Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love! (3 page)

‘Carly,’ she said, sticking her hand out to shake as she grabbed her suitcase from him.

‘Tom,’ he responded, taking her hand.

‘You have been an absolute star,’ she gushed. ‘Literally picked me up off the street
and
cheered me up.’

‘I didn’t really do anything,’ he muttered.

‘You made me laugh.’ She grinned. ‘On today of all days. Now if you could just point me in the direction of coffee I might become human again – unless you’d care to join me? Would you let me buy you a coffee?’

‘No, oh no – no need,’ he replied, backing off. ‘Stuff to do, you know. Canteen’s through that door over there.’ He pointed towards the bottom of the car park.

‘OK,’ she said, touching her hair again and not moving. ‘Wish me luck.’

‘For the audition?’

‘With the misery guts of an Entertainment Director.’

‘He’s really not that bad.’

‘We’ll see. Good to meet you,’ she said with a little wave.

‘Yes. Bye,’ said Tom abruptly; then he turned away to go and hide somewhere.

‘I’m late, I’m late for a very important date,’ screamed Nathan from Cleethorpes as he jumped up and down in an approximate impression of a demented rabbit before stopping suddenly, leaping forward off the stage and running at speed towards Tom and growling angrily in his face.

Tom smiled inanely back at him from his aisle seat in the Celebration Theatre located in Back of Beyond World at Wonderland.

‘Excellent,’ he said through gritted teeth when Nathan eventually dropped out of character and took a step backwards.

‘I did a lot of improv at college,’ said Nathan. ‘So this type of exercise is like a walk in the park for me.’

‘So what do you think, Amy?’ said Tom, turning to his assistant seated next to him.

‘Utter shite,’ she mouthed at him before addressing Nathan. ‘Nathan,’ she said, ‘I think I need to see a bit more. I’d like you to get back on stage and improvise a bunny being boiled to death.’

Nathan nodded enthusiastically and dashed back down the aisle towards the stage.

‘Amy, that’s not fair,’ hissed Tom.

‘He asked for it,’ replied Amy.

‘So should I be the White Rabbit out of
Alice in Wonderland
or can I choose what type of bunny I am whilst I’m being boiled?’ Nathan asked once he’d leapt up on stage.

‘I don’t care,’ Amy shouted back.

‘Right, OK, so just give me a minute.’ He turned his back on his possible future employers.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ muttered Amy. She tucked her lime-green Wonderland polo shirt further into her khaki polyester trousers. Tom had told her she didn’t have to wear the park uniform any more now she worked for him but she insisted. As she had pointed out to him, it was free, easy to clean, didn’t need ironing and had an elasticated waist, which was good for when you were having a fat day. Given that Amy was clearly overweight so likely to be having a fat day every day, and – although only twenty-two years old – capable of scaring the shit out of him on a frequent basis, he decided that he would never raise the issue of what she wore ever again.

‘I can’t watch,’ Amy whispered in Tom’s ear as Nathan turned around. His face was scrunched up and he had twisted his arms around his shoulders. He emitted an ear-piercing howl and began to spin around and around until he collapsed on the floor in a heap and lay there juddering for a few seconds before emitting one last ear-splitting scream. There was a moment’s silence before he leapt to his feet and took a bow.

‘Boiling water doesn’t spin,’ shouted Amy. ‘
Why
were you spinning?’

‘Aah,’ said Nathan, raising his finger to point at Amy. ‘I was the White Rabbit, you see. Not any ordinary rabbit. I was in a
hurry
to be boiled to death.’

Amy stared back at him, then raised two fingers to her head and pretended to shoot herself.

Tom pushed Amy’s hand down sharply.

‘Thank you, Nathan,’ he said. ‘That was, er, very interesting.’

‘Thank you.’ Nathan nodded in agreement. ‘And I’d just like to say, Tom – may I call you Tom?’

‘Er, yes,’ replied Tom.

‘I’d just like to say that I think your theme for Halloween is genius.
Malice in Wonderland
is so clever. It’s like a gift to someone like me. Really something I can get my improv brain’s teeth into.’

‘Improv brain’s teeth?’ muttered Amy in amazement.

‘And I know you have probably only thought of all the obvious interpretations so far but what I have learnt from all my experience in improv is that it’s the unexpected that really works. Do you know what I mean?’

Tom and Amy nodded mutely.

‘That’s why I did the White Rabbit,’ he continued. ‘No one will think of the White Rabbit, and no one will think of turning him into an angry white rabbit, like I just did in my audition.’

