When Javier arrived for his meeting, he wore a cardigan and soft shoes. He didn’t talk about the script. He talked about the wig.
“Go home, Q,” he whispered, using her old nickname.
Finney looked up. His eyes were wet. “I’m not a groundskeeper,” he said. “I’m his father. The real one. The one who stayed home while the boy went to war.”
Barbara felt the hair on her arms rise. She looked at Daniel. The two actors weren’t just agreeing to a scene. They were agreeing to a duel.
“I want a scene in a chapel,” Judi said, reading the final pages. Her voice was small. “With a broken bell. And I want to read Tennyson.”
“Or the quill,” Barbara said.
“We need a villain who isn’t a monster,” she said. “We need a reflection.”
