Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Olly
‘Everyone!’ Sabrina shouts from the stage after the penultimate contestant’s sound check. ‘I’ve just had word: Tarun’s on his way back! He’ll be doing the show tonight.’
Cheers erupt around me; our video must have helped get him back. Gabby and Jas wrap their arms around me, and I’m warm inside. This is the beginning of everything starting to go right tonight.
The last sound check, with five minutes to spare before our one-hour call, is Oisín’s rendition of ‘Sandy’, which is annoyingly rather good.
Throughout his performance, the panic of all the stage crew and creative team is clear as they try to get everything ready for an audience entering in half an hour.
‘Excellent, Oisín! Can I gather you all on stage?’ Elaine calls out the second Oisín’s song is done.
‘No time!’ says Lauren, headset on and in stage-manager-appropriate black clothes. ‘The one-hour call has started. We need to release them, feed them and get them ready.’274
The look of disdain Elaine gives would make the most formidable world leader crumble with fear. Lauren’s not fazed however. Don’t cross a stage manager running behind schedule.
‘Honestly! When did theatre become so bureaucratic? I guess it’ll just be a “break a leg” from me to you all then,’ Elaine says, her voice dripping with bitterness.
‘Straight to your dressing rooms please!’ Lauren says. ‘There are sandwiches waiting for you there.’
I think everyone must be famished by the way the cast dashes up the stairs. Lunch feels like it was a lifetime ago with the drama of Tarun’s disappearance and then the race for everyone to run through their song for the final six.
I hang behind at the bottom of the stairs though. I need a moment on my phone before I get into show psyche in the hotbed that will be the dressing room.
Best news ever that you’re coming back.
Can’t wait to see you X
I text Tarun first, then scroll away from my messages and open my browser, Zeb’s words from earlier about ‘knowing the right people to please’ at the front of my mind. My ultimate responsibility tonight is to myself and to the friends who love me just as I am.
And so, I do something for Zeb. And me. Something 275I hope will mean that for tonight, his last-ever time on stage showing the world what a supernova he is, he can just relax and have fun.
The last thing is to input Zeb’s email address, and it’s done. A grin on my face, I enter the dressing room, already filled to the brim with opening-night gifts: flowers, chocolates and an impossibly adorable four-foot stuffed bear.
‘Have I got enough make-up on? I don’t want to be washed out!’ asks Todd, who has so much foundation on he could easily be cast in Satsuma – The Musical, as I take my seat.
‘You might want to put some setting powder on to even it out,’ I offer, knowing as much about make-up as I do football.
‘Olly?’ Zeb asks in the seat next to me. ‘I’ve received an email with an extortionate ticket for the 08:02 train to Cambridge attached?’
I gasp, acting surprised. ‘Oh wow! How amazing!’
‘You didn’t, did you?’
‘Are you asking if I bought you a train ticket, so you could come to the party for a little bit and celebrate your last performance before uni?’
‘Well, yes! Where would you find the money for that?’
‘I’m not saying it was me, but you should enjoy the ticket, and the Uber that’ll be waiting outside the hotel 276for you at 7:30 tomorrow morning.
Whoever bought them for you did it because they love you, and they only want to please the people who matter – like you – rather than anyone else,’ I say, happy to have used a chunk of my drama school audition fund on something important: us getting to spend one last blow-out night together.
His eyes bulge. ‘Ol! You don’t understand what a weight off my shoulders this is! I can’t believe you!’
‘Again, you have no proof it was me. Will you come to the party?’
‘I can come for an hour or two, provided I stick to the Sprite,’ he says, bouncing with excitement as he starts to type on his phone.
‘Who you texting?’
‘Nobody!’ he says, covering up his phone screen. ‘But I’m really grateful…’
‘Me too,’ I say, relaxing. Now, all that’s left to do, with Tarun on his way back and Zeb down to throw shapes on the dance floor, is get ready for the show. And maybe take one final chance – a risk – to make sure tonight is the exact final showcase I want it to be.
Tarun
‘Son?’ asks Dad’s voice, crackly through my phone speaker.277
I’m silent for a moment, unsure how to start the conversation.
‘Tarun?’ he asks again. ‘Are you there?’
‘Yes. There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Now’s not really a good time. Meabh and I are going out for dinner and—’
‘This won’t take long,’ I interject. ‘It’s just…’
I stumble again. Mum’s on the pavement, trying to flag a taxi while I hang back to have this conversation in the doorway of a closed coffee shop.
‘Tarun? You’ve cut out again. Do you wanna call me back when you’ve got better signal?’
