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Rain started lightly outside.

‘The bed is sittable. Just don’t move too quickly or it’s a quicksand situation.’

Ashley smiled and perched on the edge of the bed. The bed dipped slightly under Ashley’s weight. The mattress made a soft complaint.

Molly passed a glass over. Their fingers touched for a second too long. Not enough to comment on.

‘Sorry, it’s cheap wine,’ Molly said, sitting half a foot from Ashley on the bed. Not because she didn’t want to be closer, but because she did.

‘It’s fine.’

They drank.

The conversation became easy again. They’d gone through enough in one evening to ensure they had plenty to get them started. The audition. The gig. The waiting room, the toilet cubicle. Ashley expressed further certainty that Molly was about to be cast as a lead in a sitcom. Molly poopooed it. She’d seen smiling producers before. She wasn’t interested in her next rejection. Only in Ashley.

Molly pushed her to do most of the talking, and happily, Ashley did. Molly, a natural talker—or perhaps more accurately, a natural entertainer—liked it this way. She liked listening to Ashley. Watching that exquisite mouth move, hearing how she saw things, hearing about her life.

‘So, people never know who he is,’ Ashley finished. ‘It’s made him bitter.’

‘Your dad was in Rubix, and no one recognises him?!’ Molly asked, astounded. They were a prog-rock dad-band. Not Molly’s cuppa but she knew them.

‘Technically, he wasn’t really in it. But he was the main session musician, the go-to backup guy. Eventually, I think he felt he pretty much was in the band. And then they broke up, and they all went onto other things. And he was just a guy who used to play in Rubix sometimes. I think it came as a shock to him. He thought he was a rock star. But if you don’t compose or write the songs, you’re just a guy who can play guitar. And now he works in a kitchen showroom on a ring road.’

‘Shit,’ Molly breathed. ‘And now you’re a musician? What does he make of that?’

‘He passive-aggressively implies I’m gonna fail,’ Ashley said with a sigh.

‘Because he feels like he did and he can’t separate you from him?’ Molly said without thinking.

The second it was out of her mouth, she thought, Too much, you improperly socialised swine.

But Ashley laughed easily. ‘Yeah, that’s about it.’

Phew.

‘So, why do you live with him?’ Molly asked.

‘It’s cheap.’

‘You can’t live with your mum?’

‘Not an option. After she divorced my dad, she got serious about her career, and now she’s a senior regulatory auditor for maritime shipping.’

‘What does that mean, exactly?’ Molly asked.

‘Not sure,’ Ashley admitted. ‘But it takes her all over. She doesn’t even have a permanent residence anymore.’

‘She sounds serious.’

‘Yep. I think all those years with my dad’s artistic flightiness drove her to the corporate life.’ Ashley took a deep breath. ‘God, I’ve talked a lot about myself tonight.’

‘No more than I’ve wanted,’ Molly assured her.

‘That’s nice. But let’s do you for a bit.’ Ashley’s cheeks were suddenly touched with pink. ‘I mean, tell me about your childhood.’

Molly winced. ‘You sure?’

Ashley’s eyes widened. ‘I don’t know now. Have I just stepped into trauma territory? Not that I’m not willing. It’s more if you’re willing.’