Between Friends by Jenny Harper

auditioning for the lead, Jimmy Porter, that was much more his style. She couldn’t get anything right. ‘Fuck.’
    ‘I know, I know. Sorry.’
    ‘Who got it?’
    She named a well-known actor.
    ‘The ginger fucking fruitcake? Sod it, Angela, you’ll have to do better than this. I do need to live, you know.’
    ‘Sure, Tom, but—’
    ‘Don’t give me your buts.’ Tom’s anger fizzled, then sputtered out. ‘Anything else in the pipeline?’
    There was a sigh and the rustle of paper. ‘Not at the moment, Tom, no. I’ll keep looking. How’s Edinburgh going?’
    ‘You know how it is up here. A thousand bloody shows on the Fringe every sodding day. There’s no chance of getting a decent audience.’
    ‘How many last night?’
    ‘Five.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘Yeah, five. There are more of us in the cast, for fuck’s sake. I’ve got a good mind to jack it in and come back to London.’
    ‘You can’t do that, Tom. Anyway, it’s only a few more days. What have the crits been like?’
    ‘All right. Moderate to good. Listen, do you know anyone on Emergency Admissions ?’
    ‘Don’t think so. Why?’
    ‘Might have a line in there. I’ll keep you posted.’
    ‘Great.’
    ‘And Angela—’
    ‘Tom?’
    ‘Get off your backside and get me some fucking work.’
    ‘I’m doing my best, Tom.’
    ‘Maybe your best isn’t good enough.’
    ‘Well, if you feel like that—’ She sounded hurt.
    ‘No, no,’ he said hastily. He couldn’t do without Angela Cutler, not yet anyway. ‘You know I love you really. Just do it, huh?’
    ‘Do you really? I sometimes wonder.’
    ‘You know I do, sweetheart. You’re the best.’
    There was a small sigh, before she said, ‘Bye Tom.’
    Fuck her. Fuck them all. Women. They needed so much bloody maintenance.
    Now he had indigestion. He’d been banking on the part in Look Back in Anger . Even Cliff would have done, a few months in the West End would have been good news. He shoved the pastry away from him, topped up his coffee and downed it quickly. Maybe he’d have a quick look around while Jake was out. He could use the computer, do his emails.
    The master bedroom was spotless – Marta kept a neat household. He pulled open a drawer in the long dressing table beneath the window. Women’s stuff. Nail polish, cosmetic brushes, hairbrushes, lipstick. The next drawer held knickers, tights, socks. Tom felt through them expertly. Women often concealed small, valuable items in their lingerie drawer.
    His fingers tightened round a polythene bag that felt lumpy and hard. Jewellery. Costume stuff mostly, silver chains with silly little pendants, hoop earrings of the kind Marta favoured, baubles. A couple of rather better items – a fire opal set in gold, on a gold chain, and a pair of earrings that looked as though they might be sapphire and pearl. A brooch in the shape of a bow, a clumsy thing, old fashioned and heavy, but the stones looked real and the setting just might be gold.
    Tom weighed it in his hand, studied it, then shoved it in his pocket, rolled the polythene bag back up as he found it and replaced it carefully under the knickers. It didn’t look like the kind of thing Marta Davidson would wear much. With any luck, she wouldn’t even notice it was missing until he was long gone. He’d drop into the pawn shop with it tomorrow.
    Tom found Jake’s computer in the small room next door. He booted it up, signed in to his email, dealt with the dozen or so that required a response, then logged onto his favourite site.
    A scarlet sheet floated into the screen, then settled into graceful folds.
    Bed Buddies welcomes...
    His breathing quickened. Screwing Angela Cutler was a duty – she had to be kept happy – but with Bed Buddies he could get great sex with absolutely no commitment and at no cost. Ideal. And perhaps he’d find a new buddy while he was here in Edinburgh, that’d just be the icing on the cake.
    ‘Hairy Mary.’ She sounded a laugh.
    ‘Annie get your