On Friday, June had twenty-one people, which was enough to look like an audience if she didn’t look at the empty rows.
Nina counted them once and then told June to stop doing it. Eli sat near the front, leaving the place beside him free. Ruby was in the foyer talking to two women from her shop. She had arrived wearing the green earrings she had worn the night they saw the twins film and had kissed June on the cheek.
“They came,” she said, nodding at the women. “Told you.”
June had thanked her. She wanted to thank her without promising the whole rest of the evening in return.
Now she stood at the front of the small screen, wishing she had written her opening on the programme instead of trusting herself to remember it.
“Welcome to The Last Bus Home,” she said. “Tonight we discover whether romance has to come with a return ticket.”
Nobody laughed.
It wasn’t a bad line, exactly. It just needed a particular sort of person saying it, and June apparently wasn’t that person. She felt her face warm. A man in the second row looked at his ticket, perhaps checking whether he’d paid for this bit as well.
She tried to find the next sentence. What she found was the urge to apologize.
Eli caught her eye. He moved one hand, a small gesture toward himself and then away, and mouthed, Why you like it.
She took a breath.
“I saw this on an evening when I thought I wanted a very happy ending,” she said. “Then it gave me something else, and I liked that better. Some of you won’t. That’s why I asked you here.”
A woman near the back smiled. June turned enough to include her.
“It’s also funny. I forget to say that because everyone ends up arguing about the last five minutes. Look out for the scene in the laundrette. It’s the only time I have ever wanted a romantic lead to leave his clothes on.”
Someone laughed. June hadn’t written that line. She hadn’t thought it through before saying it. She kept going, suddenly able to feel her feet on the floor instead of her face in the air.
She finished in two minutes. They clapped politely. Nina dimmed the lights, and June took the empty seat beside Eli.
“That wasn’t the same introduction,” she whispered.
“Better one.”
“You haven’t heard the other.”
“I’ve heard you.”
She watched the opening credits with her hands clasped in her lap. At first she listened for other people’s reactions more than she listened to the film. Then the heroine missed her first bus, a man offered her the wrong kind of help, and the audience laughed together. June settled back.
Ruby came in late and sat in the row behind them.
Near the ending, someone made a soft angry noise. Eli smiled at June without looking away from the screen. She nudged his elbow with hers. The contact was brief and deliberate. She knew she would remember doing it.
When the lights came up, three people got straight up to leave. June watched them until Nina said softly, “Go on.”
She went to the front.
“Did anybody think he should get on?”
Hands went up. Eli raised his. Ruby raised hers halfway, then looked at one of the women from the shop and raised it properly.
June pointed to a man who had been shaking his head through the credits.
“Of course he should,” he said. “What else was the whole film for?”
“Getting her home?” said the woman behind him.
“Yes, but he could go.”
“He doesn’t even like her village.”
“He could get used to it.”
June let them argue for a little while. She had meant to organize questions, but they were giving one another more to answer than she could have.
Then a younger woman near the aisle looked back at Ruby.
“I suppose this is a bit close to home,” she said. “Is that why you picked it? After what happened to Ruby?”
June felt the room change.
Ruby sat up. “June and I have always—”
“I picked it because I like it,” June said.
She hadn’t meant to cut Ruby off so sharply. She kept her eyes on the questioner.
“And I’d like to keep talking about what happened to the woman in the film. Does anybody think she wanted him to come, even if she didn’t ask?”
The older woman raised a finger. June nodded to her. The conversation began again, shakily, then found its way back.
She could feel Ruby looking at her. She carried on.
Afterwards, people went into the foyer, where Nina had left the counter open for another half-hour. June had intended to go out with them, but a couple stayed to tell her they had never seen the film before. The woman said she was glad she had come. Her partner said he would be thinking about the ending on the way home, though he didn’t forgive it yet.
June walked them to the doors. Ruby was standing by the counter with the women from work and two people June didn’t know. They were asking her about making videos.
“I’d like to do more live stuff,” Ruby was saying. “I miss knowing immediately when something’s landed.”
One woman spotted June. “You two should do something together.”
Ruby smiled at her. “I’d love that.”
June held up the programme. “Tonight was mine.”
The woman blinked, then said, “Of course. It was lovely.”
June thanked her and went to find Nina. Behind her, Ruby began explaining something about the clip. June didn’t stop to hear it.
Nina was in the little office, putting a coat over her bag.
“That worked,” she said.
“Apart from the first joke.”
“You lived. So did they.”
“Did it really work?”
“They talked about the film. They’re still talking about the film. That’s what you asked them to do.”
June stood in the doorway. She had been so busy surviving the evening that she hadn’t quite allowed it to become hers yet.
“I liked it,” she said.
“Good. Think about another one.”
They went back out. Ruby was pulling on her coat. She looked at June, then at Eli, who was still standing by the poster.
“Are you walking?” she asked.
“In a bit. I said I’d stay until people went.”
“They’ve nearly gone.”
“I know.”
Ruby waited. June could have asked her to stay too. She didn’t, and saw Ruby notice.
“Night, then,” Ruby said.
“Good night. Thank you for bringing them.”
Ruby nodded and left.
June leaned against the counter once the doors had closed. Eli walked over.
“We still disagree,” he said.
She looked up. “I’m glad you stayed to tell me.”