Chapter 16
GINNY
Ginny came out of the theatre, blinking into the sunlight, wondering if her heart rate would ever return to normal. That had to have been the most exhilarating, most terrifying, most adrenaline-filled interlude of her life, and she was still reeling from the emotional bungee jump of it all.
Beeeeeeeeeep.
Her head was so distracted that she wasn’t even sure what she should do now.
Beeeeeeeeep.
She had to get to the Academy, but she had no idea where the closest bus stop was.
Beeeeeeeeep.
Sod it, she’d just get a taxi. She deserved to splash out.
Beeeeeeeep.
And what the hell was all that beeping????
For the first time since she’d said goodbye to the audition panel, she rejoined the world and glanced around her and that’s when she saw…
No, it couldn’t be. Yet it was.
Directly across the road, was a bright red minibus with the words ‘Weirbridge Community Centre’ written in gold on the side, and the unmistakable sound of Abba’s ‘Waterloo’ blaring from the open windows.
And in the driving seat was her sister and…
She squinted against the sun to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.
Nope, she wasn’t imagining it. In the two rows of seats behind Alyssa were the waving hands and smiling faces of Moira Chiles, and Jessie and Georgie from the salon.
If the Glasgow City Council’s CCTV camera operators were watching her now, they were probably wondering why she was howling with laughter as she raced across the road, dodging the city-centre traffic as she went.
She jumped into the empty passenger seat and was greeted with four smiley, expectant faces.
She rearranged her grin to an expression of feigned cynicism, as she went for dramatic suspicion. ‘Are you lot stalking me?’
‘If only,’ Alyssa said, with a roll of the eyes.
‘My van finally clapped out and combusted when I dropped off the caramel shortcakes at the community centre. The manager felt so sorry for me that he let me borrow this van, because they won’t need it again until the senior citizens bingo night on Monday. ’
Ginny wasn’t in the least surprised at this random act of generosity because Weirbridge was that kind of village. Also, her sister had been giving them a heavy discount on their buns for years, so they were well aware that they owed her a favour.
‘And then when I got back to the café, this lot were trying to get a taxi to the Academy…’
‘I didn’t want to bring my car, because I thought I might enjoy a small tipple if the documentary is good,’ Moira Chiles piped up, ‘and a bloody great big tipple if it makes us all look like pretentious tits.’
‘I pride myself on being a pretentious tit,’ Ginny deadpanned right back at her, making them laugh, before Alyssa carried on with her explanation.
‘You’re not wrong. So, anyway, I offered to bring them myself.
If café profits plummet this month, I can always take on shifts as a taxi driver since I seem to be you lot’s personal chauffeur this week.
That aside, we all wanted to hear how you got on, so we decided to swing by and get you on the way. ’
Ginny felt genuinely touched. She’d heard all about Taylor Swift’s ‘girl squad’, but as far as Ginny was concerned, this lot were even better because they all loved big, looked out for each other and they came with the knowledge of the entire back catalogues of the Proclaimers, Deacon Blue and Simple Minds.
Besides, they had a cumulative age of about 250, so they had all the demographics covered in a pub quiz too.
Alyssa indicated, then pulled away from the kerb.
‘Right then, give us the lowdown,’ Moira demanded, ‘because if they didn’t treat you well, there’s still time to circle back so I can give them a piece of my mind.’
Ginny took a deep breath, and then started at the beginning, omitting the fact that Caden was late, which had put Jeremy on edge and sent Ginny’s nerves just a tad higher than they needed to be.
‘It went great, I think. Your prep was brilliant, Moira, and I answered all their questions. And then the performances went really well. They’re going to let me know in the next twenty-four hours, so I just need to cross my fingers and wait. ’
It wasn’t the complete, unredacted truth.
The first number had been flawless – in some ways given even greater gravitas by the very real friction between the male actors, but Ginny had managed to keep her performance on track, delivering every note, every emotion, every nuance, just the way she’d been rehearsing it.
