The Boy I Love (12 page)

‘Oh, you are so kind. Thank you. I will go right away and sort it out.’ Sally nearly kissed him, but thought better of it as she could see the twinkle in his eye at the thought of
rewards from ‘this actress’. She knew exactly who to contact at the local press office, as Evie in the Box Office had already instructed her on the power of the press at all times.

‘Court them at all times, luv, shamelessly. We need every bit of publicity we can get. Make friends with Tommy Nuttall. He is also their photographer and the bloke is a sucker for a pretty
face.’

Here I come, Tommy!
Sally found him in the Crewe
Chronicle
office, feet up, having a fag.

‘Well, well, to what do I owe the honour of a visit from one of the local talent? How is it going up at the dream factory?’

‘Fine, thanks, Tommy. Look, I have an idea for a photo opportunity. The manager at Freeman Hardy & Willis has agreed to donate a pair of boots to me for my number in the show if he can
have some publicity. So I thought it would make a nice picture if I get my costume on and he fits the boots. Bit of leg, you know?’ Sally couldn’t believe she was saying this
rubbish!

‘Well, listen to you, sensible girl. I like someone with a bit of nous about her. Yes, spot on. Can we do it tomorrow morning so I can get it in for next Wednesday’s show
page?’

‘Well, I can try. The costume has got to be made yet. Leave it with me and I will ring you this afternoon. Have you got a number?’

‘Here’s my card, darling, I await your call.’

Sally practically ran back to the theatre and up to Wardrobe.

‘Gwendoline, I think I have cracked it! I have secured a great pair of patent-leather boots on condition I have my photo taken with the manager of the shoe shop tomorrow morning. Can we
get a costume together by then?’

Gwendoline gave a huge sigh and leaned dramatically on the door. ‘Oh my goodness, to be taken for granted like this. Let me see. Very well – give me half an hour then come back and I
may just have something for you, darling.’

Sally forced a smile of thanks and disappeared downstairs, thinking the bloody woman was far more theatrical than any actress in the company!

Heather grabbed her at the stage door and pulled her into the stalls. ‘Where have you been? Giles was looking for you to rehearse a scene with the chorus. I lied and said you were out on a
job for me.’

‘Well, it was not really a lie. I was out on a job for Wardrobe, trying to get myself a costume for the show. I did ask Janie to tell you. Honestly, Heather, it is a nightmare trying to do
all these different jobs at once. I am never going to get my bloody act together for the first night,’ she wailed.

‘Don’t fret, hon. You will be fine. I promise you, when that curtain goes up you will be there dazzling the punters. Now get over to the rehearsal room and do your thing. By the way,
have you had any lunch? I thought not. Here, take this Kit-Kat to keep you going.’ Heather handed it to her and patted her on the back. ‘Go on, get going.’

Sally chucked the chocolate gratefully down her throat and sped off to find Giles. The rehearsal room was next door to the theatre and had been a bar once, as part of the original foyer. It had
just a few bulbs for lighting and some rickety chairs. The actors were all huddled round a two-bar fire.

‘Aah, at last you have deigned to join us, Miss Thomas,’ bellowed Giles.

‘I am so sorry, Giles, I had to go and get some boots for Wardrobe. I had no idea we were going to rehearse this afternoon,’ she stammered.

‘Fine, leave it for now. Just get your script and we can run through the first chorus scene. It is going to be tight, luvvies, but we will get there. Now from the beginning,
please.’

Sally sat down next to Jeremy, who whispered, ‘Don’t worry, Sal, it will all come right in the end.’ And he squeezed her hand.

Sally felt like bursting into tears. She had never felt so out of control. She hardly knew what day it was, never mind what her first line in the play might be. Still, if she got those boots she
had a pretty good chance of pulling off that number and showing the guys a thing or two!

