Underground (part one)

Sally was on her way home from a long day of rehearsals in Islington. It was another one of those fringe productions which meant that she wouldn’t be getting paid. What was the point of spending thousands of pounds on drama school if the end result was endless work with no pay? The answer was simple. She loved to act. She loved to stand in front of an audience and enrapture them with her performance. It was what she lived for; it was what made her feel alive.

It was the eve of the opening night and Sally was looking forward to a good night’s sleep before her big day. She was heading back to Sloane Square and just like most nights she felt very lucky to have her parents' flat all to herself. She didn't need to think about moving out until she hit the big time.

Sally sunk back in her seat and realised that she hadn’t read a word of the book that was open in front of her. She was too tired and her mind was whirring. Sally closed the book and looked up when she caught a guy looking at her. He was bearded but yet he looked familiar. He looked away and kept his stare focused elsewhere but Sally's eyes remained still. She knew him from somewhere. Who was he? She couldn’t see behind the beard but she recognised his eyes; she recognised the shape of his head and his body. And then she remembered and cringed. Sally quickly opened her book and pretended to read. She knew exactly who the man opposite her was. It was him. The last time she had heard from him, she was sitting in the Bluebird bar with her friends drinking Mojitos. Her phone was on the table and it was ringing.


To be continued ...