Reluctantly Home(11)

Evelyn shrugged. Even though it would be very chic and Bohemian for Brenda and Jim to live together without the sanctity of marriage to protect them, she had some sympathy with Jim’s mother’s point of view, not that she would have said as much to Brenda. And there was the added delight of a wedding for her to attend.

‘Well, I think it’s lovely,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Thanks,’ replied Brenda with another little eye roll, and Evelyn thought that maybe a little soup?on of excitement wouldn’t go amiss from the bride-to-be. ‘Anyway, that wasn’t what I needed to talk to you about, exactly. The thing is, I’ll obviously be moving out. Are you okay to take the flat over on your own?’

Evelyn’s panicking mind was going into overdrive. She could barely afford her share of the rent on this place as it was, but she could hardly tell Brenda that she couldn’t leave her, not when she was getting married.

‘Of course,’ she said with a beaming smile. ‘That’s absolutely fine. Don’t give it a second’s thought.’ Evelyn wasn’t an actress for nothing.

Brenda, happy with her response, thanked her profusely and then left her on her own at the kitchen table. Well, thought Evelyn, she was going to have to get the part now. She was down to the last few coins in her purse and all out of options. If some money didn’t come in, and quickly, then she might have to admit defeat and go back home to Southwold.

Actually, no, Evelyn corrected herself. Things would have to get a whole lot worse than this for her to contemplate going back. Southwold had never felt like home, even when she lived there. The youngest of three children and by far the most flamboyant, Evelyn had been born to strict Presbyterian parents who had actively disapproved of her life choices. They had both died young, however, leaving Evelyn’s elder sister Joan occupying the family home; the home that the three of them had inherited in equal parts but that Joan had commandeered. It ought to be an option for Evelyn to demand her share of the funds, but to do so would be to admit to her sister that she needed the money, and that was something Evelyn couldn’t bring herself to do. Her inheritance would come to her eventually. At least this way Joan had somewhere to live, and Evelyn could enjoy the warm glow that came from having done something nice for her sister, despite everything horrible Joan had done to her.

Joan was a spinster, which was of little surprise given her terse and truculent personality traits. She professed that her single status was by choice, but Evelyn suspected her sister was deeply bitter about her failure to find a husband and so felt able to make allowances for Joan’s general unpleasantness. Their brother, Peter, weak-chinned and lily-livered, had found himself an equally feeble wife and together they had created a neat ‘one of each’ family, which seemed to work well for them but which was Evelyn’s definition of hell. Peter, however, was also unlikely to stand up to Joan on the question of their inheritance, and so the status quo rolled on year on year.

Sometimes Evelyn almost felt sorry for her sister, but it never lasted for long. Joan had picked up the mantle of disapproval of Evelyn from where their parents had let it fall and, if anything, was even more vociferous in her objections to Evelyn’s lifestyle than they had been. On the list of things about Evelyn of which Joan did not approve were: living in London; living in a flat share; being an actress; being single at thirty (the irony of this one seemed to pass her by); and failing to stay in Suffolk to be near their parents and thus leaving the responsibility for them and their home to her. And this was why Evelyn would have to be destitute or desperate or, more likely, both before she would even consider going back home.

The Daily Mirror was lying on the table. Brenda’s chap must have left it there. Evelyn began to flick idly through it. They were calling it the ‘Winter of Discontent’, and the country was starting to feel very jumpy, edgy almost, as more and more trade unions called their members out on strike. These were strange times indeed. And Sid Vicious was dead, apparently. That was a shame, she thought, but not really a surprise.

If she got this part, she would be a success, maybe even a household name. Then Joan would no longer be able to scoff at her and accuse her of wasting her life on a pointless whim. In fact, Joan would have to congratulate her and admit that she had been wrong all along.

And how Evelyn was going to enjoy that moment.





8


Evelyn sat in the chair opposite Julian and grinned as she waited for him to give her the news.

‘Well, you certainly impressed them,’ he said. ‘They thought you showed’ – he paused, running his finger down his notes until he came to the right place – ‘“remarkable insight” in your reading of the character.’ He looked up at her, his eyebrows raised and a quirky smile on his lips. Then he dropped his gaze back down. ‘Apparently you brought an “added dimension” to the character that even the writer himself hadn’t considered.’ He sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. ‘Well done, Evelyn. Very well done indeed.’

Praise as fulsome as this was rare, and Evelyn could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She gave a modest smile. ‘And DC Karen Walker features in every episode?’ she asked, even though she already knew this to be true, having clarified it several times since the audition.

Julian put his stockinged feet up on the desk as if he were in his living room rather than his office. Evelyn found this state of undress a little disconcerting, but she tried to ignore his scarlet socks and focus on his face, which was now smiling broadly at her.