Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love! (27 page)

‘Oh.’ Tom did not seem convinced. ‘Are you sure? I was really looking forward to you finally seeing it tomorrow.’

‘I’m sure.’ She nodded vigorously. ‘I’ll be there on closing night. I promise.’

‘OK,’ he replied, nodding slowly in his turn. ‘If that’s what you really want to do?’

‘Yes. Can’t wait. Now if you don’t mind I’m off to bed.’

She turned and narrowly avoided banging into the doorpost before crawling up the stairs.

Chapter Thirty

Laura

‘So you are definitely coming to see me later, aren’t you?’ Tom asked as he got up to clear the table after Sunday lunch. She watched him shuffling between table and fridge and dishwasher, putting everything in the wrong place, of course. Carly had gone to Wonderland early to prepare for what would be their final show that evening and so they had had a meal alone for the first time in a month.

‘Of course,’ she said, getting up and flicking the kettle on. She stood with her back to him so he wouldn’t see her face. ‘I’m really looking forward to it.’ Over a week had passed since the disastrous dinner party and her announcement that she wouldn’t go and see the show until the final night. Tom hadn’t mentioned it again but she could tell he was confused by her decision. To her relief it meant he’d avoided any discussion about the show with her all week.

But standing here in the kitchen now, knowing she was just hours away from having to face Tom and Carly in all their splendour on stage was making her feel sick. She wasn’t sure how she was going to cope, especially following the discovery she’d made in the garage that morning: a massive bouquet of flowers with a card attached saying: ‘To my favourite leading lady’. All her fears and suspicions had lit up inside her and there was nothing she could do to quell them. All she could do was wait until that evening when she was certain all would become clear.

‘I really want you to be honest about what you think of the show,’ said Tom, turning his back to her at the sink and switching on the taps.

‘You don’t need me to tell you how brilliant you are,’ she replied, bending down to pretend to search for teabags in the cupboard.

‘Yes I do,’ he said.

'No you don't.' She stood up to rearrange the mugs next to the kettle.

‘I do,’ said Tom, twisting around to face her, up to his elbows in suds.

She took a breath trying to calm her frustration at his neediness. ‘Look, even from the first performance I could see what a great show it was. You just needed to sort out the teething problems, that’s all. Not give up just because you screwed up casting the lead male.’

Tom looked startled; he paused before he replied.

‘Is that what you think? That I screwed up?’ he asked.

‘Well, you did, didn’t you? He ruined what was otherwise a brilliant show.’

Tom stared back at her as though she’d just told him he was adopted.

‘Well, thanks for that.’ He slammed a saucepan on to the drainer.

‘You would have given up at that point, wouldn’t you?’ she continued. ‘Admitted defeat. The slightest problem and you throw your hands in the air, down tools and go into a massive sulk.’

‘No I don’t.’

‘Yes you do. You do it every time. You dream big and then when someone puts the slightest obstacle in your path you give up.’

Tom looked stunned. She was pretty shocked herself. Her current turmoil was clearly driving out some home truths she’d harboured for some time.

‘Your dreams are brilliant, Tom,’ she continued more gently, noticing his crestfallen face. ‘I could see all your ridiculous, funny, amazing and utterly bonkers dreams up there in the very first performance. It’s why it’s such a great job for you. You get to put your dreams up there on stage. Where else would you get to explode a dormouse? I mean – seriously?’

Tom half raised a smile.

‘Being an Entertainment Director is a job made in heaven for you,’ she said.

‘I hate it,’ he muttered, turning to gaze through the window.

‘No you don’t,’ said Laura. ‘It’s the failure you hate, not the job. But instead of facing up to it and doing something about it you blame other people, making yourself look like the victim.’

He turned sharply back towards her.

‘Phillip keeps cutting my budget so my shows are rubbish,’ she continued, mimicking his pained-looking face. ‘My leading man can’t dance for
toffee so my shows are terrible. I’ve decided to hate my job because I’m too bloody scared of making a success of it because then I might just be happy and what a disaster that would be, because this wasn’t what I thought would make me happy. The mighty Tom Mackintyre couldn’t possibly be happy being an Entertainment Director at a theme park in his home town with an unglamorous, boring wife who stares at numbers all day and couldn’t do a paso doble if her life depended on it.’ Her voice had risen to a squeak and her heart was hammering.

