Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love! (22 page)

‘What you doing in there then, texting?’

‘No.’

‘That’s what I do. Forget where I am sometimes.’

‘Why are you orange?’ asked Tom, noticing Jerry’s face.

‘That’s what I wanted to show you,’ he replied, admiring himself in the mirror. ‘Bianca has set up a tanning booth in the dressing room. Said she’d do me. How could I refuse? A young lady spraying my body all over? Too good to miss.’

‘All over?’ asked Tom.

‘No, sadly. I did tell her I didn’t like tan lines and I didn’t mind taking my undies off but she admitted she’s a little shy and offered to get Gavin to do it. But I’ve seen Gavin giving me the eye and I didn’t want to encourage the poor lad.’

Tom nodded. ‘Denying your manhood to anyone is extremely cruel.’

‘Too right. Anyway, do you like it? Sets me up to look like a proper local down under in a few weeks I reckon.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Tom, ‘you’ll fit right in. If you’re in an
orange
grove.’

‘Well, I want it to last, don’t I? Don’t want it to have faded to nothing by the time we go.’

‘You’ll be lucky if it’s faded to the shade of an orange highlighter pen.’

‘Bah, you’re only jealous.’

‘You are still going, are you? Thought you said Hannah was showing a lack of enthusiasm.’

‘I’ll talk her round, you wait and see. Now, I wanted to ask you about reserved seating for VIPs at the premiere of the show tonight.’

‘It’s a Halloween show at a theme park, Jerry, not the next James Bond movie.’

‘I know, I know, but it’s my first production so it’s special to me. I want to be front and centre cheering you on.’

‘I wouldn’t bother,’ mumbled Tom. ‘It’s going to be shit.’

‘What?’ cried Jerry. ‘I thought Carly was OK, just a very light sprain.’

‘It is, but to make sure she’s OK for tonight she’s had to rest it so we haven’t been able to rehearse with her. That’s fine for her, she’s going to be great, but her leading man is a moron. I’ve been trying to rehearse him all morning and he’s diabolical. He could ruin the whole show.’

‘Stop stressing, man,’ said Jerry, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s Carly they’ll all be looking at, not him. No one will notice if he cocks up – she’s the star of the show by miles.’

‘Maybe,’ Tom sighed. ‘But it’s not just him. We’ve got proper crotch-popper problems.’

‘Crotch-proper problems?’

‘No, proper crotch-popper problems.’

Jerry looked blank.

‘One of the costumes is a black all-in-one leotard thing with poppers at the crotch. The dance routine they do is so energetic that the poppers pop open leaving them exposed.’

‘Jeez, terrible,’ said Jerry.

‘We are currently sewing up the crotches of three black cats.’

‘Painful.’

‘
And
, to top it all, we thought it would be hilarious if the lead zombie had a Welsh accent.’

‘I can see that.’ Jerry nodded. ‘You don’t get many Welsh zombies.’

‘Yeah, it’s funny all right – or it would be if Zack could do a Welsh accent. At the moment he sounds Pakistani, which Guest Happiness have said could be misconstrued as racist. They’re worried they’ll get complaints.’

‘But it’s OK to make fun of the Welsh?’

Tom shrugged. ‘Apparently.’

‘What about Brummie? Can you make fun of them? Could he do
that
accent do you think?’

‘I don’t know. We could ask him to try but we’d have to ask Guest Happiness if Brummies are fair game first.’

‘Birmingham’s not that far from Wales, surely that would be OK?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Tom, throwing his hands up in the air. ‘I tell you what, doing comedy on the stage is an utter minefield these days. It has never been so difficult to decide who you can take the piss out of.’

‘Well, I’m confused.’

‘And we’ve not done a technical run-through yet because our tech guys haven’t connected all the speakers because they are too busy chatting up the dancers. Trying to focus young lads whilst semi-naked young women are about is like trying to herd cats. It’s a bloody disaster. Tonight will be a shambles. I’m just warning you, Jerry.’

‘Do you need more electricians? I can get you electricians. Your brother for a start.’ Jerry reached for his phone and started to tap at the screen. ‘Why didn’t you say that’s what you needed? I’m your producer, remember, here to help. I’ll get you electricians and, as a special favour to you, I will personally keep the dancers away from them so they can concentrate on getting your lighting up. No, don’t thank me,’ said Jerry as Tom was about to protest. ‘You need my help and I am only too happy to give it. Ah, Will’ – he turned his back on Tom – ‘I need you over at the stage pronto. Your brother is in a right state.’

