Chapter 5
My nerves are completely on edge as I make my way up the steps to get into the theatre. There was an anxious silence on the coach all the way to the theatre from the hotel. Nobody spoke a word. It felt as though it would be bad luck to break it, so I couldn’t ask anyone what was going on. Even when we arrived, and the other coach full of musicians spilled out, they filed into the theatre as though it’s a funeral. The atmosphere is very disconcerting. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life. And no one is making eye contact either. It’s so strange. If I wasn’t nervous before, I am bloody petrified now.
I follow the stragglers into the theatre, across the grand marble foyer, through some double doors marked STAFF ONLY and down a narrow, plushly carpeted corridor lined with antiquated wooden panels. We troop silently past baroque-style paintings hung on deep plum-coloured walls, through a curtained side entrance, into the backstage area.
Luke is standing at the edge of the stage as I approach.
‘Where’s your wife?’ I ask him. ‘I need the running order from her.’
‘My wife?’
‘Yes, Dolly. Your wife, girlfriend, partner, significant other, soul mate, whatever.’
‘Ah, that wife. She’s on the other side,’ he says pointing to far stage right. He’s not going to make this easy for me.
‘Places everyone!’ barks a sour-faced stage manager. A huge shuffle occurs while the chorists take their places on stage, musicians scurry to find their seats, instruments are being tuned, violins screech, and the conductor marches to the centre. He is small in both height and frame but has a big aura. He smoothes back thin wisps of hair over his balding head, as he sweeps his beady gaze around the orchestra.
A sudden hush falls across the entire theatre as the lights dim. The conductor taps his long, beaky nose four times and clears his throat noisily before flicking the sheet music back and forth. He is deep in concentration.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
Is this code? Am I supposed to know what is going on? Who is in charge?
I stand rigid at the side of the stage, unsure of where I am supposed to be. Luke seems to have disappeared and the temperature has suddenly plummeted to zero degrees as a frosty atmosphere descends. All we can hear is the rustling of the sheet music. My nerves are wound tight as I witness everyone in the orchestra looking anxious. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, one of the chorus girls leans in to murmur in my ear, making me jump with fright.
‘It’s his ritual. The nose tap. It grounds him.’
‘Okay. Thanks for letting me know. But next time, try not to sneak up on me. You nearly gave me a heart attack,’ I hiss, keeping my eyes glued to the conductor. He twists around to give me an unforgiving stare. He must have the hearing of a Barn Owl. He has heard us whispering, and we have broken his concentration. I rotate slowly to find she has sunk into the shadows, nowhere to be seen. I swallow nervously as the conductor continues to bore holes into me. He is livid.
He shakes his head with a sigh and continues flicking the pages back and forth before landing on one that agrees with him. He studies it in deadly silence.
He taps his nose again with the wand, throwing me a sly side-eye. I have obviously interrupted his OCD routine, and this is the price I must pay. The lights dim further.
A single bright spotlight shines down on him. He is terrifying. He’s lifting his arms dramatically and pointing his wand high in the air, just as I feel the warm tickle of hot breath in my ear. It makes me jump out of my skin. ‘EXPELIARMUS!’ My voice echoes out across the whole auditorium at an ear-splitting pitch. ‘EXPELIARMUS… MUS… MUS!’
Fuckedy fuck.
There’s a deafening silence as my voice takes an eternity to bounce off every conceivable surface. The acoustics in here are unforgivably world-class. I catch a flash of amusement on the chorus girl’s face, as she steps away from me.
And like a scene from a horror movie, the conductor spins slowly in my direction. His eyes bulging from their sockets. I swallow the huge lump in my throat, feeling the weight of every single pair of eyes on me.
Luke steps towards me with an incredulous look on his face. ‘What the fuck was that?’
Three hours later, I flop down onto the hotel bed. ‘It can’t have gone that badly,’ soothes Ged as I bawl down the phone at him. ‘Besides, that’s what rehearsals are for. To get all the nerves out of the way before the big show.’
‘And at least you made a lasting impression,’ I hear Liam yelling from a distance. ‘Although I think wingardium leviosa would have gone down better.’
Ged stifles a giggle. ‘That was quite the knee-jerk reaction. What’s the cure for magical Tourette’s?’
‘It’s not funny,’ I snap. ‘I have to face the Maestro, and everyone else in less than two hours. He hates me. And it was all the chorus girl’s fault anyway. And I still need to get into costume and do my hair and make-up. I’m stressed to bits!’
I’m yelling. Thank God this is a posh hotel otherwise, the walls would be paper thin.
‘Why did I ever apply for this bloody job? I HATE IT! IT’S HORRIBLE! EVERYONE IS SO CREEPY AND OUT TO GET ME!’
There’s a thump against my wall that rattles the lamp. The walls are not as solid as they look.
‘Charming!’ a woman yells back through the wall. It sounds like Dolly.
Oh, my God.
I whisper to Ged that I’ve been overheard by the tour manager, and this sets him off giggling even more. ‘Christ, Connie, love. Why do you always turn everything into such a drama? Do you think, on some level, you’re addicted to catastrophising your life?’
He might have a point.
‘I dread to imagine what she’ll be like in Las Vegas,’ shouts Liam, bringing the attention back to himself. ‘Anything could happen! Anything from licking cocaine off Harry Styles’ smooth chest at some wild penthouse party, to waking up naked in the desert chained to a giant Bengal tiger.’
