Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Olly
The showcase I’ve been dreaming of every day for the last year is happening.
And it’s amazing.
When a performance is going well, you don’t think about anything. It washes over you, and if you’ve done the preparation, you just move with the tide, in tandem with all the contestants on stage.
That’s what ‘You Can’t Stop the Beat’ is. A massive celebration of all of us.
How can I feel stressed when I’m flick-ball changing around the stage? Or when I’m doing my big lift section with Jas, and I don’t have to exert myself to lift her higher than I’ve ever managed in rehearsals?
Or when we get to the third chorus, and perfectly on cue, Tarun emerges from the shadows of the stage and step-clicks his way to the front. He meets my eye, smiling like he’s never had a worry about this evening’s performance, and I’m so proud.
This is the boy who at the start of the week looked 290like he was in a version of Miss Trunchbull’s chokey personally designed to cause him intense pain.
Who just this afternoon didn’t believe he belonged with us.
But look at him now, nailing the section that caused us to crash into each other on the first day of rehearsals.
Is that not what musical theatre is all about?
Going on a journey, and finding a place to call home on either side of the rainbow?
I can’t wait to catch up with him, squeeze him, tell him how much he’s transformed my week.
But for now, there’s the final two choruses to get through, making the most of every single second I get to share on stage with these people. I’m not worrying about limp wrists and being ‘too much’. All I care about is doing my best.
With one final lift of Jas onto my shoulder for our end position, the opening number is done. We hold as an avalanche of applause hits us from the audience. I’ve never had a response like this; we’ve gone down a storm.
The musical play-off begins and we have a cue to exit. I gracefully lower Jas and we rush off stage, the people in the first group racing ahead. Tarun exits the opposite side to me, but our eyes meet and promise that we’ll find each other backstage to catch up.
Running through the wings, I dash to the upstage crossover to get to the stage right wing where Tarun exited. I look around everywhere for him as Rob Harrison kills 291time on stage for costume changes, but I can’t see him anywhere.
‘Olly!’ comes a call from the front of the wings, Tarun waving from a dark corner by the stairs. ‘I didn’t get my mic on before the show! They need to take me down to the sound rack.’
‘Tarun!’ I call out, racing to join him, but the sound guy is leading him downstairs, ‘I—’
‘Get ready for your medley! I’ll see you after!’
And with that, he’s pulled into the substage where, he’s right, I don’t have time to go.
I just want to speak with him one-on-one so badly, but I need to transform into the Phantom quickly.
The first medley has begun, Ella’s opening solo already finished and Ewan now centre stage, performing with gusto.
So, I race back to where my costumes are set, slipping into the all-black finery of the Opera Ghost before completing my transformation by sliding the iconic half-face mask on.
Checking myself in the mirror, I like how I look: enigmatic and powerful.
Like the leading men in the West End I’ve idolised for as long as I can remember.
‘Are you coming?’ Zeb asks, poking his head through the curtain. ‘We’re all lining up!’
I take him by the hand and rush out into the wings. ‘Happy with how it’s going?’
‘Aye.’ He grins. ‘I hope preparing for thoracic aortic 292dissection repairs gives me the same thrill as being on stage on nights like tonight does.’
‘I’m sure it will. Enjoy this, okay? Be brilliant. Be you.’
‘You too,’ he says. ‘You seemed so much more natural in the opening tonight. Like the Olly I know and love and think is a superstar.’
We hug as we join the rest of our group, wanting only the best for each other.
The first group have finished, so there’s only a minute of Rob’s anecdote before it’s time for us to go on stage. My solo’s the final one in the medley, so I’ll have time on stage to warm up. I do a few last-minute lip trills to make sure I’m ready though.
‘So! Let’s give a warm hand to the second group of finalists for this year’s Larry Awards!’
At Rob’s invitation, we walk onto stage in the order we’ll perform. We’re all announced and in turn strike a pose in our characters. How could Marty have asked me to ‘butch up’ for an event so extraordinarily camp?
‘Gabrielle Jiang: Florence in Chess,’ comes up first. The announcements go all the way down the line, past Samantha Cork as Peter Pan and Zebediah Kasule as Theodore ‘Dorothy’ Gale, to me.
