Chapter 6
Liam is right. It’s all about confidence.
And even though I don’t have much of it at the moment, I need to find some before I step out on that stage tonight.
A noise to my left distracts me. It is the Maestro, half hidden by a sweeping black curtain, hunched over a large packing crate of some sort.
He is flipping through sheet music while picking up batons from a leather case and brandishing them, flicking them in the air sharply before carefully replacing them in the box.
I owe him a humungous apology for the terrible first (arriving late and weeping on to the bus) and second (destroying the rehearsal with my accidental outburst) impressions.
‘Excuse me, Mr Helmuth,’ I say gingerly. ‘I’d like to apologi—’
He jerks violently at the sound of my voice as though I’ve zapped him with a thousand volts. It sends the box of batons crashing to the ground. I gasp loudly, instantly flinging myself down on my knees to gather them up as they begin to roll away like unruly chopsticks.
‘Sorry. I think that’s them all,’ I say, looking up at him as I place them hurriedly back in the box.
He is drained of colour as I rise slowly to my feet, the billowing gown weighing heavily and impeding my progress.
I put the box in front of him and notice his bony fingers now balled into tight fists, a sheet of music scrunched in each hand.
‘I wondered if we might try a high C in the final aria when—’ I say, interrupting the terse silence.
‘No,’ he snaps. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘It’s just that changing suddenly from—’
‘Can’t be done!’
‘But if you…’ The words die on my lips at his unnerving death stare. I step backwards and scurry to the opposite side of the stage.
Literally everyone hates me.
My nerves are wound as tight as a snare drum.
I sweep my gaze around and spot Luke immediately.
He is standing by the curtain, peeking out to see the audience filling up seats.
I can’t sing with him while he dislikes me so much.
I need to tackle him head on. Plucking up some courage, I tap him gently on the shoulder.
I’m expecting animosity but his eyes widen like saucers when he sees me.
He looks me up and down several times before saying, ‘Good God, Connie. Is that you?’ I have no idea whether he is being sarcastic.
I take a deep calming breath, ready to be the grown-up here. ‘I’m sorry I ruined the rehearsal,’ I say to him. ‘But I assure you, I’ll be fine once I’m on stage.’ If the Maestro doesn’t kill me first.
Luke absorbs this information, studying my face, perhaps for signs of nerves.
‘You’re right. I am nervous,’ I confirm. ‘It’s my first time singing with a partner. It’s my first time on a classical tour. And it’s the opening night. Now, I know you don’t like me but you either work with me on this or’ – I look up at him in earnest – ‘or the show is going to be a huge flop.’
I see him visibly swallow. Perhaps his international reputation is being ripped to shreds and is floating before his eyes.
Whatever it is, he nods curtly and clears his throat.
‘No. I’m the one who needs to apologise.
I’ve been terribly rude,’ he says tightly.
Then with a sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair.
‘I guess I’m nervous about singing with you too. ’
‘You’re nervous? About singing with me?’
He nods.
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re unpredictable. You’re reckless. You have no idea what you’re doing.’
How depressingly accurate. But that sliver of vulnerability is all I need to connect with him. I smile and lean in. ‘You’ve every right to feel nervous. I’m going all out to reduce you to tears.’
For the first time, I see a genuine smile pull at his lips. He almost looks as though he is blushing. ‘I deserve that. Sorry I’ve been so harsh towards you. I have a lot going on in my life at the moment. I guess you’re not seeing the best version of me.’
He thinks he has a lot going on! Try organising a pre-moon spree for two divas and sourcing tasteful nipple tassels for a string of Las Vegas shows you don’t want to do. Still, I’m warming to him.
‘Let’s start over. I’m Connie. Classical singer by day. Netflix and wine enthusiast by night.’
He tentatively shakes my hand. ‘Luke. Highly acclaimed and decorated tenor by day. Renowned international Lothario by night.’
I roll my eyes.
An unexpected chuckle escapes from his lips as the house lights dim.
Suddenly, the orchestra springs to life and the curtain begins to rise slowly.
Butterflies invade my stomach as I ball my fists and clench them to my sides.
I watch the world’s current leading conductor, Krzystzof Helmuth, walk calmly onto the stage to take a bow.
