by Anita Notaro
Then Colette put me straight. ‘Oh. My. God.’ She looked at me sternly. ‘You look like nothing on earth.’
‘Thanks for the compliment,’ I said shakily, feeling the tears spring to my eyes.
Seeing that I was about to cry, she pulled me to her in a hug. ‘There, there, c’mon, you’ll be fine,’ she soothed as I blubbed into her shoulder.
‘But I feel terrible,’ I wailed.
‘I know you do, but after tonight, you can lie in bed for the rest of your life, can’t you? You can just take to your bed and drink champagne and eat foie gras and celebrate being the rightful winner of That’s Talent! Because that’s what you’re going to do, Antonia. You’re going to win it. Because you deserve to, OK? All you have to do is concentrate on the song, and it’ll be OK.’ She sounded more convinced than she felt, clearly, because I saw her shoot Mary a look. One that said, ‘I’m not sure about this.’ But I knew that I had to go ahead. Ducking out now was not an option.
‘Yesterday’ is the right song for me, I thought. And I’ll prove it.
17
AND THEN WE were pulling up to the O2 for the live semi-final. It was a huge venue, and I should have been quaking with nerves, and yet this time, I didn’t feel that tightness in my stomach, the tingle of anticipation as we pulled up to the performers’ entrance. Instead, I felt hollow and tired, my mind spinning with thoughts of the row I’d had with Niall, of the anonymous text. It had cast a shadow over my day and I just couldn’t shake it off. That and the feeling that he was the last person in the world I wanted to upset. Oh, God, I’d made such a mess out of everything, hadn’t I?
The dressing rooms were even more crowded than usual, with make-up people, stylists and lots of other hangers-on. There are always so many people at these things who just seem to be hanging around. You have no clue what they’re doing, but you’re afraid to ask, in case they turn out to be someone really important. I could see Amanda in one corner of the room, practising her scales whilst Jenny on make-up brushed out that gorgeous red hair of hers. When she caught sight of me, she waved and gave me the thumbs up and I had to force a smile, even though it was so hot in there, I thought I’d pass out.
‘Cow,’ Colette muttered under her breath. ‘She’d sell her granny to be famous,’ she muttered to Mary.
‘I’m not deaf, you know,’ I said. ‘Amanda’s a friend. You’ve misjudged her, Colette.’ I knew how sharp Colette could be. It was something I really liked about her, but sometimes it was just too much.
‘Sure,’ Colette said dryly, but when she saw the stricken look on my face, she backtracked. ‘Let’s just concentrate on you for the moment, sweetie. By the time we’ve finished with you, you’ll look and feel a million dollars.’
I doubted it, but let her lead me to a cramped corner of the dressing room, and allowed myself to be pulled into shape by both her and Mary – and by Valerie in make-up, because as the heats had progressed Celtic had insisted on their make-up artists having a say in how I looked. Colette hadn’t been impressed. ‘They think we’re amateurs,’ she’d murmured, although she’d eventually had to admit that Valerie did a good job.
Fifteen minutes later, I was told to stand up. ‘Wow,’ Mary said. ‘You sure do scrub up well, pet.’
I looked at myself in the mirror. The ugly duckling had turned into a swan. Valerie had managed to camouflage the worst of my red nose, and with careful applications of Optrex and plenty of mascara my eyes looked almost normal. And the dress – well, it was a show-stopper. Colette had urged me to risk it and bring a leather dress with silk sleeves, which she’d matched with a pair of black suede ankle-boots. I didn’t recognize myself, but unlike before, I didn’t enjoy the feeling as much. It didn’t seem to be me, to be who I really was. I felt like an alien in the dress – it was just too sexy. Maybe if I told Colette that I felt uncomfortable in it …
My thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. Karen opened it and bellowed, ‘Right, all artists to the backstage area for the run-through!’ and the door slammed behind her. It wasn’t too late to back out now, I thought. I could still withdraw.
‘Break a leg, Antonia,’ Mary said, pulling me towards her in a hug. Feeling like death, I followed the others out to the huge backstage area. The audience had yet to be admitted, so it felt eerily quiet.
