by Anita Notaro
‘And what are you going to sing for us?’ The third judge, a man in his late fifties in an oddly battered-looking dark-blue suit, had a forbidding expression on his face and I was reminded of Simon Cowell for a moment.
‘“Bridge Over Troubled Water”.’ Now the words came out in a rat-tat-tat rush, and I felt myself blush, and the colour filled my cheeks. Oh no, they’d think I was a complete fool.
‘A classic, eh?’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘And what do you hope to achieve tonight?’
Achieve? My mind was suddenly a complete blank. I blinked and swallowed and tried frantically to gather my thoughts. Eventually, I blurted, ‘Just being here is an achievement for me. I haven’t thought any further than tonight.’ Which was the truth, I realized, as I said it.
The man said nothing, tapping his pen against his pad. Finally, he said, ‘Right, Antonia. In your own time.’
I managed to nod my head at Gavin, the pianist, who played the opening bars. I listened closely for my cue, praying that I wouldn’t come in too early. I tried to remember how Elvis had done it in that recording on YouTube. Twice, Gavin played the opening riff, and then I opened my mouth. ‘“When you’re weary …”’ Oh, God, I thought, as I sang the opening few bars, I’m out of tune. I could hear my voice wobble and tears welled in my eyes. My big moment, and I was about to blow it.
And then it happened, as it always did. The song just took over. All I had to do was trust the music and let my voice do the rest. I sang the first verse and then the band picked up the tempo, and the backing singers began to come in, echoing my words, and I was sailing along, letting the song carry me. And then it was all over. I couldn’t believe it. I just wanted it to go on and on.
When I finished, I held on to the microphone for dear life, and the audience burst into loud whooping and cheering. My ears ringing, I managed a smile. It’s over, I thought. I’ve done it. Feel the fear and do it anyway. I felt like shouting and cheering myself.
Eventually, when the applause died down, it was time for the judges to give their votes. My heart started thumping in my chest so hard I thought it would burst.
The nice blonde lady spoke first. Clasping her hands, she gushed, ‘Wow. Well, what can I say?’
I wasn’t sure how to react. Surely it hadn’t been that bad, I thought to myself.
‘That was absolutely superb. You really blew me away with the power and the sheer emotion of it. A definite yes from me.’
I nodded and smiled, feeling foolish, as she gave me the thumbs up, as did the other judge, a young music producer. Two out of three, I could hardly believe it. But the toughest judge was to come. I couldn’t meet the eyes of the Simon-Cowell-alike, as he cleared his throat and looked disapproving. Oh no, I thought, he’s going to send me home. I stared at my feet, in their Louboutins, and suddenly felt a fraud.
‘Antonia, you were nervous when you started, but once you got into your stride, you sang beautifully. I can honestly say that that was the best interpretation of that song I’ve heard in a very long time. A yes.’ And with that, the audience erupted. And I stood there, rooted to the spot, realizing that it was another one of those moments in life when everything changes in an instant. And I looked up to heaven and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’
14
‘TOLD YOU ELVIS’S version was the best,’ Niall was in a corner of Fitzsimons Bar in Glenvara, waving a pint of what looked like lemonade, deep in argument with Bridget.
‘Not at all. Whitney Houston, the only woman who could really give it some welly. Apart from Antonia, that is,’ and Bridget leaned over and hugged me. ‘Antonia Trent, heat winner, absolutely ran away with it, you did, pet.’ And then, for the hundredth time that night, she shrieked with excitement.
Good old Bridget. Never one to hold back, I thought, as I returned her hug. The truth was, I was still in shock, sipping from my glass of champagne and nodding as everyone crowded around me, congratulating me. Sister Monica was so delighted that she had a glass too. ‘For the first time in my life.’ She laughed. ‘But there’s always a first time for everything, isn’t there, Antonia?’ And she winked at me. I didn’t like to tell her it was my first alcoholic drink, as well.
A first time for everything. Sister Monica was right, as usual. I tried to cast my mind back over the evening, but I couldn’t remember much. It was all a bit of haze, really, a blur of hot lights, sweaty dressing rooms and an awful lot of sitting around. And yet, somehow, I’d won. I’d come ahead of the talented boy band, even of Amanda, who had really impressed me with her raunchy rendition of Pat Benatar’s ‘Love is a Battlefield’. I’d thought she was amazing, and looked totally the part, and couldn’t believe I’d come in ahead of her. I was relieved when she came up to me afterwards to congratulate me, pulling me towards her in a hug.
