Chapter 51

He stood in front of the lit mirror, his stare lost inside his reflection looking back at him. He still hadn't come down to reality. The theatre had been rocked by the thunderous applause from everyone having watching him descend into chaos. Hamlet had tried to stand by his words, but his actions had not followed, till it was too late. He lost everything, Ophelia, his mother and in the end his life itself.

He had taken the audience through every feeling there was in the emotional spectrum. Anger, disappointment, rage, disgust, love, sadness, grief, vengeance. When he fell, his blood poisoned by Laertes' blade, there was not a dry tear in the house as the saying went.

People whistled, bravos were shouted, there was a standing ovation. Robert was beaming and so was he inside. He bowed, his heart beating fast in a flutter inside his chest. The whole troupe approached the edge of the stage for a second bow. His eyes fell on her. She looked flushed, her green eyes sparkled like emeralds under the bright lights. He had managed to see her face at times. A lot of times, Hamlet's words aligned with what occupied Terry's mind too. He had found this unsettling but there were moments, he had lost touch with what was happening and the lines between himself and Hamlet were fainting as if they were drawn on wet sand, to be erased by the passing of a wave.

He straightened his body. His stare turned to Christian. Both were standing up, his was a look of intrigue on his face. He wondered what would have been their reaction when they saw him on the stage. Perhaps they thought he had done it on purpose? The steps of Fate had been unexplained but then again, such coincidences...

He shook his head. He had to change from Hamlet's clothes. They hang wet with sweat on this body. The embers inside his eyes still burned bright. Two big bouquets of red roses were on the dressing table. One from Sir Flower representing the Royal Shakespeare Society and one from Robert. More flowers came. Another bouquet from John Barrymore. Till he actually went behind the screen to change, the theatre clerk had knocked another three times.

Robert and everyone who was lining up, to talk to him, to see this young star emerging in the London theatre scene, would be waiting at the theatre bar. But Terry took his time. He had taken his makeup off, had a cigarette with couple of fingers of bourbon.

He wondered whether Candy and Christian had stayed behind too, but he wasn't holding his breath. He doubted either of them wanting to see him after the confrontations he had with them both already. Still... he wanted to apologise to Candy. He hated the fact he had lost control the way he did with her. In a way, he should have expected her to react the way she did. As Christian was concerned...he hadn't regretted anything. Not only he had punched way below the belt to make Terry react because he had suspected all along there was something between Terry and "Rose", but he also kept a lot of shady things from her. He was putting her in danger and if he loved her truly, he would walk away from her.

He stopped for a minute. Christian's weird behaviour when he came round after his stabbing, came to mind. He had looked uneasy, he had been rude and above all, he wanted to break up with Candy...One more piece of the Christian "puzzle" begged to find its place in his mind. But not at that moment. He stabbed the cigarette in the ashtray. He disappeared behind the silk screen.

There was a knock on the door. Another one...Terry pressed his lips. That boy insisted to knock every time he would come in with flowers. He ignored it, too. Bare chested he took his tights off. One more knock, this time slightly more determined. Terry put on a fresh pair of black trousers.

"For chrissakes! Come in already!" He shouted behind the screen. He was putting a clean shirt when he heard the door opening and closing and the steps of someone having entered the room.

With his head down, focusing on the buttons of his shirt, he came from behind the screen.

"There is no need to knock on the door every single time you bring something." He said with a frustrated voice, and raised his head.

"Hello Terrence."

His stare became transfixed and his legs for a moment forgot how to move. Terry was stuck on his spot, looking at his father in silence. He had grown old. The hair looked more silver than peppery, sixty-plus years of life had carved his face, there were more wrinkles than the ones he remembered. He had taken some weight around the midriff, his face. But the ice inside his blue eyes hadn't melted. They were still as intense, like the blue skies on a sunny winter day.

"I'm glad Hamlet was more eloquent than you, son." He said and took a couple of steps towards the empty chair. "May, I?" He asked him and sat down while taking the cigarette case out of his pocket.

Hadn't changed a bit. A flash of anger spilled inside the surprise that had only momentarily paralysed him.

The same arrogant prick.

"What are you doing here?" Terry asked him, while tucking the shirt inside his trousers. His voice didn't carry any emotional weight.

