Chapter 13
This is all my fault. I have indicated that I am a woman of questionable morals without a care in the world, albeit in a foreign language but it still counts, and now I have to backtrack out of it.
I stare up at him in panic as he climbs out ahead of me. I try not to be distracted by the long, long legs or, the massive cucumber or, the six pack or, the chiselled jawline or his hand waiting for me to take it.
Oh, God. How embarrassing is this?
‘Don’t look so terrified.’ He says, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. ‘I meant we need to get dressed if you want dinner at 5pm.’
Relief floods my body.
‘Yes! I knew that. That’s what I thought you meant.’
He pulls me up the final step of the hot tub so that we are standing close enough for him to whisper in my ear. ‘I’m a gentleman. If you want me to have sex with you, I’d at least expect you to buy me dinner first.’
I’m not sure what to say. I have no rebuff. My eyes are glued to his. They are bright and dangerous and utterly sexy.
‘Besides, who would be crass enough to have sex in a hot tub?’ He wrinkles his nose at me.
Yes, who would be that crass?
‘I’ll give you a knock before five.’ He dips his head to bow.
I watch him stride away. He is in expert shape. He has incredibly toned legs and a tight butt. It’s like watching two bowling balls rubbing together.
Pull. Yourself. Together.
As I race past the receptionist in my fluffy dressing gown, she waves me over with a panicked look. ‘I’m very sorry but your dress is not ready for you this evening.’
‘What do you mean my dress isn’t ready?’ I say through tight lips.
She explains again about the dry cleaners shutting early, without warning, with all of my costumes trapped inside.
‘But what will I wear tonight on stage? I have nothing to wear!’ I am trying my best not to create a scene. After all, it isn’t her fault. Although, in a way, it sort of is.
As she tries to calm me, a few elderly patrons have the nerve to peek over the top of their newspapers to shush me.
Panic is rising from my stomach. It is mixing with the alcohol that I shouldn’t have had and the encounter with Luke in the hot tub that should also not have occurred.
A quick check of the time tells me it is already four o’clock. ‘So, when can I have my costumes? I need at least one of them right now. No. I need three of them. I have to do costume changes because I change character during the performance. And the costumes match what I’m singing.’ A picture of the Maestro pops into my head. He’ll explode if I get into any more trouble. I’m not sure his frail frame and fragile temperament could take it. ‘I will be sacked if I don’t have any costumes to wear. Sacked!’
‘I’m sorry, madam. You don’t seem to be listening to me. The dry cleaners are closed. They aren’t picking up the phone. We have no way of retrieving your costumes before tomorrow morning.’
‘BUT I NEED TO WEAR SOMETHING!’ I bellow. A crowd is starting to gather. I am creating the scene I said I wouldn’t create.
The receptionist looks startled. ‘My friend has a boutique. It does bridesmaid and eveningwear. Maybe she can help. What size are you? I’ll ask her to bring some round. Or I could get the driver to run you over there?’
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
‘Yes. Take me to the shop. Thank you.’ I take in a large gulp of air. ‘Give me two minutes to change.’
I race up to my room and throw on the first things I can find. Some joggers and a hoodie. Just as I lock the door, I remember my dinner date with Luke.
Gah!
I knock on his door. No answer. I knock harder. Still no answer.
Feck it! He’ll just have to dine by himself. I’ll leave a message with reception. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Just as I’m about to leave, the door swings open. Luke is standing dripping wet, clutching a small towel around his waist. He looks surprised to see me.
Keeping my eyes trained on his, I say, ‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take a raincheck on dinner. An emergency has come up. I can’t make it.’
His face falls.
‘Can I help?’
‘No. No, it’s a costume thing. They’ve lost all my costumes, and I have nothing to wear tonight.’
‘Oh, shit. We are due to leave at six thirty.’
‘I know,’ I say, speedily backing away. ‘Go without me. I’ll see you at the theatre.’
‘This is all you have?’ I’m too upset to yell. The lady is keeping the shop open for me especially, and I feel rude and desperate, so I’m going to have to choose three dresses from this scrawny selection. They don’t even all come in my size, so my choice is further limited.
My heart is sinking as I rifle through the racks.
‘I’ve got this pink satin fishtail in your size. This high-collared, frilly gold lamé, pleated knee-length,’ she says. ‘Or this billowy, lemon satin puff?’
‘No satin, if at all possible, please.’ They are three of the most horrific dresses I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’m only just keeping it all together.
‘What about this sheer, peach blush, chiffon floaty one?’
