Chloe's Rescue Mission

by Dean, Rosie

  Just as I was preparing to step forward and deliver a speech of thanks, Mum and Beth clutched my hands. There was a shuffle of movement at the back of the auditorium.

  I could feel my insides leap as my excitement turned to panic.

  Heads and bodies in the audience began to turn.

  What was going on? Did we have protestors? Had Barnworth town councillors resisted slamming a demolition order on our theatre till now? I peered through the spotlights for some clue as to what was happening.

  The doors opened. A light came on. I could hear a roll of drums, then a pulsing beat and the skirl of bagpipes rose from the foyer.

  Marching through the doors came, would you believe, Duncan – bagpipes and all. Behind him were six other pipers and four drummers – kilts swaying and pipes piping.

  A marching band will always stir my passions, but with Duncan pacing through the audience, my passions hit a record high.

  As the crowd caught on to who was leading the band, their cheers gathered momentum.

  Hot men in kilts marched to the front of the theatre, separated and marched either side to mount the steps to the stage.

  Instinctively, we moved back.

  Once lined up, they completed one more chorus of some familiar Scottish tune I couldn’t name and wrapped it up with a flourish of drums.

  The audience were on their feet.

  My goose-bumps reached new peaks.

  I’m not sure any Scottish piping band had ever received such an ovation outside of the Edinburgh Tattoo.

  ‘How fabulous!’ cried Mum, clapping frantically.

  ‘Seriously sexy,’ Jooli growled behind me.

  Who was I to argue?

  Duncan was right in front of me, centre stage, his broad back blocking my view of the crowd. He raised an arm to the audience. Eventually, he was able to speak. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, you all know this fabulous show tonight wouldn’t have been possible without the hard work of a dedicated and very proud family. Please put your hands together for Jennifer, Chloe and Beth Steele!’

  He stepped aside and turned to invite us through.

  I cast him a very swift and appreciative glance as we did so.

  While the audience cheered and clapped, again, we took another bow. Finally, Mum and Beth propelled me forward.

  I had to speak now? With this tide of emotions surging through my system?

  Standing tall, I walked into the spotlight. I shielded my eyes and spoke into the microphone. ‘Hey, I’d like to see all those lovely people who’ve been brought to this wonderful event by the power of Joshua Steele’s legacy. Can we have the house lights up, please?’

  The lighting crew obliged and I looked around at all the faces. Some I knew from home, some I knew from TV. After thanking them all for supporting our project, I added, ‘You know, when I appeared on television, all those weeks ago, I’d no idea I’d be standing here now, or that things could have happened so quickly. But I owe a great debt of gratitude…and possibly money,’ the audience laughed, ‘to Duncan Thorsen,’ I braved a quick look in his direction, ‘and his staff at Thorsen Leisure.’ I swept my arm up to the box. Hugo and his colleagues waved back.

  More applause.

  ‘And, of course, my family’s thanks must go to all these wonderful people behind me, who so generously gave their time and their talents in aid of the Joshua Steele Theatre. Believe me, my grandfather would have been deeply touched…as indeed we are. Thank you.’

  As the applause rang out once more, we stepped back and the curtain fell for the final time.

  Mum, Beth and I hugged. Then Mum set upon Duncan. ‘Duncan, that was spectacular! Thank you so much for agreeing to do it. Rounded off the event perfectly.’

  The sneaky mare. ‘You knew about it? Well thanks for telling me,’ I said, trying to sound cross and failing. ‘I thought I was running this show.’

  Duncan grinned at me. ‘We wanted to surprise you.’

  I couldn’t help grinning back. ‘You succeeded.’

  ‘Nice one, Duncan,’ Beth said. ‘Now, the important things, we’re off to crack open the Cava.’ She grabbed Mum’s hand and followed the excited performers to the wings.

  ‘Well done, Chloe. You’ve done a great job,’ Duncan said, before leaning in to hug me.

  He was warm and strong and solid. Although it has to be said, I found the involuntary moan of the bagpipes a tad disconcerting.

  ‘It did go pretty well, didn’t it?’ I said, into his shoulder.

  ‘Fantastic. I’m proud of you.’ He hugged me harder and it felt like he really meant it.

