Gabe and I took a moment to peruse the details of the Cratchit House, all the decor and adornments they used to replicate the interior style of a typical lower-class Victorian home. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of the crackling fire behind us and the scent of pine from the furniture and beams. Who would have thought I would have such a strong connection with Dickens and his personal story? And even though this was not what I had in mind when I thought about how to prepare for my final audition, I was flooded with gratitude for the experience of it all. I had a brand-new perspective, one I knew I’d be able to uniquely draw from when portraying the character of Marley onstage.
I reached down for Gabe’s hand and squeezed it, hoping to convey my appreciation through my affectionate gesture. “This was so great, Gabe. Like so, so great.” I leaned against him and rested my head on his shoulder as we faced the wall looking at old photographs of Dickens and lithograph illustrations from his life’s works.
“Good,” he said, leaning his head to mine. “I’m glad.” He gave my hand another squeeze. “Are you hungry? ’Cause I am starving. I’ll be ready to eat that plastic turkey and the sticky toffee pudding on the table if we don’t get outta here soon.”
“Yes! Agreed! Let’s just say goodbye and thank you to Reginald, and then we can find somewhere close by for dinner.”
We waited in a short queue to say our goodbyes to our host as Gabe drew a ten-pound note from inside his coat pocket.
Reginald’s eyes twinkled as he watched Gabe place the bill into the hat. “Much appreciated, kind sir.”
Turning his attention from Gabe to me, he locked his eyes on mine and asked, “Dinner plans?”
“No, actually,” I said, hoping he was getting ready to suggest a nearby favorite.
“Wonderful. Would you be interested in joining me for the best fish and chips in town? The best spot’s just around the corner,” he asked as his eyebrows danced suggestively up and down.
Still holding Gabe’s hand, I couldn’t help but crack a smile. Gabe’s fingers squeezed mine as we shared the laugh inwardly. “I would love to join you, but unfortunately, I’m already spoken for.” I lifted our intertwined hands up to eye level, and Reginald met it with a dramatic pout.
“Well, I had to try.” He turned to Gabe and said, “‘Love her, love her, love her! If she favors you, love her.’”
Gabe nodded. “Now that I can do,” he said and kissed me on the top of the head.
I looked at Reginald. “Great Expectations?”
“Ahhh yes, my dear, and it seems all my work here is now done.” He smiled and offered a wink. And with that, he emptied the bills and coins from his hat into his pockets, shimmied the cap back onto his head, and turned to leave.
Chapter Thirty-Four
We took Reginald’s suggestion and went to find some dinner at the fish-and-chips place around the corner. He wasn’t kidding. It must have been one of the most well-known hot spots in the city because the line was halfway down the block. It wasn’t a proper sit-down restaurant—instead, you ordered your food from the café window and took your plate to one of the nearby benches or, if you were lucky, wooden picnic tables.
“How about we divide and conquer,” Gabe suggested. “I’ll go and secure us a place to sit and a couple of pints and you stand in the queue?”
“Sounds good,” I answered, and watched him duck out of the line and make his way down the street.
Fortunately, due to the limited menu, the line moved pretty quickly. You had three options: fish and chips, bangers and mash, or shepherd’s pie. It all looked (and smelled!) delicious, but since Reginald raved about the fish and chips, I decided to go with that for me and Gabe, plus a shepherd’s pie for good measure.
After I paid, the cashier handed me a ticket and asked me to kindly step to the side. About ten minutes later, my number was called and I was handed two orders of fish and chips bundled in newspaper, the oil spreading farther and farther across the printed letters with each passing second.
“Don’t forget about your shepherd’s pie, dear,” the cashier hollered as I almost walked away without it. I couldn’t help but laugh—she sounded just like Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd. I’d have to remember to tell Charlie about her when I got home.
I rose to my toes to search the nearby benches and picnic tables for Gabe, finally spotting him sitting on a bench underneath the lamplight a little bit up the road, waiting for me. I crossed the street to him, trying to not get any of the oil from the newspaper on my coat, and noticed he was talking on the phone to someone. As I made my way closer, I heard Gabe say, “Keep your chin up, okay? I’ll be home tomorrow. Love you.”
I cleared my throat and purposefully stepped into a crunchy pile of leaves so he’d know I was there.
“Oh, hey,” he said, sliding his phone into his pocket and jumping up to help me with the food. He reached for the shepherd’s pie that sat on top of the pile I was carrying and ushered me over to the bench, helping me to balance everything as I sat.
“So, um . . . any luck with the drinks?” I asked, curious if he’d fess up to whatever took him away from his original task.
“Oh shoot. Drinks. I got distracted trying to find us a place to sit. And then once I did, I didn’t want to lose it. I realize now I should have probably executed the plan in reverse.”
“Hey, Gabe? Just now, were you talking to Marisol? I know she and I aren’t friends anymore, but you don’t have to hide talking to your sister from me.”
His expression was tinged with guilt at his attempt at secrecy. “I know the two of you ended on bad terms. I figured now that we’re back together, best to keep those two worlds separate. At least for the time being.”
“Does she know you’re here with me?”
He scrunched up his face. “The truth?”
“Always.”
“No, I didn’t tell her. I haven’t told her anything about us yet. I wanted to make sure it was all real first.” He leaned back against the bench and started to untuck the corners of the newspaper to unwrap his fish and chips and popped a french fry into his mouth. “She’s had such a tough time since Mom died, I wasn’t sure how she’d take the news. Part of me thinks she’d be thrilled. Another part . . . I don’t know. Regardless, she could use a friend like you in her life right now. But you know Marisol, stupidly stubborn, she’d never be able to admit she had any part in what exactly went wrong between you two.”
“She didn’t. Not really. I’m the one who was in the wrong.”
Gabe set down his forkful of shepherd’s pie and said, “Maybe it’s not too late to right the wrong? I mean, if today taught us anything, it’s that the ghosts of your past will keep haunting you until you confront them. That was the whole point of A Christmas Carol, wasn’t it? Or do I need to go look for Reginald?”
“No, don’t do that. I think you got it exactly right. He’d be so proud.”
We finished our dinners, scarfing down the last of the delicious fish and chips, and wiped our greasy fingers on a handful of napkins. Gabe crumpled up his newspaper, tapped my knee, and stood up from the bench. “It’s getting late. Ready to go back to the hotel?”
“Gabe, this really was amazing. This whole trip. You changing plans last minute to incorporate all of the Dickens stuff for me. I’m just . . .” I kissed him to fill in the blank and hoped it conveyed the gratitude and love that his sweet gesture incited in me.