The Boy I Love

by Lynda Bellingham

  ‘I have had a card from Eddie,’ replied Jeremy. ‘He wants a guided tour of the theatre.’

  ‘Well, that’s great. Say yes, you numpty, and get him here and then you can see how the land lies.’ Sally gave him a hug and said, ‘I have to work, let’s talk about it later.’

  Jeremy went back to the dressing room and reread the note, then lay on folded arms at his dressing table, trying to control the swirling thoughts going round in his head. Finally he fell asleep, and was awoken an hour later by the lads arriving for the evening show.

  Sally meanwhile had finished the laundry and had gone off to set the stage and check props. Dora called after her, ‘Hey, wait for me, sis! I need a favour. Giles has asked to see me tomorrow during the lunch-hour to audition for the chorus, so will you just listen to my song a couple of times?’

  ‘Sure,’ replied Sally, making her way onto the stage. ‘Why don’t you sing for me now, onstage, while no one is around?’

  Dora stopped in her tracks and looked around. ‘OK then, if you think it is all right.’

  ‘Yes – go on, go for it. I will whip up to the box – just give me a minute.’ And she disappeared out of sight.

  Left on her own in the middle of the stage, Dora was suddenly very aware of the whole theatre. The auditorium in front of her, with the rows of red velvet seats creating a crimson sea, calm now, but which would soon be rippling with life. She gazed upwards to the balcony, a distant land, and let out a small sound, aiming for the back of the theatre. Her tiny note floated away and was lost in the crimson velvet tiers above her.

  ‘You will have to do better than that,’ came Sally’s voice from the semi-darkness. She sounded so close but when Dora looked up she could see her sister away in the box. It was deceptive.

  ‘Sorry, I was just suddenly overwhelmed by the whole building. It really is so beautiful, isn’t it?’ murmured Dora as she moved to the front of the stage and peered over the edge into the pit.

  ‘Come on, Dora, stop messing about and give me a blast,’ ordered her sister, and her voice chased the shadows round the theatre.

  Dora cleared her throat and launched into a gutsy rendition of the opening number from the new musical Lysistrata. Her voice was strong and clear, and she really gave the high notes a blasting. It was very rousing and just right emotionally for the scene, in Sally’s opinion. She was just about to say as much when she was stopped in her tracks by the sound of clapping. The hands were very slowly coming together and each clap reverberated round the auditorium.

  ‘Encore! Bravo! You are hired, my girl, is she not, Timothy?’

  The two sisters were trying to gauge where the voice was coming from. Sally left the box and came down to join Dora on the stage, by which time Giles and Timothy Townsend, the musical director, were leaning on the edge of the pit in the stalls looking up at them.

  ‘Are you serious?’ asked Dora, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

  ‘Absolutely, my dear,’ replied Giles. ‘We have two talented sisters in our midst. Marvellous! Sally, I have been looking for you, because I want you to talk to Timothy here about taking a solo number in the next show. At the moment it belongs to the leading character, but Tim and I agree you have a wonderful soprano voice and it would be a shame not to use it. So if you are game, he can give you the song now so you have time to get it under your belt for rehearsals tomorrow. As for you, Dora – that is your name, I believe?’

  Dora nodded her head so hard Sally thought it would drop off!

  ‘Well, if you could come with us now,’ Giles continued, ‘we will take you through the role and Timothy can check out your range, et cetera. See you in the rehearsal room in five.’

  The two girls were left standing staring into an empty theatre and silence prevailed. For a few seconds!

  Then: ‘Oh my God!’ screamed Dora. ‘I am going to be in the show. I am going to be an actress. Oh my God!’ She grabbed her sister and proceeded to waltz her round the stage.

  ‘Well done,’ said Sally, trying to catch her breath and at the same time work out what exactly had just happened and where she herself fitted into all this. A solo in the next show, that was great – but how would Charmaine feel about losing a number to Dora, of all people? What would she have to say about that?

  ‘Hang on, can we stop, please? I need to think.’ Sally escaped from Dora’s arms and went across to the prompt corner to find a script of Lysistrata. ‘I just want to check how all this fits together,’ she explained to Dora.

