Chapter 20
TWENTY
Olly
The song ends and the audience’s applause is almighty.
The spotlight on me obscures most of my view, but on the front row there are three girls about my age who’ve got to their feet, and next to them a man with a grey beard wiping his eyes.
I’ll remember singing that song for the rest of my life: each word, acting choice and note pitched in a way that makes me proud of my performance.
I brought all of myself to the song. Wiping my eyes, I turn to Tarun with his guitar still in hand, looking astonished. We actually did it!
Rob Harrison is beaming at me as he walks back on stage, our cue to leave.
I don’t let go of Tarun’s hand as I give one last wave to the audience, and keep it pressed tight in my palm the whole way off stage and into the wings.
Our gang of supporters are the first ones to flood around us, wrapping us up in a big hug.
‘Holy fuck! Tarun, you’re an amazing guitarist!
And your dad’s going to be so proud, Ol,’ Zeb says, making tears leak from my eyes all over again.
I’m so lucky to have a dad who loves and supports me.
When he finds out about the confl-ama around my song choice, he’ll agree I made the right decision.
‘Look at us, real contenders at the Larrys!’ says Gabby, grabbing mine and Zeb’s hands. ‘We were the kids on the outskirts last year.’
‘God, I hope I do okay,’ Zeb says while Ewan gives his best ‘Shiksa Goddess’ on stage.
‘You’re going to be great, babe,’ Nate says, putting a hand on Zeb’s shoulder after clearing the stage of our smuggled guitar equipment.
‘Yes,’ I add. ‘Go out with a bang.’
‘You know me, I’m very shy and retiring…’ he says, faux batting his eyelashes. ‘I think I’ll just go out with a whimper.’
Nate and I roll our eyes at him. ‘You’re ridiculous…’
‘And would you have me any other way?’325
I shake my head. ‘You’re a star, Zeb. Show the entire industry what they could have had, if you didn’t have that stupidly clever brain…’
‘And the burning desire to save lives! Don’t forget that!’
Laughing, we hug one last time before I release him to get ready for his time in the spotlight.
And there’s just me and Tarun Attri, the ‘moody boy’ who turned out to be my biggest champion.
The boy who risked everything he’s ever held onto in the name of preservation to be on stage with me.
The boy I can’t believe I have to say goodbye to tomorrow.
He looks up at me, his big, beautiful eyes blinking back tears. He tries to form words but can’t, making my heart grow a thousand times, from how much he means to me. I wrap my arms around him and press him in as tight as I can.
Tarun
Being enveloped in Olly’s body is warm and wonderful. The world feels nowhere near as scary as it once did with him around me. ‘Thank you for being with me then. It felt right with you by my side.’
I bury my face in the chest that I can’t get enough of. ‘It’s because of you lifting me up that I was able to do it. 326I’m always going to be anxious, but it’s easier to be brave when you have the right support.’
‘Tarun… You’ll set me off again!’
I breathe in. ‘I told my dad. About being at the Larrys. And that I’m gay.’
He softens the intensity of his hug, looking down at me with the deep wrinkle above his nose that appears on the rare occasions that his smile is replaced with a frown. ‘You did? When?’
‘It was the last thing I did before coming back to the theatre. I had to tell him after watching your video.’
‘And … what did he say?’
I shrug. ‘Not much. It wasn’t really about him knowing… It was about me telling, if that makes sense?’
‘It does,’ he says, running his soft hand up my arm.
‘I mean … I even told him I’d kissed a boy and stayed in the same bed as him last night…’
‘Tarun! I don’t think it’s normal to tell parents about … those kinds of things!’ he says, his cheeks turning pink.
‘Well, Mum heard too. Sorry. But she’s already your biggest fan from your video, and she’s only going to be fangirling even harder now she’s seen you perform. She’s over the moon about you being my … whatever you are.’
He laughs, moving a thick curl out of my eye. ‘I love being a “whatever you are”. Fancy formalising that before we go through “meeting the parents” at the after-show 327party? Now Zeb’s coming, Dad’s going to be told about us in a matter of seconds.’
‘Really? Is your big burly dad going to be cool with me?’
‘Depends on what your intentions are!’
This after-show party suddenly sounds stressful, but I can handle it with Olly by my side. ‘No labels yet… It’s only been a day. But I like you a lot…’
‘Ditto,’ he says, smiling his megawatt smile. ‘Ooh! Zeb’s starting…’
He grabs my hand, and we settle into a comfortable silence, watching Zeb annihilate his song. He tears up the stage with a fire and passion, bidding everyone ‘Goodbye’. Every word is meant, saying farewell to the years he’s spent on stage.