‘Oliver Redmond: the Phantom in The Phantom of the Opera.’
With the booming announcement, I clasp my hands 293behind my back and survey the audience in my surliest manner, hoping to convey the mysterious air of the famous masked composer.
Then we’re off, the orchestra starting the medley with the epic strings of Gabby’s rock anthem. I lose myself in the performance, and the magic of being on stage.
Tarun
‘There you are,’ says the sound guy, patting me on the shoulder, my mic now safely on so I can be heard in my upcoming medley.
At the top of the stairs, back in the wings, Olly’s group is already on stage. He’s at the opposite end of the stage from where I am, currently only required to be backing to the other soloists. He focuses on whoever is performing their solo, ensuring they’re the centre of attention.
Zeb aces his massive song ‘Home’ from The Wiz, adding more riffs than in rehearsals, and there were already a lot.
There’s one last performer and then it’s Olly’s turn. Matthew’s centre stage, wearing double denim and singing a song about what his ‘Mama Says’, which is a world away from the heavy romance of Olly’s song.
The music swells, transitioning to Olly’s music. His 294focus transforms before my eyes from serving the other finalists to the audience, letting them know they should take notice of him.
Taking his place centre stage, his chocolate-y voice flows out of him.
He’s upped his game tonight. Gone is the stiff, rigid physicality he put on in the dress rehearsal and instead he’s an enigma, each movement of his arms elongated, just like you’d imagine a seductive ghost would be.
The contestants around him add their backing vocals, and he sounds rich and full and supported.
The entire theatre vibrates with the power of his voice.
There’s a moment where the orchestra cuts out and Olly sings his biggest line a cappella, urging the audience to let their souls be free.
He holds the notes the exact right amount to create excitement and drama as the orchestra and backing vocals come back in as a wall of music underneath him. He powers on through to the end and he’s beyond brilliant. He doesn’t put a foot wrong.
‘The Music of the Night…’
The last note extends into eternity, but he holds on, as if it’s easy. The final chord of the orchestra lands, and their medley’s over. The audience applaud so loud, with whoops and cheers and foot stomping. He must feel so validated standing on stage, receiving the approval he deserves.
His group takes a bow together, led by Olly in the 295centre, and they turn to come off stage. He’s heading right towards me, an ecstatic grin on his face. Our eyes meet, and when he’s off stage, I run towards him.
He’s done it. There’s no way he won’t be in the final six after that performance. And I don’t care who knows we like each other, or that I’m into boys. After telling my dad, I don’t carry shame on my shoulders as badly anymore. Life is for living, and I’m going to make the most of it.
Olly needs to know he was a shining star out there. And that I like him. More than I know how to say with words.
Instead, I wrap my arms around him. I leap up and I kiss him.
Olly
My head’s a blur, the rush of the response to my ‘Music of the Night’ still vibrating through me.
And now Tarun’s kissing me. In front of everyone backstage. But as long as he’s comfortable with it no longer being secret, that’s fine by me. I spin him around and kiss him back, the world feeling easier with us reunited.
We break apart, but he keeps his finger looped in mine.296
‘Sorry I ran away…’ he says, not letting go of my hand.
‘No… Thank you for coming back,’ I say, snatching another kiss from him. God, it feels good to have got through the medley, and to be head over heels for someone.
It’s only with the second kiss ending that the amount of people watching us becomes clear. The third group, lined up and ready to go on stage, are looking at us with jaws dropped.
‘Oh. My. God,’ Jas exclaims. ‘You two are together? That’s so cute!’
‘You’re going to miss your entrance!’ I say, giggling at the look on everyone’s faces. ‘Sorry for the distraction… Break a leg!’
I pull Tarun away to a dark corner of the wings, not wanting to derail the competition for the next group to perform, who all rush onto stage.
‘Ol, you were amazing!’ Tarun says, peering up at me with his big, acorn-coloured eyes. ‘You were the Phantom, but you were so yourself as well.’
‘It went alright, didn’t it?’
‘It was a performance none of them will forget. You showed everyone how brilliant you are. How ready you are to do this professionally.’
I lean down and kiss him again, slowly running my fingers through his hair. ‘You’re the best, Tarun.’297
‘Do you forgive me? For running away? I hate that I made this afternoon more stressful for you…’