‘That’s not true,’ said Tom, wide-eyed at her outburst.

‘Which part?’ demanded Laura. She’d never been this honest with her husband. ‘I can assure you that I cannot, will not ever be able to do the paso doble to save my life.’

‘None of it’s true.’ He lifted his hands out of the washbowl and picked up a towel. He was silent as he dried his hands, looking at the floor.

‘There’s an audition,’ he said quietly.

‘A what?’ asked Laura, thinking she’d misheard.

‘An audition.’ He looked up. ‘It’s a musical. They’re looking for men my age who can sing and dance. Really good parts. Carly told me about it.’

Laura felt all the air get sucked out of her body. He couldn’t be saying this. He really couldn’t be saying this.

‘Where?’ she managed to ask.

‘London,’ he said. ‘It’s the West End, Laura.’

‘Carly told you about it.’

Tom nodded. ‘She’s trying for a part too. She said I should go and give it a go.’

‘What do you expect me to say?’ she asked after an uncomfortable pause.

‘I want you to tell me after you see the show today if you honestly think I’m good enough,’ he said. ‘I need to know what you think I should do? Whether it’s a stupid idea. I mean, I know I won’t get it, I’m nowhere near good enough, but maybe I should give it a try, right? You never know, do you? And if I did get it, which I won’t, but if I did then we’d work it out, wouldn’t we? I’d come home when I can and if it looks like a long run then you could move down. There must be loads of jobs in market research in London.’

Laura looked down at the teabag in the bottom of her mug. She so should have married an engineer or even a plumber. Anything but the torture of this.

‘What do you think I should do, Laura?’ he asked again. He was chewing his nails now.

She looked up at him. ‘So you agree that I’m a boring, unglamorous wife who stares at numbers all day then, do you?’ she asked.

‘I never said that,’ cried Tom. ‘
You
said that. You’re twisting things. You’re not boring or unglamorous, you’re – well, you’re Laura. You’re my Laura.’ He stepped forward, flinging the towel on the table, and took her in his arms. She breathed him in and couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

‘Don’t cry, please,’ he said, looking down and wiping away a tear. ‘You’re Laura. You’re wise, you’re funny and you’re my best mate. You know that. What would I do without you?’

She wished he’d said she was beautiful, thought Laura. She buried her head in his chest.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said to the top of her head. ‘I don’t know what to do to make us happy.’

She could hear his heart beating very fast. She felt his arms curl tighter around her. She put her arms around him and pulled him in tight as the tears soaked through his shirt. She listened to his heartbeat as they held each other in the middle of the kitchen, dishes half stacked in the dishwasher, saucepans still soaking in the washing-up bowl, the scraps of Sunday lunch strewn over the table and the floor.

She pulled away and looked up at him. His eyes were rimmed red.

‘You just have to listen to your heart,’ she said. ‘That’s all you can do.’ She walked around him to the sink and began scrubbing a saucepan.

Chapter Thirty-One

Hannah

Who the hell was it this time, thought Hannah, hurrying to the front door, Sherlock hot on her heels. She’d spent all day answering the door to all shapes and sizes of delivery men as Jerry’s excitement at hosting the wrap party for the
Malice in Wonderland
cast members materialised into complete and utter over-indulgence.

Hannah watched horrified as a tall skinny man carried in Jerry’s order from Waitrose. Crate after crate after crate was paraded through the marble-tiled hall to her kitchen. Bag after bag after bag was lifted out as it dawned on her that despite Jerry’s promise to be solely responsible for the party she didn’t want them to have, it was going to be left to her to put away the enormous amount of food, as he seemed to have completely disappeared.

Why? she thought as she attempted to jam the second ham joint into their enormous American-style fridge-freezer. She had told Jerry when he was ordering the food: They’re performers, they don’t eat. A few bowls of crudités would be more than enough, she’d said. Ten minutes later and he’d come to find her to say that Waitrose didn’t sell crudités; he’d done a search and everything. She couldn’t be bothered to tell him that he was only looking for raw vegetables. She told him to go and buy whatever he thought best and he’d skipped off rubbing his hands together. She knew it had been a mistake. First it had been Marks and Spencer’s, then Majestic Wine, followed by Amazon, who had dropped off several large boxes. God knows what he had hiding in there. There couldn’t be any more delivery companies that could be involved in a party could there? But knowing Jerry anything was possible. After all, he was the man who’d bought a seven-foot-long inflatable crocodile to announce a holiday in Australia.

