Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love! (23 page)

Jerry nudged her, a massive grin on his face. ‘Wow,’ he mouthed.

Laura tried to smile back.

Unfortunately that proved to be the first and last wow moment in the show. The idea was actually brilliant. All the characters in
Alice in Wonderland
were weird and a bit freaky anyway so putting a Halloween spin on the story was inspired. But a desperately disillusioned lad called Theo was absolutely appalling as the Mad Bad Hatter. He was so bad he was almost funny. Almost, but not quite. He forgot his lines, he sang out of tune and during the Twisted Tango, the grand finale of the show, he managed to trip Malice up twice and eventually tip over an entire row of tarot cards. The smoke machine went into overdrive, which Laura strongly suspected had been ordered to mask the bun fight that was going on on stage. Unfortunately it also swamped half the audience, causing them to retreat from the stage. Most never returned, using the mist to spirit them away from the carnage of a performance.

Jerry’s exuberance died down not long after the Mad Bad Hatter took to the stage and by the time the Twisted Tango had finished he was slumped in his chair, shaking his head from side to side. Laura actually felt sorry for him. His dreams of a Hollywood-producing career seemed already doomed.

Once the smoke had settled, but before the cast had finished taking their bows in front of a rapidly escaping audience, Phillip and his guests got up from their seats. The guests trooped off but Phillip paused next to Laura, looking grim.

‘How soon can you get me the research scores?’ he asked, squatting down next to her chair.

She looked at her watch. ‘They’ll be collecting data for another half an hour, I would say; then it will take me about another half-hour after that to run it through the software.’

‘Can you bring it up to the boardroom as soon as you have it? I’d like to see what we are dealing with.’ He got up, tweaked his trousers and strutted off.

‘What did he say?’ hissed Jerry.

‘He wants to see the scores in his boardroom in an hour,’ she replied.

Jerry nodded slowly. His lively demeanour evaporated. ‘Shall I tell Tom?’ he said.

‘I guess so,’ she replied. ‘I’d best go and check how they’re getting on.’

‘OK.’ Jerry grabbed her hand. ‘We will get through this, you know,’ he added seriously.

‘I hope so,’ replied Laura, trying hard to rid herself of the vision of her husband tenderly removing Carly’s make-up. She’d thought it had been the right thing to go and wish them good luck back stage. Take the moral high ground. She wished she hadn’t bothered.

Laura could hear voices raised in the boardroom as she followed Archie down the corridor. He turned to look at her as they hovered outside the heavy wooden door.

‘Why don’t you tell them the scores,’ he said nervously. ‘It’ll be better coming from you.’

She had to keep reminding herself that this spotty youth was the client and her job was to take instruction from him.

‘If you really think so I will, but are you sure?’

Archie nodded vigorously before opening the door and pushing Laura in front of him. She took a deep breath and threw her shoulders back, trying to remember that she was here as a representative of Harvest Research and not as Tom’s wife and must act like the professional she was.

Laura nearly bumped into Jerry, who was pacing up and down the room. She hadn’t expected him to be there – or Amy, or Carly. She spotted Tom sitting next to Phillip at the end of the table; he was looking grim. He turned to look at her, searching her face for an indication of which way the scores had gone.

‘What’s the verdict?’ hissed Jerry before she could even sit down.

‘I will ask you to leave, Jerry,’ said Phillip firmly, ‘if you don’t calm down. You are lucky even to be in this room.’

‘Sorry, Phillip,’ said Jerry, plonking himself on the nearest available chair.

Laura sat herself down, feeling all eyes on her. She tapped at her iPad as silence fell and the whole room held its breath.

‘So the scores are in,’ she said, and then coughed as the numbers lit up her screen. ‘When asked on a scale of one to ten how good they would
rate the show with ten being excellent and one being very poor the respondents scored you an average of . . .’ Laura looked up. ‘. . . five.’

‘What? No way!’ said Jerry, getting up and pacing the room again. ‘It wasn’t that bad. Who are these people answering these questions? Idiots?’

‘They are what are known as guests,’ said Amy. ‘We deal with the morons every day.’

‘Sit down, Jerry,’ said Phillip.

Jerry slunk down into his chair. Tom had his head in his hands. Carly was fighting back tears.

‘Continue,’ said Phillip. ‘What about the other scores?’