  ‘Does it matter?’ the other girl asked. ‘All we need to do is wait to be given our new roles – and away we go. I can’t believe I am going to be in Lysistrata. Come on, let’s go and tell everyone.’

  ‘No. Hang on, Dora, that is not a good idea. People are very sensitive about their roles and it is not your place to announce cast changes. Leave it to Giles to tell everyone tomorrow morning. Please trust me on this.’ Sally took hold of Dora’s arm and looked her straight in the eye. ‘Do you understand? You do not want to start out at the beginning of the rehearsals on the wrong foot, believe me. Promise me you will not say a word?’

  Dora made a zip movement across her mouth with her fingers.

  ‘Mum’s the word, sis!’

  Chapter 22

  The next morning at ten o’clock sharp the company was assembled in the rehearsal room waiting with anticipation for their next roles. It was freezing, despite the efforts of the two big blow-heaters that had been brought in, and everyone was hidden behind scarves and mufflers and woolly hats. Giles was pacing back and forth as the last stragglers tumbled in, landing in a heap on the floor. Simon and Peter had had a heavy night!

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen, for deigning to grace us with your presence,’ boomed Giles sarcastically. ‘You can in fact pick yourselves up and go and get coffee for the rest of us as a punishment. You have very little to do in the next production, but I shall expect to see your support in other areas.’

  The boys mumbled apologies and scrambled off to make the coffee.

  ‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, before I go through the casting, I want to explain about the conference that is going to be held here the week our production opens, and the part we will be playing as hosts. It is the annual conference of the Association of Repertory Theatres, and they hold it every year in a different theatre. They also like to open with a bit of a bang, so Lysistrata has appealed to them enormously, and they have announced that the conference proceedings will coincide with our first night. There will be a “Do” afterwards, which they fund, I am delighted to say, and all they ask of us is that we stay after the show, and chat to all the dignitaries and such. In my experience, from past events, it can be very handy for you actors, because you get to meet all the directors of almost every theatre in the country, and having given your audition on stage during the evening, you just have to be charming – and your career is in the bag.’

  There was a collective groan from the cast. Actors are notoriously bad at schmoozing. Very few learn the art of chatting up producers and securing a job. Same thing with the casting couch: it is never as simple as just being chased round an office by a large amorous producer with a big fat cigar!

  Giles clapped his hands and put a stop to any chat that was threatening to bubble up under the scarves. Everyone had a story to tell about some famous actor who had slept their way to the top.

  ‘Now as far as the lead is concerned, Charmaine, you already have your instructions. However, I have made one slight change to the role and given the battle song to a new recruit called Dora Thomas.’ There was a murmur amongst the ranks at this, and Charmaine scanned the room until she found Dora. The latter was not difficult to spot, as she was sitting bolt upright in the centre of the actors, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

  ‘Secondly,’ Giles boomed on, ‘Sally will be singing a big new number at the top of Act Two, and I have combined the parts of the neighbour and the council member who opposes Lysistrata into one role, which will b
e Sally. Peggy, you are the oldest woman in the village.’

  This brought much laughter from the cast and a howl of displeasure from Peggy, though she turned it into a superior smile as she explained: ‘Listen, you toe rags, it is the best part in the play and I will wipe the floor with you all – wait and see!’

  Giles continued to read out the names. Out of the corner of her eye Sally watched Sarah’s reaction since she had been given a very minor role as the servant to Percy’s senator. Surprisingly, the girl was smiling and was hanging onto Percy like a limpet. Watch this space.

  Geoffrey was also a senator and a hard-done-by husband. He winked across the room towards Gwendoline, who blew him a kiss. No discretion there then, observed Sally.

  Simon and Peter returned with the coffees just as Giles was announcing that they would be playing general riff-raff and crowd, and everyone burst out laughing again. The maestro raised his hand and the room went quiet.

  ‘I know it is a play for the women, in the main, but guys, that does not mean you must sit back and just let it roll along. I want you all to have real characters. I want to be able to understand how this strike of sexual favours, by your wives and mistresses, affects you and your lives. There is a serious message in the play even though we are doing it as a musical. So I don’t want to see any slacking – and remember, you will be on show not just to our audiences but to every repertory director in the country.’

