Page 78 of Best Supporting Actor
ACT THREE
CHAPTERTWENTY
Jay
Jay and Tag arrived at the cast party shortly after eight. A discreet security man met them at the end of Mandy’s drive and another one waved them inside when they reached the mansion property’s front door.
“Your godparents must be minted,” Tag said, wide-eyed, as he took in the huge hallway with its marble-tiled floor. From somewhere in the house came the distant strains of music and voices.
“Sounds like the party’s at the back,” Jay said, pointing to an archway straight ahead. He glanced at Tag. “Shall we—”
“Darling,finally!” a voice interrupted, and Jay looked up to find his mother standing in the archway. She was wearing one of her favourite party outfits, a white tux, designed especially for an Oscars ceremony she’d attended in the nineties. Back in the day, she used to wear itsansshirt, the scoop-necked waistcoat displaying her famous cleavage to great effect. She had always been inordinately proud of her breasts, which, to Jay’s utter mortification as a teenager, she insisted on referring to as ‘the twins’. These days, though, she couldn’t fit into the waistcoat—it no longer buttoned all the way the way up—and it looked like the trousers might soon have to be retired too, though they were still just about managing to contain her ample bottom. Being Dame Cordelia, though, she pulled the outfit off with an emerald green, semi-sheer blouse, matching green high heels, and her usual irrepressible chutzpah.
“IknowI told you to come at seven,” she told Jay severely, sweeping towards him and pulling his head down to kiss both of his cheeks. Her lips were tacky with lipstick, and she was wearing Shalimar, her favourite perfume, and probably his earliest scent-memory. “Why are you so late?”
He extricated himself gently from her hold and straightened. “We’re only a little late.” He offered an apologetically boyish pout that he knew would appeal to her and added, hopefully, “Fashionably late.”
She melted on cue, shaking her head in remonstrance but indulgently now, patting his cheek fondly before turning to Tag.
“And how areyou?” she said, taking his hands into her own and looking intently into his eyes, as though she’d known him for years, rather than only having met him briefly. Before Tag could formulate an answer, she added, “Oh my darling, youreyes! So beautiful! I said as much to Oberon, my eldest, the other day. We were watching that new television show of yours—you were marvellous in it, darling, justmesmerising—and we both commented on your darling peepers. Oh, Oberon’s dying to meet you. He’s coming tonight especially.”
“Ronnie’s here?” Jay said faintly. Christ, he hoped his brother was in England on his own business, and their mother hadn’t forced him to come over just to see Jay’s play. He was mortified by the very thought.
Ignoring his interruption, she squeezed Tag’s hands again and added, “Everyone’ssoexcited to see Julius return to the stage.”
“Everyone?” Jay said sharply, alarmed, and when she turned towards him, elegant brows raised in surprise, he added, “Who’s‘everyone’? We’re not advertising that I’m in the play, Mother. You know that.”
Dame Cordelia sighed. “Oh, darling, dowind your neck in. I just meanus. Your brother and me, and Mandy and Phil, of course. You know: the people who love you?”
She glanced back at Tag with a look that said, silently but very distinctly,‘You see what I have to put up with?’Tag offered a slightly panicky grimace in return, but she was already moving away from them both, heels clacking on the tiled floor. “We’re all in the orangery. Do come along.”
Tag mouthed, “Orangery?” at Jay, and Jay bit his lip against a laugh that felt rather hysterical as they fell into step behind her.
Over her shoulder, his mother said, “Other than Oberon, you two are the last to arrive. We’ve got a nice little crowd—don’t worry, Julius, nothing too big. Mandy just invited a few neighbours and some of the festival trustees. You know how she is with her community thing. Oh, and that nice festival director. Miles, is it?”
“Giles,” Jay corrected automatically, even as he frowned. The trustees were one thing—at least they were part of the festival—butneighbours?
They were approaching a set of double doors now, which were ajar—the music and voices were clearly coming from there.
“Yes, yes, Giles. Oh, and you’ll never guess whohe’sbrought along!” Dame Cordelia turned on her heel, eyes sparkling with amusement. “That dreadful boy you went to school with. Do you remember? The one whose mother did that dreary family sitcom for decades. Talk about flogging a dead horse. He writes that wretched ‘Little Bird’ column in one of the papers now.”
Jay’s blood ran cold. “Not Austin Coburn?” he said, even as he thought,God, please, not him.
He felt Tag’s curious gaze shift to him, but didn’t meet it.
“Yes, that’s the one,” his mother said cheerfully. She turned to Tag then, eyes twinkling. “Austin wasthebig cheese in the school drama club before Julius arrived. He wasn’t best pleased to be ousted, was he, darling?” She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “I mean, the poor boy had absolutely no talent—and I should know; I had to sit through his mangled Algernon Moncrieff in their sixth form production—but because his mother was on television, he’d inveigled his way into getting all the best parts. UntilJulius joined the school. Obviously, they couldn’t ignorehistalent.” She gave a stagey wink. “Or mine.” With a tinkling laugh, she clapped her hands, then added to Tag with a wag of her finger, “Donotmention that if you end up talking to Austin.”
Without waiting for an answer, she pushed the doors wide open and stepped inside, carolling, “Here they are!Finally!”
Oh God,whydid she always do this? How many times did he have to ask her not to show him off like he was ten years old? Pressing his lips together, Jay followed her into the large, airy room, his gaze raking over the twenty or so people gathered there, all of whom had turned to look at his mother, himself, and Tag. And fucking hell, yes, there was Austin, glass of champagne in hand, standing with Giles, Bea, and Timon, Bea’s father.
Jay looked quickly away, his heart thudding unpleasantly.
“Let’s get you boys a drink,” Dame Cordelia said cheerfully. “Champagne all right? Mandy orderedvatsof it—oh, look there she is.” She waved at Mandy, a tall, glamorous woman in a dark red cocktail dress, who was walking in their direction. “Yoohoo! Mandy, sweetie, could you grab a couple of glasses of fizz for the boys?”
Mandy waved and smiled, before seamlessly diverting to a table bristling with glasses of champagne, lifting two flutes.
Tag leaned in and hissed in Jay’s ear, “Oh my God, your godmother isAmanda Ffyfe?”