Laura glanced back down at the iPad. ‘In answer to the question, “Would you come back to next year’s Halloween to watch the show?” eighty-three per cent said no.’

‘Thirteen per cent, that’s a start,’ cried Jerry. ‘Something we can build on.’

‘No it’s not,’ said Amy.

‘Yes it is,’ replied Jerry.

‘It’s seventeen per cent,’ said Amy.

‘Even better,’ said Jerry.

‘This is an unmitigated disaster,’ said Phillip. ‘We haven’t even picked up any additional food and beverage spend. I saw Gillian on the way up and she said spends were down six per cent on the same time yesterday when we had no entertainment on. This is not the good news story I was hoping to give Head Office, Tom.’

‘No,’ muttered Tom, still looking down. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I could pull it off. I was wrong.’

Laura gazed over at him. He looked broken.

‘What the hell?’ said Jerry, leaping up. ‘Please don’t tell me to sit down again,’ he warned Phillip. ‘What did you tell me this morning, Tom? You said first nights are always shit. Well, there you go. We’ve got it out the way. It’ll be brilliant tomorrow, won’t it, Tom?’

Tom didn’t answer.

‘It’s me,’ said Carly. ‘I’m no good, I told you I couldn’t do it.’

‘No!’ chimed Tom, Jerry and Phillip.

‘It isn’t you,’ Tom added, putting his arm around her. ‘You were brilliant.’

‘You were amazing,’ said Jerry.

‘The only decent thing in it,’ agreed Phillip.

Amy and Laura exchanged glances.

‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ said Tom. ‘You stood out a mile. It’s the rest of the cast who were woefully under-rehearsed.’

‘I suppose I have had more experience than them,’ said Carly. ‘I’ve been in a lot of shows and done TV.’

‘You posted a letter in Albert Square,’ interrupted Amy. ‘You haven’t done TV, your left hand has.’

‘I don’t think we need to raise this just now, do we, Amy?’ said Tom, his arm still around Carly.

Amy and Laura exchanged another glance.

‘It’s all my fault,’ Tom told Phillip. ‘I was too ambitious. I got carried away. I should have realised our limitations. I’m sorry.’

Phillip nodded in agreement as an awkward silence descended on the room.

‘So what are your next steps?’ asked Laura, drilling her gaze into Tom. Come on, she willed him. You need to respond.

‘What?’ said Tom, glancing over to Laura; he almost seemed to have forgotten she was there.

‘What is your action plan?’ she pressed. She’d had enough of this self-pitying navel-gazing and his sickening comforting of Carly. This was supposed to be a business meeting but everyone was behaving as though they’d just lost the final of
Britain’s Got Talent
.

‘I’ve presented the research,’ she said slowly and deliberately, ‘so now is the point at which we work out what the solution is.’

Tom was staring at her as though she were talking in a foreign language.

‘Why don’t we take it right back to what your original objectives were,’ suggested Laura.

‘Objectives!’ cried Amy. ‘What the hell have they got to do with it?’

‘It can help,’ said Laura, desperate to get them talking about solutions rather than failure.

‘The objectives were to deliver entertainment that was seen by over sixty-five per cent of park guests, achieve an average of eight out of ten for enjoyment and increase secondary spend by five per cent,’ said Phillip, leaning forward. ‘The worst thing is that I reckon over sixty-five per cent of guests
did
see that wreck of a show and left with an extremely bad impression of Wonderland.’

‘Right, good,’ said Laura, ignoring Phillip’s troubled frown. ‘So how do we improve that satisfaction score then? Tom, what would improve the show? Give me one thing.’

Tom shook his head, bewildered and desperate. ‘Getting rid of Theo and at least ten hours’ more rehearsal,’ he said.

‘Excellent, do that then.’ She leant back in her chair. Finally some progress.

‘We can’t, Laura. That’s the point,’ replied Tom, looking exasperated. ‘There is no one to replace Theo and we can’t rehearse on the stage during the day because there are visitors around. It’s useless.’

‘There is no one in the cast who can take over the male lead?’ asked Laura. She willed Tom to get on the same wavelength as her. Come on, I’m trying to help you here! At least
try
, she thought.

‘There is, but they would be worse than Theo, believe me.’

‘I’ve got a brilliant idea,’ Carly said, her eyes suddenly wide with excitement.

‘I very much doubt it,’ muttered Amy.

