Moth to the Flame by Maxine Barry Page B

every-body fooled.
    She almost bumped into a tall, elegantly dressed man as he stepped through the main gates. ‘Miss Granger! I had no idea you were in Oxford. Neville Norman,’ Alicia’s brother introduced himself.
    Davina smiled politely at the theatre critic. Neville Norman’s reviews usually demonstrated that he knew what he was talking about, and he was one of the few critics who could actually give constructive criticism, but she was in no mood for idle chat, and quickly excused herself.
    Neville ambled his way towards Webster, but his sister was not in. It didn’t take him long to discover from a third year theology student down the hall, that Alicia Norman was to be found in the theatre nowadays. She was writing the Easter play. This startling news both amused and annoyed him. Why hadn’t she written and told them all about it?
    The theatre held a modest one hundred seats, but it was well appointed, the stage simple but adequate. At the moment, only the stage was lit, and Neville was able to creep silently forward, unseen and unheard, and take a seat just a few rows back from centre stage.
    He’d caught them, it seemed, it mid-audition. Even as he watched, the good-looking man next to Alicia gave a plea for quiet. Alicia, her ever-present notebook in her hand, looked up and smiled. She was glad Jared was in charge of casting the play—the whining and wheedling pleas for inclusion just seemed to roll from his shoulders like water off a duck’s back.
    â€˜Right, we’re casting the heroine first,’ his strong voice easily carried to the back of the theatre. ‘She’s the murder victim, the wife and battered mother. You’ve all read the excellent character analysis provided by our august and astute author here . . .’ he turned and bowed deeply at Alicia, who blushed hotly. Clown!
    In his seat, Neville found himself stiffening. This play sounded suspiciously like a cheesy whodunit to him.
    â€˜You’re all supplied with dialogue from Act Two, Scene One,’ Jared continued smoothly. ‘Right Vera. You first.’
    Neville wasn’t sure he was ready to listen to words penned by his own sister. What if they were corny? But they weren’t. The scene Vera performed was a straightforward but touching scene between the heroine and an as yet unseen boy, her son, who was challenging his mother about an affair she was having. And as the scene progressed, it was obvious to Neville that the scene was going to be some kind of catalyst. Neville, in instinctive critic mode, began to make notes.
    â€˜Right, thank you everybody’ Jared said, after the last audition had finished. ‘If you can just wait a moment . . .’ He went back to consult with Alicia, but Neville already knew that there was only one possible choice. The ginger-haired girl had been by far the best.
    â€˜Well, what do you think?’ Alicia whispered to Jared anxiously. ‘I think Emily was good, don’t you?’ But would the others think she was only recommending her because of their friendship?
    Jared could see the worry in those big, china-blue eyes and grinned widely. ‘I agree.’ His eyes were tender as he watched her face light up. She was really coming out of her shell now. These last few weeks had been the best of his life, watching the butterfly emerge from the chrysalis.
    They picked the best actresses for the other two parts. All of them were members of OUDS, the Oxford University Drama Society, and already had experience.
    Alicia sighed. Things were happening so fast! Just three weeks ago she’d never even heard of Jared Cowan or thought much about the St Bede’s Easter play. Now, here she was, actually writing it and watching it as it took shape. And all done with Jared right beside her.
    In his seat, Neville wondered what his aunt Georgina would say about all this. Any pride she might have in her niece following in her literary footsteps