Fit For Purpose by Julian Parrott (scary books to read .TXT) 📗

probably Nia’s longest and closest friend. A young mum entered with a toddler in a high-tech pushchair with moon-rover wheels. The mum unfastened her coat and Nia noticed the large, heavy baby bump beneath. The mum instinctively put her hand on the bump and smiled, and Nia remembered the same sense, the same feeling of life moving and growing under the touch of your hand. Then Jane entered with a loud hello and extravagant wave.

Nia and Jane had been together for over two decades. Jane was a posh Home Counties girl, now in late middle age. She always dressed in immaculate tailored suits worn with colourful silk scarves. Hair was always perfect and as blond as a Swede’s. Big, owl-like glasses, usually in a shade that matched her scarf, gave her a wise, thoughtful demeanour. Jane’s voice was like a market barker’s run through sandpaper. She had always been maternal towards Nia. She had never married, had no children, and Nia had always suspected that Jane was a very quiet and private lesbian. Nia also felt that Jane was always slightly disappointed in Nia for not having the A-lister career than once appeared to be in the offing. Still, Nia knew, Jane had stuck with her through some difficult times and had fought for good roles.

Jane continued to keep Nia busy and had helped her adjust to the vagaries of the acting profession. She had convinced Nia to take character roles, guest starring gigs, advert voice overs, and audio book narrations. There was almost always some job waiting in the wings. Jane greeted Nia like an aunt would a niece. Over coffee, they chatted about the Canadian job, whether there would be an option of a sequel. Jane noted rumours of potential roles and work options and suggested some scripts to read and auditions to go on. Nia half listened and made notes on her phone. She wanted to work and work constantly for she was aware of how cruel the industry could be for actresses of a certain age. She also wanted to work because she had little else to fill her days.

Nia had waited long enough in the conversation to ask Jane for a favour, hoping it wouldn’t appear as Nia’s top priority. Nia asked whether Jane could use her contacts to find one of those ex-army types who advised TV and film productions on the proper way to do military things, to provide some background on Tom Price. Tom was, she thought, a guy in his mid-forties, fit decent looking, witty and smart, straight, she had noticed the way he looked at her, yet single. There was a reticence when he talked about the army. She could tell he’d been hurt, physically, the limp, and probably emotionally. She was concerned that he had baggage and, God knows, she had enough baggage for any relationship. Jane was surprised.

“Anything you want to let me in on?” Jane asked.

“Just some guy I met,” Nia replied over her coffee cup. “Just wanna make sure he’s not some kind of bullshitter.”

Jane slowly nodded, not fully believing Nia.

Coffee meeting done, Nia did some grocery shopping before going home. Jane called her as she was putting a few groceries away. The military advisor Jane had reached out to did indeed know of Major Tom Price. A decent bloke was the astute summation. Something of a hero, actually, an earned gallantry award, a Military Cross. A guy who was loved and respected by those who served with him until a helicopter accident ended his career and nearly his life. Rumours of a breakdown.

Nia put the phone back in her pocket. Overall, she thought, an okay report and very much what she had expected. Nia was an astute reader of people. Jet-lagged, she went upstairs and laid on her bed. She took her phone out of her pocket as it was uncomfortable. With the phone in hand, she decided to Google what an MC was. She was surprised by what it took to earn the award and had difficulty seeing Tom as a guy who had received such a medal. Her phone went on the bedside table. Nia felt guilty that she had somehow betrayed this chap she’d just met, when was that, yesterday? She felt sad about the sense he had experienced some kind of breakdown, which cycled back into guilt for snooping. But she told herself, that he was sure to Google her, and she’d be exposed, quite literally, and what would he make of what he found? Fuck it, she told herself, there’s something here that needs to play out. She leant over to her bedside table and picked up her phone again.

***

Tom’s phone beeped with an incoming text. He felt a wave of electric excitement wash over him. He was as desperate with anticipation as a teenager. ‘Nia’ his phone read. He opened the text.

“Hi, it’s Nia.”

YES! He said to himself. “Hi Nia.” He typed.

She was glad to see him respond so quickly.

“You get back to your barge ok? ”

Tom saw the joke. “Yes, the narrowboat was waiting patiently.”

“I enjoyed our chat yesterday,” Nia continued, then took a breath and typed.

“I was just wondering; did you Google me?”

Damn, straightforward, he thought.

“Yes,” he responded.

He’s honest, she thought.

Tom was a little alarmed. Nothing and then… his screen showed ‘Nia is typing’.

“And Major Price… do you still want to see me again?” Please, please, please, the voice in her head repeated somewhat to her own surprise.

Major Price, Tom thought, she had done some background research herself. He typed, “And, I very much want to see you again.” And then added, “Soon.” She was relieved.

“How about Saturday? I’m in a one-off play for charity. You could pop to the theatre and we could have dinner after,” Nia texted.

“I’d like that,” he replied.

She sent him the details about the play, the