Page 108 of Best Supporting Actor
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Jay
“I never got the chance,” Jay said. “You died too soon.”
The audience’s silence was a kind of presence, a watchful, breath-stoppered hush that filled the darkness of the theatre. From what sounded like a long way away, a single flute began playingHanging on the Old Barbed Wire.
Owen—Tag—lifted his head, and his gaze was bleak. “Millions did. I’m nothing special, just another dead soldier.”
“Not to me.” Jay stepped forward, taking Tag’s hand. Lifting it, he held it between both of his own and gazed into Tag’s eyes. “Never to me. I grieved you. I wanted you back.”
“Why? You already had my poetry.”
Jay shook his head. “Damnthe poetry! I wantedyouback—not your poems.”
Tag stared at him with naked emotion in his eyes, and for an instant, Jay felt like they were entirely alone in the theatre, just him and Tag, on this curious, frightening,wonderfuladventure they’d embarked upon. They'd rehearsed this scene dozens of times and it was always intense, but this, tonight, was something else. Jay was brimming with love for the man standing in front of him. He’d already realised he loved Tag, but in that moment, heknewit. Knew it without fear. With the brakes off. And as he absorbed that knowledge, he’d never felt stronger or braver—or freer—in all his life.
The single, distant flute was joined by more flutes, then a drum, the music rising, growing more urgent. Tag shot a devastated look over his shoulder. “I have to go back,” he said, his voice breaking on the words.
“Then I’m coming with you,” Jay said, resolute.
Tag turned back to him, his expression all painful hope. “You can’t.”
“Of course I can. I’ll take death with you, Owen, over a life forgotten and alone.”
Tag closed his eyes, as though in prayer. When he opened them again, they were shining with tears. He held out his hand. “All right then, Sassoon.Since you and I are one, Let us go back. Let us undo what's done.”
The music rose further, as though growing closer. Jay set his hand in Tag’s—and the lights went down.
When the music ended, a brief silence hovered. Then the audience broke out in wild, thunderous applause.
In the darkness, Tag pulled Jay roughly into his arms. “Fuckinghell, Jay. You were amazing! I’m so fucking proud of you!” And Jay started laughing, partly in abject relief that he’ddone it, and partly because Tag’s was such an absurdly generous reaction. This should be far more his triumph than Jay’s—his first leading stage role, his big break—but Jay couldn’t seem to get a single word out. And then he realised that the lights had come back on and he was standing there in Tag’s arms, his face wet with tears. They both laughed and turned to the audience, and it was like being drenched in love.
The next few minutes were a blur of bows and applause. At one point, Tag dashed off-stage and returned dragging Henry and Bea, who was also in tears, after him. Eventually, though, the noise died down and Henry shepherded them all firmly back into the wings. After that, the audience began to slowly dissipate, leaving only a few friends and family hanging around for the backstage party that Freddie had organised.
Jay felt like he was walking on air, too giddy even to formulate coherent thoughts. He realised he’d lost sight of Tag but relaxed when he turned to look for him and saw him being hugged to death by a beaming Freddie. No sooner had she released Tag than she fell on Jay, treating him to a similarly fierce embrace and incoherent words of congratulation.
They were all caught up in the same feverish joy—the joy of a performance gone well, and for Jay something even more than that: the slaying of his own personal dragon.
“Right, let’s celebrate!” Freddie cried when she let him go. “We’ve set everything up in the Green Room—I sent Rafe to get the champagne open so you lot can go through. I’ll go and round up the others and bring them along.”
“Thank God, I bloody need a drink!” Henry cried, clapping his hands together. He led the way, Bea following eagerly in his wake.
Jay turned to look at Tag, blinking, still feeling a little out of it, his cheeks achy from smiling. Tag’s expression was affectionate, and Jay’s heart squeezed at the sight.
“Shall we go?” Tag said and held out his hand. After a moment, Jay took it, and let Tag lead him towards the party, grateful for the warmth of Tag’s strong fingers tangled with his own, grounding him.
Perhaps he shouldn’t be allowing this—letting Tag look after him again, when Tag should be celebrating his own success—but he was still caught up in that astonishing feeling,knowledgereally, that he’d experienced on stage. Of fully loving Tag and being loved in return. And anyway, Tag looked pretty happy with his lot, and it felt good to hold his hand as he led Jay down the corridor to the party.
The Green Room had been cleared up, and there were trestle tables set up against the wall for the drinks—a ridiculous number of champagne bottles, courtesy of Mandy—and nibbles. Rafe was already busy pouring glasses of champagne, but when he saw them, he gave a blinding smile and bounded over.
“Oh myGod, that wasincredible!” he babbled, hugging them in turn. “I was seriously blown away.” Tag looked as surprised as Jay felt at his enthusiasm, but they didn’t have time to compare notes because now Dame Cordelia was sweeping into the room with Mandy and Phil following like a pair of bridesmaids in her wake.
“Darling!” she called out as she trotted towards him, her arms held out wide. “That was wonderful—simplywonderful! I was crying like a baby during the final scene. I hope I didn’t put you off with my sobbing!”
She hugged him hard, and he hugged her back, whispering, “Thank you, for today.” She’d spent hours with him after Tag left to meet his parents, talking him through preparatory exercises and breathing techniques. Stuff he’d stubbornly refused to let her show him when he was younger. And it had helped. It really had.
After that there were more hugs with Mandy and Phil, then Bea’s parents, Timon and Rosie. And then Tag was shepherding two unfamiliar faces towards him.