The Boy I Love (14 page)

The two hours went past like a shot and suddenly it was over. The cast were all standing in a row in front of the footlights taking their bows to an ecstatic audience who were on their feet, and
the balloons were floating above them, and the poppers were popping!

Sally thought she would burst with happiness. Nothing in her drama training had prepared her for this. She waved at Mr and Mrs Tibbs, and hugged Charmaine who was standing next to her.

‘Isn’t this fantastic,’ she shouted above the cheering to a rather bemused Charmaine.

‘Well, it is certainly different from the Royal Shakespeare Company,’ replied the actress.

Once the curtain was down, after several encores, the cast tore back to their rooms and whipped off the make-up and costumes and made their way to the bar. They had been promised champagne,
which had been a bit misleading on Giles’s part, but there was free beer and a glass of warm white wine. No one cared: it was alcoholic, and there were even some sausage rolls and crisps. The
cast did their bit and chatted to the local dignitaries. Sally got stuck with Mr and Mrs Tibbs for a while but was then moved on to the Mayor, who was very chatty.

‘Wonderful show, Miss Thomas. And your number was a triumph. What a costume, eh?’ He almost did a nod nod, wink wink routine, but a pat on the arm from his wife silenced him.

The cast slowly began to withdraw as was usually the way. The actors needed their space to come down from the high. Word spread round the room that it was all back to Janie and Pete’s for
some of Mrs Wong’s chips and sweet and sour sauce, and bring a bottle if you had one. The pub was closing in five minutes so suddenly the theatre bar was empty, save for the few remaining
programme-sellers and bar staff. Sally had actually managed to remember to buy a bottle on her way in that day, so she set off home with Simon and Jeremy, who were in charge of the chips.

They sang all the way home and fell into the front room in a pile of hysteria.

The little terraced house shook and shivered for a good two hours until the inhabitants could stay awake no longer. There was not a spare inch on the floor that was not inhabited by a body. Had
anyone ventured to open the door they would have been knocked back by the pungent odours of stale beer, sweet and sour sauce and greasepaint. But the floor was covered with smiles!

Jeremy woke up as an elbow nudged him in the ribs. For a moment he was completely thrown as he slowly sat up and found himself surrounded by bodies. What the hell . . . ? He
eased himself out from under a leg or two and made his way gingerly across the room to the kitchen. Slowly the previous evening was coming back to him. He searched the debris scattered across the
draining board and decided to risk a half-full pint glass to rinse under the tap. He ran the cold water and splashed his face, then filled the glass and drank like a man returning from the desert.
The beginnings of a headache tapped on his forehead but he refused to acknowledge it. He had work to do. Cursing his stupidity, and regretting the last two shots of vodka he had downed the night
before, he wiped his hands on his trousers and beat a retreat from the sleeping house, closing the door quietly on gentle snores.

It was still early and the sunrise was just completing a fiery red blaze across the rooftops. Crewe looked almost beautiful. There had been a frost and Jeremy shivered in his thin jacket. He
quickened his pace and practically jogged to the theatre. Not great news for the headache! He arrived at the stage door numb with cold to discover it was locked. Of course it would be. It’s
eight thirty in the bloody morning, you pillock! Jeremy admonished himself. Now what? His digs were a bus-ride away, and by the time he had gone home and come back again, the morning would be gone
and he had to get this script under his belt. He had arranged to meet Robert at the theatre at eleven to go through his part in
A Man for All Seasons
. This was to be his first decent role of
the season and Jeremy was determined that Giles would see his potential. There was so little time to rehearse that any help he could get was a bonus, and Robert’s offer was a godsend.

Jeremy would just have to wait until nine thirty to get into the building when the cleaners arrived. He had no choice but to hang around outside the theatre. By the time Alice, the cleaner,
arrived he was almost frozen on the spot.