‘I didn’t know you were that good, or I’d have had you killed,’ she joked in that way she had, never entirely serious, but never entirely joking either.
I managed a laugh. ‘Too late. I’m on to the regionals now, and so are you, so you’re stuck with me.’ As runner-up, Amanda was going forward to the regional heats with me. The winner and runner-up of those would go to the national competition just before Christmas.
‘Oh, I can have one of my agents take you out before then, don’t you worry. Seriously, though,’ and she held me at arm’s length, ‘you’ve a fabulous talent. You’re going to go all the way, do you hear me?’
I shook my head. ‘The competition will get tougher, and I’ll reach my limit sooner or later, but thanks for the thought, Amanda.’ I didn’t even want to think about the next step. This one had taken every ounce of my strength. I’d told the Simon-Cowell-alike judge that I hadn’t thought beyond the night of the heats, and I really hadn’t, because I hadn’t imagined I’d get any further than that. I sighed, thinking about the mountain I had to climb, and then I remembered what Mum always used to say. ‘Live for the moment, Antonia. That way, you won’t have any regrets about life, because you’ll know you lived it to the full.’
Perhaps that’s what I was doing now: living life to the full, or beginning to, anyway. Doing things I’d never have thought of in a million years.
‘Penny for them.’ Niall was beside me, a glass in his hand. He looked entirely different, in a floral print shirt that would have looked ridiculous on another man but on him kind of worked, and a pair of dark denim jeans.
‘Oh, I was just thinking about how Mum always said to seize the day. To live for the moment.’
‘Well, you’ve certainly done that tonight.’ He smiled gently. ‘How does it feel to be a heat winner on That’s Talent!?’
‘Oh God, I don’t know. Good, I guess, although I have no idea how I did it. I don’t even remember singing now – it’s all a bit hazy.’ How could I tell him that, in fact, I was in shock, and feeling guilty that here I was, on top of the world, while the one person who would have loved this more than anything wasn’t here to see it?
As if he’d read my mind, he said, ‘Don’t feel guilty, Antonia. Your mum would be so proud of you, no matter what.’
I nodded. ‘Thanks, Niall. I know that. It’s just … sometimes I’m not sure if I should even be here, enjoying myself, when she’s not there to share it with me, you know?’
He nodded. ‘But I’m sure she’d want you to have your own life, Antonia. Didn’t you tell me that she was always encouraging you to go out and use your talent?’
I couldn’t believe he’d remembered that, but he was right. ‘And,’ he added, trying to lighten the mood, ‘your singing was unbelievable tonight. Better than the King himself.’
‘Now, that’s a lie, I know that for sure.’ I laughed.
He clinked his glass against mine. ‘Here’s to you and the regionals.’
‘Cheers,’ I said and then I nodded at his drink. ‘That looks like lemonade. Are you on duty later?’
He shook his head, and looked sheepish for a few moments. ‘Actually no. I promised Betty I’d drive you home after t
he competition and, well …’ he took a sip out of his glass. ‘Lemonade is quite nice, actually.’
I burst out laughing. ‘Well, that’s very chivalrous of you. It’ll make me enjoy my champagne all the more.’
And I did enjoy it. A little too much. Every time I put my glass out, someone refilled it, and by the end of the night I was feeling quite tipsy. I surprised myself by being able to let my hair down, for a change. Maybe it was because of what Niall had said, but I let myself relax a little bit. I laughed with Colette and Mary about the judges. Of course, I hadn’t recognized any of them, but apparently they were really well-known. The blonde lady was Mary Devine, a presenter on a national news channel, the music producer was Michael Smyth, and the Simon-Cowell-alike was Maurice Prendergast, a well-known record producer. ‘Fancies himself as a cut-price Simon Cowell,’ Colette said sarcastically.
‘Oh, I thought he was quite good,’ I argued. ‘He seemed to know his stuff, musically speaking, and he was tough but fair.’