‘Right, everyone, you know that the judges won’t be in position just yet, only the crew, so you know what to do. Walk forward to the spot, pretend to answer the judges’ questions, and then off you go.’ Karen beamed.
‘She makes it sound so easy,’ a voice beside me said. I turned and smiled at Amanda. We’d been through the drill a million times by now, but still, it always felt like the first time.
‘You look a bit peaky,’ she said, her voice full of concern.
‘I’ve just got a cold, that’s all,’ I said, attempting a watery smile. Because how could I really tell her how I felt? How could I explain this ominous feeling inside, the sense that my world was collapsing around me? I shook my head. This was just silly. Whatever happened to feel the fear and do it anyway? Colette was right. I just needed to concentrate on the song and it would all fall into place. I tried to look at Amanda and pin a smile to my face. ‘I’ll be just fine. I’m looking forward to it, in fact.’
She gave me a long look. ‘Good for you,’ she said eventually, squeezing my hand. I squeezed back.
After the run-through, we were herded back to the hospitality room, to huddle around the television set, whilst the audience filled The O2 and the technical crew did their final checks. The room was hot and crowded and I thought I’d faint. I closed my eyes and tried to hum a few notes, but all that filled my head was a wheezy squeak. My heart sank. Because it was the semis, most people were doing a big stage number, pulling out all the stops to make the final. I know that Amanda had done a whole new routine, getting a professional choreographer to help her. ‘I want to blow the judges away,’ she’d said to me earlier. I’d nodded and wished that I hadn’t opted to keep it simple now, of all times. I didn’t need any dancers or backing singers for ‘Yesterday’. It was the perfect song for a voice like mine, strong and rich, Eithne had told me. But I didn’t have a voice, not now anyway.
I should have been panicking, I suppose, but with all the cold treatments inside me, I was just too woozy, my head feeling as if it were filled with cotton wool. I sat on the fake leather sofa in my sexy dress and ankle-boots, my head swimming. I tried to keep positive and focus on what it would feel like to give absolutely my best performance, running through the song in my head, feeling the notes soar in my mind. C’mon, Antonia, you can do it, I said to myself. I knew that everyone believed in me, and all I had to do was believe in myself, too. Believe in myself and open my mouth and sing, just as I had every Saturday night for the last two months. It was simple, really.
And before I had time to change my mind, Karen was beside me, her hand on my elbow. ‘All set, Toni?’
I nodded. ‘This cold is really getting me down,’ I said, ‘but I’ll do my best.’
Karen gently squeezed my arm. ‘You’ll be terrific, Toni, I know you will.’
I nodded and followed her to my spot backstage, unable to hear myself think above the din of the act currently onstage, a guitar band, who were brilliant, snappy and fun, but tonight, they made my eardrums bleed. And the audience were in a frenzy, cheering and whooping louder than ever for their favourite act. I peered around the side of the stage and the lights were blinding, the audience a loud blur behind them. I swallowed hard and waited for the band to finish, accepting their handshakes as they came off stage. ‘Good luck, Antonia,’ Mark, the lead singer, said.
I nodded, and, feeling Karen’s hand on the small of my back, waited for my cue. It was so hot and loud, I thought, and I felt so woozy. I just wanted to lie down for a bit. I tried to shake myself out of it by thinking: C’mon Antonia, this is your moment, your night, not time for a little nap.
I tried to buoy myself up, like
a boxer before he goes in the ring, listening to the applause as Aaron, the presenter, worked up to introducing me. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, from church choir to singing superstar, the girl from nowhere, Antonia Trent!’
I walked unsteadily on to the stage, trying to smile and wave as the applause grew deafening. I scanned the audience, as usual, for my gang. Bridget said she’d be waving a poster with ‘Go Glenvara’ on it, so I’d know, but it was all a blur. I walked to the spot and stood there, trying to smile so hard my teeth hurt, my ears ringing with the screaming from the audience.
‘Wow, Antonia,’ said Maurice Prendergast, trying to shout over the din. ‘You’ve certainly won the hearts of this audience.’
‘Thanks,’ I managed, praying that my voice didn’t sound too squeaky.
