Fateful Lightning: A New History of the Civil War & Reconstruction by Allen Guelzo (self help books to read TXT) 📕

cords and the same country check sports jacket he wore when he first met Nia. Nia watched him as he knotted a green knit tie over a plain white cotton shirt. What a good-looking fella, she thought, but so unlike so many of her actor friends he’s never really embraced it. She dressed in a heavy green serge dress that accentuated the warm red highlights in her hair. It was low cut and fitted snugly around her breasts and hips. It was a style she liked.

The play was enjoyable, striking an intimate and romantic tone as the two main characters, storm separated lovers, were finally reunited through scenes that required the whole theatre to be lit by candlelight alone. Nia and Tom stayed, postproduction, to have a drink with the actors, most of whom were acquaintances of Nia. Someone shouted “Nia” with an accompanying camera flash. Nia had smiled, but Tom, standing a little back, as he always did, with sightlines to entrances and exits and on the crowd before him, noticed that her smile wasn’t genuine. When Nia genuinely smiled her eyes sparkled, fine lines crinkled out from the side of her eyes, and her lips parted over her top teeth. Nia made her way through the crowd that had begun to circle the leading actress. Nia noticed Tom holding himself apart and joined him.

“Come and meet the play’s lead,” Nia said. “An old colleague.”

Nia’s old colleague was instantly recognisable, an actress in her ascendency. She was loud, funny, and rude.

“Well,” the actress began as Nia approached. “We are honoured to be joined by the enigmatic Nia Williams.”

The crowd cheered with sincerity.

Nia looked surprised and pleased. The actress held out her two arms and pulled Nia towards her.

“It is unusual to see you out and about Nia.”

“I had heard that you were brilliant in the play and wanted to see it and you for myself,” Nia responded generously.

The actress nodded an appreciation towards Nia and noticed that Nia and Tom were clearly an item. “And, who is this gorgeous man with you this evening, Ms Williams?”

Nia introduced Tom and he noticed the quizzical glance that passed between the two women.

“Nice to meet you, Tom,” the actress said. “You’re not an actor so what is it that you do for a living?”

“Oh, I write a bit,” said Tom.

“Oh fuck,” the actor laughed. “You’ll need to get a real job if you are going to be with our Nia.”

The crowd laughed and Tom looked towards Nia and she smiled back at him and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you write?” the actress continued with genuine interest.

“Oh, travelogues,” Tom said. He was about to add the word ‘canals’ but the actress interrupted:

“Oh, anywhere sexy and exotic?”

“Yes,” Tom said quickly. “Wales.”

The actress laughed a thin, high but genuine guffaw while looking first at Nia and back to Tom. The actress held Tom in her gaze for a moment, winked, then she returned to holding court.

Nia grabbed Tom’s hand and sighed with a sense of relief. She moved through the crowd introducing Tom to some of the coterie of actors and acquaintances. Many were friendly but Tom noticed a collective look of surprise they almost all shared. He asked Nia about it. She thought for a moment and was struck by her own realisation,

“I don’t usually do this, attend these public things any more. And, when I do, it’s usually alone,” she told Tom. She was bemused. She hadn’t introduced a boyfriend since the early days of Goldenboy. Boyfriend? Was Tom her boyfriend. And, why wasn’t there a better term for boyfriend for people in their forties?

She wondered whether she had introduced Tom to acquaintances to make him feel more comfortable and confident after her Tube station wobble or to signify the depth of the relationship to herself. Maybe a bit of both, she thought. They moved to the bar area as the event began to wind down. Nia looked at Tom and grasped his hand.

“Wanna get out of here?” she asked.

“Only if you do,” Tom replied gallantly.

***

Outside the theatre the winter night was still and chilly. Once again, the normally thriving metropolis felt empty. North across the Thames, St Paul’s Cathedral was lit up so dramatically that it appeared almost supernatural. They were drawn to it and walked across the Millennium footbridge and up to the Cathedral almost in unspeaking awe. They stood in front of Wren’s masterpiece holding hands before turning for the Tube station. They took an almost empty Tube train back close to the hotel. It was a short walk from the station to the hotel. Nia pulled on Tom’s arm as he opened the hotel’s entrance door. She asked him whether he would like to come home with her rather than stay at the hotel. He knew that this was an important symbolic step for Nia, so he said that he’d love to see her home.

The hotel’s concierge ordered a taxi. He had become more helpful when Nia agreed to still pay for the night’s reservation. Nia and Tom entered the broad cabin of the classic black cab and Nia gave the driver her home address. Tom carried his rucksack and Nia’s large overnight bag.

Nia lived in a town house off one of London’s innumerable Georgian squares. It was a solidly established area not fashionable enough, yet, for sports stars and oligarchs. Nevertheless, as they stepped out of the taxi in front of the imposing three story façade Tom suddenly realised that Nia wasn’t short of cash. This wasn’t the home of a struggling actor. Nia opened her front door and Tom dropped the bags off in the entrance vestibule. Nia pointed down the corridor, noting lounge and dining room to the right, small toilet, then kitchen and breakfast nook towards the back. She took Tom up to the second floor with