‘Tom could do it,’ Laura cried. She couldn’t let Carly steal her thunder. ‘You’d be brilliant.’

‘Fuck me,’ said Jerry, leaping out of his chair. ‘You are a genius,’ he said, kissing Laura on the cheek. ‘Of course Tom can do it. He knows all the lines; he knows all the moves. I’m telling you, Phillip, I’ve seen Tom and Carly do that Twisted Tango together. It brings tears to my eyes.’

Laura sat motionless, staring at Tom. He wasn’t saying anything, too stunned to speak. Clearly the option had never crossed his mind.

‘You were only just saying how much you missed performing,’ said Carly. ‘How much you loved it. Come on, you and me on the stage together: it’ll be brilliant. You must do it. Say you’ll do it?’

Laura watched as Carly draped herself around Tom’s neck and begged him to dance with her. He turned to look at Laura.

‘Do you think I can?’ he asked her, his brow furrowed.

Laura hesitated. In spite of knowing she had made exactly the right suggestion her entire body wanted to say no. Her stomach needed her to say no to get rid of the awful sick feeling that was rising up through her body. But she nodded her head and silently mouthed yes.

He smiled back at her and then turned his face towards Carly. ‘Let’s do it,’ he said, grinning.

Carly practically leapt on to his knee. ‘This is going to be the best show ever!’ she announced. ‘Seriously,’ she added, turning her head to Phillip. ‘We are going to knock it out of the park now, you wait and see.’

Laura swallowed. She needed to get out. She wasn’t sure she could maintain this professional persona any longer. She glanced down at the notes she’d made and turned to talk to Phillip whilst Tom and Carly began to discuss how they could make the Twisted Tango even better.

‘You should consider cancelling the show for tomorrow night,’ she said to him as if on autopilot. It had been plain to her whilst watching the show that they needed more rehearsal time to have any chance of getting it halfway decent. ‘Give them tomorrow night after the park shuts to rehearse and get it right.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed Phillip.

‘And one last thing,’ she said, starting to gather her things together. ‘You need to take hot food and drink out to the guests. Everyone was cold and hungry but couldn’t be bothered to go and hunt out food.’

Phillip nodded.

‘Maybe even a bubbling Halloween broth or something? If you themed a hot drink I bet you could charge a fortune.’

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell Commercial to get on to it straight away.’

‘They’ll be able to do the research without me the next time,’ she said, standing up. ‘I’ve shown them what to do.’

‘Well, I really appreciate you coming in tonight,’ said Phillip, following her to his feet. ‘Your contribution has been very worthwhile.’

Laura nodded.

‘I’m glad the Research Department has been of use,’ said Archie, holding his hand out to Phillip. Laura had forgotten he was even there.

‘Who are you?’ asked Phillip.

‘No one,’ he mumbled and scurried out of the room.

Laura shook Phillip’s hand, then turned and walked out, leaving the excited chatter behind her.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hannah

‘Why?’ asked Hannah, staring straight ahead.

‘Why what?’ replied Jerry, flicking his indicator on the side of the steering wheel of his Range Rover.

Hannah stared ahead into the gloom of the autumnal early-evening. She actually knew why, but she wasn’t fond of the conclusion she had come to. Maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Why the cigar?’ she asked, turning to watch her husband casually flick ash out of the narrow slit in the driver’s window.

He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just fancied giving it a go.’ He took another draw and gave a small cough.’

‘Does Harvey Weinstein smoke cigars?’ she asked.

He shrugged again. ‘Might do.’

‘Do you think smoking cigars will make you look more like a Hollywood movie mogul?’ she asked.

‘Might do.’ He smiled, looking pleased with himself.

Hannah turned away to stare out of her window. ‘Ridiculous,’ she muttered to herself.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said:
Ridiculous
,’ she repeated a bit louder.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ he asked, taking his cigar out of his mouth and waving it around in a grand gesture.

She turned back to look at him, his stubby fingers held in a rigid V shape around his latest accessory, his fake-tanned tangerine face poking out from behind a spotted cravat that he’d deemed appropriate to drag out of the depths of his wardrobe for this evening’s occasion. She sighed. She couldn’t help it.

‘I mean you look ridiculous,’ she said.

His only reaction was a slight furrowing of the brow.

‘What do you mean I look ridiculous?’ he asked eventually.

‘What do you think I mean?’