He smiled at me warmly, clearly unaware of what he was about to hear. ‘So, Antonia, what’s the dream?’
I looked at him blankly for a moment, before remembering where I was. ‘Just being here is a dream come true,’ I told him. ‘If anyone had told me that a month after I buried my mother a letter would arrive telling me I had been chosen to audition for a TV show, I would have had them committed.’ I smiled. ‘So it’s gotten me through a very difficult period in my life, and no matter what happens I know I will give it my best shot tonight.’ I smiled as the audience burst into applause, even though my insides had turned to jelly.
‘Well, I don’t think anyone can ask for more than that, so good luck.’ All of the judges seemed to be smiling. They like me, I thought, and they’re rooting for me. ‘Now, what are you going to sing for us tonight?’ Maurice said.
I cleared my throat and prayed that something would come out. ‘“Yesterday”,’ I managed, relieved that my voice was working for the moment.
Maurice raised his eyebrows. ‘A brave choice, because the voice really has to carry it. What made you choose it?’
I thought for a moment, before saying, ‘Because I like its simplicity. It’s just the perfect song. It only takes two minutes and yet it says everything.’
‘I agree.’ He smiled. ‘Right, Antonia, in your own time.’
I nodded and turned to where Declan, the guitarist, was sitting. We’d agreed that he’d sit about ten feet to my left so that I’d be able to hear the intro, but with the applause and my cold, it seemed muffled, and as soon as I began, I knew that there was something wrong. I’d fluffed my entry, I thought, as I sang the opening words. Oh, God, Declan was about two bars ahead of me, I panicked as, gamely, Declan tried to adjust, playing the same bar three times, until we were in sync again. I felt the colour drain from my face. My voice didn’t sound like mine at all: it was nasal, with a rasp to it on the top notes. Concentrate, Antonia, I kept telling myself, concentrate and let the song do the rest. I hit the second verse, feeling the orchestra swelling behind me, and my voice gaining in power and control, but still rasping on the higher notes. I had to keep going to the end, I just had to. I knew that my voice wasn’t right, but maybe, just maybe, I could pull it off. Mum, if you’re up there, please give me a hand, I thought, as I felt the song carry me along, and when I got to the end, I bowed my head and didn’t even dare look at the judges. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my gang on their feet waving and generally going mad, a huge banner above their heads, just as Bridget had promised.
Aaron came over, a sympathetic look on his face, and gave me a hug, whispering, ‘Well done,’ into my ear, before turning to the audience. ‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, you may not know that Antonia sang tonight with a very heavy cold, and I think she deserves a special round of applause,’ he urged, at which the audience whooped and cheered louder than ever.
I was mortified. Don’t feel sorry for me, I thought, waving weakly and trying to smile, as the judges conferred and the applause reached a crescendo. It was as if the audience was willing them to get me through, even though I hadn’t sung my best. I felt a surge of gratitude to them, and I suddenly realized that that was what I really loved about performing. The support of the audience, feeling them going with me, buoying me up as I sang. But would it be enough tonight? My knees were knocking as I waited for the judges to speak.
I knew it was all over when Maurice Prendergast just looked at me and said kindly, ‘I don’t think you gave the performance you were capable of tonight, Antonia, but then I’m sure you know that.’
I nodded, trying not to cry.
‘You’ve wowed us here, week after week, and I think I can say you’ve given some of the strongest performances we’ve seen in this competition,’ he added, as a chorus of boos rose in the background. I wasn’t sure who they were booing: him or me.
‘There’s nothing I’d like to see more than you going through to the final, but I have to judge you on your performance tonight. It’s only fair on the other contestants …’
As he went on, I knew. That even though I’d managed to hold it all together, it probably wasn’t enough. The dream was over.
I was ready to march off the stage, never to come back, and hardly heard his next words, ‘But even a less-than-perfect performance from you is worth somebody else’s absolute best, and I know the best is yet to come, Antonia, so it’s a yes from me.’
I nodded my thanks to Maurice and waited for the other judges. It was a yes from Michael Smyth, if not an enthusiastic one, and then there was only Mary Devine left. She was just gorgeous, with her long blonde hair and Grecian gown, and she’d always been so enthusiastic about me, such a supporter, that I knew I’d probably just scrape through.