‘Oh chuck, you poor thing. Come on, pet, get inside and I’ll make you a cuppa. Bless your heart.’ Alice clucked and fussed as she led Jeremy through the foyer and upstairs to
the Green Room where she put the kettle on and produced a bottle of milk from her bag. ‘Let’s get the fire on and you thaw out a bit. You look terrible – are you going down with
summat?’ she asked.

‘No, but I do have a bit of a hangover,’ admitted Jeremy. ‘Nothing a paracetamol won’t cure.’

Alice laughed. ‘Nothing changes, does it? You lot will never learn.’ She was busy putting tea bags in mugs. ‘There is some bread here, still edible. Do you want me to make you
some toast and Marmite? It’s just the ticket for a hangover.’

Jeremy nodded a yes, and stuck his bum in front of the two-bar electric fire kindly donated by the management to keep the actors alive in the coldest months. Five minutes later he was finally
able to feel his hands again, which were now wrapped round a mug of hot sweet tea. The cleaner brought him a plate of Marmite on toast and he almost felt human again.

‘Thanks so much, Alice. I owe you one. Perhaps I can treat you to a Mrs Wong’s Special one night. How does that sound?’

‘Lovely, pet, anytime. Now I must get on. Clear this up a bit in here when you’ve finished, will you? It is not my job to wash up after you mucky lot!’ With that admonishment
she was gone.

Jeremy finished his toast and washed up his plate and mug, and the rest of the mugs strewn around the room. He then wiped down the table, emptied the ashtrays and filled the bin with whatever he
could pick up. He then made his way to the boys’ dressing room, where his heart sank. From one mess to another! The room was a tip. Costumes from last night were tossed over chairs. Underwear
was draped over hooks, and socks scattered like confetti all over the floor.

Christ, what was it with these guys? Why couldn’t they just show a modicum of thought for others? Why was it commonly accepted that blokes had to live like pigs? That somehow it was OK
– almost manly, in fact? That real men don’t bother to tidy up? Jeremy pondered these facts as he automatically went into tidy-up mode. He could not live in chaos, and he certainly
would not be able to sit here and work surrounded by his fellow actors’ debris. Locating a large black bin bag, he filled it with all the dirty washing, took it down to Wardrobe and filled
the two washing machines there. Just great, doing the washing for all those lazy bastards on a Sunday morning! Jeremy then spent an hour cleaning all the dressing tables and the basins, asking
himself if this was going to happen every week. Did his attention to cleanliness make him a figure of ridicule? Would he become the resident poof because he was tidy?

All through drama school Jeremy had had to cope with the jibes and innuendos about his sexuality. He took it all on the chin and could even laugh about it sometimes, but deep down it niggled at
him. He had never really paid much attention to his sexuality; it was not a priority for him. Only his career as an actor mattered; only his development as a performer. He had never been bothered
about ‘pulling birds’ when his schoolmates had discovered the joys of the opposite sex. He would rather go to the theatre and watch one of his heroes such as Peter O’Toole or
David Warner. Most weekends he went to Stratford upon Avon, to the home of the Royal Shakespeare Company, where he’d sit in the gods and feed on the glorious words of the Bard. His parents,
who were not theatrical in any way, were rather puzzled by their son’s obsession with the theatre. But to give them their due, they supported him every step of the way and when he announced
he wanted to go to drama school they did not object.

Jeremy had imagined that when he joined the ranks of the other drama students they would all be of a like mind. He was disappointed. Most of them were like every other student – there for
the sex, drugs and alcohol. Acting was a mere sideline to the main event, which was having a good time. Once again he found himself the butt of the jokes and everyone assumed he must be gay, except
Sally. It was her interest and dedication that drew them together as friends. Not that either of them was particularly mad on socializing, but they did form a pact and would often rehearse
together. Sally possessed a kind of reserve that Jeremy could identify with; they both seemed to share the same sense of reserve about their bodies too, which somehow disappeared when they were
acting. They could lose themselves in a character.