Hannah flung open the door with a scowl. She’d tried to contact Jerry to tell him his six bags of ice would be melting on the under-floor heated tiles in their kitchen but he was either screening her calls or somewhere without reception.

‘Oh,’ she said when Will appeared on the front-door step, toolbox in hand. Her scowl instantly dissolved. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Jerry sent me round,’ he replied, wiping his boots on the mat. ‘He wants some more disco lights downstairs plus all his speakers connected to the main system. All the other lads are busy so I said I’d do it.’

‘Right, right,’ she said. ‘Come in. Can I get you a coffee?’

‘If you have the time,’ he replied. ‘He also said I had to put a smile on your face.’

‘Oh, why?’ she flustered.

‘He said you were cross with him and I had to come over and cheer you up so he dares come home when you’re in a better mood.’

‘I’m not cross really, it’s, er, just, er . . .’ she stuttered.

‘Just Jerry,’ offered Will.

Their eyes met. They hadn’t spoken since she’d stuck up for him at the dinner party over a week ago.

‘Yes, exactly,’ Hannah acknowledged after an awkward pause. ‘Just Jerry.’ She looked away and turned to head towards the kitchen. ‘Come and look at the food mountain that he calls a party,’ she shouted over her shoulder.

‘Bloody hell,’ breathed Will when Hannah had shown him the supplies that had arrived throughout the day. ‘How many has he invited?’

‘God only knows,’ said Hannah. ‘I’m not sure whether he’s expecting me to sort all this food out either. He’s a great starter, but not the best finisher.’ She ran her fingers through her hair. The sight of all the food was actually starting to make her feel sick.

‘I could do with a hand,’ said Will. ‘If you need to get out of the kitchen, that is?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said instantly. ‘Definitely. Quite frankly I’ll go anywhere I can’t see cheese puffs floating in front of my eyes.’

‘Well then, follow me,’ he said, grabbing his toolbox and heading towards the basement door.

‘Are you coming tonight?’ asked Hannah from the bottom of a set of steps whilst Will balanced on the top, trying to screw up a set of disco lights.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Will. ‘Jerry’s asked all the sparkies and the builders who helped with the stage. It’s the hottest ticket in town over on the building site.’

‘Why?’

‘Are you kidding me? A party with singers and dancers? Tradesmen don’t get invited to parties like that.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Hannah.

‘The plumbers aren’t too happy though. They’ve been offering to fit loos, showers, bidets, full spas, you name it, just to get a look-in. One of them is thinking of retraining to be an electrician if that’s the type of job opportunities you get.’

‘So did you enjoy it then?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘Working in show business?’

He laughed. ‘It was all right,’ he said. ‘Best bit was seeing Tom working, really. Made me so proud to see him put that together. I could never do anything like that.’

‘But what you do is amazing too, you know – it takes so much skill. You really underestimate yourself. You should blow your own trumpet a bit more.’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But I’m not in Tom or Jerry’s league, am I? They’re the real high-achievers. Confidence just oozes out of them. Oops, sorry.’ Will’s screwdriver clattered to the floor. Hannah went to retrieve it and handed it back to him. They smiled at each other. Hannah resumed her position at the bottom of the steps.

‘It can be hard being close to someone who’s really confident and outgoing, can’t it?’ she said. ‘It can make you feel like you pale into insignificance a bit. I’m sure next to Jerry I look like the grumpy, quiet one who holds him back.’

‘No,’ said Will, looking down at her and shaking his head. ‘That’s not true. No one sees you like that. Honestly. You can’t think like that.’

‘I think Jerry thinks like that,’ said Hannah.

‘I think Jerry thinks he’s a very lucky man,’ replied Will, holding his hand out to her. ‘Screw, please?’ he asked.

Hannah silently handed him a screw. Will started humming as he battled with his screwdriver.

‘Do you want to know what I think?’ Hannah said eventually.

‘Go on then,’ said Will. ‘I’m coming down by the way.’

Hannah stood back from the stepladder to let him down.