"What do you mean Terrence?" The Duke asked, raising his brows, half closing his eyes. "Am I not permitted to come to the theatre to watch my son perform?"

He lit a cigarette. His stare followed Terry as he approached the cigarettes himself. Took one, without talking, put it between his lips. "I don't buy the coincidence..." He said before he lit it. Took a drag, fixed his eyes on his old man. "Who told you for tonight?"

"Is she..." He started saying, dreading she could have been somewhere close.

"No, your stepmother is at our summer house in Scotland." He replied before Terry had finished his question.

He too took a drag from his cigarette. Terry was just as obnoxious and difficult to get through as he had been in his youth.

There wasn't much changed between them, it had to be said. Everything had to have an ulterior motive for Terrence, where his father was concerned.

"Sir Flower is a good friend of mine. And you may not remember, because you got up and left us quite young, but I was..." The Duke said, "I still am a patron for the Theatre Royal here in Haymarket."

"Since your mother performed here..."

"Now, that didn't take long...did it?" Terry stopped him, the smile hard in his face. Richard looked at him, puzzled.

"What did?" He asked him.

"Using me to find out how is she..." Terry said. "To save you the polite visit, Eleanor is doing great...fantastic in fact without you in her life." He added with the satisfaction welling up inside his words.

Richard did not reply but his eyes were examining his son's face. He did take from his mother, on the physical side. It had been so hard to look at him while growing up, reminding him daily of the woman he had loved once. The full mouth, the colour of his eyes, looking more green than blue like they did at that moment, his high cheekbones. But the temper was all Grandchester.

"You're selling yourself short as usual Terrence." He dismissed him. "And you are a terrible host." He added. He pointed at the whiskey bottle with a glance. "Pour your old father a tipple, will you?"

Terry blew the smoke out and crashed the cigarette in the ashtray. His stare narrowed while still fixed on his father.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you Father, but no, can't do. I'm waited you see and I don't have time for chit chat." He said and unhooked his jacket from the hanger. He pushed his arms inside the sleeves. The time was up.

The Duke of Grandchester stood up.

"Take care of this tendency to second guessing people, Terence." He said, the two men standing; father and son measuring each other up.

"It's somewhat late for fatherly advice don't you think?" Terry replied, clearly annoyed with his father's words. He forgot the years growing up next to the grant schemer of things, his step mother.

"You may have changed your surname, but it's the Grandchester blood that flows in your veins...and that gives me the right to give you any advice I please, regardless you want to hear it or not!"

It was Terry's father turn to look annoyed with his son's attitude. Terry smirked. He felt an odd happiness knowing he had managed to exasperate the mighty Duke of Grandchester.

"We all learn to live with scars we cannot erase." He pushed the Duke's buttons even further and walked towards the door.

Richard tightened his firsts. "I came here to congratulate my son on such an inspired performance but I can see clearly that all the talent in the world you may carry while your tongue is as foolish as it used to be."

His voice was controlled; Terry knew his father. He was seething inside. It only took Terry to say something defiant of the Grandchester name. When he was a teenager, such words would earn him a locking in his room without dinner, or beating with the cane when his offence carried vulgarity. But times had changed and even if his tongue was still foolish, his father could do nothing about it. Despite that, he had managed to surprise him with the admission that he actually liked his performance. And that put a seed of guilt inside him. It angered him that in the end, his father had managed to get to him.

"Well, I've learned with the best..." Terry reacted to his feelings. He raised his brow and gave him a smile that kept all the angry sarcasm in his words.

"I see...clearly my judgement coming here was wrong." His father commented and opened the door.

"If you say so..." Terry said and crossed his arms on his chest. "You know Father..." He added all of a sudden, before the Duke left the room, "forgiveness is earned...and not acquired just by the passing of time."

Silence fell for a minute between them. The Duke didn't turn to face Terry. "And you are forgiven you think?" He said with his back to his son.

Terry knew and finally his father had said it after all those years. Since Terry had left, the Duke hadn't made contact whatsoever with him or Eleanor. As far as Terry was concerned, for Richard, his son could have been dead. So much was his pride and anger when Terry defied him. He was certain of it. He laughed.