‘Did you see Mary Devine’s face? What’s she had done?’ Mary shrieked. ‘Botox at least.’
‘Oh, I’d say she’s had a bit of work,’ Colette said, pulling the skin at her eyes really tight. ‘What d’you think – makes me look ten years younger?’ And herself and Mary burst into giggles.
I didn’t have the nerve to laugh at the judges who had voted me into the next round, so I just looked at my glass of champagne, until Mary noticed and put her arm around me. ‘Those judges clearly recognize talent when they see it, anyway,’ she said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. And then she nodded over at Niall. ‘As does he, I might add.’ And then she grinned at me slyly.
‘What do you mean?’ I looked at her, open-mouthed.
‘Oh, c’mon, Antonia, it’s as plain as the nose on your face. He really likes you.’ And she giggled like a schoolgirl.
‘He’s just a friend.’
‘Oh, sure,’ said Colette and then they both exploded into giggles, until Mary saw that I looked hurt, and pulled me into a hug.
‘C’mon, Antonia, we’re only teasing you.’
I blushed to the roots of my hair. I didn’t mind that they were teasing me, but I simply hadn’t dared think of Niall like that. ‘I know, but it’s just … I’ve got enough on my plate now, to be honest.’
‘Of course you do, love,’ Colette said, shooting Mary a glance above my head.
‘I saw that,’ I said, and then we all burst out laughing again, and there was another toast, and another glass of champagne and more cheering and shouting. I began to feel dizzy and light-headed and realized that I hadn’t eaten since the morning. As if on cue, my stomach started rumbling and I felt a wave of exhaustion come over me. Time to go home, Antonia, before you turn into a pumpkin, I said to myself.
I wobbled across the bar to where Niall was still chatting to Sister Monica, nodding his head as she talked, for all the world as if she was the most fascinating woman in the world. Of course, to me, she was, but I felt a surge of affection for Niall, that he would be so nice to an elderly nun, would understand what she meant to me. And then I thought of what Colette and Mary had said and I didn’t know what to think. How would I know if a man liked me, anyway? Were there any tell-tale signs? Why on earth wasn’t there a manual for women like me, who hadn’t a clue?
As I walked towards him, I tripped over one of my huge shoes and tilted forward, my champagne glass in my hand. Instinctively, Niall reached out to support me under the arm. ‘Whoops.’ He smiled, taking the champagne glass out of my hand and putting it gently down on the bar. ‘All set?’ he said, as if he hadn’t had a tipsy woman practically fall into him. I felt like crying with gratitude, and managed to remember my manners and hug Sister Monica and wave and smile goodbye to everyone. It had been the night of my life.
15
THE LAST THING I can remember is the chill of the night air as Niall opened the car door to let me in. I don’t recall sitting in the passenger seat or strapping myself in, or one single bit of the car journey. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew the car had stopped. I opened my eyes and blinked. ‘Are we home?’
‘You nodded off.’ Niall sounded amused. ‘Must have been my scintillating conversation.’
‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘It’s just … after everything that happened today …’
He shifted in the seat, rubbing his eyes, and I felt suddenly guilty. He was clearly tired, and probably didn’t need to be driving me about Wicklow before going all the way back to Dublin.
‘Of course. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing, isn’t it?’ he said agreeably.
I nodded. ‘I suppose it is. I just can’t take it in, to be honest. One minute I was singing in the choir at Mass, the next I was on stage in front of thousands of people.’ I shook my head. ‘I can’t think how that happened, somehow.’
‘It happened because you made it happen, Antonia.’ And then, before I had time to react, he leaned across and planted a kiss on my cheek. At least, I think he meant to kiss my cheek, because at the last minute, I turned my head and he kissed me half on the lips.
My face was burning with embarrassment and I looked down at my knees, wishing that I knew whether I was supposed to kiss him back. Would that be too forward at this stage? Did he just want to be a friend, or something more? He’d been so … brotherly, I suppose, that until now, I hadn’t been sure.
‘Sorry.’
I looked up at him, expecting him to look sheepish. But instead, he was grinning broadly.
‘No you’re not.’ I laughed.
