Chapter 18
I decide, under the circumstances, and because I live so close to The Glasshouse, to go home with Ged and Liam, rather than stay in the hotel and risk bumping into Luke.
‘I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to go back for the soundcheck and set up,’ I explain as I stuff all of my costumes and cases into the car. ‘I might pop over to see Dad.’
‘Great idea,’ says Liam, giving Ged a look I immediately find suspicious. ‘A lot has happened since you left.’
‘What do you mean? I’ve only been away five days.’ It feels like a lifetime. ‘What’s happened to Dad?’ I panic. When you are down to your last parent, you feel overly protective towards them.
‘Oh, nothing major. Nothing to worry about. Probably best if you see it for yourself.’ Ged is biting his lips as though trying not to laugh.
‘Okay. Take me straight to his house, please,’ I say, whipping out my phone to give my dad a ring.
* * *
Two hours later, I’m back home. I burst through the door and flop straight down onto the sofa.
‘Do you need wine?’ Liam offers. ‘A lot of wine?’
I nod. ‘Unfortunately, I’ll have to wait until after the show.’
‘Ged,’ Liam yells through to the kitchen. ‘Do we have anything we can give Connie for the shock that doesn’t include alcohol?’
Ged bustles through holding a tray laden with hot chocolates with squirty cream and a tower of cookies. ‘Way ahead of you.’
We take a mug each and dive in.
‘How long do you think it’ll last?’ I say, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘He could barely move his face. He couldn’t speak without drooling.’
‘He’s only had a tweakment, so maybe another two weeks,’ Liam says, taking a slurp of his hot chocolate. His face lights up. ‘Brandy?’
Ged winks at him. ‘Yes. I put a medicinal shot in each one. For the shock. Now, Connie. Forget all about your dad’s botched Botox job and tell us about Luke and these rumours online about the two of you. What is going on?’
I try to articulate what happened this week but, somehow, it doesn’t sound right.
‘So,’ Liam sums up for me. ‘The two of you realised you had amazing chemistry on stage, yes?’
I nod.
‘Then you realised there’s chemistry off stage?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Did you act on this chemistry?’
‘No.’
‘But he books the two of you into a luxurious five-star hotel and attempts to sweep you off your feet?’
‘Correct. Is this off the record? Because it’s starting to sound like another police inter—’
‘But conceals that he was the one paying for it?’ Liam holds up a hand to stop me. ‘And then he showers you with expensive gifts and propositions you while disgustingly drunk and high on class-A narcotics?’ He looks to Ged. ‘It sounds rather like how you proposed to me, darling.’
‘Classic love-bombing from your typical pompous opera weirdo. What did I tell you?’ Ged says, ignoring him. ‘We’ve got you, Connie, hun. Just get through these last two performances and then you never have to see him again. Liam and I will come to both shows. We’ll keep guard.’
My phone pings.
What time is the Sinfonia show? We want to come and show our support.
It’s almost as though Tash was listening in.
Liberty wades in with immediate excuses to say that she’d love to show her support, but listening to classical music makes her feel queasy.
Then Cherry says:
Listening to classical music is no different to really bad morning sickness. Just stay calm, go to a happy place in your mind and try to remember that you’re not actually being tortured on purpose.
Liberty informs us that her happy place is Timothée Chalamet with his come-to-bed eyes. But as he’s not performing with me tonight, there’s not much I can do.
Big Sue says that she will attend but that she will have to wear noise-cancelling earphones because she has an irrational fear that classical music causes early onset narcolepsy. Big Mand then agrees to wear hers too so that Big Sue doesn’t feel like the odd one out.
Another text arrives from Tash:
And will the bar remain open throughout the entire performance? Because we might just listen from there.
I can’t help smiling to myself. They would rather be anywhere else, but they are making the effort just for me. They can all be so lovely when they try.
* * *
A few short hours later, I’m backstage at the north’s iconic musical hub. I stare at myself in the dressing room mirror.
‘Connie, you’re as white as a ghost,’ Dolly is saying. Her voice seems strangely distant. She clicks her fingers in front of my face to snap me to attention.