  Giles broke up the group and called Timothy Townsend, the musical director, to talk to the actors about the music rehearsals.

  Sally was making her way across to the piano when she was joined by Charmaine.

  ‘I am not quite sure how to take these changes,’ the other actress challenged Sally. ‘Am I not good enough to sing those numbers?’

  Cringing inwardly, Sally replied as positively as she could, ‘Oh no, I just think Giles needed to spread the music a bit so we all got a go. You have that lovely song to your husband, and I expect Giles thought that as you have so many more lines to learn than the rest of us, you could concentrate on them and not worry about all the numbers. Which let’s face it, do take up a great deal of time.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Charmaine, but she sounded less than convinced.

  Fortunately the conversation did not continue as they had reached the piano, and Timothy was very busy handing out sheets of music.

  The rest of the morning was spent learning the songs. By the end of the session, coats and scarves had been tossed aside, and everyone was rosy-cheeked and full of con brio.

  Singing did that to people, thought Sally, who was having the time of her life, as was her sister. Dora had sung her number note-perfectly, and the room had responded with a round of applause. The girl was in her element.

  It was only when they broke for lunch that Sally realized that Jeremy had not been in rehearsals. How odd, she thought. She went to the Props Room to find Heather who was the font of all knowledge – after Gladys at the stage door, of course.

  ‘He had a dentist appointment,’ announced Heather, ‘but he did ask me if he needn’t come back until after lunch. As he is not in the play I thought there would be no harm – and he did have a list of props he was going to pick up for me.’

  Sally wondered what was going on with her friend. Still, there was plenty of time to find out later. For the moment, she had work to do, starting with keeping her sister’s feet on the ground.

  The next few days were full on for the girls. The songs had to be learned before Giles could really tackle the emotional content of the play. The other big challenge was the costumes. Giles and Gwendoline had this idea of flimsy and sexy to enhance the idea of women’s femininity while at the same time showing that the women themselves were not flimsy in any way, and as far as sex was concerned, they would use every trick in the book to make their husbands’ lives hell until they agreed to stop going to war.

  Gwendoline had all the girls round the table in her office while she produced sketches of each character’s costume.

  ‘Oh Charmaine, look at yours!’ yelped Dora, holding up a drawing of the skimpiest costume they had ever seen. ‘It’s more of a handkerchief than a dress.’

  Charmaine looked a little taken aback but Gwendoline was ready.

  ‘Charmaine, don’t look so worried. It will all be very tasteful and I will only work to your requirements. But I do want you to look incredibly sexy. I have also got some gorgeous wigs to show you. Listen up, everyone. We want a feeling of this hot Greek island full of lushness and sensuality, against the horrors of war. These women have had enough of months and months without their husbands, who went away fighting while they had to tend the fields and work hard to make ends meet. They want to be feminine again, and enjoy the fruits of their labours. So by withdrawing their sexual favours from their husbands when the men get back from fighting, they are making a strong statement, not just about peace, but the needs and importance of women on every level. By emphasizing their physical appearance and attractiveness, I want not only the men in the audience to really understand what it must be like for the poor homecoming husbands, but I want women to realize that being attractive is not about being a victim. We do not make ourselves gorgeous just for our men, and we can use our attributes for important issues, not just to please our husbands.’ She paused for breath.

  ‘So we will start with Charmaine and then I will fit Sally, then Dora. Sarah has gone on an errand with Percy so I will fit her last. We have got a teacher joining us from the local stage school. Apparently, she used to be an actress years ago, and she is happy to be in the chorus, and I think our very own Janie is going to join you onstage.’ She turned to Janie who was busy ironing costumes as usual, and Sally gave a cheer and was joined by the others. Janie did a curtsey and looked very pleased.

  ‘Just don’t expect me to sing by myself because I am tone deaf,’ she warned them.

  ‘Hmm, that doesn’t bode very well for the company numbers,’ said Charmaine, looking displeased.