"Me forgiven?!" Terry asked, feinting surprise. "Your memory is short as it seems sir!" As much as he tried to keep a lid to his feelings, he knew he was failing from the start. He had to end this awkward conversation before it got out of control. "Please when you leave, and you reach your mansion this evening, think carefully when you recall this conversation...who needs to be forgiven by whom."

"I raised you the best I knew how, Terence," His father turned to look at him, evident now that he had been angered more than he could manage to hide from this conversation, "And I'll be damned if I ask you to be forgiven for that."

Terry pressed his lips. As much as he wished this unexpected meeting to have gone a different way, neither he or his father were able to change things. At least not in the space of a short visit after all that time.

"Then Father, there is nothing more we can say to each other for the time being." Terry said.

Richard's stare stayed on Terry's face for a moment longer. It carried the sadness of the realisation that actually father and son agreed on Terry's last point. There wasn't anything more they could say. And that is where he would also leave this conversation.

He wasn't certain what he wanted to achieve with visiting his son after more than ten years apart, in his dressing room, having very little time available. He had said the truth when he said he wanted to congratulate Terry on his performance. And that had been his initial reason for taking the chance to say this, face to face, the two of them in the dressing room. Had he been proud? Indeed he had been. He had no idea Terry was such a fine theatre actor, with such a commanding presence. Knowing Eleanor's same ability to enchant the audience while she was on stage, he would have found it surprising for Terry to lack such talent . It was an overall different experience however, to see this level of acting in front of him than imagining it.

"Just know I was proud out there..." He said, once again having turned his back.

Without waiting for any other response from Terry, the Duke of Grandchester left. There were not many people that had the gift of startling Terry, or making him lose his words. Having heard the departing admission from his father there, it was such a moment. He stood, startled to the core of his soul. A lump reached his throat. Too late. He switched off the lights. Closed the door and headed a minute later to the theatre bar.

The noise from the bar was increasing as he approached. Robert met with him just as he came out from back stage. Before he saw Terry, the Duke of Grandchester passed by him. He stopped only for a brief moment. Congratulated him on such a fine direction for the play. Yes, everything had been top notch.

Won't you stay for an after drink at the bar?

He declined politely and left Hathaway behind. Those aristocrats sometimes seemed to be the busiest people on the planet. Always having to leave, or go somewhere, another engagement... Of course who was he to question such men. It didn't take long for Terry to show up after the Duke passed by. Judging by the look on Terry's face, the thoughts in his mind were filled with intrigue and curiosity. Had something happened between him and the Duke?

For God's sake Terrence, I hope you didn't land us in hot waters with your big mouth...

It wasn't difficult for Robert to understand something was eating Terry inside, the way his stare had darkened when he met with his. He stopped right in front of him.

"Tell me that Richard Grandchester didn't have anything to do with me playing Hamlet today!" Terry said with a strained low voice, without giving the chance to Robert to say anything beforehand. Instead his pupils widened inside his eyes, when he heard Terry's question.

"What?!" Robert asked, his surprise being as big as the jump of his brows.

"Answer me!" Terry said again, the urgency evident in his question.

"What on God's name has brought this up?!" Robert asked again.

"Leave God out of this! I want to know. Is there something I should know and I don't?"

Robert couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You are serious!" He said in the end.

Terry didn't respond. Only his lips had turned into a line and his stare was fixed like a harpoon on Robert's face.

"Can I ask what happened...or am I not allowed?" Robert asked. "I saw the Duke of Grandchester leaving just a few moments ago. He congratulated me on the play...and judging from where he was coming from...he visited you?"

Either Robert was a very good liar or he had no clue...Terry still was undecided. He took a breath. His eyes scanned the space around them. Everyone was in the bar just a few meters away. Glances were travelling their way.

"That man...is my father, Robert..." He said in almost a whisper.

The older man swallowed his words. He had no idea. He knew Terry was the product of an illicit affair Eleanor had with someone in England when she, as a young actress had come to London for a season, had starred at a play at West End. Judging by the fact that Terry had been in one of the best private schools of London and the fact that Eleanor never disclosed the name of Terry's father, even to Robert who was like a brother to her - regardless of him wanting to be something other than that to her but he had accepted her wish - in any case, he had come to the conclusion that Terry's father must had been someone quite rich and high up in the society. He, not in a million years though, had imagined that Terry's father was the Duke of Grandchester.

