by Anita Notaro
I swallowed. ‘Ehm, sure … how long will it take?’ I was thinking of Niall and our date, if that’s what you could call it, in Powerscourt. ‘Ten o’clock, sharp,’ he’d said. If it didn’t take more than half an hour, I could leave Dublin at nine thirty and make it back to Wicklow in half an hour, if I really put the boot down.
‘Well, an hour, give or take? We’d love it if you could be there, Toni. It’s really important for the production company, and it’ll get your name out there in the media. Nice piece in the Sunday Star by the way,’ she added. ‘Dave Byrne’s a bit cheeky – he should really have come to see me first – but you handled it well, clearly. A real Cinderella story, he called it.’
I had no idea what she was talking about, and then I remembered. The man in the leather jacket outside the studios. ‘Oh, great,’ I said, hoping that he’d quoted Mary from Glenvara, or else she’d kill me.
‘So, we’ll see you there?’ Karen said.
I could tell by her tone that this wasn’t a request, and besides, what normal person would say they couldn’t do a photocall, whatever that was, because they were too busy hill-walking? ‘I’ll be there at eight thirty, Karen,’ I said, hoping I sounded businesslike enough for her.
‘Great! Well, see you there. Oh, yes, and don’t forget to wear something eye-catching for the camera!’ And she was gone before I could ask exactly what she meant by ‘eye-catching’.
I checked my phone. I could hardly ring Mary at seven in the morning, surely? But I had no clue what to wear for a photocall, so I’d just have to bite the bullet.
Mary’s voice sounded sleepy, and I felt a start of guilt. ‘Sorry to call you so early.’
‘S’all right,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘I need to get up early today anyway, because it’s Sunday.’
I could tell that she was joking – just. ‘Look, I wouldn’t call, Mary, except it’s an emergency,’ and I explained about the photocall.
‘I’ll be right over.’ She disconnected so abruptly, I was left holding the phone in my hand. I was still holding it when I heard the knock on my door. When I opened, she was standing there, a huge make-up bag in her hand, in what looked like her pyjamas, albeit clearly designer ones. Oh, God, I thought, she’ll kill me.
I reached out to hug her. ‘Mary, you’re a lifesaver.’
‘I know,’ she muttered into my shoulder. ‘Now get off me and I’ll see what I can do.’
Half an hour and two cups of coffee later, I was transformed. ‘An ugly duckling into a swan,’ I said, admiring myself in the mirror.
‘Less of the ugly duckling, if you don’t mind,’ said Mary, pulling a few strands of hair around my face. ‘You look drop-dead gorgeous, Antonia.’
‘Thanks, Mary, I don’t know what to say …’ I began.
‘You can thank me when you win this thing.’ She smiled, and then she looked serious for a moment. ‘You know, Antonia, you’ve really surprised me.’
I turned from the mirror to look up at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘A year ago, you would no more have rung me at seven in the morning because you had a photocall than flown to the moon. Oh, don’t get me wrong,’ she continued when I tried to interrupt. ‘I’m thrilled to see how much more confident you are. And I’m sure your mum would be thrilled, too.’
I nodded, feeling the tears behind my eyelids. Every time I thought of Mum, I wondered if I really deserved my success. If she were still alive, well, what would I be doing now? Bringing her up a tray with a boiled egg on it and two slices of toast? Was it wrong to miss her and yet not to miss the life I’d had?
Mary’s voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘Now, don’t cry, or your mascara will run. Do you want me to drive up with you?’
I shook my head. ‘You’ve done enough, Mary. I’m a big girl.’ I smiled.
‘You certainly are, Antonia,’ she said approvingly, and then she grinned at me slyly. ‘You even have a boyfriend.’
‘Don’t start.’ I blushed. ‘Anyway, he’s not my boyfriend.’
‘No?’
‘No,’ I said firmly as I thought of Niall’s lips brushing against mine, and realized that I’d liked it. That I liked him. Oh, God, life was so complicated sometimes.
