Chapter 7 #2
I have no idea what she means, but as I walk towards the buffet counter and pick up a hot plate, a hush settles across the dining area, and I feel like I’m being watched.
I circle slowly while musicians and choir members whip their heads away, busying themselves, poking food around on their plates. There is definitely an atmosphere.
The only people not inspecting their continental and full English breakfasts are the group of chorus girls who are regarding me with cold and hostile expressions.
I grab a few pastries and sit down at Dolly’s table. ‘You haven’t seen the reviews,’ she says. ‘Have you?’
‘No, not yet.’ I won’t bother telling her that I didn’t think newspapers covered opera any more. Who reads them anyway?
‘They’re over there.’ She nods to a table covered in today’s newspapers.
I get up and go over to the table. Nobody is even trying to pretend they’re not watching me. The papers are spread out, open at the appropriate review sections.
Shitting, shitting hell.
* * *
Once back in my hotel room, I’m straight on the phone to Ged. His lovely face pops up on my screen immediately, and I sweep the camera over the newspapers so he can take in the headlines.
‘Oh my God! What will I do?’ I plead.
‘Calm down. Matteo’s in LA. He’s not going to see you making out on stage with the UK’s most fanciable tenor. Although, those headlines are a bit much.’
‘I can’t believe this is happening. It’s a nightmare. And I wasn’t making out with him. We were acting. Immersed in the part. “Mi Amore Mi Amore” is quite demanding, emotionally.’
‘Hmmm. I’m sure it is, love. But the pictures do make it look like you’re about to kiss.’
‘It’s the angle. I don’t even know who took those pictures.’
I stare blankly at my face glowing up from the tabloids.
The reviews are incredible. It’s the headlines that are the worry.
And the accompanying pictures of me gazing lovingly at Luke mid-song that they’ve chosen to print.
Ravishing Royal Rival. The gist of it is opera’s newest power couple brings the house down while Lady Hermione Greene, who just happens to be related to the Royal Family, looks forlornly at us from the imperial box.
I examine the pictures of Luke and me on stage, practically in each other’s arms, singing, while she gazes at us with a wistful expression on her face.
She was probably caught up in the emotion.
You could hear a pin drop once that aria was over.
The article insinuates that the three of us are swept up in a royal love triangle.
There are false accusations that I have stolen Lady Hermione’s first love away from her.
There is hardly any mention of the world’s current leading conductor, Krzystzof Helmuth, or the world-class Sinfonia musicians.
‘That’s certainly one way to get yourself noticed,’ says Ged.
Judging by the hostile reaction of everyone downstairs, after only one night I have alienated the entire ensemble of singers and musicians, the tour manager and our precious Maestro yet again.
‘Is any of it true? Did Luke mention that he went to school with one of the Royals?’ Ged asks, still collecting evidence. ‘Were they really childhood sweethearts? Does she still have a crush on him?’
‘How would I know? I only met him yesterday! We’re not at the “can you list your entire previous relationship history in chronological order starting from age seven” or “how do you feel about throuples” stage yet. Besides, I haven’t seen him today. He could be furious about it.’
‘Or he could be the one behind it. Orchestrating his own publicity. Like you say, we don’t know him.’
‘What if Matteo sees it?’ I say. After all, we never did discuss whether our relationship is exclusive or not.
‘Matteo isn’t daft. He’ll know it’s just clickbait. You could try ringing him to explain.’
‘He said his phone will be switched off most of the week. Do you think this is important enough to disturb him?’
‘Depends. Which artist is Matteo working with? Did he say?’
‘No. It’s top secret. He’s signed an—’
‘An NDA! Fucking hell, Connie. Please let it be Harry. Or Tay Tay! Birdie produced two songs on her last album. Las Vegas is literally five minutes away from LA.’
Oh, dear. Here we go. ‘I’m sure it is if you go by private jet, and even if it was, there’s no way either of them will want to be invited to the stag do.’
‘Pre-moon spree, dear. And could you at least try to get on board? You are best woman,’ Ged reminds me.
Suddenly, the colossal number of things I need to do hits me. Costumes, hair, nails and song lists to sort for Benidorm next week. Costumes, song lists, pre-moon spree venues and activities to sort for Las Vegas the week after that.
At least it will keep me busy and out of the press.
‘I’ll try and find out.’ I blow him a kiss and see his face light up. ‘I will make sure you have the most amazing time ever. I promise.’
We are disturbed by a gentle knock at my door.
‘Who is it?’ I call out.
‘It’s me, Luke. Can I come in, please?’ He does not sound happy. ‘There are a few things we need to discuss.’
I turn back to my phone screen. Ged is very concerned. ‘Connie. Do not let him in, whatever you do. Okay? I know he saved your life but I have a bad feeling about him,’ he warns me. ‘Send him away. This is no time for politeness or manners.’