  ‘Oh don’t worry, I am only kidding. I can hold a tune OK, I just don’t want to sing on my own.’ And unruffled, Janie went back to her ironing.

  ‘Right, come on, ladies – let’s get down to business. Charmaine, try this, Sally take this one and Dora, you try the red one.’

  Dora screamed with delight. ‘Oh, how brilliant! I have always wanted to be a redhead.’

  Sally and Charmaine took their wigs to the dressing room and sat next to each other in front of the mirrors.

  ‘I must say, I had hoped my debut leading role this season might have been something a little more serious,’ lamented Charmaine, as she pulled the mass of strawberry-blonde curls onto her head. ‘When Giles mentioned Lysistrata originally to me, I thought he meant the play. He never mentioned music or singing . . . Oh my giddy aunt!’

  Charmaine had been stopped in her ramblings by the image staring back at her from the mirror. Sally had to turn away and pretend to be struggling with her wig, so as not to laugh out loud. There was so much hair one could hardly make out Charmaine underneath. She resembled Jane Fonda in Barbarella.

  ‘This is ridiculous! Where’s Gwendoline?’ the actess snorted, and steamed off. Sally recovered herself and adjusted her wig which was actually rather nice. It was several shades of auburn, and although it was full, it did not have the abundance of curls that Charmaine’s wig had sported. She turned round to see Charmaine stomping back followed by Gwendoline with an armful of hair.

  ‘There is no need to panic,’ Gwendoline was saying, trying to soothe the troubled waters. ‘Of course we want you to look beautiful. Now sit down and try this one on.’ She presented the actress with a much smoother head of hair though still on the blonde side, this time veering to platinum.

  ‘I just don’t see myself as a blonde,’ said Charmaine. The wig was better than the last but did not enhance her features. Unfortunately, Charmaine had a long face which could look a little horsey. She did really need a few curls to lift her face.

&n
bsp; Sally was sitting in her auburn wig quite happily taking all this in when she felt the hair being removed.

  ‘This could work really well for me, I think,’ announced Charmaine, donning the filched wig.

  ‘But that is mine,’ began Sally, knowing only too well it would make no difference when push came to shove.

  ‘Here, you try the strawberry blonde,’ said Charmaine, passing it across.

  Sally put on the blonde abundance of curls and burst out laughing. ‘I look like a Shetland pony,’ she giggled.

  ‘Well, how appropriate. I myself have always been compared to a thoroughbred racehorse,’ stated Charmaine rather grandly.

  Everyone in the room looked at each other to check whether this woman was actually serious or not, realized she was, and had to avoid eye-contact in order not to gag.

  ‘Thank you so much for that, Charmaine. It is good to know where I stand in the breeding stakes of horses. I wonder where we are in the acting profession?’

  ‘Now, come on, ladies, please let us try and resolve this because I need to get on,’ intervened Gwendoline before things got out of hand. ‘I must say the auburn wig is very good on you, Charmaine, and actually, Sally, if we trim that wig, it will be rather fetching. You look very sexy, as a matter of fact,’ she added for good measure.

  Sally looked at her hard to see if the wardrobe mistress was taking the mickey and decided she was being serious.

  ‘OK, fine, I bend to your taste and you are the designer, after all.’

  ‘Thank heavens for that,’ said Gwendoline. ‘Now wish me luck, girls. I have to go and break it to Peggy that she is wearing a bald cap.’

  Chapter 23

  ‘How does your mouth feel now?’

  ‘OK, except I can’t stop dribbling.’

  ‘Yes, I must say it is not a pretty sight. Here, take my napkin.’

  Jeremy took the proffered napkin and briefly touched Eddie’s fingers. It sent a shiver through him. He wished the dentist had anaesthetized his whole body, he was trembling so much. Could Eddie tell? He could hardly believe he was sitting opposite the cause of his angst, in a tearoom in Nantwich. He had rung Eddie first thing this morning, having written down a message for the answer machine in case he had to speak into it. It had taken him several attempts to get the tone just right. Not too friendly, but warm and inviting at the same time.