At last. Something half-decent. It is after four-thirty, and I have less than two hours to buy the dresses, get back to the hotel, get my hair and make-up done and make my way to the theatre. I usually need three to four hours at least.
‘Or I have it in champagne mist?’
‘YES!’ I grab the dress off her and charge into the changing room. I yank off my hoodie and joggers. The dress fits very snugly. I rip back the curtain and walk over to the full-length mirror. The material shimmers and swishes as I move, which is a good sign.
I stand, taking it all in. It has an empire-line bodice, elbow-length sleeves in beaded chiffon and a Pride and Prejudice vibe about it. It would do for the romantic Mi Amore Mi Amore duet section.
‘Do you want the veil and wedding gloves to go with it?’ she asks.
What is she not getting about this horrendous scenario?
‘I’ll just take the dress. Do you have anything more formal in a dark colour, floor length?’
She screws her forehead into a frown.
‘Anything at all.’ Tears are prickling the backs of my eyes.
Suddenly, her face changes. ‘Yes! We had a delivery last week that I have yet to open. Winter Brides. There’s bound to be something for you in that.’ She races off down some stairs, and I hear lots of banging while I continue to search for the showstopper outfit. The dress I’ll wear for the finale and the curtain calls. It needs to scream ‘Top of my game!’ like my ruby sequined, whale-boned, take-your-breath-away dress.
I hear her thumping up the stairs.
‘I’ve got a peacock blue in full skirt and feathers and an emerald-green strapless sequined ball gown.’
She holds them both up.
‘Are they my size?’
She nods. ‘Almost.’
Good God.I’ll look like a nineteen-eighties pantomime Dame. I haven’t even got the heart to try them on. ‘I’ll take them,’ I say, whipping out my credit card. The amount almost reduces me to tears. Who would have thought three ugly dresses would cost so much? I hope the hotel will compensate me. I have barely anything left on my credit card as it is. And I still need something nice to wear to Las Vegas. At this rate, I’ll be turning up in these peacock feathers.
‘Thank you so much. I really appreciate it,’ I gush, rushing out of the shop.
It’s like a nightmare. I’ve arrived at the theatre to find everyone has the hump with me because literally everyone is ignoring me. I race through the glazed stone arches of the colonnade, through the old Georgian folly behind the stage and round the medieval well. Dolly is waiting for me in my dressing room.
‘You’re late!’ she barks.
‘I know. I know,’ I say, racing in with all of the outfits and my suitcase full of make-up and hair things.
‘You haven’t even done your hair and make-up! Too busy enjoying the high life, were you? Wish we could all stay in a fancy hotel and have room service and spa treatments.’ Dolly takes the outfits from me and unzips the coverings. ‘What the fuck are these awful things? You can’t go on stage like this! This underskirt is like the Millennium Dome, for Pete’s sake!’
‘That’s what I’m trying to explain. The hotel made a cock up, and now the original dresses are locked away at the dry cleaners until tomorrow.’
She stops to eye me suspiciously.
‘I’ve been racing around trying to find replacements. These were the best of a bad bunch. It’s them or my jogging pants.’ I fly over to the mirror and plonk myself down. My face looks worn out and haggard. That’s the last time I daytime drink before a performance.
I get to work, furiously brushing foundation over my face and slapping on blusher and eye make-up while Dolly hangs the gowns up.
‘I suppose it’s better than nothing.’ Dolly comes over to give me a hand. ‘The dresses will be the least of your worries tonight anyway.’
I put down my mascara wand and make eye contact through the mirror as she teases my hair up into an elaborate chignon.
‘What do you mean?’ I frown.
‘The Maestro is livid that you and Luke have disappeared off to stay in Gray’s Court Hotel. Livid. And so are the chorus girls. Mind, they have been bitching behind your back since the newspaper scandal. They’re jealous of all the attention Luke is paying you.’
‘But I didn’t ask for his attention. If anything, I have spurned him.’ I feel flushed at the memory of today in the hot tub and how close we came to doing something I’d bitterly regret.
Dolly gives me a disbelieving huff and helps me into the first of my three disgusting gown options. We hear the bell ring to indicate I’m due on stage in three minutes. We scurry down the rabbit warren of corridors and take the stairs two at a time, just as the Maestro introduces me. Out of breath, I take two steps forward onto the stage, only to feel Dolly pull me sharply backwards.
‘A word of caution,’ she says. ‘That dress is completely see-through under these stage lights.’
Fuck me!!!
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.