She sighed and looked at me apologetically. ‘Antonia, what can I say? You chose a really difficult song and … well, your voice let you down on the night. Now, I know that you weren’t well,’ she added hastily as the chorus of boos gathered pace again, ‘but as Maurice said, we can only judge your performance on the night. And, well, it just wasn’t right. I’m sorry, Antonia.’ She smiled at me, her hands clasped, ignoring the chorus of booing. ‘I just can’t say yes, so you’ll have to take your chances with the audience vote.’
I nodded and practically ran off the stage. I didn’t realize that my knees were knocking until I got backstage, where I almost collapsed into Karen’s arms.
‘I blew it,’ I blurted, the tears springing to my eyes. ‘It was live and I blew it.’
‘No, you didn’t. You gave a terrific performance, believe it or not, and I’m amazed how well you did, even with the flu. You are a real trouper, Toni. Don’t mind that cow,’ she nodded in the direction of Mary Devine, before covering her mouth. ‘Forget I said that.’
I managed a grin.
‘Now, look, we’ll have an hour break while another programme goes out before the results, so I’ll get your gang to come backstage – I know they’ll give you the support you need.’
‘Thanks, Karen, for everything,’ I said, and she smiled, before ushering me towards the supporters’ area backstage.
On the screen, Aaron was saying, ‘Join us in an hour to see who will make it to the final,’ as, one by one, our faces flashed up. When it came to me, I could see how stressed I’d looked, how tense. God, it really did show, I thought. I needed to see the gang, but I wasn’t sure I had the nerve. After all their support, I’d let them down. Because of course I knew that I was out of the competition. Nobody would vote for me after that, and if they did, well, I didn’t want people voting because they felt sorry for me.
‘Antonia—’ I was aware of Amanda tugging at my arm, but I shook her off.
‘I just need a few moments,’ I breathed, brushing past her and praying I wouldn’t trip and fall as I made for the audience area. I didn’t want to talk to Amanda. I just wanted to see my friends, my family.
Bridget was first, bless her, to hug me tight and say, ‘You were brilliant, Antonia, just brilliant.’
Of course, surrounded by all the love and support, I broke down. ‘But I’ve let you all down,’ I wailed. ‘I’m so sorry. My voice …’ I croaked.
‘It’s fine, and you haven’t
let us down.’ Sister Monica shushed me, stroking my hair and dabbing at my tears with her hankie. ‘You gave your very best, in very difficult circumstances, and that’s all anyone can ask. I know plenty of people who wouldn’t have had the guts to go on at all, not to mind singing that song, and singing it well. You did us proud, Antonia.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Billy said. ‘We are so proud of you, pet, and so is everyone in Glenvara.’
‘Thanks, Billy,’ I said. ‘I really don’t know what I’d do without you all.’
‘Oh, you’d be fine, but us? Don’t know about you lot, but this is the most excitement I’ve had in years!’ Bridget trilled, and everyone laughed. I even managed a smile, even though my heart felt like lead. I longed just to go home, climb into bed and pull the covers over my head, but of course, I couldn’t. I had to sit in the green room, or in the audience area, for the next, nerve-racking hour, waiting for the votes to come in.
And I found my thoughts going to Niall, even though I’d told myself I wouldn’t do that. Although I willed myself not to, I just couldn’t help looking, craning my neck to see if there was any sign of him.
Betty seemed to read my mind. ‘He was here, pet, but he got called away. He said he’d call as soon as he could.’
‘Oh.’ I blinked back the tears. ‘OK.’ All I could do now was wait.
18
THE HOUR SEEMED to crawl by. I tried not to look at the clock in the backstage area, as Bridget held my hand and offered me sips of tea from the flask she’d brought with her. In spite of everything, I had to laugh when she pulled it out of her shopper. ‘Bridget, how did you get that through security?’
‘I have my ways,’ she said darkly. ‘I told that nice young man that I was with you, and that they were trying to poison me with the coffee in this place, and he just waved me through. Quite a handsome young man he was, too.’ She grinned. ‘If I was twenty years younger, I’d have a go, that’s for sure.’