Like lightning he whips his baton in the air and the show commences.
Deep breaths.
Deep breaths.
My chest is rising and falling but I can’t seem to get enough air. Luke steps towards me, his face serious. He is mouthing, ‘It’s okay. You’ll be fine.’
In the next moment, the Maestro is introducing us while I successfully manage to avoid his gaze. Luke holds out a steady hand. ‘Come and meet your audience.’
We glide onto the stage. I try not to panic when I see how many people there are.
They look just the sort to be picturing me naked.
I curtsy to the audience, and Luke bows before we turn to each other.
His eyes lock on to mine, forcing my attention to stay on him.
I hear the opening bars of my aria and open my mouth to sing.
Oh, God. I’m too quiet, too gentle.
Luke guides me expertly into the duet, matching my tone, and before I know it, he has me belting out the song at the top of my lungs.
I don’t know how he is managing it, but we are in perfect harmony.
Not a note out of place. You can hear a pin drop at the end of it.
It is the most thrilling experience I’ve had since the Benidorm music festival.
The Maestro looks begrudgingly surprised.
He gives us a half-smile before carrying straight on to the next movement.
* * *
Three and a half hours later, it’s all over. I peer out at the audience.
Luke keeps looking at me and shaking his head in disbelief. We are holding hands in a strictly professional manner and taking our fifth and final bow, to a standing ovation. Even the Maestro has a smile hovering on his lips as I accept a ginormous bouquet of flowers.
‘From the theatre,’ Luke explains at my surprise before he bellows to the audience, above the roaring applause, ‘Maestro!’ to which the conductor takes a solitary bow.
We all clap dutifully towards him. The choir beams radiantly as they applaud him, and we are rewarded with a thinly arched eyebrow raise.
The musicians take a collective bow after we walk off stage, and finally, the curtain goes down, and the house lights come back on.
Luke stares at me. ‘Well, aren’t you full of surprises?’
Before I can reply, he is mobbed, and I am roughly elbowed out of the way.
‘Luke, you were amaze, hun. Amaze,’ says Florrie, one of the three lead chorus girls who stand in front of the main choir on stage. ‘Everyone, wasn’t he just amaze?’
‘As were you, delightful ladies. Flawless backing vocals as ever,’ Luke says smoothly.
‘We’re celebrating the opening night at Chinawhite,’ says Maddy, thrusting herself at him with wide, slow-blinking eyes. ‘They’ve given us the whole VIP section.’
‘We’re going to let off steam,’ croons Trinny. She is giving him some serious eye contact too. ‘You coming?’
Luke takes a while to respond, keeping them in suspense.
He lets out an audible sigh. ‘Sure.’ The girls shriek excitedly and cling to him as though he has just agreed to shower them with highest-grade, flawless diamonds.
I’ve suddenly become invisible. Not one of them has commented on my performance. Nor our five standing ovations.
‘But only if Connie will come too.’ Luke stands, waiting for me to reply. He has something like a sheepish look on his face.
‘Who?’ says Trinny, following his gaze to me.
‘That’s okay,’ I say, a little caught by surprise. ‘I thought I’d… sort of have an early night. Rest my voice. Besides, I’d hate to get pranked again.’ I don’t need a pity invite and I certainly don’t want to hang out with these chorus girls. I can see Trinny eyeing the others with relief.
‘Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,’ says Luke, seeming flustered. ‘Of course you need an early night. I just wanted to, well, apologise for my behaviour earlier today, and to celebrate what is probably the most spectacular opening night we’ve ever had. All thanks to you.’
‘Wow,’ I say, thrown by his change of demeanour. ‘Erm, that’s very kind of you to say.’
Luke shrugs. ‘You were exceptional, Connie. Truly exceptional.’
I gulp, not sure how to respond. ‘You were very good too.’
A puff of air escapes from Luke’s mouth. ‘Thank you. You’re too kind.’
It causes me to giggle. I have a ridiculous amount of adrenaline coursing through my veins. ‘Sorry. I meant you were brilliant. Amazing. Amaze. Very amaze.’ I’m being sarcastic towards the girls, but I can’t help it.
Luke’s face instantly softens. His smile transforms his face. ‘Perhaps I should have an early night too then. Save myself for tomorrow.’
