17. Nell
17
NELL
‘So, that’s our show!’ Lina shouts as the closing-credits music starts to swell around her. ‘Thank you all so much for watching! I’ve been Lina, and this has been Punching Up!’
She beams and waves as the music gets louder and Noah and the rest of the cast rush the stage to stand next to her. As they all start beaming and waving too I notice a sign on the ceiling flashing the word ‘APPLAUSE’. It is definitely not needed. Before it even came on, the audience were already on their feet around me, cheering and hooting and clapping. I stand up and join them. Unlike them though, I’m not watching Lina on stage, jiving about with the other actors. My gaze is set a little to the left, resting on the writing staff.
They’re all sitting in the very front row, just behind the cameras. For the whole hour of the show’s recording, I’ve found it impossible to drag my eyes off them – even during one sketch where Lina was dressed as a human-sized blueberry muffin. I just want so badly to be sitting there with them. From the minute the show started, they had their notepads out, scribbling furiously as the sketches played out, nodding or fist-bumping whenever the audience laughed; frowning and whispering whenever a gag missed the mark. I occasionally spotted Talia and Rich and Kerri passing scraps of paper to one another – maybe little thoughts about how a joke could have worked better, or how a particular actor could be used next week? I don’t know. It just looked like so much fun. I know most kids grow up wanting to be the ‘star of the show’, the person under the spotlight. But that little huddle right there is where I always wanted to be – three metres away from the spotlight, in the shadows, making the show tick.
The audience keeps clapping and cheering even after Lina and the actors have left the stage. To be fair, it has been an amazing show. I’ve watched every single episode of Punching Up – many of them numerous times – and this was honestly one of the funniest I could remember. Rich’s egotistical scientists sketch went down a storm, and the Tomorrow’s Headlines Today section – in which the actors play news anchors reading out ridiculous fake headlines – was the best it had ever been. In the writers’ room on Monday, I definitely had my doubts about a sketch Anna had pitched, in which Lina would play a ‘complimentary muffin’ – i.e. a muffin that said things like ‘Your shoes look nice’ and ‘I like your hair’. It seemed to me like a textbook example of ‘funny in the room’. But seeing it actually performed live took it to another level. The pun was so stupid – and Lina’s muffin-acting so brilliantly earnest – that it totally brought the house down.
But the obvious highlight, for both the audience and for Lina herself, was Charlie’s Ed Sheeran video. My stomach clenched in the last five minutes as Lina introduced a ‘very special message from one of my absolute heroes’. A pathetic part of me wanted to stand up and yell at the audience: ‘This should be my clip you’re watching right now!’ But thankfully I managed to talk that whiny part down. In the end I just sat there in silence as the video played out, watching the writers and wondering why Charlie wasn’t sitting there with them, basking in the glory of his big moment.
I’d scanned the whole audience the moment I’d come into the studio, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. It’s almost more infuriating that he’s not here. As if this whole thing means so little to him that he can’t even be bothered to show up. In between every sketch, I silently seethed.
The lights come up and the audience starts to file out, chattering about how brilliant the show was. I watch Talia and the rest of them head off to the side of the stage. They’re all laughing and patting each other on the back, clearly chuffed at how the episode has gone down. As Nate opens the door for them to leave, I see Talia glance up at the audience gallery, as if she’s looking for someone. I wonder if maybe . . . I raise my arm and wave, but I’m blocked by a row of people passing in front of me. And when they’ve gone, I see that Talia has too.
I can feel disappointment nagging at me, but I tell myself to get a grip. Talia’s pep talk earlier has been playing on a loop in my head all day – and it’s done a pretty spectacular job of cheering me up. You’re here on merit, Nell. You’re here because your writing is shit-hot . . .
Not even the seventeen mountains of scripts Bishi asked me to photocopy this afternoon could have got me down after hearing those words from someone I’ve idolised for years. And then what Talia said after that: Just keep doing what you’re doing and people will notice, I promise. Maybe she was right. Yes, tonight feels like a massive anticlimax, but I still have three more weeks on this show. I can’t just lie down and accept defeat. I have to keep giving it everything.
Talent is what got you into this building, Talia said. And talent is what will keep you here long after the Charlie Francombes have gone.
A tingle of excitement pulses through me. As I troop out of the studio with the rest of the crowd, I feel almost annoyed that Chlo, Mica and I have planned a quiet night in. It’s a perfect balmy summer evening, and I’m gripped by a sudden urge to go out, get drunk and have some fun. To actually experience this city.
Which is why it seems like fate when I take my phone out and see a new message from Zach, my Tinder match.
Hey, this is a bit random,
and I know we arranged
to meet next Monday, but
I’ve just got out of work
and was wondering if you’d
fancy a drink now?