Tom was still nervous. In fact he didn’t think he’d ever been more nervous in his life. The day had flown by and yet they’d barely fought all the fires that had presented themselves. And now it was half an hour until show time and he didn’t know which of the fires still raging he should be panicking about the most.

He was currently holding a ladder for Will as his brother fixed up a speaker in the dressing room so the cast could hear what was going on on stage and wouldn’t miss their cues. Probably not the most productive use of the show director’s time at that moment, but at least he was doing something of value rather than standing around thinking about the potential catastrophe to come.

There was an enormous bang and Tom braced himself for another disaster but it was only Amy slamming a saucepan on the steel bench to get everyone’s attention.

‘Listen up, guys,’ she hollered. ‘Thirty minutes to show time. Let’s take a roll call to check you are ready for the first number. Ten technicolour rabbits, ready?

‘Yes,’ came the chorus of replies.

‘Three black cats, ready?’

‘Yes,’ came three shouts.

‘Are your crotches secure?’

‘Yes,’ they repeated.

‘White Rabbit, ready?’

‘No, I’m late,’ someone shouted.

‘What the fuck—’ started Amy.

‘For a very important date,’ Nathan continued in a singsong voice. ‘No time to say hello goodbye, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late. I’m late.’

‘Are you trying to be funny?’ asked Amy, seeking Nathan out in the crowd.

‘No, I’m in character,’ stated Nathan.

Amy glared at him. ‘You are in the shit, is where you are,’ she said. ‘We don’t have time for this. See me afterwards.’ She looked back down at her clipboard. ‘Zack, have you decided which regional accent you’re using tonight?’

‘I’m from Buuuurrrrrrmingham,’ he replied in full grim zombie costume. Several of the cast burst out laughing. Even Amy raised a smile.

‘Have you been to Guest Happiness and checked what impact doing a Brummie accent might have on complaints?’

‘The general consensus appears to be that Brummies have a sense of humour and don’t tend to complain. Overall it was concluded that Brummie was relatively low risk.’

‘Excellent,’ replied Amy.

‘Finally, Alice, you ready?’

‘Yeah,’ came a quiet voice at the back of the room. Tom strained to look over the rest of the cast to see where Carly was. She had her back to the room and was staring into a mirror.

‘Right, that’s it from me. Don’t fuck it up, OK?’ said Amy. ‘Now let me hand over to Phillip who wants to say a few words.’

Jesus, thought Tom. What’s he doing here?

Phillip got up on the table but, just as he was about to start to speak, Amy interrupted him.

‘Phillip is the General Manager, by the way. The boss, just so you know. So no arsing about. All yours,’ she said, turning back to Phillip before jumping off the table.

‘I just wanted to say that all eyes are on you this evening. We have visitors from Head Office who are here to see what a good job we do of entertainment at Wonderland, so don’t let me down. We are also conducting market research on the show and we will be getting a reaction straight from those that matter. Our guests. So I look forward to seeing some amazing scores. You are representing the high standards we have here at Wonderland so get on that stage and . . . what do you say . . . break a leg?’

Inappropriate, given the circumstances, thought Tom, although he’d not shared the incident of the star of the show being knocked off the stage with Phillip for fear of him having a heart attack. Tom grabbed hold of a passing zombie and asked him to hold the ladder, so he could chase after Phillip and do some managing of expectations. Or more crucially make sure he was aware that first nights were always tricky. Things always went wrong and
Phillip had been an utter idiot to invite anyone important along. It was asking for trouble.

He dashed across the room after him but was stopped in his tracks by Carly, who was white as a sheet. Shit, he thought. She was in pain. Medical clearly hadn’t given her enough drugs. What were they thinking?

‘I can’t do it,’ she said firmly.

‘I’ll get you more drugs,’ he said quickly. ‘Whatever you want, just say.’

‘It’s not my ankle,’ she replied. ‘It feels fine.’

‘Then what is it?’ he said urgently. Where was Amy? He needed her ready to get whatever Carly needed. Blue smarties – whatever. The show had to go on.

‘I’m not good enough,’ she said, looking away and biting her lip. ‘I’m going to let you down. I can’t go on stage.’