‘I hope you’re both happy!’ says Oisín, storming towards us and interrupting our viewing party.
‘Well, generally yes. I’m quite happy,’ Olly says, faux obliviously. ‘Was there something in particular you thought I’d be happy about? Getting into the final six, finding a handsome boy…’
‘You reported me so you could get back at me for stealing your shirt and encouraging Tarun to muck up his song, didn’t you? Why else would I not be in the top six?’
Olly and I are bemused at how he’s jumped to that conclusion. ‘Neither of us have said anything, have we?’ I 328ask Olly, who confirms, ‘You not being chosen has nothing to do with any of the horrible things you’ve done.’
‘You’re lying!’ he says in a rage. ‘I’m way more talented than Ewan, Zeb and big boy here.’
‘I’m afraid they’re telling the truth, Oisín,’ says Sabrina, stepping out of the dark depths of the wings less than a metre away.
‘There have been no reports of any inappropriate behaviour, but I’m intrigued to hear why you think they’d have cause to report you?
Especially regarding the shirt incident from last year… Shall we have a chat?’
Oisín’s expression is a picture: all colour draining from his already pale face and his jaw tensing, realising he’s seemingly reported himself to Sabrina. He swallows and goes with her to the corner of the wings for what appears to be a serious talk.
We don’t miss the forceful end of Zeb’s song, luckily. Where Olly’s song was contemplative and earnest, Zeb is explosive. Completely different, but both brilliant. I’m rooting for Olly, but either of them would be deserving of the win.
Olly
‘Let’s have the final six lined up in the downstage wing. Everyone else, be ready to enter upstage please!’
All six solos completed, Tarun squeezes my hand 329before leaving me, Zeb, Jas and Gabby – who shook me to the core with her raw portrayal of first same-sex love – to go further upstage with Ella and the rest of the performers.
There’s a nervous friction between the final six, winning in past years having got competitors thousands of followers, and in a few cases direct offers for roles in the West End.
But that’s all stuff to worry about after the next five minutes.
Until then, I’m going to make the most of standing here with my bestie.
‘Zeb, what was the rule about boys you set at the beginning of the week?’
He grumbles, knowing where I’m going with this. ‘That we had no time for them…’
‘And yet,’ I say, wrapping my arm around his shoulder, ‘here we both are at the end of the week with love interests.’
‘But also in the top six. Sometimes romance can’t be helped! At least they’re both nice boys… And I think we’ve both done what we set out to do?’
‘You’ve had fun then?’ I ask, and he nods.
‘And I think you’ve gagged at least someone in the audience.’
‘Yeah, maybe not in the good sense…’ I laugh. Given how strongly Marty was convinced gay content would turn off Marie Benton, it’s unlikely she was gooped by my performance, but it still creeps into my mind … maybe I could win.330
Whatever happens, I’m glad I did what I did. I can look back on my performance this evening with pride, and I’ll never shy away from being authentically myself on stage again.
The audience applauds as we make our way back for the final time to find out the winners.
The orchestra plays a sensationally jolly version of the title song from Hello, Dolly.
Arriving on Monday, I was emulating my favourite Broadway divas.
Now the full orchestra isn’t just in my head, I don’t have to act like anyone else.
I’m one-hundred per cent myself on this stage tonight.
They’ve brought the house lights up, so you can see people in the audience. I crane my neck to scour the Grand Circle, trying to spot Dad, but it’s too far away.
The orchestra hit the closing button of their Jerry Herman instrumental, and Rob enters, followed by the three judges. He has a golden envelope in his hand which he waves at the audience.
‘This envelope, my distinguished guests, has the names of the two winners of this year’s Larry Awards. Shall we find out who’s won?’
There are audible responses of ‘yes’ from the auditorium. I want to join them in yelling out but stay calm in the name of appearing composed.
‘Can I have a drum roll please?’ Rob asks the orchestra pit beneath him.331
The anxious faces of my fellow finalists show what winning would mean to all of them.
Musical theatre fosters a devotion hard matched by any other passion.
All thirty of us here could have ended up in the final six and would have been worthy winners.
Well, maybe not Oisín, who was forced by Sabrina into a mumbled apology to Tarun and myself, but even I’m willing to admit he’s talented.
Now he just needs to learn how to be a good company member, and a decent human being.