He shrugged and gave me that smile again, the one that transformed his serious expression, and made him look like a naughty nine-year-old boy. ‘Well, no. But I didn’t mean to embarrass you,’ he added hastily.
‘It’s fine, really.’ I said, hating myself for sounding so prissy. ‘You didn’t. Embarrass me, that is.’
‘Well, good, then.’
‘Right.’ I couldn’t honestly think what else to say, so I reached my hand out to open the door and then I turned to him. ‘Thanks for everything, Niall. It meant a lot to me.’
This time, he wasn’t grinning. His eyes searched mine. ‘You’re welcome, Antonia,’ he said, and there was something about the way he said it that made me stop in my tracks. It was a tone he’d never used before. I opened my mouth to say that I felt it too, but then the spell was broken, and he was back to brotherly mode again. ‘Now get some sleep. I’ll be around nice and early tomorrow morning.’ He smiled.
‘Tomorrow? Oh, God, Powerscourt, I forgot.’
‘Sure you don’t want to have a lie-in?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘The fresh air will do me good.’ Not to mention the vertical climb, I thought to myself. To be honest, I didn’t feel particularly enthusiastic, but Niall had been just fantastic, so I could hardly say no, could I? And it would do me good, after all the stress of the day.
‘You don’t sound too convinced.’
I turned to him. ‘I’d love it, honestly. And you can buy me a coffee in the café afterwards. Deal?’
‘Deal.’ He thumped the steering wheel.
I wasn’t sure I liked the brotherly thing any more, but I nodded and got out, running up the front path to the house, which was in darkness, fumbling for my keys in my handbag. Niall waited until I’d opened the door and switched the hall light on, waving me goodbye as I closed the door behind me. And then I was alone.
I leaned against the wall in my after-show jeans and T-shirt and replayed every moment of the day in my head, ending with Niall’s kiss. I wasn’t sure what to make of it: was it more than just a friendly kiss? Was I reading too much into it? But then, what did I know? And anyway, it just seemed overwhelming, on top of everything else. It just goes to show that once you start to change, well, everything changes, doesn’t it? It’s like a runaway train, and you’ve no idea where you’re headed. It was exhilarating, scary and unfamiliar, all at once. I sat there, chewing over everything, until hunger drove me into the kitche
n.
Of course, I hardly slept a wink. I spent the whole night tossing and turning, snatches of the day on a loop in my head, until eventually I fell into a fitful sleep, from which I awoke with a jolt, unsure of where I was for a second. Had I been dreaming? I wondered, as I rubbed my eyes and looked at the thin early-morning light streaming in through my bedroom window. I looked at the bright red numbers on my digital alarm clock. It was only 6.30 a.m. I swallowed, feeling that I’d die of thirst, sensing a headache behind my eyes. Must have been all that champagne, I thought. I wasn’t used to it. I usually didn’t drink at all, even at the choir Christmas party, when all I’d have was a Coke, for goodness’ sake. ‘I’m pathetic,’ I said out loud, then giggled.
Because, for once, I didn’t feel pathetic. I felt … well … different somehow.
Not that this realization had helped me to sleep. After what must have been three or four hours’ sleep, my eyes felt scratchy and my legs like lead, but I knew I wouldn’t doze off again, and so I gave up and went down to the kitchen. I looked out the window, at the familiar front garden, at my little car parked at the end of the path, at the small crescent of quaint semis that I’d known ever since I was seven, and thought that they looked new, all of a sudden. It was as if I was seeing them for the first time. I boiled the kettle, humming away to myself, already beginning to wonder what song I’d do for the next round, when my mobile rang. I debated not answering for a second, after all, who on earth could it be at this hour? But as the ringtone shrilled out into the empty kitchen, I picked it up and said a cautious, ‘Hello?’
‘Toni!’ the voice at the other end said. ‘You’re up early!’
I might say the same about you, I thought, before asking, ‘Who is this?’ I knew that I sounded rude, but I wasn’t used to people ringing me at six thirty in the morning.
‘Oh, God, sorry, it’s Karen, the PA at Celtic. Look, sorry to ring you so early, but I forgot to mention it last night. There’s a photocall today for the contestants in St Stephen’s Green, you know, the lucky Dubliners going through to the next round etc. Can you make it there for eight thirty?’
