She wants me again, he said to himself, I’m sure she wants me, and she looks terrific for her age, not like any of these silly young things. He quite bitterly realised that younger actresses who interested him were, some of them, the same age as his daughter Viola and the thought discomforted him and he felt sour and old, wondered if he had bad breath, used mouthwash and dental floss. He was still a catch, of course, because he was one of the leading actors in the company; he could have had, had indeed had, affairs with several of them. He would buy them little gifts and take them to restaurants outside Stratford where discreet waiters knew him and put him in quiet corners. Occasionally one of the young actresses had got too serious, even caused scenes, and these things had begun to tire him. He would stop that silly business. He assumed it was a sign of a new maturity and he pulled his shoulders back, felt strong and wise. But Molly was his age, and sensible, they had known each other for more than thirty years, loved each other in fact, all that time ago in Birmingham. A quiet affair with Molly, that would be calmer. He hadn’t really thought about her much for some years, but he found that when he did think about her now, as he had continually since the reunion, that actually, calmness was far from what he felt. Her mouth. He remembered her mouth. He knew she was sometimes knocking around with a young musician, had brought him once to one of the garden parties years ago. But she must want me still – something happened there between us at the reunion; I know it did. He decided to write her a charming note and courier it to her, saying he was looking forward to seeing her at the garden party, but intimating more, that would please her.

Anthony Bonham was frightened of getting old.

He wanted his youth back and Molly reminded him of his youth.

He wanted Molly.

The telephone rang in his dressing room. It was one of the most powerful men in the business.

‘Tony it’s Joseph Wain. I’ve got a fantastic project. I want to arrange to meet you tomorrow to talk about it even before I talk to your agent.’

The tannoy in the dressing room called fifteen minutes as he put the phone down. His heart had leapt as it always did at the thought of something new. A fantastic project – Joseph Wain was not the kind of man who used words like that lightly. He looked in the mirror, and automatically hummed. So that his lips vibrated and his whole head became an echo chamber for his voice.

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