‘Oh wow, it is amazing! Gwendoline, you are brilliant.’ Sally stood in front of the cracked old mirror in the wardrobe department, transfixed by her appearance.
She was staring at a sparkly, sexy drum majorette, dressed in black fishnets, with patent-leather boots to the knee, short gold hot pants, a sequinned tunic with gold tasselled epaulettes, and all
topped off with a peaked helmet with a huge black feather. She turned and gave Gwendoline a hug.

‘I can’t thank you enough. This has just made everything possible. I will perform to the costume now, don’t you see? I can’t let you down after all this.’

Gwendoline was still recovering from the hug but managed a weak smile.

‘Well, I am certainly glad to be of assistance, and I must say it does make a change to be appreciated. Now if you’ll excuse me I must get on as I have to sew pom-poms on twelve
Pierrot outfits.’

Sally went in search of Mr Tibbs from Freeman Hardy & Willis who was waiting in the foyer with Tommy the photographer to have his photo taken for posterity.

‘Oh I say!’ said the shoe-shop manager, on seeing Sally’s outfit. ‘That is certainly eye-catching, Miss Thomas. You look splendid, and the boots finish it all off a
treat.’

Tommy set up the photo with Sally seated with acres of leg and thigh on display, while Mr Tibbs knelt at her feet adjusting the zipper and smiling at the camera.

‘Great shot, great shot. Lift your leg a bit more, Sally.’ This last request was met with a black look from Sally who had had enough of being exploited for one day.

‘OK OK, no problem,’ added Tommy quickly, ‘I have got the shot. Thank you very much, Mr Tibbs. This will be in the
Chronicle
on Wednesday and I will try to get it in the
Manchester Evening News
as well.’

‘Much appreciated, Mr Nuttall. Thank you, Miss Thomas, for all your help, and my wife and I look forward to the opening night. Give us a wave, won’t you?’ He winked and was
gone.

‘Well, there goes a happy customer,’ said Tommy, packing up his equipment. ‘Well done, girl, that was a result all round. Keep it up, and you and I will make a few
bob.’

Sally laughed. ‘You mean
you
will. Still, it has been a good result, I must say. The boots really make the outfit. I will certainly keep in touch, Tommy, and thank you. Now I must
fly or I will get the sack. See you later.’

Backstage was becoming a 24-hour hive of activity. It was as if the theatre had been asleep for months and now the light had been switched on and every nook and cranny was lit up. Sally imagined
it like a doll’s house. As she pulled open the front she could see every room in the place, and in each room there was a story unfolding, with each of the characters creating their own dramas
within their elected spaces. The cast hardly left the theatre for the next week so they all retreated to their dressing rooms. Heather and Sally had spent a morning allocating dressing rooms, and
checking lights, plumbing, radiators and electric fans. There was so much rubbish piled behind curtains and cupboards. Dust and grime curled around every knob and knocker.

‘I just can’t understand why Giles never spends any money on getting all this sorted,’ sighed Heather, trying in vain to apply a spanner to a radiator tap. ‘It’s
classic, isn’t it? They spend thousands doing up the front of house, and gilding the lily, but completely abandon the real heart of the place and the people who work here. I can’t get
this bloody thing to turn. Do us a favour, can you? Go and ask Gladys at the stage door if her Ronnie could come in and repair this, and maybe her daughter Cheryl might like to come and clean for a
couple of hours with a mate and earn a few bob. I can probably fiddle it from petty cash and then at least there will be some semblance of organized chaos and Peggy and Percy will shut up for five
minutes. Have you been in their rooms lately? It is real home from home.’

Sally went off to find Gladys and then decided to pay Peggy a visit. The door to the dressing room was shut, and as Sally went to knock she noticed the brightly polished brass number 1 nailed in
the centre of the door.

‘Enter!’ Peggy invited the caller in. ‘Hello, darling! How is it going? Would you like a cuppa and a biscuit? I bet you haven’t had time to spend a penny, never mind
drink a cup of tea. That’s showbiz, my dear.’

