‘You’re going on a date with my dad?’ Tara said when Zoe called her a few minutes later.
Zoe, in bra and pants, cradled the phone between her neck and chin as she flicked through the clothes in her wardrobe. ‘It’s not a date, it’s work. Just tell me what to wear, Tara. I never asked where we were eating and he always looks so well I don’t want to let him down.’
‘He’ll probably take you to the Trocadero or, if there’s anything decent playing at the Gate Theatre, Chapter One. He never misses an opportunity to show off his dates.’
‘I told you—’
‘Just teasing. Wear a little black dress and heels and you can’t go wrong.’
‘Okay, thanks. What time are you picking me up?’
‘Five?’
‘Fine, see you then. Bye, Tara.’ Zoe flung the phone on the bed and went back to the wardrobe. She pulled out a knee-length dress and stepped into it. She zipped it up and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. She had lost weight and it no longer clung in the right places. That’s what a diet of yoghurt and Pot Noodles did to you. She pulled the dress over her head and rummaged through her wardrobe until she found her sleeveless black mini with the scooped neckline. She’d only worn it a couple of times as it was a little tight across her stomach and hips but now – she smiled and smoothed it over her hips – it was a perfect fit. She went to the mirror. ‘Oh, yeah, you look good, kid!’ She twisted and turned, admiring herself. But she needed a splash of colour. A root through her drawer of costume jewellery turned up a chunky topaz choker and bracelet that brought out the golden flecks in her dark eyes. Happy that she wouldn’t make a show of Terence, she hung the dress up again and went to take a shower.
As it turned out, she and Tara had cleaned up and packed all their gear in the car by eight-thirty and, after sending Terence a text, Zoe nipped into the downstairs loo to change, leaving Tara polishing the already gleaming glasses.
‘Will I do?’ she asked, doing a twirl.
Tara stopped polishing to look up and smile. ‘You’ll do.’
‘Leave that, Tara,’ Zoe protested. ‘The place is cleaner now than when we arrived!’
‘It’s important to leave a kitchen spotless if you want repeat business,’ Tara insisted.
‘It is and you have. I’ve seen operating theatres less clean. Come on, I’ve got a date, remember?’
When they went outside, there was a taxi waiting behind Tara’s van and Terence hopped out and smiled at them. ‘Evening, ladies. How did it go?’
‘Fine,’ Tara said, hugging him.
‘That’s an understatement,’ Zoe told him. ‘They adored everything and I don’t blame them – it looked and smelled delicious.’
‘I doubt the restaurant we’re going to will measure up.’
Tara laughed. ‘I’m quite sure it will, Dad. Have a good time, you two. I’m heading home for a nice bath, a glass of wine and an early night.’
‘Goodnight, sweetheart,’ Terence said, and opened the door for Zoe.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’ She waved at Tara before climbing in. Terence went round the other side and smiled at her as the cab pulled away.
‘You look lovely, darling.’
‘Thanks,’ she said with a shy smile.
He held up a folder. ‘I’ve brought the script.’
She stared at it, mesmerised.
‘Zoe?’
She looked up and grinned. ‘Sorry, I just can’t quite believe this is happening.’
‘Believe it. You have an audition in two days.’
‘Two days?’ She looked at him in horror. ‘Oh, but that’s too soon. I’ll never be ready.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, you will. By the time you go to bed tonight, you’ll think you are Isabella.’
She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. She couldn’t screw this up because of nerves. She’d never be able to forgive herself and she doubted Terence would be too pleased either, having been the one to put her forward for the job.
The taxi pulled up outside a small, expensive fish restaurant in Howth.
‘I thought after we’ve finished we could take a walk down the pier and rehearse.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Won’t it be a bit dark to read the script?’
‘We won’t need the script, darling. I’m going to tell you all about Isabella Shine and Jonathan Keane. Once you get a feel for their characters and understand what motivates them, the words are incidental. You will have the script in front of you at the audition and you will blow Robbie away if you can show that you “get” Isabella.’ He paused in the doorway and smiled at her. ‘Trust me?’
She smiled, the excitement returning. ‘Always.’
