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“This one was Kieran’s.”
They shared a wistful smile.
Mark returned his treasure to his backpack. “Whatcha want to show me?”
“Your anniversary present—nine months late.” She opened Final Draft on her laptop. “Ages ago, you said you wanted to do something intimate like Simon Stephens’ Sea Wall, so…”
He sat down, curling an arm around her waist.
“I wrote you a one-man, one-act play. It’s called Shockwave.”
“My God, Lex…” Mark fell silent, his eyes travelling across the screen, line by line, absorbing his girlfriend’s script. Alex chewed her thumbnail, waiting.
After a few minutes and a severely gnawed nail on Alex’s thumb, he sat back, eyes all misty. “Lex…what I’ve read so far, it’s incredible, but…when did you do this?”
“I started after the final night of The Great Gatsby, just before we moved in together. Remember the after-party?”
A smile flashed across Mark’s cheeks. “Jägerbombs and Pulp songs on karaoke!”
“You were wearing Freddie’s glasses—”
“Pretending to be Jarvis Cocker! I still can’t hear ‘Common People’ without pissing myself laughing. God, I loved Sheffield…the audiences, my castmates.”
“Yeah, and you said to me, ‘The theatre is my happy place. It’s where I belong.’ But when Wink took you on, he only put your name forward for movies and TV. I wanted to give you what your heart desired.”
“Mouse, I can’t believe you wrote this for me.” He shook his head, staring at the screen. “I’m…speechless. Thank you.” He pulled her in for a kiss.
“I know there’s no guarantee a theatre will pick it up…”
“I can’t see it not being picked up. It’s so emotional. When his boyfriend…turns out to have already died? It’ll slay people.” Mark smiled at Alex. “It would work really well in a smaller space like the Dorfman or upstairs at the Court. I’m definitely showing it to my agent next week.” He continued reading.
Alex picked up her phone, diving into her email…scrolling, scrolling… That one could wait, that one was spam. Another message that could wait, another one…that couldn’t. She opened it and gasped.
Mark snickered. “What did Freds send you now?”
“It’s not Freddie.” She swept her hair away from her face, revealing a massive grin. “A publisher wants our graphic novel. Mark, Lucy and I have done it!”