‘No. Not on my watch,’ I say, glad of the distraction. ‘I will have every minute accounted for.’
‘Between Connie and The Dollz, we’ll be lucky if someone doesn’t end up in a cell for the night or upsetting a mobster, and we have to run for our lives,’ laughs Ged.
Oh. My. God. They are confusing a relatively mild week of enjoying the tourist attractions, with the Hangover. They are also assuming that I’ve had two minutes to even think about it.
‘Can you send the schedule asap, please? I need to know how much gambling time you’ve allocated between activities. And Liam is desperate to include a haunted massage.’
‘Sorry. A what now?’
‘Ghosts do the massage apparently,’ says Ged, trying to disguise a hint of exasperation. But he’d do anything for Liam. ‘Unless you’ve already booked us one?’
‘Unless I’ve already booked you a haunted massage?’ I say. What type of pre-moon are they expecting? ‘Guys. Maybe it’s time we managed your expectations. I’d hate for you to –’
‘Ignore him. He’s trying to micromanage again. Ged, you promised me you wouldn’t. Just let Connie get on with it. But you have included a helicopter ride though, haven’t you, babes? And a celebrity house tour?’
They are as bad as each other.
I hurry them off the phone and get to work on my outfit, nerves shredded like confetti. The last thing I need is to think about Las Vegas and spending the whole time at the police station or at a seance or at the morgue identifying chewed body parts because they’ve been eaten by a bloody tiger.
I’m very much praying that I will be spending most of my time with Matteo.
PING.
Matteo has sent me a message to say good luck. He has called me his Cenicienta and has signed off as Mr Window Seat, our nicknames for each other. My heart skips at the thought of seeing him again. Lovely reassuring Matteo with his high standards and his moody stare and his incredibly toned abs. I daydream about how we first met on the plane. How I spilled scalding hot coffee on his crotch, how I kicked him in the face trying to impress him with my pole dancing, how we ruined nearly all of his shows with our unprofessionalism, and how utterly and devastatingly thoughtful, kind and gorgeous he is. My mind wanders back to the moment he first kissed me. As soon as he cupped my face, a current swept through me so strong that I had flinched in surprise, and when I gazed into his eyes, I could see he had felt it too. When he leaned in to softly graze my lips with his own, it was as though we became lost in each other. It was a truly enchanting moment that seemed to last forever.
Christ. I hope that he does not want to kiss Birdie like that. I have heard the French like to get their tongues in there, like a dentist exploring the roof of the mouth for signs of gum disease. I can’t compete with that!
I snap myself out of the trance.
Gah!Half an hour! Disappeared just like that!
By the time I hurry out to the bus, everyone else is already on board. Luke is tapping an imaginary watch on his wrist and Dolly, is sullen. The atmosphere is tense. She purses her lips as I slide by. ‘It’s a baton, not a wand.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, attempting a smile. ‘I’ll try not to cast any spells with it.’
I’m relieved to see her face soften a fraction. I continue my walk of shame up the aisle, hot with humiliation as no one dares make eye contact with me. I find an empty seat and plonk myself down. As soon as the coach sets off, the layers of chatter begin among the choir members, and I feel myself calm.
How did my mother enjoy doing this? She never once mentioned nose-tapping, humourless conductors or overbearing singing partners.
Good job I can be tough and resilient when I need to be. Just because I’ve upset everyone on my first day, does not mean that I’m a quitter. I will show them exactly why they hired me. I have the voice of an angel and a vocal range second to none. I will own that stage tonight and mesmerise my audience. I will leave them captivated and begging for more.
That’s the plan anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, we are pulling up outside the centuries-old, grand-looking stone theatre. I’m last to get off the bus, and Dolly and Luke are waiting for me.
‘Connie,’ she says. ‘We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Dolly. The tour manager. I just wanted to say…’
Here we go.
‘Despite getting off to such a bad start, we’re all excited to see what you can do.’
Gah! The pressure.
‘Thank you. And sorry about earlier. The shouting. And the name-calling. And the ruining of the rehearsal.’
A smile tugs at her lips, ‘The first tour is always difficult. There’s a lot to get used to.’
I’m very aware of Luke towering silently over us. Without looking at him, I explain. ‘The chorus girls thought it was funny to spook me while the Maestro was trying to prepare himself. It threw me off guard.’
Without missing a beat, Luke says, ‘Yes. I’m sure they did.’
He doesn’t believe me.
‘You certainly sounded off guard,’ he says, his face unreadable. ‘I do have a reputation to uphold. Just because you act like an amateur, could you at least try not to sing like one?’
I immediately tense. ‘Excuse me? That’s a bit rude.’
Dolly seems to sense a falling out. ‘They’re very good at that. Distracting people. Some more than others.’ She elbows Luke in the side good-naturedly, but he doesn’t react. He continues glaring at me.
We watch Dolly clamber down the steps.
PING.
Luke raises an eyebrow, almost daring me to check my phone.
A message has popped up on my screen. It’s a reassuring mantra from Tash. ‘When you’re up on stage, just picture the audience naked, because that’s how they’ll all be picturing you, babes. You’ve got this.’
Oh, my word. That’s all I need.