Page 101 of Best Supporting Actor

“That’s right. I’m her husband.”

Tag could hardly breathe. “Then… is Jay at your house? Is he still in York?”

After a moment’s pause, Phil said, “I take it you thought he’d gone back to Chalfont St. Giles.”

“He told me he was going home.”

“And so he did, in a way.” Phil sounded pleased by the idea. “He turned up at about eleven last night, quite upset. We talked, drank whisky, and I put him to bed.”

Tag let out a huge breath of relief. “Oh thank God. I was afraid he’d been on his own all night.”

“Were you?” There was a smile in Phil’s voice when he added, “It sounds like you’re rather fond of him.”

Stupidly, Tag felt himself flush. “I am, yeah. Very fond of him, actually.”

“Well, in that case,” Phil said, the smile warming his voice, “I think you know where we live, don’t you?”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

Jay

Despite everything, Jay slept the whole night through, from the moment his head hit the pillow until the next morning. Perhaps it was because the looming stress of opening night had been lifted, or perhaps it was that the bed in Phil and Mandy’s guest room was amazingly comfortable—or perhaps it was just that he was so damned exhausted by then he couldn’t have stayed awake another moment. Whatever the reason, he slept long and deeply and woke feeling refreshed for the first time in days.

Automatically, he pawed at the bedside table, searching for his phone to check the time, only to remember—when he encountered nothing but smooth, bare wood—that Phil had taken it away with him last night. And why he had done so.

Sighing, Jay sat up, rubbing at his face with both hands. Today was not going to be easy. There was music to be faced, starting with his mother. He wondered if she knew yet—if she and Mandy had spoken with Phil last night when they got home, or perhaps this morning over breakfast. Of course, by now she might have already had a call from Henry or Freddie begging her to stage an intervention.

And he thought he knew whose side she’d be on in that fight…

With a groan, he levered himself out of bed and headed for the en suite bathroom where he took a quick shower and brushed his teeth. Then, pulling on clean jeans and t-shirt, he headed downstairs to the kitchen, where he found his mother.

She was sitting alone in her pyjamas at the big, wooden table, nursing a mug of coffee between her hands. As soon as she glanced up at him, he knew she knew. Her expression was tragic, and he had to stifle the urge to sigh.

“I presume you’ve heard my news?” he said lightly, making a beeline for the extra-large pot of coffee which Phil made first thing every morning. Pouring himself a large mug, he stuck a bagel in the toaster, more to occupy himself than because he was hungry.

“I have,” she said heavily. “Mandy told me this morning.” After a pause, she added, “I feel awful that I was out when you got here last night. You must have been frantic when you learned I wasn’t in.”

Somehow, Jay managed not to roll his eyes. “Actually, I came here last night because I needed a bed for the night, not because I was desperate for maternal advice.”

“Julius,” she remonstrated gently, but he didn’t reply, staring steadily at the toaster which finally, obligingly popped.

She managed to stay quiet as he buttered the hot bagel, then brought it to the table, but as soon as he sat down, she blurted, “I wassoupset when I heard what had happened. It’s awful. I can’t—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted. “You don’t need to say it, all right?”

“Saywhat?” she retorted, a note of offence in her voice. “You’re not even giving me a chance to speak! What is it youthinkI’m going to say, Julius?”

He shook his head wearily. “That I’ve let everyone down. Bea, Henry, Tag,myself.” He paused, then added flatly, “You.”

“Me!Why would you say that?”

“Oh, come on, Mother,” he scoffed. “I know how mortifying this’ll be for you. Me failing at thisagain. Letting down the family name—”

“You haven’t let anyone down!” she cried. “And certainly not me. Never think that.”

“Never think that?” he echoed in disbelief. “Of course I think that. You never stop going on about how live theatre is the be-all and end-all. How any actor worth their salt should honing their craft on stage. What else would I think?”

“Well, yes,” she spluttered, “but I realise you’re a successful, busy television actor and—”