The food was incredible. As each delicious course was presented, Zoe admired its beauty, marvelled at its delicacy and then, after a sip of wine, was astounded at the explosion of favours in her mouth.
Terence smiled. ‘You like?’
‘I love. This is amazing.’
‘I like to see a woman enjoy her food. There are too many who try to survive on lettuce leaves and cigarettes.’
‘That’s the acting business for you,’ Zoe said, feeling defensive. She had done her share of dieting and would eat little tomorrow to make up for this blow-out. ‘You have to do what you have to do to get a part.’
‘Nonsense. I never did.’
She looked at his lean youthful frame, thick dark hair with just enough grey to make him look distinguished and the startling blue of his eyes. ‘You never had to! You’re just one of those annoying people who can eat anything and not put on a pound.’
‘And you’re beautiful and talented and, given the chance, I know you’ll make it, Zoe.’
‘I wish I shared your confidence, Terence, but I may have to throw in the towel if I don’t get this role.’
He rested his chin in his hand. ‘You don’t walk away from acting, Zoe. If the theatre is in your blood, it’s in your blood.’
‘I could stay in it, just not as an actor. I was thinking of writing.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Screenplays?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Does the idea excite you as much as walking out on stage?’
She thought for a moment and then shook her head. Nothing beat the adrenalin of acting. Nothing.
‘Then stick with it.’
She smiled. Why was she even thinking about giving up now when he was offering her such an opportunity? ‘Tell me more about Isabella.’
‘That’s my girl.’ He pulled the script from his pocket. ‘Isabella Shine is not only beautiful, she knows it and knows how to use it as a weapon.’
Zoe closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to visualise herself in the part. She was attractive, she knew, but, despite Terence’s compliments, she was no beauty. Could she be so sure of her looks that she could treat this fine man with cold disdain and convince an audience? She opened her eyes to find him watching her. ‘That’s a tall order. It won’t be easy to get that across if my part is as small as you say.’
‘You will when the sad old man on stage with you reveals how besotted he is.’
He was right, she realised. Being faced with someone vulnerable and exposed who worshipped her would, of course, make Isabella feel powerful. With her sole focus on being found innocent, she would use every trick in the book to secure her freedom. If Zoe managed to assume Isabella’s persona then she would no longer see the successful Terence Ross opposite her but the sad, ageing Jonathan, and she would be able to carry it off. Perspective was a wonderful thing.
She had first-hand experience to draw on too, thanks to her snake of an ex-husband. Ed had seduced her and convinced her that he loved her. He’d made her feel like the sexiest woman in the world, until she’d discovered that she was no more than his crutch to support him when his ego needed massaging. Yes, she could play this part, she decided with grim determination, and do it justice.
‘Shall we read it?’ Terence asked.
‘Yes, please.’ She shuffled closer on the banquette and he put the script between them.
Terence read the part of Jonathan while she read the wife and Isabella. They sat in silence for a few moments when they’d finished and Zoe wiped a knuckle under her eyes, hoping she didn’t look like a panda. ‘It’s wonderful.’
It was indeed all about Jonathan and his dissatisfaction with his life. He saw Isabella in a completely unrealistic, romantic light, imagining her as his last hope of love. Isabella and his wife were incidental and yet, because of the way their parts were written, Zoe knew that this was her greatest opportunity to date.
Terence signalled a waiter. ‘Cognac? coffee?’ he asked her.
‘Nothing more for me, thanks.’ She’d had too much wine and it would be hard enough to sleep tonight without adding caffeine to the mix. It was ridiculous to be this emotional from a read-through but she had lived it, had felt Jonathan’s pain and the emptiness of his life.
Terence drained his glass and held up his credit card. Once he’d paid and they got up to leave, three women stopped him for autographs. When they eventually made it outside, Zoe shot him a curious look. ‘Don’t you get tired of that?’
His eyes widened in surprise. ‘Why would I?’ He linked his arm through hers and guided her in the darkness towards the pier.
She was glad of his support. High heels and uneven cobbles did not go well together. Boats bobbed in the harbour, and gentle waves lapped the rocks. It was a beautiful night and she breathed in the sharp salty air.
Suddenly, Terence stopped and faced her. He took a step back, his expression blank, his stance formal. ‘Ms Shine, are you guilty?’ he asked, his voice deeper, his diction clipped.