I knew that I was going to be late for Niall when I looked at my mobile for the hundredth time and saw that it was already nine thirty, and nothing had happened. Not one single thing. We’d been standing in St Stephen’s Green for a full hour now, shivering in the chilly autumn wind. I hadn’t thought to bring a cardigan to throw over the designer sleeveless red dress Mary had lent me, and my arms were a riot of blue goose pimples. I couldn’t understand why it was taking so long. The photographers were there – a middle-aged man from one of the big Sunday newspapers, with a shock of white hair and a silver earring in one ear – and a few younger photographers, as were 4Guys, who’d come third, and Amanda of course. I was thrilled to see her: she was funny and bright and talented, and I felt she was a real ally. And the boys were really sweet, only seventeen and a real laugh. We spent the first half an hour larking around in front of the fountains in the Green, the boys pretending to splash each other with water, much to Karen’s horror.
‘Boys, please, no messing. I can’t have a photocall with you all soaking wet,’ she begged.
But after an hour, we all began to get a bit miserable, the cold sinking into our bones. I could feel my make-up clogging my skin, and I badly needed a drink of water. I nudged Amanda. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘They’re waiting for the National TV crew. They were supposed to be here ages ago, but obviously there’s no sign.’
‘Can’t we just do with what we’ve got and then all go home?’ I said, anxiously checking my watch.
Amanda snorted with laughter. ‘God no, if the great god television calls, well, who are we to argue?’ Amanda had been through it all before, of course. She’d been dancing since she was five, and had just graduated from the Gate Dance School. I hadn’t a clue, but just wished it could all be over before I got hypothermia. I glanced at my phone again. Oh, God, almost ten. I’d have to call Niall.
‘Got a date?’ Amanda looked at me and then at my phone.
I blushed. ‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ I said. ‘I’m supposed to be in Powerscourt now, climbing the waterfall.’
She laughed. ‘He must really be special, if you’re planning to throw your first shot at fame to climb a waterfall.’
I didn’t say anything, just scrolled down through the list of numbers until I found his and dialled. Just tell the truth, Antonia, I told myself. Don’t make some silly excuse.
Of course, the way he was so understanding only made it worse. That and the fact that, of course, he’d already driven the twenty miles down to Wicklow and I hadn’t thought to tell him earlier. ‘Look, you just finish up there. It sounds as if it’s really important.’
‘Thanks, Niall. I’ll buy you lunch and then we can tackle the walk after, how does that sound?’
‘Ordinarily, it would sound just great, but I’m on shift later, so we’ll have to do it another time.’
‘Oh. OK.’
‘Look, you have to snatch the opportunities when they’re offered to you,’ he said. ‘You can’t afford to let them pass you by.’
‘I know, it’s just …’
‘Just nothing. Now, relax and enjoy the shoot if you can, and we’ll do it again next week.’ Why did he have to be so nice about it? I thought, clutching the phone to my ear. I didn’t deserve it.
‘Niall, I promise, I won’t let you down the next time.’
‘I know …’ And then there was a pause before he said, ‘Bye, Antonia.’
‘Bye.’ As I put the phone down I thought, I’ve hurt his feelings.
‘The price of fame,’ Amanda said dryly, nodding at my phone.
‘Is it always like this?’ I said.
‘No. It’s worse.’ She laughed. ‘Sometimes you wait around for a whole day because somebody famous is supposed to be turning up,
and of course they never do. But you wouldn’t dream of walking away, because that could be the one person who could make a difference to your career. And so you wait and wait, and in the end none of it makes a blind bit of difference.’
‘You sound bitter,’ I said, unable to keep the tone of surprise out of my voice. I couldn’t understand it, really. If she was that fed up with it, why bother? Why not get a nice job instead?
‘I’m not bitter, not really. I’m just … resigned.’ She grinned. ‘I keep entering these shows, and I do well, but I know I’m not good enough, not really.’
‘That’s not true,’ I protested. ‘You’re an amazing singer …’
‘And the world is full of them. I’m not exceptional, Antonia. Not like you. And I know it, but still, there’s nothing I want more.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m not exceptional …’
‘Oh, come on, Antonia, you know you are. You’ve got a voice like no other, and star quality. I know it when I see it, believe me. You’ll go all the way, if you really want it badly enough.’
I didn’t know how to answer, because I wasn’t sure if I did want it badly enough, or even what that meant. I know that I wanted something more than the church choir, but what, exactly? But then I supposed I’d got a glimpse of it, hadn’t I? The disappointment in Niall’s voice, the hurt. After everything he’d done for me. Was it worth it, I wondered?