"I trust you keep this to yourself Robert..." Terry said, looking a little calmer. "Archibald Flower...had he mentioned anything? He was the one who wanted to see me play Hamlet."

"He did..."

"Ha! Well that makes sense now..." Terry said as if talking to himself. "Has he stayed behind?"

"He has..."

"Alright then." Terry commented. His words were lost in thoughts and those thoughts Robert didn't like.

"Please Terry, you know me how I keep away, but I won't let you destroy your career."

"Fuck the career!"

Robert grabbed Terry's arm to the sound of his swearing. His eyes flashed with anger, hearing such inconsiderate words from the young actor. Especially after the triumph of his Hamlet. He had no idea whether his father had been involved into arranging him to play Hamlet that night, but if he did, so what? Hadn't Terry "brought-the-house-down" with the strength of his performance? The fire in his words? What did it matter if he had a helping hand?

"I don't need even a crumb of help from that man..."

"Calm down, Terry!" Robert ordered him. "I'll lock you in the dressing room and I'll send everybody home." He threatened.

"Ask if you must...but only polite! For all you know Archibald Flower, is looking to modernise Shakespeare in his own country. You could be one of the actors who will put those first performances, where everyone will build from. You don't throw this opportunity, Terence! I won't let you by God, I won't!" Robert's face looked flushed with anger.

This man had been more than a father than his real father would ever wish to be. His breath fluttered inside his throat. He nodded to Robert. Pushed his hair back, paced up and down. Stopped and looked to his boss. "Will do it your way..." He whispered. "But I'll have to know."

"Ask your father, Terry..."

"You don't want to expose yourself to Flower and bring him in your personal issue."

Terry looked down as he was listening to Robert. Having his hands shoved deep inside his pockets. Yes, he made sense. He brought his head back up. A weak smile was drawn on his lips.

"OK, I'll do that."

"That's my boy!" Robert said, leaving a sigh of relief. "Shall we go in now? You left them waiting long enough."

Terry's smile widened.

Robert came in the bar and prompted Terry to come. There was a wave of clapping from the people who had stayed behind to congratulate him in person. Terry felt his face warming up. No matter how many times, this would happen, every time he remembered the first time. How the blood rushed to his cheeks. How the light had been trapped inside his eyes. How he chewed and wet his lips that felt dry with the nervousness. He never was good with crowds. Put the "Adoring" in front, and under normal circumstances, he would run for the hills. But the hurt child inside him, jumped with joy for the affection he was receiving. For he had found the one thing he had been good at his life. And all that he owed to her...

Inside the bar, there was a lot of people waiting to meet Terry. Shakespeare enthusiasts, high society folk, theatre fans, young women eager to get introduced to him, a fair number of them indeed there were. How did such a man manage to get under their radar? The fact that he was an expat living in New York added to his allure. Where did he come from? Who was he before he left the UK? The eagerness of the crowd to learn more about Terrence Graham was evident in the conversations that took place inside the place. The rest of the troupe was already there. Everyone had been congratulated. Fay Compton was spectacular on stage - a beautiful young woman off stage too. Barrymore had joined them.

The official report was that John Barrymore, due to a sudden episode of ill health, was not able to be on stage. Thus, his understudy, Terrence Graham took on Hamlet. However, just by looking at him, both Candy and Christian were not so certain whether that was the case. He looked pretty fine to them. They had stayed behind too. Neither Christian or Candy had a particular wish to see Terry - not after what had happened, unbeknown to each other - but both incidences had cast heavy clouds over them. The matter was that neither of them knew of what had transpired between Terry and the other person. So Christian was completely unaware of what had happened between Terry and his girlfriend and Candy too, was in the dark, knowing absolutely nothing of what took place on Sunday night in the gentleman's club. Hamlet had gone off stage, but the theatre was truly in full force between them three.