  Which one of us was going to break first?

  Me.

  It had to be me.

  ‘Right. I’d better go and pat a lot of backs. People have been brilliant. And I loved the bagpipes. First pat on the back is yours,’ I said, actually patting him on the arm.

  ‘Enjoy your party.’

  ‘You’re not joining us?’

  ‘No. This is your night.’

  ‘Only because you helped us. We’d be nowhere without your support.’

  ‘You enjoy it. You deserve it. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He leaned forward and gave me a warm, brief kiss on the cheek, then made his way to the side of the stage.

  I didn’t have time to sulk, although I may have enjoyed an indulgent bout of crushing disappointment.

  *

  Duncan had fully intended to go back to the hotel with his family. He didn’t have many opportunities to spend time with them, and he knew Jim would enjoy a pint or two in the bar. His sister, however, had other ideas. ‘You don’t need to come back with us. I’m absolutely done in. You stay here and enjoy the party.’

  Little Harry was clearly done in too. He was in Jim’s arms, already starting to doze on his shoulder.

  ‘You know me, Em, I’m not really a party guy.’

  ‘Make a sacrifice!’ she chided, flipping his chest with the back of her hand.

  ‘No, I’d rather leave the theatrical lovies to their fun and games.’

  ‘I think it would be rude to leave. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of that company of lovies, now.’

  Duncan carried on walking to the exit with them. ‘Hardly.’

  She grinned at him. ‘You were in your element up there, playing the pipes.’

  ‘Aye, well there’s not much chance to play them, these days.’

  Out on the street he guided them to the left. ‘We should be able to pick up a taxi down here.’

  As he flagged down an approaching cab, his sister took his arm. ‘Duncan, never mind all your nonsense about lovies, why don’t you just stay a while? It’ll mean a lot to the Steeles, I’m sure.’

  He looked at her for a long moment, while Jim and Harry climbed into the cab.

  ‘Okay, you win.’ He handed her his bagpipes. ‘Look after these for me.’

  ‘Good lad.’ She stepped up and kissed his cheek. ‘We’ll catch up with you tomorrow.’

  As he watched the taxi pull away, he felt a calming moment of satisfaction.

  He looked around him. The streets were bustling. Theatre-land was so alive at night-time.

  A car horn sounded out.

  He turned back and gazed up at the theatre. Above the teeming pedestrians, hung the huge poster of Alicia-May with Morgan Ash – all razzle-dazzle and starry. Another smaller poster showed Joshua Steele in his heyday, looking inscrutable. Smaller still was a picture of Chloe, smiling in her straightforward way.

  He thought back to Chloe’s performance with her family. They had all shone with talent but it was Chloe he couldn’t take his eyes off. Just like in Spain, when she’d danced flamenco, she’d been in her element. Performing was in her blood and watching someone with that kind of gift was a privilege. Oh yes, Alicia May was a stand-out star, and all the other professionals had given faultless performances, but he didn’t know them like he knew Chloe. He hadn’t seen their wobbly moments of insecurity like he had hers. In spite of her past
experience of stage fright, for the sake of something she believed in, she’d risen to the challenge and scaled it. A glow of admiration fired in him.

  He smiled.

  Could there be more of Chloe in his life? Would she be able to take his feelings seriously after all that had happened?

  The buildings around him were glittering with lights. It was almost like Christmas, and like the Christmases of his youth, he felt a lift in his spirits.

  His heartbeat quickened. He needed to find the right opportunity to tell Chloe how he felt. The right moment would surely present itself. Even if he had to engineer it. He wanted her to know he wasn’t just some playboy hell-bent on another conquest. Emily had been so right to send him back to the party. Yes, he knew she was banking on him nurturing a relationship with Chloe. Like dear old Rose, it had been her mission to see him settled again, one day.

  Tonight, by returning to the party, it would show his support for Chloe’s project in ways other than financial. He would be giving his time. Giving himself.

  As he made a move back in the direction of the theatre, the lights around him brightened. A voice cried, ‘Watch out!’

  Headlights were blinding him.

  He lunged to the left – too late.

