a hope in hell. But he just did a New York fringe gig that got him standout reviews. And they made us do a scene together, so perhaps our chemistry clinched it.’
    Jo did remember Travis from Nicky’s days at LAMDA. Being in west London, Nicky had often brought his friends back for supper, the kitchen suddenly full of these charming, often beautiful, endearingly show-off drama students who took over the evening with their lively banter. Travis stood out among the butterfly crowd not only because he was American and mixed-race, but because he was always quieter, less talkative than the others.
    ‘God, Mum . . . this could be a real chance. A couple of mentions, that’s all it takes.’ He grabbed her and twirled her round, his energy and excitement barely contained.
    Jo made Nicky a sandwich and they sat on the terrace while he told her about the play. It was scheduled to run for six weeks, with a three-week rehearsal period.
    ‘So have you seen Dad?’ she asked when discussion about the play was exhausted.
    ‘Nope. But I’ve talked to him a couple of times, OK?’ Nicky sounded defensive.
    ‘Cassie hasn’t even done that . . . at least she hadn’t when I rang last week.’
    ‘Mum . . . not being rude, but you shouldn’t get involved with us and Dad. He’s made his decision.’
    ‘I know. But—’
    ‘But he’s our dad and we should keep in touch. We’ll regret it if we don’t, blah, blah . . . we have heard you.’
    Her son was biting his top lip, an age-old sign of irritation.
    ‘I’m not doing it on his behalf,’ Jo insisted, although this was not strictly true, ‘I just know how easy it is to lose touch with people . . . let resentments build up till it’s hard to go back.’ And she did know; she’d done it with her own father. Unlike Lawrence, and admittedly without the ease of mobile phone communication, Gerald Hamilton had barely made the effort to keep in touch after he left them the day before Jo’s fifteenth birthday. She understood better now how hard the terrible incident – and the gossip