Page 30
‘Just start moving,’ Ashley said.
Off he went.
Their hands detached the second the cab pulled off, and they moved to opposite sides of the wide backseat, staring out of their respective windows.
After a minute of that, Ashley couldn’t take anymore.
‘Driver,’ Ashley said. ‘Just pull over up here on the corner, please.’
The cab pulled to the curb. Ashley turned to look at Molly. There was so much she wanted to say, so many apologies she wanted to offer for the mess of the evening.
‘Take this cab home,’ Ashley said softly, sliding two twenty-pound notes into the little plastic tray in the partition. ‘I’ll get out here and hail another.’
Molly looked at the money, then up at Ashley. Her eyes were dark, unreadable. ‘Oh. Fine.’
‘Molly…’
‘Yes?’ Molly asked nervously.
Ashley swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Thank you.’
Molly’s smile was obviously and devastatingly fabricated. ‘No, thank you.’
Ashley pushed the heavy cab door open. She stepped out into the drizzle, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t look back as the black cab pulled out into the dark, carrying Molly away, leaving Ashley alone to find her way home.
Five Years Ago
Somehow, Ashley had gone from hiding in a pub toilet and seriously considering abandoning the gig altogether to being on a coffee date with a very attractive woman who appeared to have voluntarily chosen her company. The whole thing had happened in the space of about an hour.
The strangest part wasn’t that Molly was charismatic, cute, funny. Or that she seemed to move through the world with a wild and natural confidence. It was that Molly had met Ashley at what was, objectively, one of her less impressive moments. Curled up in a toilet cubicle, halfway through a panic spiral. Molly had seen all of that, talked her down through a locked door, and then carried on as though she’d discovered Ashley in a completely normal context. There was no pity or careful handling. If anything, Molly seemed to find the whole thing endearing.
Ashley wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or concerned.
‘So… do you make money at it yet?’ Molly asked. ‘The music?’
‘Nope.’
‘Day job?’
‘Barista.’
‘Ha. Naturally.’
Ashley smiled. ‘You meet a lot of musician/barista’s?’
‘Not exactly. But I’m an actor/barista.’
Ashley was delighted. ‘Oh. An actor.’
‘Unfortunately.’
‘Why is it unfortunate?’
‘Because no one wants to hire me to do anything other than make oat milk lattes.’
Ashley laughed. ‘You’re in the long and storied tradition of London cafes staffed entirely by struggling actors and musicians.’
‘And one guy writing a screenplay.’