Oh, for fuck’s sake, thought Tom. He did not need this now. ‘You are good enough,’ he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes. ‘You are brilliant and are going to be brilliant out there. Believe me, I know.’

‘Really?’ she said, looking back at him with puppy-dog eyes.

Tom sighed. ‘Yes,’ he said firmly, then bent low to whisper in her ear. ‘You knock the socks off everyone else here. You know that, don’t you? When you’re up there, there might as well be no one else on the stage. You’re utterly mesmerising.’

‘Am I?’ she said, her lip starting to tremble.

He pulled her into his chest. ‘Of course you are, silly,’ he said into her hair.

She leant back, leaving her face and lips frighteningly close to his. Shit. He could feel some kind of panic rising again.

‘Can I ask you something?’ she said. He could feel her breath on his cheek.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think Laura deliberately pushed me off the stage?’

‘What? No!’ he exclaimed, pushing her away. ‘Of course she didn’t. Whatever would make you think that?’

‘Well, she hasn’t said a word to me since. Do you think she might be jealous of me?’ continued Carly.

What was she talking about? Jealous? Jealous of what? He so didn’t understand women.

‘No, no way.’ He shook his head. ‘She was really upset about what happened.’ He vaguely recalled Laura fretting about it the morning after they got back from hospital but his head had been so full of how to make the best use of rehearsal time now Carly was out of action that he’d barely listened. ‘She’s just busy – you know, stressed.’ He shrugged. ‘She goes quiet when she’s got too much on her plate. She’ll start talking again soon. Mark my words. Now,’ he said, taking a step back. She was a mess and he had to act fast. He took her arm and led her back to her chair in front of the mirror. ‘Look’ – he pointed at her reflection – ‘you’ve ruined your make-up.’ He picked up a bottle of cleanser and a ball of cotton wool and poured some on. Then he reached forward and started to wipe the stage make-up off her face. She stared back at him mesmerised.

‘Look,’ he said gently. ‘You can’t give up now. This is your time. You are young and you are the star of the show. I would give anything to be in your shoes.’

‘You would?’ she murmured.

‘Of course. You are about to go out on stage in front of hundreds of people. Isn’t that what you always dreamt of?’

She nodded.

‘Enjoy it,’ he said sternly. ‘Enjoy it whilst it lasts. Because it’s the best feeling in the world.’

‘Do you miss it?’ she asked.

He sighed. ‘Every day.’

She smiled at him, letting him stroke her face with the cotton wool.

‘There we go, all gone,’ he said. ‘Now, I’m not so good at putting the make-up on so can I leave you to make yourself beautiful and we’ll see you on stage in fifteen minutes?’

She nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘You’re welcome,’ he replied, turning away in relief. Time for a final crotch check.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Laura

Laura turned around from her front-row seat to scan the audience behind her. A large crowd had gathered, stamping feet and blowing on hands as they eagerly awaited the finale to their day: ‘The all-singing, all-dancing
Malice in Wonderland
Halloween Show guaranteed to thrill and excite the entire family’. Well, that’s what the flyer had said when it was stuffed into their hands on arrival that morning. What better than to watch a show before they began their journey home? Ten minutes to go and the square was alive with chatter as the anticipation built.

Laura had done one last check to make sure all the on-park hosts conducting the research were in the right spots and were properly briefed. She’d been asked to come in and supervise the first lot of research when Archie had been forced to admit he didn’t know how to use the in-house software Wonderland had paid a lot of money for. She’d said she’d show him how to use it for the first show then he would be able to do it himself after that.

She settled herself into a seat next to Jerry, who was wearing a shirt and tie as though he were father of the bride. He’d seated himself in pride of place next to Phillip, who was doing his best to avoid small talk with Jerry so that he could look after the visitors from Head Office.

‘This is so exciting,’ Jerry had hissed at Laura before the show was due to start.

‘We’ll see,’ said Laura, already noticing that people were starting to leave, as they got bored of waiting. Eventually the stage lights went up ten minutes after the show’s official start time and there was a small, disheartened cheer. Alice wandered on to the stage and opened her mouth and the audience went absolutely quiet. Laura couldn’t help but be impressed again with her obvious talent. How could she compete with that? Carly could sing and Laura was good at adding up. No contest.