Final Act

Act II - Memories

The theatre was cold, icy in fact.

The dry, cold air tingled against the warmth of Suki's lips and she was unsurprised to see the breath that left her was a gust of white mist. Harry had left the side door open, just as he'd said he would and Suki had parked up in the deserted car park and walked quickly across the tarmac, feeling as though she was breaking into the place.

There was no sign of Harry, so she'd walked along the white walled corridor, full of doors upon which names were usually posted to indicate whose dressing room it was. She'd carried right in to the final door, which lead into the shared common room and was mildly surprised that she remembered the layout so well after more than a decade. Old Farlowes was always closed on a Thursday, she remembered with a sudden blast of clarity. By tradition, all theatres are closed one day a week. Harry had once told her the reason why but she couldn't remember.

She used to look forward to that day off every week during the early years of their marriage. Of course, the day changed depending on which theatre he was performing in, but Suki always made sure that she finished working early so that they could spend an entire blissful evening together. Sometimes they went out for food or to a show but more often than not, they watched old films with takeaway pizza and a bottle of Merlot, or played boardgames that Harry always let her win.

There's a certain warmth in memories of happier times and Suki feels a horrible twist of longing. It seemed impossible then that it could ever have ended up like this.

She sits heavily on a striped green sofa that releases a little dust storm at the contact. Anxiety trickles through her and she's just wondering if she can remember where the ladies are to check her make-up and splash some cold water on her wrists when she hears footsteps in the corridor.

Long, pacing footsteps that echo from the cold white walls, coming closer as she tries to take a deep breath. There's a pause, a minute hesitation where the slow rhythmic pace stops, just a few steps from the door. It's only brief, as though he's steeling himself.

And then Harry's there in the doorway.

His hair is short, that's the first thing she notices. Of course, it's often changed for roles over the years but it's shorter than ever before. He's dressed entirely in black, from his shoes to his long sleeved polo neck. He's a pale, perhaps a little tired, but the smile he gives her is that happy grin that she'd almost forget. It carves deep dimples in his cheeks as his lips crease upwards. She'd forgotten the impact of that smile, how it makes you feel as though he is about to tell you the most lovely secret.

"Harry." She returns his smile as she stands up. Subconsciously her hand twitches to her hair, tucking it in behind her ear.

"Hello, Suki." His voice is soft, warm. He can transform it into a hundred different accents on stage but it never loses its earthy warmth.

Suki feels a moment of awkwardness in the air. Once Harry would have embraced her, but despite the friendliness in his greeting, he makes no move towards her.

It's good to see you." She says, trying to crack through the thin layer of tension that vibrates in the air.

"I wanted to say goodbye to you properly. I thought we owed each other one last evening. And where better to end it, than where it all began?" He smiles a little sadly, gesturing around at the surroundings.

"I'm glad you called." Suki says, genuinely meaning the words. Harry gave a decade of happiness, almost the entirety of her twenties. She would have hated to leave this city with the final sad image of him at the divorce court.

"Would you like to take a walk around the theatre?" Harry asks, looking around the grotty old common room. "It might be nicer than sitting in here."