I’m nervous as anything. All my loved ones are sitting in the audience and I am desperate to give them my best performance, yet the heaviness of the last two days is weighing on me. I can’t summon the will or the enthusiasm.
‘When your mother was homesick, she had the exact same look as you’ve got now,’ Dolly tells me. ‘And do you know what I used to say?’
I shake my head.
‘I used to say, “Think of him. Think of your father,” and she used to perk right up and go out on stage and give her all.’
‘My mother used to think of her father?’ I say, confused. ‘My grandad?’ I never knew him, God rest his soul.
‘No. Not her father, your father. She was madly in love with him. Her eyes would glaze over at the mention of him. They were head over heels for each other.’
I wonder what she’d make of Dad’s – let’s face it – midlife-crisis hummus-coloured hairdo, his shirt-tie-jeans combo and his newly frozen face.
Dating the second time around has not agreed with him, but you couldn’t accuse him of not trying.
He is panicking and jumping on board with what seems like all the trends.
He has the beginnings of a moustache and is letting his hair grow out at the back to cultivate a mullet.
Madge has introduced him to the wonders of Botox, and he has embraced it in a foolhardy fashion because he has been swept up in the early bloom of an exciting, new romance.
But at least he seems happy. It has been a long and painful road to recovery for both of us.
‘They were so in love. Until you came along.’ Dolly laughs, bringing me back to the present. ‘Then they just seemed knackered all the time! But those were her happiest days, she’d always say. Love conquers all.’
That’s it. A light bulb pings to life in my brain. All I need to do is think of Matteo. It has worked before. It will work tonight.
‘Thank you, Dolly,’ I say. ‘Great advice.’
I finish off slapping make-up on my face and Dolly helps me into the first gown before whizzing off to check on the chorus girls and the rest of the choir.
Who cares about Luke? I must put it all behind me and move on.
I’m a grown woman. I’m on a mission to rebuild my reputation and make a successful career out of singing.
My phone pings. It is Big Sue. She has taken over command of ‘Operation LoveBomb’. She has assembled a crack team. They will cover both nights’ performances. She will make sure I am safe.
Ping.
Tash is messaging to say that she has already issued a warning to Luke via social media.
Ping.
Cherry has sent him a GIF of someone being waterboarded.
Ping.
Liberty will be running interference with Big Mand. They have me covered. One wrong move and they will jettison Luke from the stage faster than he can blink. Apparently, they are standing guard right outside my door.
I turn my phone off with a sigh. It’s lovely to know they all have my back, but sometimes… a girl just has to fight her own battles.
There’s a knock at the door. A voice yells through, ‘Two minutes to showtime. Coast is clear. Roger that.’
I’d recognise Big Mand’s no-nonsense voice anywhere. I’m instantly lifted. It’s great to know they are there. I will fight my own battles another time.
‘How would you know the coast is clear? You’ve been outside having a ciggie,’ Liberty argues outside the door. ‘I’ve been the one keeping guard.’
Big Mand sounds quick to retaliate. ‘Cheeky cow. You just spent thirty minutes at the bar. And you forgot my pint of pale ale.’
‘I didn’t forget it,’ I hear Liberty defending herself. ‘I was sick of holding it, so I drank it while you were outside smoking.’
I fling open the door to prevent the argument from escalating. Their faces break into wide smiles, and it is lovely to see them. They have come dressed as crack-whores, and Big Mand still has her arm in a sling from Benidorm – don’t ask.
As we bustle down the corridor, we pass Luke coming out of his dressing room. Big Mand booms, ‘Do not engage.’ She has a hand to her earpiece.
‘You have earpieces?’ I ask, astounded.
‘Target in sight,’ she roars, ignoring me. ‘Repeat. Target in sight.’
There’s a crackling sound followed by a muffled response from Big Mand’s earpiece. ‘Roger that. What’s your twenty? Over.’
Luke’s bewildered face falls a hundred feet. He steps aside and has the decency not to make eye contact as we charge past. He leaves a few seconds before I hear him follow cautiously behind.
