Page 50 of Just for December

‘Lunch at craft service is on me, then,’ Evie says, and he rolls his eyes.

‘May I continue?’

‘I insist. Sorry. I’m still trying to figure out what emotional wavelength we’re tuned in to today.’

‘You and me both. Christ,’ Duke says, and then: ‘The thing, I’m sat there, a grown man and his mother, and I’m listening to her saying all the things I’ve ever wanted her to say. All of them! And then I think, half my life is already over, and she only just shows up to it now? She’s my mother, for God’s sake. She shouldn’t be showing up at the bloody half-time show – she doesn’t get to have been so bloody absent and then change her ways right when it suits her. Which isn’t kind, or forgiving, but it’s like the thirty-seven-year-old inme can feel one way, and then there’s a five-year-old boy who watched telly on his own on his birthday, and a fifteen-year-old who had to put her to bed after she’d wet herself on the sofa – the list goes on, and on – and for them, I want to flip a table and scream and scream and scream. How dare she, you know? Howdareshe?’

He delivers this as one big long speech, like it’s all been in his head, building and building, and Evie’s asking means he’s finally got somewhere to put it.

‘I know,’ Evie says, shaking her head. ‘No kid should have to do those things, Duke. You know that, don’t you?’

He doesn’t say anything.

‘And you know it isn’t your fault, right? She’s got a disease, Duke. It’s no more your fault she’s an alcoholic than it would be if she got cancer.’

He shakes his head. ‘I just don’t believe that, you see,’ he says. ‘Because when I think about having a family, when I imagine my own children, whenever that might be, I do not believe that for one second I would letanythingcome in the way of that. She chose a bottle over me so many times, and I don’t care if she’ssick—’ he sayssicklike it’s in inverted commas ‘—she never even tried. And this morning we talked, and we hugged, and then I walked away and felt like I wanted to …’

Evie holds her breath. What did he want to do? ‘Go on,’ she tells him.

He takes a breath. ‘I hate how somebody else can make me feel this bad,’ he says. ‘I want to forgive because I don’t want to hate her – I don’t want to hate my own mother. That’s poison. But I can’t forget what she put me through,and so … I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want her in my life.’

Evie nods. ‘I get it,’ she says. ‘And whatever you think is the right thing to do for you is absolutely the right thing.’

‘Yeah?’ he says, looking at her hopefully.

‘Of course,’ Evie says. ‘But I do think you should tell her all this. Not even for her – for you. Not to play the Alzheimer’s card but at least your mom is cognisant. And I’m really not trying to play the misery Olympics here …’ Evie notes Duke’s puzzled face, like he doesn’t know what she means. ‘Misery Olympics? Like I’m not competing for the “I-Have-It-Worse” trophy, I’m just using my life to maybe give a different perspective on yours, and you can take it or leave it, but …’

‘But at least my mum can process what I’m saying,’ Duke offers, and Evie nods.

‘Having an alcoholic mother is an unfair and unjust hand to have been dealt,’ Evie tells him. ‘And it’s up to you how you play it. For what it’s worth, all I’m saying is: tell it to her straight. Don’t disappear on her, or just stop answering her calls. She needs to hear what you just told me – it won’t be anything she’s not already heard from you in her mind before. It will probably be a relief to hear you say it, because then it’s out there: you’re mad at her and don’t know if you will ever not be. And once you’ve done that, once you’ve given her the full truth of how you feel FOR YOU, so you can release it, then you’ll be better able to decide on what to do next. A relationship, just a Christmas card every year, family counselling. It starts with being honest with yourself – which, my compliments, you’re doing beautifully – and then telling the person you need to. So. There. That’smymonologue for the day.’

She feels embarrassed now, like she’s hijacked the conversation and said too much and interfered. The feeling intensifies the longer Duke stares at the floor, blinking, moving his head from side to side just enough to demonstrate that he’s not totally frozen up but not enough to mean anything. Yes? No? Maybe?

‘Duke?’ Evie says, eventually, because she can’t take it any longer. For all she knows, he’s fallen asleep with his eyes open.

‘It’s just …’ Duke says, his eyes scanning the floor like he’s reading an autocue at his feet. ‘This is exactly what I meant about the wisdom in your books. You’re a prophet, Evie. And I cannot believe I get to know you in real life.’

And then he looks at her, and she knows what’s going to happen before it does. She parts her lips and takes a gulp of air, the tip of her tongue slowly running along her lips. He gives her a half-smile, but he is serious. Earnest. Beautiful. He takes a step towards her.

‘Evie,’ he says, and then his hands are in her hair and their mouths are clashing together and they are kissing, and kissing, and kissing.

26

Duke

Duke feels better for talking with Evie. Okay. It might have been the kissing that has made him feel better. Both? It felt good to say those things about his mum, to release the hold it has on him. And it was like in doing so, he was suddenly able to see something that’s been in front of him: her. Stubborn, mouthy, irritating, funny, kind, wise Evie Bird.

Against the odds he’s in the zone today, and there’s that magic again, thatsensation, the thing that lights up his whole body, when the cameras are rolling. Which makes it all the more surprising when Brad yells cut and proceeds to have the most epic tantrum Duke has experienced in his entire working life.

‘What the HELL is THIS, you BUNCH OF FECKLESS AMATEURS! No. No!’ Brad walks with such purpose towards where Duke and Daphne are standing that Duke can’t tellwhere he intends to stop. Brad marches right past them, turns on his heels, and then roars. Not roars as in shouts loudly, roars as in like a child would do when playing scary dinosaurs. He roars like it’s the only way to exorcise the feelings out his body, and he does it for so long and at such volume that the whole set drops absolutely silent, everyone completely still, in shock at what is happening. They are witnessing the meltdown of a grown fifty-something man in real time, the man in charge of this movie, essentially, and nobody knows what to do about it.

Brad roars, and roars and roars, and then, in a total switch, very quietly says to the ground: ‘I am going to my trailer. I am not to be bothered.’

‘What. The. Hell?’ Daphne whispers, when Brad is fully out of sight. The colour has drained from her face, and Duke wonders if she’s seen him behave like that before. After what he saw in the gym, and the fact that they very much don’t seem to be together anymore, Duke is suddenly sure that what he witnessed wasn’t a one-off.

‘Hey,’ he says, stepping towards her. ‘You all right?’

‘Yeah,’ she says, quietly, like she’s trying to convince herself first and foremost. ‘Yeah, are you?’

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