Page 42 of Best Supporting Actor

Jay opened his eyes, met Tag’s, and they were off.

“Ah, now we come to it,” Tag said in that lilting voice he’d chosen for Owen. “Were you jealous of my death, Sassoon?” He made a rueful sound. “You needn’t be, you know. It wasn’t much of a lark.”

“I never envied yourmortality.” He allowed his gaze to linger on Tag, feeling truth well into his voice. “It was yourimmortalityI coveted.” Tag laughed, meeting Jay’s eyes, and it was thrilling to feel the connection being forged through their performance.

His heart sped up as Tag said harshly, “So you begrudge me the only thing I ever had that you didn’t.”

“What didIhave that you didn’t?”

Tag’s brows rose as he lifted the ‘wine’ to top up their glasses. “Wealth, connections, education…”

“But you had everything that mattered. For God’s sake, Owen,youhad the greater talent. You had potential.”

Tag pushed to his feet, knocking his chair over. “Have you forgotten that I died a boy?”

“You died apoet.”

“Butyoulived!”

They were staring at each other across the table. Tag’s gaze was blazing, and Jay let the moment stretch, and stretch some more before he turned away and said, “Of late, I’ve begun to wonder whether that was quite appropriate.”

Into the charged silence that followed, Bea gave a heavy sigh. “The thing is, Tag,” she said, “I still think you have Owen being too aggressive here. This isn’t meant to be an argument. It’s a discussion. A revelation of Sassoon’s truth.”

Jay clenched his jaw, let his eyes close briefly. His heart was still racing from the intensity of their exchange, and he knew Tag would be feeling the same. More so, probably, since he was struggling with this scene—struggling to play it as Bea wanted.

“We’re still very much in the exploration stage, Bea,” Henry chided. “Let’s not shut anyone down. Every interpretation is valid. Tag,” he went on before Bea could say more, “I’m interested in this feisty Owen. Where’s that coming from for you?”

Tag, picking up the fallen chair, said, “I suppose… I mean, Sassoon had all this privilege, right? He lived his whole life as a poet, which Owen would have loved, butSassoon’sthe one who’s jealous. Owen died in a ditch, for God’s sake. He was twenty-five—that’s my age. Why wouldn’t he push back when Sassoon starts whining about how hard he’s had it?”

Jay laughed a little at that, drawing Tag’s attention. “In defence of Sassoon,” he said, “it’s Owen’s fame he envies. His immortality.”

Tag was scowling. “I get that, but in the end fame isallOwen had. And it wouldn’t be much comfort for a bloke who never got to live his life. Christ, he was twenty-one when he went to war—his whole adult life was war, and then he died. Boom. I just—” He glanced at Bea, moderating his tone. “I feel like he’d push back on Sassoon’s pity-party.”

“Let me ask you both this,” Henry said, rising and walking towards them. “If, as a young man, Sassoon could have chosen between the immortality Owen achieved—every schoolchild in England is taughtDulce Et Decorum Est—or the long, but ultimately disappointing, life he led, which do you think he’d have gone for?”

“Life,” Tag said immediately, then frowned.

Jay said, “Immortality. Sassoon believed he was born for greatness—his mother had convinced him he was destined to be a famous poet. Anything less would have been a disappointment, and men like Sassoon can’t bear to be a disappointment.”

“Interesting,” Henry said.

“But that’s how Sassoon felt at theendof his life,” Tag countered. “I don’t believe he’d have chosen death when he was young. He and Owen are talking to each other across a lifetime—Owen’s saying what Sassoon’s younger self would have said. That’s why I think he’d challenge him. Push back.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Henry said, “And I think there’s a good place to leave it for today. Thank you both, we’re really getting somewhere. Now—” Smiling, he turned to address the whole room. “Freddie prodded me on this at lunchtime, and I realised, to my horror, that we’re halfway through week three of rehearsals and haven’t had a company night out yet. So I suggest we repair to the nearest hostelry and get ourselves some dinner. What do you say?”

“Fabulous idea!” Rafe gushed. “There’s an amazingLebanese Tapas bar on High Petergate? We canprobablyget in without a reservation, since it’s early.”

Bea nodded, clearly torn between lingering irritation at Henry’s rebuke and desperation to agree with Rafe. Her crush on him was becoming even more obvious than Jay’s crush on Tag. At least he bloody well hoped it was.

“I was going to suggest going out too, actually,” she said, smiling at them all and then beaming at Rafe. “Lebanesedoessound amazing, but do they have many vegan options?”

That led to further discussions and both of them pulling out their phones.

Meanwhile, Freddie got to her feet and started closing her huge folder. “Personally, I’d prefer a pub,” she said. “I could murder some gammon and chips right now. How about you, Tag?”

Which was when Jay realised that Tag looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Um,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “I actually kind of have a thing tonight.”

A moment of silence followed, which might have been funny had Henry not looked genuinely disgruntled. “You do?” he said. “Remember, your focus needs to be one hundred percent on this production, Tag.”