Tom cast his mind over the thirty-plus Halloween interpretations of the White Rabbit out of
Alice in Wonderland
he’d already seen that day. He stood up and walked down towards the stage and grasped Nathan by the hand.

‘Well, thank you, Nathan. We’ll be in touch.’ He smiled and nodded his head towards the exit to indicate his time was up.

‘Mad Hatter,’ Nathan suddenly shrieked, just as he was about to depart. ‘I could do you one brilliant Mad Hatter. Bet you’ve not seen any of those today either, have you?’

Tom cast his mind over the fifty-plus Mad Hatters he'd seen that afternoon. ‘Thanks, but you really have given us enough for now. Goodbye.’

Nathan reluctantly walked off the stage and Tom returned to his seat. ‘What?’ he asked when he noticed that Amy was glaring at him.

‘You’re weird today,’ she announced.

‘And your point is?’ he said grumpily, picking up the list of applicants.

‘What’s with all the smiling and the handshaking bollocks?’

Tom just shrugged.

‘You never smile or shake someone’s hand during auditions. In fact it’s the first rule you ever taught me. Don’t look them in the eye, you said. Don’t be nice, you said. You said you gave me the job because I excelled at being cold and dismissive.’

‘Maybe I’ve remembered what it’s like to audition. It’s shit. So maybe we should actually try and make it a bit less shit.’ He picked up his pen and put a cross through Nathan’s name. ‘I assume you agree Nathan’s performance was utterly dire and we hope never to see him darken our door ever again.’

‘Correct,’ said Amy. ‘I crossed him off before he even opened his mouth. He was wearing a Take That T-shirt. I can’t bear all that retro crap.’

Tom groaned. Another downside of working at a theme park was that generally everyone was younger that him and he hated it when they so casually reminded him.

‘So who have we got next?’ he asked.

Amy flicked through some pages on her clipboard. ‘Last but not least for today we are doing the female lead in the show,’ she said. ‘Are we marking out of ten for this one? What are today’s criteria? Best Whitney Houston impression? Best Cher impersonation? Or the one who looks the most like a drag queen?’

‘Let’s not, eh?’ muttered Tom, glancing down the list and spotting Carly’s name.

Amy looked at him. ‘All this smiling and handshaking has made you even more miserable than usual,’ she told him.

‘Just bring ’em in, Amy.’

‘You’re the boss,’ she said, hauling herself up from her chair and heading out to the changing rooms to notify the next set of lambs to the slaughter.

Tom sat back in his chair feeling slightly sick. Somehow he hadn’t managed to get Carly out of his head. He’d been dreading her audition and
the moment she realised that not only had she been dumped but she’d also insulted the man who today held her fate in his hands.

Amy arrived back and told him not to get his hopes up. There were only five left in the running after Leon the choreographer had weeded out all the rubbish dancers in his audition that morning.

‘There’s really only one that’s any good apparently,’ said Amy, ‘so if she can’t sing we’re screwed.’

A short girl who’d overdone it with the hair extensions, which made her resemble Captain Caveman, strode on to the stage.

‘Hold on to your hats,’ said Amy, blowing her rosy round cheeks out. ‘This could be a bumpy ride.’

One by one they trooped up and, sure enough, Captain Caveman warbled like Cher and the next one broke down in tears at the end of ‘I Will Always Love You’, confessing, ‘I still can’t believe she’s gone.’

‘We are doomed to putting on a back-from-the-dead Whitney tribute act this Halloween,’ muttered Amy.

‘Bad taste,’ Tom muttered back.

‘Carly Stevenson next,’ said Amy. ‘I think Leon said this was the good one.’

Tom swallowed hard. Maybe she wouldn’t see him because of the stage lights. Maybe she’d do her audition and not mention that they’d already met. Maybe if he smiled enough she’d assume he wasn’t the grumpy Entertainment Director that her friend auditioned for a year ago. But what if she couldn’t sing? What if he had to turn her down and she thought it was just because she’d insulted him earlier in the day? Today was turning out to be much worse than normal.

He watched her emerge from the wings shrouded by an enormous red cloak, a hood covering her head. She glided to the middle of the stage and positioned herself behind the microphone, her head bent low, waiting for her music to begin. Tom was holding his breath.

The opening chords of a familiar tune struck up and he watched Carly slowly raise her head and look him straight in the eye before she started to sing.

