June bought a ticket on Saturday afternoon.
Nina had said she could come without one, but June wanted a seat she had chosen and no reason for anybody to take her behind a counter. She wasn't working. She wasn't helping. She was going to listen once.
She arrived five minutes before the correction was due to begin. The foyer was busy in an uneasy way, people looking at the amended programme and asking the same questions in lower voices. Ruby wasn't there. Nina was near the doors of the larger screen, where the replacement films would play.
She saw June, smiled and came over.
“You came.”
“I've got a ticket.”
“Then go and take your seat.”
She didn't lead her anywhere. June appreciated that more than a hug.
June sat halfway back near the aisle. From there she could see the front without being the easiest person to find. There were empty places. There were more people than at her second film evening, fewer than Ruby had probably hoped for.
A woman in the row ahead said she had come to hear Ruby do something funny, not to sit through an apology. Her friend said they could still leave after the correction. June stared at the blank screen until Nina came to the front.
Nina's welcome was brief. The advertised performance had been withdrawn. The replacement programme would begin after a short correction from Ruby. There would be no discussion of June's private account.
Ruby came in through the side door.
She wore a plain dark dress. June knew it, knew the way Ruby tugged at the left sleeve when she was nervous. She tugged now. There was a sheet of paper in her hand, folded once.
Ruby looked out at the seats. June couldn't tell whether she had seen her.
“Thank you for listening,” Ruby said.
Somebody coughed. Ruby looked down at the paper.
“The breakup video wasn't an account of a relationship I had. Eli Mercer and I wrote and performed it from June Avery's private account of her own breakup. She hadn't given either of us permission. Eli knew it was hers. I gave him the complete pages.”
The room was quiet.
Ruby swallowed. “I told June I had only borrowed a few phrases. That wasn't true. I used a real hurt of my own to make her believe that hurt was where the story came from. It wasn't. Her private history supplied the story.”
June kept both feet flat on the floor. She heard her name but not the party, not Sam's joke, not the sentences she had written in the night. They were still hers to keep.
“June's earlier statement was made without knowing what we'd done,” Ruby continued. “I used it as if she was confirming more than she had. She wasn't. Eli wasn't my boyfriend. He was a paid collaborator. His correction is attached to the event notice.”
Ruby lowered the paper a little.
“I've removed the video. I won't use June's account or her relationship again. I'm sorry I did this to her, and sorry I asked people to believe something I knew wasn't true.”
She stopped. For a moment June thought she might try to explain the good feeling of finally being heard. Ruby looked at the paper again, then folded it.
“That's what I needed to say.”
Nobody clapped. A man near the back said, “So the whole thing was acting?”
Nina stepped forward.
“The correction is complete. We're not turning someone's private account into questions from the floor. We'll begin the films in a few minutes.”
The woman ahead of June stood. Her friend hesitated, then gathered her coat. A few others got up, one asking Nina whether he could speak to someone about his ticket. Nina directed him to the foyer.
Ruby remained by the side door. She looked smaller without a story in motion around her. June felt an ache of wanting to go to her, put an arm round her shoulders, and get her out of the room.
She stayed in her seat until Ruby went through the door. Then she stood and left by the aisle.
In the foyer, people were deciding whether the replacement films were worth staying for. One woman said she hadn't seen the first and would give it a try. A man complained that he hadn't understood the evening would be so different. Nina answered him quietly.
June put on her coat by the posters. Ruby came out of the office and saw her.
“You heard?”
“Yes.”
Ruby held the folded paper with both hands. “Did I get it right?”
“You said what happened.”
Ruby nodded. Her eyes were bright. June could feel the next question waiting between them, the one that would ask whether saying it changed what came after.
“I'm going,” June said.
“Okay.”
Ruby didn't step in front of her. June walked to the doors. From the screen behind her she heard the small surge of sound as people settled for a film. Some had stayed.
Outside, the street was wet. June walked home without checking who was watching through the glass.
She had expected to feel relief. There was some, in the part of her that had been waiting for someone else to say the truth aloud. There was also grief, heavier now because she didn't have a next answer to find.
At home, she sat at the kitchen window and called Nina to ask whether the programme was going all right. Nina couldn't talk long. There was a decent little audience; the first comedy had made them laugh. Ruby had left after the correction.
“You don't have to help me from your kitchen,” Nina said.
June smiled. “I know.”
She ended the call. Then she took out the dance-hall programme and read the scene she wanted to introduce next Saturday. She made no notes. For tonight, looking at something she liked was enough.