The etiquette dictated that they should stay behind, to thank him for the tickets. Congratulate him on his amazing performance. That much was true, in any case. Both had been astounded. Hamlet's words cut in deep, for different reasons, for both Christian and Candy. As they were spoken by Terry himself, he made them ring even truer in their ears. There was noise outside the bar and they realised that Terry must had been on his way. He had taken his time to appear as it was the usual in such occasions. Candy wondered where the Duke was. He actually hadn't stayed.

"I cannot see the Duke of Grandchester..." She heard Christian confirming what her eyes had told her too.

"Perhaps he had other engagement to go to..." She said but sounded absent minded.

Since his bust up with Terry on the early hours of Monday, a dark cloud had descended on their life. It was as if it had infected everything. Rose felt distant to him, preoccupied, like something was troubling her. Not to mention all the mess with Alice. His arrangement with Richard Grandchester was the only good thing going at the moment for him. He wished this bit of good fortune to spread over everything else. He felt the eagerness, to leave for a while with Rose, to grow. A whole week of waiting...made him increasingly impatient.

"What did you think of him?" He asked her all of sudden. She turned and looked at him.

"Who, darling?"

"The Duke of Grandchester..."

"Oh...him...quite the character don't you think? He has a demanding presence, I found."

He didn't comment. He had turned his eyes back at the door where all the noise was coming from.

"He reminded me a bit of you..." She added with a faint smile.

He turned this time, looking surprised.

"When I came to that pub, the night we met...the place was full but it was you, who had caught my attention...you look alike, if you haven't noticed."

He smiled a wicked smile. "And here was me, going to tease you about how interested he was in you..."

She burst into a nervous laugh. "To little silly me?" She dismissed him. "You have an overactive imagination, Christian." He caught her waist and brought her close to him, joining in laughing with her.

"Do I, now?" He whispered to her. "I imagine a lot of things we could have been doing right this moment..." His eyes dived into hers. "Do we have to wait for Terry to show up?"

She didn't have the time to reply as Robert came in the bar, turned his face and Terry showed up, just a few steps back, following his boss. The room erupted in cheering and applauding. She saw the lost look of desire in a lot of women's eyes. Her memory took her back on that night in Chicago when in a crowd of women chasing him, she fought to be heard, fought to be seen by him. She was trampled, lost her shoe instead. What a struggle had it been to compete with every single woman to get his attention. That's when she had seen Susanna for the first time. How well they had looked together. A life she tried to forgot, he had managed to bring back to the present, with all the feeling flooding her being.

"Marion is missing out..." She heard Christian commending. "Soon he'll have a beeline of women eager for his attention." He added and turned his face to her. His eyes stayed on her for a while longer than just a glance. She turned to him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked him. "I'm not a fan of beelines, love." She said. "Anyhow, I don't get this jealousy sometimes..." She sounded a bit annoyed in her last words.

"Hold on your knickers darling." He commented, straightening his body while his brows came close together. "I was only teasing."

"Well don't!" She raised her voice, her green eyes turning more serious. "Let's find a moment to congratulate him, and get out of here."

He didn't say anything else. Inside he had been undecided. Should he reveal to her, he knew that Terry had been this love in her life that had hurt her so much, she couldn't love another man? He wanted to do that. But then, he would have to explain how and why he had dug to reach the truth that burned him so much. There was a lot to gain, on the other hand, if he had kept silent. Terry would leave in a few weeks and they could get back with their lives. Their own common life.

Terry had managed to spot both Christian and Candy at the back of the bar but he was swept by people wanting to speak to him. He was surrounded by a whirlwind of handshakes, wide smiles, excited admissions of how they had loved his performance. No matter how many years he had been an actor or had found himself in the exact same position, every time he had the honour to play a leading role in a play - every time he marvelled by the power a good performance had. How it propelled the admiration and the need from people to express what it meant to them, to witness such a great performance. How it had spoken to their hearts, and what feelings it had stirred inside them. He took a deep breath. Let himself be carried away like a wee branch from a tree, having fallen inside a stream of spring water. Carried down a slope, unable to stop. There was no use of trying to steer to any direction or go where he wanted to go.

John Barrymore's shake was firm and strong, enthusiastic to say the least. "I am so glad, I actually had to step down from the role if only momentarily and have the opportunity to watch you my dear Terrence."