‘I put a spell on you because you're mine

You better stop the things that you do

I ain't lyin', no, I ain't lyin'

I just can't stand it, babe

The way you're always runnin’ ’round

I just can't stand it, the way you always put me down

I put a spell on you because you're mine . . .’

Tom was mesmerised and still didn’t breathe. Her singing was strong, clear, full of expression and so haunting he felt chills running up and down his spine. They had never had anyone of this calibre audition before. Halfway through she shrugged off her cloak to reveal a racy sparkling red gown that showed off her figure to the max, causing him to take a sharp breath and Amy to dig him in the ribs. Carly moved out from behind the microphone and performed a mini dance routine with grace, elegance and style before returning to finish the song.

She came to the end of her performance and there was a stunned silence in the auditorium. Even Amy sat there speechless at what she had just seen in their humble little theatre in Back of Beyond World. She was the first to come back to her senses, however, and without thinking stood up and clapped her hands enthusiastically.

‘Brilliant,’ she roared. ‘Eh, boss?’ She glanced at Tom over her shoulder. ‘That’s more like it.’

Tom couldn’t move. She was holding his gaze, not a shred of acknowledgement of their previous interaction on her face. She looked poised, professional and expectant.

‘It’s yours,’ was all he could manage to blurt out. ‘It’s yours. Please say you’ll take it. Please.’

‘Aw,’ interrupted Amy. ‘Do you mean we won’t be doing the dead transvestite Whitney Houston slash Cher tribute band after all?’

‘On hold until next year,’ said Tom. ‘That is if Carly wants the job.’ It was his turn to look expectant.

‘Really?’ she said into the microphone.

Tom nodded. ‘Really.’

‘Yes!’ She leapt off the stage and ran straight at Tom to wrap him in a bear hug. ‘Oh my God, what would I have done without you today?’ she cried. ‘When I saw it was you I nearly pissed my pants, seriously. I’m so sorry about earlier. I can’t believe what I said to you.’

‘Whoa there,’ said Amy, looking confused. ‘You two have met before?’

‘No, not really.’ Tom shook his head vigorously. ‘I just helped with her suitcase this morning.’

‘Suitcase?’ asked Amy.

‘My boyfriend’s chucked me out,’ babbled Carly. ‘Today of all days, can you believe it? So I arrived with a suitcase and no job and now I have a job and just need somewhere for me and my suitcase. Actually, if you could direct me to the nearest Travelodge then the day will have turned out much better than expected.’

Neither Tom nor Amy responded. Tom was very conscious of Carly’s arm still draped around him and of the evil glares that Amy was giving their new leading lady.

‘The Cow will have a room,’ muttered Amy eventually.

‘She means the Red Cow,’ added Tom. ‘A pub nearby.’

‘Perfect! I could do with a drink after the day I’ve had. Couldn’t give me the number of a taxi firm, could you?’ Carly asked, giving Tom the Fondle Fondue look again. ‘You must think I’m such a pain expecting you to sort out all my problems. I’m not normally like this, I promise.’

‘No problem, honestly,’ replied Tom. ‘Look, I can drop you off there if you like. I only live down the road.’

‘Seriously?’ cried Carly. ‘I think you are the kindest man I have ever met.’

‘No, I’ll take her,’ said Amy firmly, taking a step forward and putting her hand on Tom’s free arm. Her face was grim and set and Tom had seen that look before. Normally it meant he had to let her have her own way even though he was the boss.

‘Well, that’s very kind of you,’ he said, taking a step back so that neither lady was in possession of one of his limbs, ‘but how exactly are you going to get Carly and her suitcase on the back of your moped, Amy?’

‘I’ll do it in relay. Suitcase first then her.’ Amy stabbed a cursory finger
in Carly’s direction.

‘Well, that does seem a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it, when I’m already passing with a car that not only has a passenger seat but also a boot?’

‘I think he’s right,’ agreed Carly. ‘But thank you for offering, so kind . . . Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’

‘Amy,’ spat Amy.

‘Amy. Well, I’m really looking forward to working with you.’

Amy didn’t reply; she just turned to Tom. ‘I think Nathan would work really well with her, don’t you think? The perfect match in fact.’ She turned and stomped out of the theatre.

‘Well,’ said Tom, turning to face Carly. ‘Welcome to Wonderland. We hope your stay is a pleasant one.’

‘Oh, I’m sure it will be,’ replied Carly, going slightly Fondle Fondue on him again.