She arched an eyebrow and smiled. ‘Are you supposed to ask me that, Mr Keane?’
‘You don’t have to answer, Ms Shine.’
‘Please call me Isabella, Jonathan,’ she said, her voice husky. ‘You don’t mind me calling you Jonathan, do you?’
He stared down at her, his expression one of discomfort and embarrassment. ‘No.’
She moved closer, put a hand on his arm and looked up into his face, thinking of a cold, bare cell, of coming out middle-aged, her looks gone, and shivered. ‘I’m guilty of many things, Jonathan,’ she said, her lips almost touching his ear, ‘but I did not kill Larry.’
She felt a tremor run through him and he turned his head and stared into her eyes before his gaze slid down to her mouth. She licked her lips and made no attempt to move.
Jonathan – Terence was gone – pulled back and cleared his throat. ‘Good. Then why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?’
‘And then it cuts to Jonathan and his wife, right?’ Zoe said.
‘Yes. For the audition, I imagine Robbie will want us to do the dream scene. She comes to Jonathan’s office in tears and he comforts her and then they kiss.’
He put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. ‘Robbie and the audience have to believe that kiss, Zoe. In fact, if we do our job properly, they should leave the theatre wondering if we’re having an affair.’
Zoe was glad that he couldn’t see her blush in the darkness. She held his gaze. This is not Terence, this is Jonathan, she reminded herself. I have to make him believe I want him. He is, literally, Isabella’s get-out-of-jail card. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, gazed into his eyes and then brushed her lips against his. When he didn’t move away, she did it again. Jonathan pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss that spoke of passion and desperation and desire. When they pulled apart, she searched his face. He seemed perplexed. ‘Not convincing?’ she asked, disappointed. It had felt damn real to her.
Terence burst out laughing. ‘Damn convincing. Phew! Every man in the place is going to want you. You are going to make a spectacular Isabella, Zoe.’ He hugged her.
‘Yes!’ She punched the air and kissed him again, but this time as Zoe.
‘Come on, my Isabella, let me escort you home.’ Terence offered his arm and she took it.
‘I’m so excited, I don’t know how I’m going to sleep.’
He handed her the script. ‘If you’re going to be awake anyway, you may as well take this.’
She clutched it to her chest like a greedy child as they made their way back to the main road. ‘I may stay up all night!’
‘Why not? Sleep is greatly overrated,’ he said, flagging down a taxi, ‘and creativity thrives in the wee small hours.’
Zoe turned to him. He’d probably think she was nuts but . . . ‘Please just say no if this is a completely crazy idea—’
His teeth flashed in the darkness. ‘I love crazy.’
‘Do you want to do a full read-through, I mean, right now?’
‘I’d love to!’
‘Shane is away so we’ll have the place to ourselves.’
‘Better again.’ He winked.
Zoe stared at him. Oh, God, did he think she was propositioning him?
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Ah, Zoe, darling, you are so easy to wind up.’
She belted him with the folder. ‘Very funny.’
‘We’re going to have a good time doing this,’ he predicted.
She smiled. ‘Yeah, I think we are.’
Zoe ached all over and her eyes burned but she was high as a kite. She’d just spent the most amazing evening with a man and there was no sex involved. The script was so powerful she felt humbled by the writer’s talent. And though Terence came across as laid-back and careless, she’d just seen first-hand exactly how gifted an actor he was, and how much he demanded of himself and those working with him. Even their kiss had been dissected, examined. He had talked, explained, questioned and she had learned more in one night than in her entire time at drama school. No wonder his leading ladies fell for him – he was an incredible man. And though Terence oozed confidence and charisma, his portrayal of Jonathan Keane, a broken man at a crossroads in life and on the point of losing everything, had been completely credible and moving. It had made it so difficult for her to be the hard, cold Isabella. He had really pulled on her heart strings, made her care. So much so that she had wondered if his own bonhomie was just a mask he hid behind. But then, didn’t everyone do that? Especially actors. As dawn broke, Zoe pulled off her dress and fell into bed in her underwear, just taking time to tuck the script under her pillow before falling into a dreamless sleep.