My Own Worst Enemy by Lily Lindon

Author:Lily Lindon [Lindon, Lily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781801107648
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

*

After a short break we split into smaller groups for the other workshop games. I avoid being in a group with Mae, but remain hyper aware of what she’s doing. She’s quieter, waiting for others to go first before contributing. There’s seemingly no difference between her chatting as ‘Mae’ and chatting as ‘Viola’. I want to point at her and shout, ‘She’s a fake! She’s just saying the lines but still being herself! She’s not a real actor!’ I also want to take her out onto the landing and push her down the stairs.

At the end of the workshop, I’m exhausted.

We all file out and I find myself unsure whether to wait for Mae or not. I know we’re enemies, but after today’s fracases, can I really leave without saying goodbye?

In the end I don’t have to decide, because as Mae walks out, Francis calls to us. To both of us. We silently follow him back into the rehearsal room.

Francis sits back on his director chair, grey eyes flashing between us.

‘Well, well. Emmy Clooney and Mae Jones. Your chemistry was really something out there,’ he says. ‘Are you two…?’

‘No,’ we both say emphatically.

‘Interesting,’ he says, moustache twitching. ‘Then perhaps I should speak to you separately. I only called you in together because it felt as if you were, really, auditioning for each other…’

‘Thanks, Francis,’ says Mae quickly. ‘But the two of us know everything about each other’s careers, so we can hear it together. Isn’t that right, Emmy?’

She says my name so simperingly, I wince. I nod stiffly.

Francis tilts his head at us like we’re an odd toy that’s fallen out of his cracker.

‘In that case…’

He flourishes our printed-out CVs, holding them up to check he’s got us the right way round.

‘In my career as a director, I have learnt to trust my gut. Well, unless I’ve had gluten. And my gut has already made my casting decisions for Twelfth Night.’

Francis turns to me as though he’s on a very long-running daytime gameshow, about to announce whether I’ve won the jackpot. My heart’s thudding.

‘Emmy Clooney,’ he says, and pauses for a hundred years. ‘Congratulations. I’d like you to join my cast.’

I can’t help it. I punch the air.

My career has been made. My life has been made. I turn to Mae, all colour drained from her face, and am about to say, ‘Suck on that, loser!’ when I remember the presence of Francis. I shake his hand respectfully in both of mine.

‘Thank you, Sir, thank you. I’d be delighted to accept.’

Francis’s moustache ripples. ‘For the role of Sebastian.’

My hand-shaking pauses. Sebastian? As in, the shipwrecked twin of…

Francis lets my hand go, and turns to Mae.

‘Mae Jones,’ he continues. ‘I’d like to offer you the role of Viola.’

I stop breathing.

Mae smiles slowly, broadly, with dimples. She steps graciously forwards and shakes Francis’s hand.

‘Thank you, Captain Frank. I’d be delighted to accept.’

Hands still clasped, she glances back at me. All the glints in the world are in her eyes. They’re saying, ‘Suck on that, loser.

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