‘No. I have to speak to you now,’ I say, my voice steadying. I need to say this.
‘Is this about the picture you were tagged in?’
‘Aye. I’m in the top thirty of a musical-theatre competition for teens from all over the UK,’ I say, such ‘proud’ words still feeling foreign in my mouth but knowing I have to claim them.
‘Still with the performing thing then?’ He sighs. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about you hanging around with pansies like the ones in the photo.’
I bite down on my bottom lip, refusing to cry. ‘Well, it’s a shame that you’re not sure how you feel. Because I’m one of them. I’m gay.’
It’s his turn to be silent. It feels like hours, even though 278it’s probably a few seconds. ‘Tarun… You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re…’
‘As certain as anyone’s ever been, Dad. I’m very gay. In fact, I’m so gay that last night I kissed a boy and shared a bed with him.’
‘Tarun…’
‘So that’s something you’re either going to have to get used to or we’re not going to have a relationship.’
Mum looks over, with what I think is admiration in her eyes.
‘Your mum knows about this?’ he asks.
‘Yes. I told her the day you moved out. Because I felt accepted in my own home for the first time since I was six.’
‘That’s not fair, Tarun… I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you.’
‘Well great. This is what’s best for me.
The shame you’ve passed on to me nearly stopped me today, but being ashamed is your problem, not mine.
So tonight, I’m going to be in a show in the West End.
Something most parents would be proud of their child for, and yet I had to hide from you.
I’m going to go on stage and be a part of something positive and fecking competitive.
Because I’m good enough. I’m not the best, but I deserve to be there. ’
Mum waves, having attracted the attention of a black cab.279
‘I need to go, Dad. But I had to tell you. I’m proud of who I am, and I’m only going to get prouder as I keep on doing more musicals and being myself. See you when I see you.’
And before he can reply, I hang up the call. It’s done. The conversation I’ve been worried about having since I was twelve, when I realised I was attracted to boys, is now in the past. I breathe in the moment and hurry into the back of the taxi, throwing my guitar and backpack in ahead of me.
‘What did he have to say?’ Mum asks as the taxi pulls back into the heavy traffic.
‘Not much,’ I say truthfully. But it wasn’t really about that. I didn’t need him to tell me he loves me or say he’ll put a pride flag bumper sticker on his car. ‘I just needed to tell him. Who I am shouldn’t be a secret. I won’t be ashamed…’
‘No, you shouldn’t,’ she says, putting her hand on my thigh. ‘I’m prouder than any parent has ever been right now.’
‘Please don’t be crying and screaming and standing during the show!’
‘You can’t stop me!’ She grins, knocking on the plexiglass window separating us and the driver. ‘Can you put your foot down? My son’s about to be late for his West End debut!’280
Olly
‘Marty?’ I call out as he exits the orchestra pit, having waited in the shadows like a stalker, rep folder in hand. I have limited time to strike.
‘Olly?’ he replies with narrowed eyes. ‘You’re ready early…’
He’s not wrong. I got dressed and did my vocal warm-up as quickly as I could, made sure my Phantom costume was exactly where I’ll need it to be, and then headed down to the sub-stage at the half-hour call.
‘I was hoping I could have a quick word with you if you have time?’
‘This is my one chance to go to the bathroom and I’m busting, so if you’re happy to walk and talk, sure.’
‘Of course!’ I reply, following him as he takes off at a fair lick. ‘It’s about my final six song.’
‘I suspected… Go on, give me your speech.’
‘I understand your worries, but times are changing. Would there really be that big a backlash to me being myself? “Safe from the Waves” is a better showcase of … me. That’s what tonight’s about. Showing off what makes us unique as performers.’
‘Olly … I know you think you know what you’re doing, and that I’m some evil gay for trying to stop you from being your full self on stage. But I’m speaking from 281experience. You’re aware I was an actor before I went full time as a musical director?’
I nod. A young Marty is the highlight of a bootleg I’ve watched of an immersive Off-West End revival of Starlight Express in a fifty-seat theatre under a railway arch.
‘Well, after drama school I got through multiple rounds for the lead in a long-running show. For the final round, in front of all the big wigs, I had to bring my own song. And, like you, gay material resonated with me, so I sang a beautiful ballad about falling in love with a boy. In the room though, their energy changed when I sang about the things that matter to me. I got a quick, “thank you very much” and an even quicker rejection.’
He’s telling me with a light, sing-song quality in his voice, but there’s pain behind his words. ‘Marty, that’s awful.’