His words meant so much to Terry. He smiled a genuine smile of content. A very proud moment for him, none the less. To have the seal of approval from such an acting legend. "I may be inclined to shy away and try to excuse your words as being exaggerated but I won't! I will humbly say thank you John! It does mean a lot of me to hear you saying that. It has been an honour truly to have been able to watch you and to study your performances all those evenings. I am learning from the best." He said while he had kept his hand still wrapped with his.

A lot of other people talked to him. Women were introduced to him. He saw the thrill inside their stares, the "maybe" inside their smiles.

Sir Flower approached. His face beamed when he met with Terry's stare, unknown to him how much Terry fought inside him, not to just tell him to fuck off from his career. He had come together with his father to watch him. The question whether it was his father's work behind the scenes, to put him to play Hamlet for a night, burned him. The how's he hadn't worked out yet, but it wasn't something that would surprise him, if it was true. Of course, the Duke of Grandchester orchestrated all that, just to watch him and be justified that he was a lesser actor. Wouldn't he be happy to tell him to his face, that his acting sucked? But Terry had proved him wrong. He was a good actor and Hamlet proved that he could stand proudly among the best.

Richard must had swallowed his tongue...

The happiness he got from thoughts like the one that had in his mind at that moment, was so intense, it made the hair on his arms stand up. The man extended his hand to take Terry's for a handshake. The decision was taken. He'd lay Archibald Flower off the hook. Instead he'd go straight to the source. The next day even. And he'd make damn certain to find out the truth from his father.

"My sincere congratulation Terrence!" Sir Flower said enthusiastically. "Such a Hamlet...oh my dear Lord!" He tried to put his thoughts in a line. Robert Hathaway's instinct to keep you to his troupe was spot on my dear young man."

"Thank you Sir Flower." Terry said while he smiled amused hearing the last comment from the older gentleman. "I'm in great debt to Mr. Hathaway, there is no doubt about it, but he has a great troupe and he's a theatre director par excellence himself. I wouldn't let myself in his hands so freely if that wasn't the case."

Sir Flower chuckled. "And quite loyal to him too, I see."

"He believed in me in the earlier - more turbulent shall I put it - years of my career."

"Which may I dare say, helped a little on portraying Hamlet with such mastery?" He asked Terry.

"I won't hide that I find Hamlet quite close to my heart Sir Flower. I am a deep admirer of Shakespeare's plays from a young age. From college in fact." He added and waited to see the man's response.

"Oh?! A richly educated youth! Which college that was may I ask?" He said, sounding curious.

"I studied in St. Paul's College here in London, Sir Flower." He pulled his eyes briefly, scanned the room once again. Christian and Candy were chatting between themselves. He was quite surprised, they were still there. He felt a squeeze in his stomach when her eyes turned to him. She smiled towards him. Though it was a restrained smile.

"I see! It's one of the best colleges in the country." Sir Flower commended. "Well, I would be very interested to meet with you again Terrence. I think we have a lot in common - including St. Paul's if you must know - and we could find more things to agree on since you are also a devotee of the Great Bard."

"If you are in London on Saturday, we could share lunch." Terry replied. "I am staying in Claridge's, Sir Flower."

"OK, let's do that then!" The man said with enthusiasm. "I'll pass by Claridge's on Saturday noon. Perhaps I can steal you for a few hours to travel to Stratford."

"If Robert is fine with it, I'm all yours." Terry said.

That gave him a day to clarify with his father, what the hell had been going on and if indeed there were strings pulled because of him, Sir Flower certainly wouldn't be the recipient of such gentleman's behaviour next time they saw each other. But for the time being, Terry decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

With the corner of his eye, he noticed Christian and Candy approaching. They had worn their best smiles, but he knew...It was one of these rare moments, when real life risked to surpass a theatre's play for he too, excused himself to Sir Flower and turned their way. He grinned when their eyes met and he locked whatever had happened between them behind that smile. He couldn't but at least appreciate the fact that they had stayed. Even if, as he had figured out, each stayed for the sake of the other. He doubted they had shared what had transpired between them and him.

"Great performance, mate!" Christian said and took his hand to a handshake. A little firmer than the etiquette was dictating, but he played along and he tightened his grip on Christian's hand too. He'd be damned if he let Christian think he left that night, intimidated by Christian's behaviour.