  Chapter 27

  We were buzzing. It was all going on backstage. Champagne corks were popping, the noise level could be measured in high decibels and smiles were everywhere. In the centre of it all were Alicia-May, Beth and Morgan. The were hanging off each other, grinning whilst A-May took a selfie. ‘Chlo-wheee!’ they yelled when they saw me. I hadn’t heard that cry for years.

  ‘Get over here!’ A-May beckoned.

  She pulled me in at the other side of her and raised her phone again.

  ‘Chardonnaaaaaaay!’ we chorused.

  A tray of fizz in plastic goblets hove into view, carried by Mum, while Owen followed with a very sleepy Tom.

  ‘Fantastic!’

  ‘We pulled it off!’

  ‘What a night.’

  ‘Brilliant!’

  All around us, people were celebrating and I didn’t plan on being left behind. I knocked back half my drink.

  Owen was beaming. ‘Great job, Chloe. A-May, you were on top form. What a build-up. As for the finale, with the old Cock-o-the-North making his dramatic entrance... Wow! Really got the eyes watering, that did.’

  ‘Owen, you sentimental old softie.’ Beth pushed him playfully.

  ‘If it did it for me, you can bet it did it for everyone else,’ Owen reasoned.

  ‘Men in kilts will do it for me, every time,’ Morgan said, smoothing a hand through his hair. ‘Those donation buckets will be bulging.’

  ‘Of course! Where are they, Owen?’

  ‘The cash is in the theatre safe. The manager said we can come back for it tomorrow.’

  ‘Any idea how much we got?’

  ‘Half time tally was over two grand.’

  ‘What?!’

  The buckets were a last minute idea of Mum’s. She’d nipped down to her favourite DIY store to buy four of them.

  ‘Fancy going clubbing?’ asked Beth, her voice loaded with anticipation.

  ‘Tonight?’ I asked.

  ‘No time like the best time,’ said A-May.

  I hadn’t been clubbing for about four years. Not since meeting Warren. Clubbing was a scene for young-free-and-singles.

  I qualified in the last two categories.

  ‘Mum’ll take Tom back to the hotel. Go on, Chlo, it’ll be fun.’

  I looked down at my costume. I had a pair of battered cotton trousers and a vest in the changing room.

  ‘Dingo is dead casual,’ Alicia-May said. Dingo was a hip club in town where celebrities chilled out. Joe Public would need to take out a second mortgage for the membership. ‘I have tickets. Garfield Alexander fixed it for me.’

  Garfield Alexander – one of Britain’s top agents.

  Beth looked at me. ‘No’ clearly wasn’t an option.

  I nodded. ‘Okay but we have to pack up our stuff, first.’

  Twenty minutes later, Mum stood with a pile of bags, bouquets and a small boy waiting to be transported back to the hotel. Owen headed out to find her a taxi, while we three girls powdered our noses and glossed our lips. Morgan gave us each a flamboyant hug, before making his way to the Albert Hall to meet up with Dante.

  ‘I’m so thrilled we’re going to Dingo,’ Beth crooned as she tweaked a fuchsia-pink strand of hair over one eye. ‘I wonder who’ll be there.’

  I was wondering how soon I could leave, since exhaustion now seemed to be sapping energy from my veins.

  ‘Honey, we’ll be there, that’s all that matters,’ A-May said as she stuffed a hand into her bra and hauled one boob into position followed by the other.

  The door burst open, followed by Owen. Mum, who was hugging Tom to her, bent to lift one of the bags but Owen held up both his hands, like he was about to deliver a sermon.

  ‘It’s chaos outside. A car mounted the pavement and ploughed into some poor bloke. There’s a couple of ambulances, a fire truck, you name it, it’s all out there. I’ve got a taxi waiting round the corner, Mrs S, let’s go.’

  He grabbed the bags and led her into the street.

  Out of morbid curiosity, we three headed out too.

  There was quite a gathering. A hard core bunch loitered with prurient interest, while others took a quick look and moved on.

  A siren howled as one of the ambulances shifted into the road, and set off.

  ‘That’s somebody’s week ruined, possibly even the rest of their life,’ I said, a cold shiver travelling down my spine.

  Alicia-May hugged us both to her. ‘Best to count your blessings, every day,’ she said. ‘You never know what’s around the corner.’