‘OK, everyone, we’re on,’ Karen’s voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘Toni, can you stand in front of the fountain with the boys behind? Great, just great.’
I smiled and waved at the cameras and pretended to lark around with the boys, to hug Amanda, and then afterwards I stood in the chill, my skin goose pimpling, to talk to the reporters who’d been hanging around for the last couple of hours, just like us. I couldn’t believe that they found us that interesting, but Karen had warned me that we’d be ‘tabloid fodder’, whatever that was, for the next few weeks, so I supposed I’d have to get used to it.
‘Hi there, Toni, congratulations on getting through,’ it was Dave Byrne, in the same leather jacket, a thick stubble on his cheeks, and that same broad grin, the one that made me feel that he was a friend.
‘Hi, Dave.’ I greeted him warmly, looking around for Karen, so that she could tell me what to say. ‘You look as if you haven’t gone home since last night.’
‘No rest for the wicked.’ He laughed. ‘What did you think of the piece?’ He smiled and looked at me expectantly.
‘Oh, ehm, I haven’t seen it yet,’ I replied, assuming he meant the Cinderella story Karen had mentioned.
I was about to ask him exactly what he meant, when he said, ‘Ignoring the press already?’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,’ I said hastily.
I didn’t want him to think I was a complete princess, but he smiled then and said, ‘Well, relax, it’s a nice one. And we’re friends, honest.’
‘Great,’ I smiled. ‘Well, thanks for the publicity—’
I went to turn away, but he put a hand on my arm. ‘Just a few more questions for your fans in the paper?’
I hesitated for a second, but then smiled. ‘Sure.’
‘I think you had a fairly rough start in life …’ the notebook was out again, and he was looking at me, expecting me to answer.
I shifted nervously from foot to foot. Where was Karen? I had no idea what to say to him. ‘Ehm, do you mean my being adopted?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, and the children’s home and all. Must have been fairly Dickensian, don’t you think? All that slaving for the nuns, and they must have treated you pretty badly. After all, it was the bad old days. Didn’t they make you wash tons of laundry and polish floors and all that?’ And he grinned that grin again.
‘No, it wasn’t like that at all,’ I began. ‘The nuns were really great and—’
I was trying to compose my reply when I heard Karen beside me, her voice loud. ‘Now, Dave, you know you’re not supposed to speak to the performers without going through me, you cheeky bugger.’ But she was smiling, and I wondered if they all spoke to each other like this in this business. ‘If you want an interview with Toni, queue up, like the others.’
Dave put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. ‘Fine, fine, love. I’ve got what I wanted anyway.’ And he was gone again, disappearing into the crowds now filling the park. I couldn’t suppress the feeling of dread at the pit of my stomach, and tried desperately to remember what I’d said.
‘Be careful of him, Toni,’ Karen said. ‘He’s friendly enough, but they’re all complete rats in the tabloids. Check any media requests in with me, will you?’ And Karen gave me a friendly pat. I felt like a naughty schoolgirl all of a sudden.
Later I waved everyone goodbye and belted down the motorway. If I couldn’t make my date with Niall, I reasoned, at least I could turn up to sing at twelve o’clock Mass. It’d make me feel grounded, I thought. I didn’t even have time to change, tottering up to the choir in my high heels and my silly hair, accepting everyone’s admiring looks, the round of applause that greeted me.
‘You look a million dollars, Antonia,’ Billy said as I shuffled into place beside him and picked up my music sheets, scanning the hymns to see if there was anything particularly challenging.
‘Thanks, Billy. I feel completely ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I’m just not used to all of this. It doesn’t feel like me, do you know what I mean?’
He nodded, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘It’ll take time to get used to it all, pet, but remember, it is you. That talent is really yours. And you’re still our Antonia!’
‘Thanks, Billy.’ I smiled. ‘That means a lot to me.’ And it did. The whole media circus was just so unreal, and it seemed that everyone was pretending to be a friend, even if they weren’t, but here, in the tiny church, I knew that I was among real friends, the kind who would stick with me. And after the first couple of hymns, I managed to relax. The singing always helped me to do that, to feel at ease for a change, to feel like myself.