"Thank you Christian..." He replied. His eyes fell on Candy. They turned softer. He wished he could apologise.

"You were magnificent, Terry!" She added her comment to Christian's. He smiled.

"I am really sorry...Rose for before." He said without thinking much. He hoped she would get what he meant...

"Oh?!" She asked pretending to be surprised when he read worry in her eyes.

"For not managing to let you know about me playing Hamlet!" He came up with the excuse.

"Oh, oh! But you were inspiring, Terry! We didn't mind...we forgive you..." She said, her eyes gleaming as she looked to Christian. "Don't we, Christian?"

"I have to say, it was a surprise when you came up the stage...Rose had almost a heart attack." He commented and looked at her.

"Oh! Shoosh! I didn't!" She exclaimed and pushed Christian's arm. "Don't listen to him, Terry!"

They all burst into laughing. "In any case, thank you for the tickets and congratulations again! We loved your Hamlet!" She said when the laughter died down. He stared deep into her eyes. He reminded himself how they looked at him when he kissed her. Trying to control himself next to her, had turned tiring.

"Well, we will be going...you have a line of fans to meet and greet, as it seems now." Christian commented, looking at the glances they were getting. People started thinking they were monopolising him. Robert was closing by.

"The perks of the profession..." Terry joked.

"I bet!" Christian said, "We won't tell Marion." He added. "She won't be impressed when she finds out in tomorrow's papers."

"I'll cross that bridge when it comes." Terry said and chuckled.

"We will see you at the party...on Saturday?" She asked him before they were ready to leave him.

"Oh! I don't know Rose..." Terry said. "Sounds like a wild party...Angels and Demons...it's not really my cup of tea." How could he tell her that he had reached his limits seeing her with someone else. Especially when he already had come to blows with that man over her. Archie had asked him to protect her but what happened when she didn't want protecting? And what would happen when the time came and he would have to go away. He was fast approaching a dead end with her.

"Mate, you must come!" He heard Christian and his voice pulled his stare away from her. He looked at his adversary. "Rose and I will be leaving for the isle of Barra next Wednesday for holidays. My exhibition wraps up on Friday. So I've booked us two weeks away." He continued. "By the time we'll be back in London, you'll be gone..."

Terry could feel the undertones of happiness in Christian's voice. The unwelcome surprise Christian kept for last, got under his skin, sapped the smile away from his face. He looked back to her. "Is that so?" He asked, sounding tense.

She wished she could disappear. Instead she was there. Anger rose inside her for Christian, who she could now swear that he was jealous. She had asked him, jokingly many times and he had denied it. But this...wasn't just information someone casually departs with. He intended to let Terry know that Christian and she were leaving for the rest of the time Terry was there. She bit her lip. Her green inside her eyes rippled under the lights that had been turned on. How could she admit, that come Saturday would be the last time she would see him. It was true that when he brought her to the end of her tether with his kisses and a question that had remained unanswered, she wished him to go back to his life and leave her alone in peace. But when Christian put it out as starkly as possible...She had preferred it would be her to break this to him, in a gentler way perhaps...

"I hadn't time to tell you Terry, but yes." She admitted Christian's words. "He arranged for everything on Monday." She added and turned to see him.

"So, it'll be the last time to party together, mate!"

Terry remained silent.

"You'll be busy after that...and we'll be busy preparing for the trip."

Terry buried his hands inside his pockets.

"It has been tremendous to have known you...pal." He continued, burying the knife deeper as far he was concerned. If he had travelled across an ocean to get back Rose back when it suited him, he needed to be taught a lesson.

Robert's arm fell on Terry's shoulder. Candy felt grateful as much as grateful she could be at that moment. Took a deep breath, breaking the silence that had fallen. "I hope you'll be there Terry..." Her voice was close to whisper.

"We'll let you continue with the celebrations." Christian said. "Mr. Hathaway, accept our congratulations!"

Robert smiled, though his eyes were serious as he looked at Terry. "Thank you both!" He said.

"We better get going." She said.

"See you Saturday..." Christian said.