While Peggy got out cups and saucers Sally had a chance to take in the room. It was like a grotto in a circus or a carnival. Every inch of space was filled with ‘stuff’, from the
beaded trim round the ceiling light to the fairy lights around the mirror lights. Everywhere twinkled. Goodness knows what the electrician would have to say about the safety aspect! In front of the
dressing-table lights and mirror was an elaborate hand-embroidered mat covering all the tatty and chipped paintwork of the wooden dressing table. Laid out in neat rows were sticks of make-up, all
of them in the original gold and black paper carefully folded down as the greasepaint was used. At drama school the students had been given a couple of lessons in stage make-up and Sally had bought
the obligatory sticks of five and nine from Fox’s of Covent Garden, which was the famous make-up supplier to the theatre. Five and nine were sticks of greasepaint which, when applied
together, formed a base for the face. It was thick and glutinous and looked terrible close up, but from a distance and under the lights gave the face a reasonable colour and skin quality. There
were hundreds of variations of colour, and depending on the kind of parts one got to play, the quantity of sticks required would vary. However, for the juvenile lead there was really just the basic
five and nine plus a carmine stick which doubled as lipstick and rouge – and, as Sally discovered from Peggy, provided the dot in the corner of the eye!

‘What is that?’ Sally had asked one evening when she was delivering groceries to the dressing room.

‘This, dear girl, is called definition. When one is playing to the gods it is vital that they see one’s eyes, and this creates a point of reference.’ Sally watched transfixed
as Peggy applied the bright red dot to each eye. This was followed by a thick black line along the eyelid, finishing in a tick at the edge of the eye. Greens and blues had been applied in sweeping
strokes to the eyelid, each brush-stroke reaching for the outer corner of the eyebrow with alarming insistence, and joining the thick black eyebrow in its final quest to hit the hairline! Uplift
was an understatement, thought Sally. The result was two huge orbs of multicoloured delight. If they didn’t see that in the Upper Circle, they must be blind indeed.

Over the next few months, Sally came to appreciate that in terms of make-up, Peggy’s routine was unchanging and resulted in all her performances bearing the same basic look – that of
an aging Cleopatra. It worked fine for most of the time, but when she came to play Sir Thomas More’s wife in
A Man for All Seasons
it was down to Percy to quietly take her aside and
suggest she wipe it off immediately! To her credit she did as she was told – all but for the red dots. Some things would never change.

‘Here’s your tea, love.’ Peggy broke through Sally’s thoughts, and she took the cup.

‘Gosh, Peggy, this room is miraculous. You’ve completely transformed it. Do you do this wherever you go?’

‘Do what, darling?’ asked Peggy, sitting down in front of her mirrors.

‘Well, bring all this stuff with you. I mean, you must have so much to haul around with you all the time.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t travel without my things. This is my life, darling. You will soon come to realize that an actress’s dressing room is her real home. This is my sanctuary. As
long as I am surrounded by my bits and pieces, I feel safe. Percy is the same. Have you seen his room?’ Peggy got up and made towards the door which led to the adjacent dressing room. When
Sally had first been going round with Heather sorting rooms, she had commented on the fact that these two rooms were connected.

‘Surely Pinky and Perky don’t like this arrangement much, do they?’ she had questioned.

‘Ah well, hereby hangs a tale,’ replied Heather. ‘These two rooms were originally just Dressing Room number one. In the old days the leading actor was often also the actual
manager of the theatre and the company, so he had the big plush room. Apparently there was one season where the two leading actors both thought they were entitled to Dressing Room number one, and
it got so heated that a compromise had to be found. So they split this into two and put the actors’ names on the doors rather than numbers. So everyone was happy.’

Sally watched Peggy now as she moved to open the connecting door. What did Percy make of that? she wondered.

‘Actually maybe we had better not intrude into his room while he is not there.’ Peggy stopped suddenly and turned back to Sally. She looked sheepish. ‘I mean, here’s me
going on about an actor’s dressing room being his sanctuary, and I am about to invade the privacy of a fellow artiste. No, you will have to wait and ask Percy yourself to show you his
bits.’