I was sitting quietly, saying a prayer after communion, when Father O’Hanlon stood up and said, ‘And now, everyone, I just want to talk about someone very special in our congregation this morning …’
My heart sank. Oh, no. I prayed that it would be someone else. Betty, Bridget. Anyone but me, but no: Father O’Hanlon turned in my direction, looking at me with a broad beam on his ruddy face.
‘Antonia Trent has been a member of this choir for ten years and she has graced every single Mass, wedding and Holy Communion with the gift of her beautiful singing.’ He paused. ‘God doesn’t bestow on everyone a gift like that, only on his chosen ones. Sometimes, it is those who have faced special challenges in their lives …’ As he droned on, I felt the colour rise to my cheeks and it was all I could do not to make a run for it. I knew that he meant well, but I just couldn’t take any more of the attention.
‘And of course, everyone remembers Antonia’s mother, who was the heart and soul of the village …’
There was a murmur of agreement in the congregation, and several people muttered, ‘May she rest in peace.’
I felt the tears spring to my eyes, and all I could think was that I really wanted Mum beside me. And then Father O’Hanlon continued, ‘And we just want to wish our special girl all the luck in the world as she takes on this new challenge. I’m more of a football man myself, but do you know, I think I’ll be tuning into That’s Talent! every Saturday night, Antonia!’ And there was a huge cheer in the church, as everyone rose to their feet, clapping. Every single head in the church was turned towards me, and I had to smile and wave, and all the time I was thinking how much I’d prefer to be climbing Powerscourt with Niall. Be careful what you wish for, I thought. Because it might just come true.
16
OF COURSE, ONCE I’d climbed on the roller coaster, I decided the only thing I could do would be to hang on for dear life. And so I did. For the next six weeks, I sang in heat after heat, from the regionals through to the nationals, an
d every time, I seemed to glide on through. I wasn’t sure how I was doing it. Call it beginner’s luck, or something else, but all I know is that after that first time, it seemed almost easy. Every Monday morning, I’d meet Eithne and we’d discuss what I was going to sing in the heat. Then we’d spend the next few days rehearsing the song, before practising with the TV orchestra on Friday night. And then on Saturday, I’d drive to the venue with Colette and Mary – if she’d managed to get the morning off – and sit and wait for my turn. And I’d come out on stage and walk to my spot and talk to the judges, who knew me by now, and who smiled at me as if I were an old friend. And every Saturday night, I’d tell them the same thing: that I hadn’t planned any of this, that it had come as a surprise to me, and that every week on the show was a bonus. And it was.
It was almost as if I was someone else. Not Antonia Trent, Miss Mouse, but Toni Trent, professional singer. It was as if I was playing a role. And I let myself be swept up in it, carried along, because I was enjoying myself. I discovered that I liked applause and praise and attention. That it made me feel good. The more people applauded, the happier I became, and the more I could lose myself in it, in the song and the moment. It was intoxicating.
And, if I kept on winning, I could forget about other things, like Niall. He’d come along to all the heats, sitting in the audience and clapping like everyone else. He’d even come to the pub celebrations afterwards, but he hadn’t said much to me, not really. I kept telling myself that I’d make it up to him, that sooner or later, my luck would run out and then we’d have all the time in the world to climb Powerscourt waterfall. I hardly knew Niall. I’d only met him a few times and yet, I knew there was something there. Something I chose to ignore. Amanda had been right all along. I suppose that deep down, I knew I was making a choice.
Amanda and I became close. Every time I won my heat, she was runner-up – and if she wasn’t pleased about coming second to me, she never said. She just hugged me tight and told me how thrilled she was that we’d be going on together to the next round. Once, she had to go head-to-head with a young singer-songwriter called Sean, and just about scraped through, and my heart was in my mouth. I didn’t know what I’d do without Amanda, to laugh with and to share gossip about the other contestants. She’d seen it all before, Amanda, and she was so reassuring. We’d sit in the dressing room and share make-up and swap stories, and she’d see another contestant out of the corner of her eye and nudge me. ‘See him? He’s entered every competition there is. Thinks he has the ability to “go all the way”, but frankly, I’ve got more talent in my little finger.’