They left leaving Terry still standing on the spot, looking at the couple while they exited the bar. Just as he lost them, he turned to Robert. Turbulent stare like the rough waters of the ocean. Robert squeezed his arm. "Don't let this get to you..." He said and smiled as he led him to meet the next group of eager fans waiting to talk to the big star of the night.

Christian stopped his bike in front of Rose's house. She stepped down. She said goodnight and gave him a peck on the cheek, and turned with the intention to leave him behind. He grabbed her wrist though before she managed to get away from him.

"Hey..." He said. She turned with her eyes looking down. She didn't want him to see the anger inside them. "What's happening with you?" He added and lifted her chin up. "Can you tell me?"

"No, I won't. Not here, Christian." She said. Indeed she looked and sounded angry.

"What am I accused though, can I know that at least?"

"Do you think it is wise to make a scene here?" She asked him, the temperature rising inside her voice.

He came down the bike and stood in front of her. "Alright. If not here, can we go inside and let me know what bit you all of a sudden?"

She didn't reply. He had loosened his grip and she turned as she had planned and walked towards her door. Unlocked and went in. He followed. Closed the door behind him. They didn't walk too far inside. They remained in the corridor. The dusk filtered through the glass panes on top of her front door.

"I'm here." He said, prompting her.

"You are jealous, Christian!" She said with a raised voice.

He widened his eyes in the semi darkness. "What preposterous accusation!" He dismissed her.

"Oh really?!" She said. "Don't you think your lies offend me?"

He didn't say anything and she turned her back. Started walking further inside her house. He grabbed her shoulder, before she entered the living room.

"Wait...wait...here!"

She turned. The weak orange sunlight fell inside her green eyes. They looked as if they were on fire.

"My lies offend you?!" He repeated her words.

"And what your crush with Graham does for me, Rose?"

It was her turn for her stare to widen with surprise. Suppressed feelings kept coming out. "What?!" She yelled. "MY - CRUSH - with - GRAHAM?" She repeated his words. "Honestly Christian, sometimes I don't know what goes on in your mind."

"Right?!" He continued.

"Oh, you were magnificent Terry..."

"Thank you for inviting us Terry..."

"Unfortunately we will leave Terry..."

He followed her as she was walking inside the living room, mocking her. "Batting your eyelashes...you're eating him alive."

"OH! That is rich!" She yelled. "When have you seen all that, Christian?!" She continued. "Because as far as I'm concerned, you're always somewhere I don't know where..."

He stopped on his tracks.

"So now, you lost your tongue?" She accused him, seeing how her words quietened him down.

"Don't you turn this on me."

"Really?" She asked him. "And it is fair to turn the tables to me, and accuse me so blatantly that I'm what...? Chasing Terry?"

"I have been nothing than as honest as I can be Rose." He said back, looking tense.

"Well I'm sorry Christian, I cannot feel this right now." She said. "You are jealous and it shows. You practically danced with joy when you told Terry, he won't be here when we come back. I've asked you time and again about this."

"And what do you care?" He asked her all of a sudden.

She didn't respond right away. Instead she grumbled and went to the kitchen. She had every right to be angry with Christian but how could she keep her affection for Terry hidden from this argument that kept escalating?

"I don't!" She said. "What I do care is to have a man by my side, not some scorned housewife." She finally said, hoping that this would keep him out from asking too many questions. She saw the kettle. Picked it up and poured it some water from the kitchen tap.

"Me a scorned housewife?" He started laughing out loud. "Seriously Rose...I don't know where you pick up your metaphors." He crossed his arms on his chest. If he only told her what he knew...

"I have the right to be as bad a scorned housewife as can be, when I see you biting your lips in front of Graham like a cat on heat."

She stood in front of him, her stare blazing. This last comment of his made her raise her hand on the air. But before it landed on his cheek, he grabbed it mid-air. His stare stabbed her face.

"Truth, hurts...doesn't it...Rose..."

She put her hand down.

"Get out, Christian..." She said slowly.

He stood for a moment there, looking at her. Dark had fallen inside her house. She could just make out the anger flashing inside his eyes. It was better if he had gone away for the night, let both of them to cool down. Without saying anything else, he left her standing inside her kitchen. She heard her front door closing. The kettle whistled on the stove. She brushed the tears that flowed hot down her cheeks and switched on the lights.