We can be civil with each other. We both have to rise above this and be professional. That reminds me; I need to speak with the Maestro.
When we pass through the back of the stage, Big Mand and Liberty are squabbling over who will get the next round in if Liberty drank both drinks.
‘I’ll take it from here,’ I say, keen to get them back to their seats. ‘Why don’t you go now quickly? The show’s about to start, and they’ll close the bar.’
As they tear off at lightning speed, I spot the Maestro hovering at the side of the stage ready to go on. When he sees me, he swivels around to avoid my gaze. I can’t say I blame him.
‘I’m going to speak to him,’ I whisper to Dolly.
‘Who?’
‘Krzystzof.’
‘Please don’t,’ she says. ‘He’s developed hives with all the stress. He’s scratching himself raw.’
I take a sly glance over to see the Maestro twitching and clawing at himself like a scabby rat and instantly feel sorry for him.
His limp hair is swept over a pointy head.
His skinny frame is sagging at the shoulders.
His arm hangs down by his side, fingers drumming nervously against his leg.
He is the best conductor on the planet and I am responsible for doing this to him.
‘Is he single?’ I ask Dolly.
‘Of course. Why do you ask?’
Yes, why am I asking?
‘No reason. I just feel a bit guilty that I’ve reduced him to… well, that.’
‘You’re not entirely to blame. His partner, Bernard, passed away last year after thirty-one years together.
They had weathered some storms along the way.
Not just Bernard’s illness towards the end, but their families never acknowledged the union.
You can imagine how difficult keeping it a secret has been until recent years. ’
My heart lurches for him.
‘Then, of course, their beloved dog died. Horatio was all he had left after Bernard passed. Run over while he was away on tour last month. So there was guilt over that.’
Oh my God. Tragic.
‘Then, of course, the Inland Revenue came last week and took his house off him. Apparently, Bernard hadn’t been paying his taxes. He’d been spending it all on young men in Thailand, every time the Maestro was away on tour.’
My mouth drops open. I think I’d tap my nose and look miserable if that happened to me. It certainly puts my troubles into perspective.
I approach quietly and tap the Maestro on the shoulder. He jumps a mile, a fearful glint in his eye.
‘I just wanted to—’
‘No,’ he snaps.
‘But I—’
‘Don’t. You’ve done quite enough already.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I’m sorry for everything. I promise I’ll be better.’
His eyes flick to my locket as I instinctively put my fingertips to it. His entire body sags as he exhales slowly, a melancholy smile tugging briefly at the corner of his mouth before he nods stiffly and walks away from me.
Seconds later, the spotlight shines down onto centre stage, and the Maestro strolls out to take a bow. He looks so downbeat. He has no sparkle. I must, must, must do something about it.
I glance over to the chorus girls smirking viciously at me and whispering to one another.
I glance sideways at Luke. His eyes are fixed on the audience.
He seems petrified. I follow his gaze to Big Sue.
She is sitting with all the others a few rows from the front with a menacing expression on her face.
She turns briefly to wink at me. Liam and Ged are sitting between her and my dad and Madge.
My dad tries his best to smile, but his frozen cheeks and forehead won’t allow it.
Cherry and Tash, also in the same row, have enormous cocktails in their hands and raise their glasses to me just as Big Mand and Liberty return from the bar with three drinks each and packets of crisps under their arms. I can see that Big Mand’s sling is filled with bags of nuts.
Liberty’s bum cheeks are hanging out of her hot pants as she bends over to pass the drinks along the row. There are multiple pairs of eyes out on stalks in the seats behind.
‘Please don’t ruin this performance,’ Dolly begs me. ‘I’m not sure any of us can take any more drama.’
I pat her arm. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got this,’ I say confidently, because I am imagining the time Matteo first saw me on the plane. He tried to hide the fact that he was checking me out, but his eyes told me everything I needed to know.
By the time the Maestro invites me to sing the opening song, I am determined to give the performance of a lifetime. And while I’m at it, I might as well let Luke know who he is messing with. And those chorus girls. I’ll put them all to shame.
I am going to shine so brightly I’ll blind the lot of them.