Trinny lets out a noticeable groan of frustration and digs Florrie in the ribs.
‘But it’s a Sinfonia tradition.’ She raises her voice as the entire ensemble trundles past us with their instruments.
‘You have to respect the customs, I’m afraid!
’ she shouts at me as though I’ve insulted them all.
‘It’s terribly bad luck if you don’t come, Connie. ’
‘Please come with us!’ yells Florrie, changing her tune. ‘It’ll be fun. I’m sorry I pranked you. Besides, you’ll get free drinks.’
‘Only because Luke buys bottles and bottles of champagne for us,’ says Trinny, tugging at his arm. ‘Because he’s so kind and generous.’
The girls start giggling while Luke looks uncomfortable.
‘How about we do an hour of obligatory backslapping, for the sake of Sinfonia tradition, while you protect me from these chorus girls, and then I promise to return you to the hotel?’ he says to me.
‘I’m sure the Maestro would appreciate it.
You certainly gave him a run for his money tonight. ’
‘Please?’ the girls say in unison. Even though they clearly would rather I didn’t, I’d hate to keep upsetting them all. I’ve done enough of that already. They are looking up at Luke with big cow eyes, which immediately reminds me that they all want to get their hands on him and milk him dry.
I shake the image from my mind. ‘Okay. I’ll go get changed,’ I say, turning to leave.
* * *
My ears are still ringing as I flop down into my dressing room chair and stare at myself.
I have my own dressing room! The light bulbs framing the mirror give me an ethereal glow, which makes my skin seem other-worldly.
My eyes sparkle with energy. The ruby-red sequins of my fitted, full-length costume are twinkling.
They highlight my matching ruby-red lips, made to look plump and glossy under the stage lights.
I could be in any decade. Timeless. I understand now why my mother loved her career with a passion.
It was like I became possessed while I was on stage.
One minute, I was petrified, and the next, I was shining so brightly that I dazzled the audience into rapt attention, feeding off their energy, my voice soaring to the furthest reaches of the gods.
I was consumed with the need to fill every single bit of space in the theatre.
I may have accidentally missed a few cues and come in a split second late, but I doubt anyone except the Maestro would have noticed.
And then suddenly, it was all over. Like a dream.
I whip out my phone to take a selfie and send it to Matteo with the caption, Smashed it.
Luke’s wife bursts through the door and shouts at me. ‘Constance Cooper! I have been tour manager for over twenty years, and I can honestly say…’
Oh, Christ. Here we go. What have I done wrong now?
‘…that was the best performance the Sinfonia has ever seen! It was like having your mother back on stage. You were exquisite.’
I stare at her as she visibly catches her breath.
‘Really?’ I manage, with a slight choke. That is the best thing anyone could say to me. I immediately warm to her. ‘You knew my mother?’
Her face lights up. ‘She was lovely to me when I first started out as a trainee. We toured together many times. I was so sorry she passed. I came to the funeral, but I guess you won’t remember.’
I shake my head. That is one day that I’ll only ever remember fragments of. It passed slowly, seconds ticking by while I walked about in a horrible, numb fog, not knowing what to do with myself.
‘She’d be so proud to see you up on stage.’
I smile back, grateful for the compliment.
‘Luke will have to seriously up his game after tonight. He won’t want to be outshone like that every night,’ she says, lightening the mood. ‘The way you sang “Mi Amore Mi Amore”,’ she gushes. ‘There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.’
She holds a hand to her chest. ‘You were mesmerising. Just watch out he doesn’t fall head over heels in love with you.’ She rolls her eyes in a jokey fashion.
‘Who do you mean?’
‘Luke. You’re just his type. Unpretentious, supremely talented…’ Breathing under control, she looks me up and down. ‘…and so beautiful.’
What is going on here?
I’m reminded of the chorus girls wanting to ride him like a bike. It must be a constant struggle for her.
‘You’ve no worries on my account, Dolly. I’m sure your husband won’t ever feel that way about me.’
‘Husband? Husband? As if!’ Dolly sounds appalled. ‘I’m not his wife. Who told you that?’
I’m slightly taken aback.
‘Erm. He did.’