Brigid Coady - Persuading Austen

And for the first time in eight years she was the centre of his attention.

It felt like she had stuck a knife in a toaster.

Her back straightened and goosebumps went up and down her arms.

Her heart stopped.

It was as if it had only been yesterday, seeing him looking at her. But it was also in a different lifetime.

His smile froze and slipped slightly. His brows tightened into a frown.

For Annie it was as if for that brief instant there were two Austens in the room. There was the younger less polished boyish man who’d loved her all that time ago and then this older, harder, hewn man. And then the two images clipped together, became congruent. As if the older had swallowed the younger.

Her heart started again.

It had been both a microsecond and an aeon.

Of course no one’s heart stops in reality – just like the way it was thundering in her chest didn’t mean she was having a heart attack. It was adrenaline: physiology driving psychology.

Even though there had hardly been a pause as they’d made eye contact, it had focused everyone back on her.

Great.

She wished Marie had bought less flimsy kitchen chairs. She felt as if she was about to reduce this one to kindling.

‘You remember my sister, Annie.’ Marie was actually simpering. As if she hadn’t grown up around famous people her whole life.

‘Yes, hi, Annie. Good to see you again.’ Annie. He’d never called her Annie; it was Anne or a silly name.

‘Hi, Austen.’ Her voice pushed past the obstruction in her throat. No RADA or LAMDA trained vocals from her – just a small, strangulated burst of noise.

There was a brief silence as if everyone was expecting something more.

Annie wanted to shout at them all to look away.

‘So,’ Austen said breaking the tension, ‘I didn’t want to interrupt a family breakfast. Maybe I should go?’

She wished he would, leave her be, but when he said family all she could think was that this could’ve been his family too.

She watched as Austen smiled down at Louisa and Henrietta with appreciation.

It was like her heart was a sponge in his fist and everything was being wrung out of it.

Of course, it could still be his family …

A fork clattered to the floor.

Hector started to cry.

She swooped down and picked him up, glad for his chubby body to cover the defects the T-shirt didn’t.

‘Oh, no it’s fine,’ said Charlie, all puffed up, his eyes shining with the light of a new bromance.

‘Why don’t I take you out for coffee?’ Austen said it generally, but Annie knew she wasn’t included.

‘You all go. I’ll hang on here.’ Annie buried her face in Hector’s hair. Not wanting to see the relief that was probably painted all over Austen’s face.

‘You are a doll,’ Louisa said, her smile swift and conspiratorial.

‘Thanks.’ Henrietta’s face was shining with happiness.

‘Are you sure?’ Charlie looked worried, biting his lip.

‘Of course she is,’ Marie answered for her. ‘She is the best person to stay. She had Hector all night.’

Annie couldn’t help but look up at that and almost without thinking the first person she looked to was Austen.

His lips thinned and he frowned at Marie before looking up to catch Annie watching.

Ah, that was what had been missing from this touching reunion, flaming red cheeks. Was she going to add to her indignity by spontaneously combusting?

For a brief second they looked at each other. Was that contempt or pity she thought she saw on his face?

Contempt was preferable.

Being pitied was … She looked away. Was she really pitiable?

Yeah, she was some kick-ass career woman who still couldn’t say ‘no’ to her family. She was in the exact same place where he’d left her, whilst he …

‘See you later,’ said Louisa as she grasped Austen’s hand and pulled him along with her. With various goodbyes from everyone, suddenly the kitchen was empty of all but her, Hector, and Angelique.

‘You should’ve gone,’ Angelique said, her arms crossed and looking at Annie fiercely.

‘It’s okay.’ Annie shifted Hector back into his seat. He’d lost interest in making a scene as soon as there was no audience. He’d inherited a fair set of the Elliot genes.

‘Humph,’ Angelique said and pulled a face. ‘I can look after Hector. You can still follow them.’

And she’d be like a puppy begging for attention.

‘No, it’s okay. I’ll settle Hector.’

***

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Annie cringed as Cassie shouted from her office. For such a small person she could produce a hell of a noise.

After Louisa had come back in swooning over Austen and Marie had preened about things he had supposedly said about her TV career, Annie had felt as if she was being suffocated. She thought she’d rather take her chances with Cassie than the burn in her chest, which she was realizing wasn’t heartburn from too much black coffee but regret.

Then Charlie spoke about how he and Austen were going to see a Premier League match. Annie had made her excuses and fled. Sod what Cassie would say.

It was as if she had stepped into an alternate universe where she had slept for eight years and woken up to find Austen was part of her family.

Only in this universe he wasn’t her Austen.

Annie had hoped to slink into the office and look like she had been at her desk for a while.

‘I was at Marie’s …’ she said quietly.

‘When will you tell your stupid family where to stick it? They have a housekeeper, Anne Elliot,’ Cassie interrupted as she came into Annie’s office glaring. ‘This was a big thing for you and for the agency. This wasn’t some two-bit party. This is your career. I need you to focus on this. This is the big break we need. This is all you’ve talked about for years. Years, Annie. If you can’t stand up to your family then we have a big problem. Big.’ Cassie flailed her hands around emphasizing exactly how big a problem they had.

‘Look, I’m sorry but I’m no good at those big parties. I wouldn’t have made a good impression,’ Annie lied. Because when she wasn’t around her family she could hold her own with most anyone. ‘I’ll meet the rest of the cast at the run-through next week. It will be best that way; I’ll be working rather than just being a hanger-on.’ She tried to placate Cassie.

‘Jesus, Annie, when are you going to figure out that you aren’t a hanger-on?’ Cassie was standing in front of Annie’s desk, waving her hands around. Annie was worried that she would knock down the files from the shelves that were attached to the walls of the tiny office. ‘You’re stepping up and taking over as a producer on this movie. You. Not your dad, not either of your sisters, not even Lily. You. That is who Eric Cowell and Les Dalrymple have hired.

‘What will it take to get it through your thick head? I swear to God I could strangle you sometimes.’ And on that dramatic declaration, Cassie stormed out of Annie’s office; taking one step to cross the hall and enter her own office.

‘I’d be slamming my door if I had one,’ she shouted.

Annie smiled.

‘And we’re meeting the producers for drinks so don’t even think of backing out.’

Cassie was right. She needed to get with the programme. This was her job, her career. She hadn’t been hired to babysit her family, no matter what they thought. She was the producer.

***

Annie’s plain black dress wasn’t too crumpled for being in a bag overnight. She smoothed one long crease as she followed Cassie’s bouncing curls into Shoreditch House. During the trip across London, Cassie had been silent in the car Eric had sent for them.

This wasn’t good.