Chapter 42: in my dreams I watch Emily dance

The kettle shakes as it comes to a boil, steam billowing from its spout. I pour water from the kettle onto the teabag in my mug. The staff room is quiet: Dave, the trolley guy, is eating his packed lunch; Emily sits in the corner reading the colour supplement from a 6-week old Sunday newspaper. I stir the teabag around my mug. I look at Emily. She is engrossed in the magazine, and does not notice my glance. She reaches out for her drink and, after blowing on the surface, takes a sip. I stir the teabag around my mug once more and remove it.

I walk slowly over to Emily, and sit down opposite her.

Hello, I say.

Hello, she says, looking up from the magazine.

Laying the magazine to one side, she picks up her tea and tells me about working on the deli counter. The smell of cooked meat is something she doesn’t appreciate any more. The manager of the deli counter wants everything to be arranged and adjusted constantly, and is bitingly sarcastic when the operatives don’t keep up. ‘Cock legs’ is still off work. The olives are good, the best thing about the deli counter. She misses the bananas and the apples. Emily has an audition on Thursday.

An audition? What for?

It’s a musical version of Fanny and Alexander. Lots of singing and dancing, a bit of angst, and a few ghosts: I really want to get it. The audition’s at 5 pm; I’ll need a drink afterwards.

Emily pauses, chewing at her lower lip.

Would you like to meet up for one? I’ll be at the Greenroom about 6.

I try to breathe and drink simultaneously, and fail at both.

Sure, yes, yes that would be great.

She smiles, her dark eyes lighting up from within.

I smile too, and we drink our tea.