  Dingo did not live up to expectations. Unlike the flashier, commercial clubs, Dingo appeared surprisingly down-market. It was old. It was crusty round the edges and the loos smelled of damp. The music played was an eclectic mix of blues, techno and eighties disco, but there wasn’t much dancing going on. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything going on, apart from a lot of talking, drinking and possibly – because I didn’t actually see any – a touch of Charlie snorting.

  Garfield Alexander was seated with a couple of people I felt I should have recognised but didn’t. He generously ordered champagne when we arrived although, if asked, I’d have gone for a double espresso with an espresso chaser.

  Alicia-May was totally the centre of attention, which suited me fine. I could sip my fizz, smile beguilingly and hope to God I didn’t drop off.

  God wasn’t listening.

  Some time, around one o’clock, Alicia-May nudged me awake. ‘Come on Sleeping Beauty, we have to be up in a few hours for the Wake-Up! Show.’

  Of course. The car was fetching us at six. Deep joy. But it was all in a good cause and after that, I might actually sleep for a week.

  Alicia-May looked disgustingly fresh-faced at six in the morning. I just looked disgusting. I was banking on the make-up artist wielding her cosmetic brushes with the skill of Leonardo da Vinci.

  We were directed to the make-up room so we could be transformed. I sat back and closed my eyes. I counted my breaths and gave a brief thought to potholing. This was preferable to that. Definitely. Good old Duncan.

  A TV in the room screened the opening credits to the Wake-Up! show.

  A cool cleansing cloth was wiped over my face and then a soft cloth patted it dry. Bliss.

  My make-up girl, Tracey, was quietly humming Million Love Songs while she worked. It soothed me.

  A-May began humming too.

  To show solidarity, I joined in.

  The show presenters were running through a summary of today’s delights. ‘And we hear from Alicia-May Golding and Chloe Steele on the success of last night’s variety show to raise money for the Joshua Steele Theatre. Sadly, of course, this has all been eclipsed by the news that Duncan Thorsen, who has been a big supporter of the project
, was injured, last night, in an accident outside the Royal Theatre. Over to Jeremy at the news desk for more details.’

  I sat bolt upright and clutched Tracey’s arm as I focused on Jeremy’s grave features.

  ‘That’s right, Kerry. Duncan Thorsen and two other pedestrians were hit by a taxi that mounted the pavement only yards from the Royal Theatre. It’s believed the driver may have suffered a heart attack at the wheel. All are being cared for in St Thomas’s Hospital, and are reported to be in a stable condition.’

  I shot a look at Alicia-May, whose eyes had widened in shock. I lunged for my handbag and pulled out my phone. I’d put it on silent last night and forgotten to turn it on again.

  ‘Who can I call?’ I asked to no-one in particular. ‘Marlean,’ I answered, ‘I’ll call Marlean.’

  ‘At six-thirty in the morning?’ A-May asked.

  ‘Crap! She won’t be at work yet, will she?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Chloe. He’ll be in excellent hands at St Thomas’s.’

  ‘The hotel, they must know something.’

  I fumbled and swore as I made mistakes finding the number.

  The receptionist was apologetic. ‘I don’t know anything,’ she said. ‘I’ve only just come on duty.’

  I thanked her and hung up.

  ‘If I call the hospital, do you think they’ll tell me?’ I asked Alicia-May.

  ‘Not unless you’re family.’

  ‘Of course! Emily will know. She’s his sister. I should have asked the receptionist to put me through to her.’

  ‘Chloe,’ Alicia-May leaned over and put her hand on mine to stop me making another call. ‘Chloe, it’s still half-past six in the morning. If she was at the hospital with him last night, she’ll be fast asleep now.’

  The look on her face told me I was over-reacting.

  And why should I care so much?

  I wasn’t family.

  I wasn’t even his girlfriend.

  ‘Right. Yes. I’ll call later.’

  ‘He’ll be fine. He’s a big strong guy.’

  ‘Taxis are bloody big too.’

  ‘Honestly, Chloe, they just said they were in a stable condition. Nobody mentioned intensive care or life-threatening injuries, did they?’