The two guys had then left the stage, so that she could deliver a solo performance of ‘The Broken Piece Of My Heart’, which was a haunting, soul-baring power ballad, and if she did say so herself, she had knocked that one out the park too.
And that’s when it had all gone a bit WrestleMania.
She’d been about to leave the centre-stage spotlight, when there was a rumbling stage left, and she looked over to see Caden and Jeremy in a pushing match that was more Hugh Grant and Colin Firth in Bridget Jones than Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
She’d kept a smile on her face as she’d walked over to them, thankfully shielded by the stage curtains from the eyeline of the panel.
‘I have no idea what this is about,’ she’d hissed, getting between them.
‘But if you fuck this up for me, you’ll have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of your lives.
’ She’d then plastered her smile back on, and exited the stage, stopping to hear the panel’s thoughts on the way.
Not that they’d given much feedback, other than letting her know they’d be in touch.
Caden was asked to stay behind for some new choreography, so Ginny had, gratefully, left on her own.
She had no idea what way it was going to go.
Purely on performance, she hoped she was good enough, but then there was the politics of it all.
Would they really want two cast members who were in a relationship?
Especially when there were already tensions brewing?
Would they want to take on someone with no consistent track record in theatre?
Would they take a chance on someone with her level of experience? Urgh, too many questions.
‘Okay, so do you want to analyse it further, or put it out of your mind until you hear back from them?’ Moira asked her.
Ginny didn’t need time to think about that. ‘I’m going with avoidance and denial.’
Moira nodded with conviction. ‘Excellent. Right, Alyssa, turn that Abba up, and, Jessie, you can be the blonde one.’
‘Brilliant,’ Georgie said, with obvious sarcasm. ‘I get to be the one with the beard as usual.’
The next fifteen minutes of singing at the top of her lungs were exactly what Ginny needed to get rid of any lingering tension.
As they pulled up in front of the Academy, she spotted four security blokes on the door, and none of them looked even nearly as intimidating as Sandra from the office who was standing next to them.
Once upon a time, Sandra had run a taxi control centre with military precision, and Ginny had zero doubt she could organise a military coup of a corrupt, renegade junta in her tea break.
They all said goodbye to Alyssa, and then made their way down the red carpet that was already in place for tonight’s premiere.
Okay, things to do. Track down Ollie, and text Stevie to find out when she’d be here, so that she could recount the full audition experience to them both.
Grab a quick shower in the staffroom.
Go on the hunt for the Fankled production team and see if she could bribe them with the box of caramel shortcakes that were still in her backpack to give her a preview of the Netflix documentary they’d be watching in just a few hours.
She’d decided bribing the audition panel at the theatre wouldn’t have been wise.
But a busy TV crew? Worth a try. Extra cakes if she actually made the cut and could be seen in any kind of impressive professional capacity.
Once they’d all got past the impenetrable security system, otherwise known as Sandra’s clipboard, Ginny bid farewell to Moira, Jessie and Georgie, who all headed off to the theatre to check out the set-up for tonight, while she made a beeline for the staffroom.
She’d just got to the swing doors that led to the area of the old church that housed the canteen, staffroom and offices when she realised that the person in front of her, holding the door open, was a familiar face in an unfamiliar outfit.
‘Wow, Netta, you look like something out of Breakfast At Tiffany’s.
’ Ginny wasn’t just saying that out of flattery.
Netta’s stunning yellow dress had wide straps over the shoulders that then came down to a narrow bodice, before flaring out and dropping to her mid-calf.
She’d paired it with kitten heels and a yellow, boxy, retro handbag that Ginny was almost positive was genuine vintage.
‘That dress is gorgeous. Have you been out somewhere nice?’
‘No, nowhere special. I just thought I’d make a bit of an effort since it’s a special day for you all.’
‘Aw, thank you. But you do realise it could all go horribly wrong, and the cameras could have caught me spreading gossip. Or discussing my smear test. Or there was that time I went the whole day and no one told me my skirt was tucked into my knickers. And they weren’t even decent ones. Urgh, that still makes me shudder.’
