The Austen Playbook (London Celebrities #4)(71)

“But you got it.” Griff voiced the obvious, very calmly.

“Yes. I did get it. Even though there must have been dozens of actors who were far better suited for it. Because two nights earlier, I’d had a night out at the pub with friends. The Prop & Cue, actually,” she said, with the sudden realisation of the irony. One pub, two men, two very different encounters. “And I met a man at the bar. He bought me a drink, and we got talking. He was fit and he was clever, and he made me laugh. And I went home with him.”

The rain was still a steady pattering rhythm on the roof.

“I left in the morning, and I still remember him saying, with this little smile, that he’d ‘see me right.’ I didn’t know what he meant.” God, she’d been na?ve, for someone who’d grown up in the industry. For all her father’s faults as a manager, he had kept her very sheltered from the uglier sides of the business. “I didn’t really expect to see him again. But when I showed up for the High Voltage audition, there he was. Drew from the bar. Drew Townseville. Artistic director.”

She forged on, determined to just get this out now and be done with it. Shove it back in the past where it belonged. “I was even more thrown off. I did my shite audition, and I was too uncomfortable to look at him. I thought he’d be finding the whole thing as awkward as I was. It turns out that I was the only ignorant person in the pub that night. He knew exactly who I was, and he thought he knew exactly what I was after. Apparently, it was a not-so-secret secret that Drew used to reserve a spot, shall we say, in his productions for an actor who wanted to go the extra mile. If you were interested, you approached him before the audition. It was a horrendous coincidence, where I was concerned. I found out later that people used to discuss Drew’s methods behind their hands backstage all the time, but I’d always been one of the younger people in any cast before that show. People usually keep clear boundaries where the child actors are concerned. You don’t bitch and gossip in front of them.” Her lip curled a little. “His nickname in the West End is The Patron.”

“As I suspected,” Griff said, “Townseville is a piece of shit.”

Freddy looked up at him, and he ran his thumb over her lower lip. The gesture made her eyes sting as she moved haltingly into the part of the story she still heartily regretted. “Drew approached me after the audition and made it clear I’d be offered the part. The underlying why I’d get the part was equally clear. I was horrified. I wanted to tell him where he could shove his gross, sleazy role. But then his assistant came over, and I somehow ended up outside, not sure what just happened. And—” She was silent for a moment, just breathing in and out. “And when the official offer came in, my father was so bloody proud of me. He couldn’t stop talking about what a brilliant career I was going to have, how I was following in his footsteps. In Henrietta’s footsteps. Which in hindsight—” She snorted. “And in the end—I took it. A role that I in no way deserved. That I inadvertently earned in bed.” Once more, she couldn’t make eye contact with Griff. “Drew’s an undeniably brilliant director. I spent that run learning a hell of a lot, and I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror.”

For the tatters of her dignity, the little scoffing noise she made sounded too much like swallowed tears. “It was the first—the worst—bad decision I made, to walk a path that was being signposted by other people. And the thing is, even my career-ladder-obsessed father would have been appalled. A step too far even for him. He’d probably have knocked Drew’s teeth out.”

Griff’s hand closed over her whitened knuckles, gently loosening her clenched fist before she could tear her skin with her own nails, and laced his fingers through hers. It was enough to help her take a calming breath.

“Drew must have told Sadie. She’d think all her Christmases had come at once. She’s always hated me.”

“Because you’ll always be a far more talented actor than she is,” Griff said very matter-of-factly, and she gave a little negative jerk of the head.

“Nobody watching rehearsal today would agree with you. I couldn’t keep my lines straight with all the scene changes. She didn’t screw up once.”

“I’m not surprised you found it hard to concentrate today. And Sadie is a good actor, but she has her own limits. She can repeat lines and she can mimic emotion, but she’ll never have the full package because she doesn’t understand the characters she plays. She doesn’t have the capacity to empathise with them. You might be less technically proficient in some areas, but you have heart and spirit that she won’t achieve if she’s still acting in forty years’ time. She knows that. And instead of taking inspiration from people who have the qualities she lacks, trying to grow and improve, she just tries to eliminate the competition. She undermines your confidence and makes you doubt yourself.” Griff brought their joined hands up and turned her chin so he could look directly into her eyes. “And you have no reason, ever, not to hold your head high. You’re an incredibly beautiful person, by any definition of the word, and I doubt you’ve done anything ill-intentioned in your life.”

Freddy looked at him, then bent her head and kissed his thumb. And accidentally one of her own fingers. “Who’d have thought that my harshest critic would turn out to be the person who consistently makes me feel good about myself.”