When Sally had got her job at the British Drama League she introduced Jeremy to James Langton and he had found a place for Jeremy as well. It was a slightly strained relationship, as Jeremy
suspected that James had a soft spot for him, and although he knew James Langton was married, his gut feeling was that he might well have a penchant for young men. This instinct had taken Jeremy by
surprise. Why would he think like that? Was he being naïve about his own sexuality? Yet if, and when, he had these thoughts, they did not linger long enough for him to really give them proper
consideration. Basically, he was just not interested in anything else except acting. All his physical and emotional energy was geared to honing his skills as a performer. Everything else could take
a back seat.

So deep in his own thoughts was Jeremy that he was unaware of Robert standing in the doorway until he heard him comment, ‘Well, well, Cinderella, you poor thing. Left to do all the
housework and not a fairy godmother in sight! Allow me to wave my wand and take you away from all this drudgery.’ Robert had a knack of making everything he said sound bored or insulting. He
didn’t so much speak as drawl his comments.

‘Oh hi, Robert, thanks so much for arranging to meet me. I am sorry about this but I just can’t work in a mess. Please, have a seat. Can I make you a coffee?’ Jeremy pulled out
a chair.

‘Oh, don’t worry on my account. I have actually just had a coffee, so not a problem. Do you want to work here or on the stage?’ Robert asked.

‘Oh – well, I hadn’t really thought about it. It would be great to go onstage eventually maybe, but I think for now it would be good to just read through it here, if that is
OK?’ Jeremy suddenly felt nervous under Robert’s scrutiny.

‘Sure. No problem. Let’s get down to business,’ the other man replied, taking off his coat and sitting down.

They spent the next two hours going through all the scenes Jeremy was in as Rich. The character was a very intense young man who was opinionated and a little pompous. Robert talked Jeremy
through the obvious pitfalls and pointed out various key moments. Jeremy listened to every word and absorbed all he could, making notes as they went along for future reference.

Finally, Robert sat back and lit a cigarette, saying, ‘Well, I think we have covered just about everything you need to bring young Rich to life, don’t you?’

‘Yes. Thank you so much, Robert. I really appreciate this. There is so little time, as you know. I feel I can go into rehearsals tomorrow with confidence.’ Jeremy tidied his
notes.

‘Don’t hesitate to come and ask me anything else that you might discover. I am going to be around quite a lot as I am assisting Giles on this, and we will be working together on
Hamlet
, which as you probably know is his pet project. Now, shall we adjourn to the pub and warm our cockles with a pint?’ He rose and started to put on his coat.

‘Oh yes, what a good idea,’ agreed Jeremy. ‘The drinks are on me – it is the least I can do to thank you for this morning. Oh, I just remembered the washing! You go ahead
and order while I just pop and empty the machines.’

Robert burst out laughing. ‘Oh, the glamour of it all! Showbiz, eh?’ He swept out and left Jeremy to his chores.

Later in the pub, Robert regaled Jeremy with stories of fellow actors and various productions he had been in over the years.

‘How did you meet Giles?’ asked Jeremy.

‘Oh, we go back a few years,’ replied Robert airily. ‘We were lovers for a time – oops, I mustn’t be wicked, must I?’ He gave Jeremy a wink. ‘Has he
tried out his charm on you yet?’

Jeremy suddenly felt uncomfortable. ‘No, why would he?’ he returned.

Robert studied him for several minutes. ‘No particular reason, I suppose,’ he mused. ‘Of course, one should never make assumptions, but I had wondered if you were gay. Is that
not the case?’

‘No – not that it is anyone’s business,’ retorted Jeremy. Here we go again, he thought to himself. Why does sex always have to come into everything?

Robert smiled. ‘Now, now, there is no need to take umbrage. There is nothing wrong with being gay, you know. There are a lot of us about – doesn’t make one a bad
person.’

‘Sorry,’ said Jeremy. ‘I didn’t mean any offence. It is just I find it so frustrating that everyone in this business wants to know about one’s sex-life. What
business is it of anyone’s? What difference does it make? I want to be judged on my talent, not my sexual orientation.’