Netta laughed and Ginny thought how nice that was to see. Netta was one of her favourite people in the Academy team. She was calm. Serene. One of those women that you say hello to and an hour later you’ve told her all your problems and you’re already planning to buy her a present for Christmas.
Other than the fact that her son was Blair, the bloke that did all the electrical work in the building, Ginny didn’t know too much about her life, though, because she was also one of those quiet souls who preferred to listen than share their stories.
She also veered away from the dramatic, and in this place – given the naturally extroverted, theatrical nature of the students and staff – there weren’t too many others like that.
‘I was going to come and find you to hear how the audition went,’ Netta said. ‘I bet you were wonderful.’
No, there wasn’t a person within a hundred-yard radius that didn’t know Ginny was auditioning for Judas – The Traitor today.
Her natural anxiety and need to overshare had caused her to discuss it with everyone she’d met since the moment the audition had been confirmed.
The blokes that emptied the Academy’s wheelie bins would probably be on the phone for an update before the night was out.
Ginny was about to suggest that they go and grab a coffee so she could tell Netta all about it, when Ollie came out of Moira’s office. ‘Hey, can I have a word?’
Netta took that moment to excuse herself. ‘I’ll leave you to it. But I do want to hear how you got on.’
‘Thanks, Netta. I’ll come and find you later for a cuppa.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ With that, Netta walked off in the direction of the canteen, the flared skirt of her yellow dress swooshing as she went.
Ginny turned her attention to a very serious-looking Ollie, following in his trail of doom as he went back into Moira’s office.
Aw bugger. Had the electrics in the sound studio blown again?
They’d done that twice last week and Blair had been called out two days in a row.
Not that he minded. Netta always made sure all the tradesmen that worked here were kept fully caffeinated and fuelled by her home-made shortbread, and her son was no exception.
As soon as she closed the office door behind her, he got straight to the point. ‘Ginny, have you spoken to Stevie today?’
‘Yes, your highness…’ She occasionally gave Ollie an official title when they spoke and it usually made him laugh.
When she’d called him His Holiness in a Zoom meeting last week, he’d almost spat out his cappuccino.
Not today though. Today he remained completely stony-faced.
Oh shit, something was definitely wrong.
‘But only by text. She sent me a message this morning to say good luck in my audition. Thanks for your message too, by the way. I appreciated it.’
‘Oh shit, your audition! Sorry. My first question should have been how did it go?’
‘Fine, but we can talk about it later because if I think about it now, I’ll go down a deep hole of doubt and insecurity that I’ll need a ladder to get out of.’
Even in the face of her usual inane chat, his way-too-handsome visage was displaying something between fear and deep concern that immediately sent Ginny’s flair for the dramatic into overdrive.
Was Stevie missing? Kidnapped? Somehow that seemed more likely than a lovers’ tiff or a miscommunication because Ollie and Stevie were couple goals.
If Stevie was having an audition for the role of her life, Ollie certainly wasn’t frigging showing up late.
No, it wouldn’t be a problem in their relationship. Had to be something else.
‘Is everything okay? I mean, I can see that it isn’t. Is there something I can do?’
Ollie ran his fingers through his wavy hair in clear exasperation.
‘I don’t know. Unless, that is, you can tell me why she’s just dumped me?’
Oh shit. Shit. Shit.
‘No! I mean, I have no idea. Where is she? Is she at home?’
Ollie slumped against the wall, while Ginny made a quick calculation.
Almost four o’clock. Stevie lived half an hour away.
She needed to be back here by six o’clock latest for all the pre-show preamble.
It was tight but doable. And even if it wasn’t, she’d do it anyway, because Stevie was a pal and there must be something seriously wrong for her to do this.
Ginny hitched her backpack up on to her shoulder.
‘Leave it with me. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fixable.’
Today, she’d already mediated the tension between Jesus and Judas, so sorting out Stevie and Ollie should be a piece of cake.
Shouldn’t it?