CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Next day is Thursday, the day before the dress rehearsal, and there’s an air of tension and barely-contained excitement at the evening meeting as we all put on our costumes and have last-minute adjustments made by Lizzie.
My Fairy Godmother costume is amazing. Lizzie has done an absolutely brilliant job.
We run through the entire pantomime for one last time, and to my enormous relief, I get through my part without any slip-ups. It all helps to take my mind off what happened the day before, because after my terrible clash with Ellie on the disastrous shopping trip that never happened, I’ve been feeling really down.
I’m refusing to dwell on the horrible things she said about Ethan and men in general. She was just upset about Zak, that’s all, and she’s sure to regret what she said eventually. I’m just really worried about her. I’ve never seen Ellie like this. And now she won’t even speak to me. I tried to talk to her when I arrived at the café this morning but she just stone-walled me, looking frankly terrible as if she hadn’t slept at all.
And the worst thing of all was when she repeated the fact that she wasn’t expecting me back at the café after Christmas.
I phoned Jaz and explained what had happened and she said she’d go round and chat to Ellie later to make sure she’s all right. Jaz said there was nothing I could have done or said to make things better and that I wasn’t to beat myself up about it. It’s some comfort, at least, to know that Jaz doesn’t hate me as well . . .
I’m thankful for the distraction of the pantomime rehearsals.
Ethan is totally focused on the job in hand, although several times in between scenes, he comes over and sits beside me and asks how I’m feeling, which I really appreciate.
I love watching Ethan work. I find his total focus on getting the best from every cast member so inspiring. He’s brilliant at what he does. And he’s just as rakishly handsome as I imagine sexy hero Rock Hardacre to be in The Curtain Falls. In the book, which I’ve read at least five times, Rock directs newcomer actress Honey Camberwell in what turns out to be an Oscar-winning performance for both of them. When a tragic boating accident leaves Honey without the use of one arm she’s sure that will be the end for her and Rock – but in true hero style, Rock comes through for her, designing a range of left-handed kitchen utensils that make them a million and ensure they live happily ever after.
Just before my scene, as I’m chatting to Karen, I catch Ethan’s eye and he winks and says, ‘You’ll be great, Fen.’
Distracted by Cressida, who’s got her beady eye on me as usual, I give him a big smile and say, ‘Thanks, Rock!’
He looks confused - and a second later, I blush redder than a holly berry on top of a Christmas pudding when I realise what I just said.
Talk about getting fiction confused with real life! Maybe Ellie is right . . .
‘Er, I mean you’re my rock, Ethan!’ I bluster, my underarms prickling with perspiration. ‘Yes, that’s it. In fact, you’re everybody’s rock. Isn’t he, Karen?’ I swing round in desperation.
Karen looks a bit mystified for a second. Then she smiles. ‘You’re right there, Fen. I’ve learned so much from you, Ethan, since I joined the group.’
Ethan does an ‘aw shucks, it was nothing’ sort of look and goes off to speak to Cressida, whose main goal in life seems to be luring Ethan into corners and engaging him in very intense, one-to-one exchanges.
I watch him curiously. His expression is as bland as it ever is when he’s talking to Cressida. It’s obvious he finds her irritating but he’s far too kind to show it.
It’s like when Alicia appeared in the bar the other night. Instead of challenging her and telling her to leave him alone, which would have been only natural in the circumstances – with his ex virtually stalking him – Ethan made the decision to avoid a conflict altogether, which I think showed admirable restraint on his part . . .
There’s a real surprise when I get to the bit in my scene where the Fairy Godmother puts a spell on Cinderella and the woodland creatures and in a flash of smoke, a coach and horses appears, along with a fabulous make-over for the heroine. Just as I raise my magic wand to the skies, a whole load of glittery stuff floats down from the ceiling.
I laugh to find myself covered in magic fairy dust – and so does everyone else. I’d known it was going to happen but it’s still a lovely surprise.
*****
Next morning, the first thing I think when I wake up is: Oh God, Ellie and I have fallen out! Followed closely by I’m going out with Ethan tonight! Followed by: Oh, shit! It’s the dress rehearsal!
My stomach rolls over with nervous excitement.
‘I’m seriously thinking of driving to the airport and catching the first available flight to Spain. Or anywhere,’ I tell Rob, when I call in at the barn on the way to my shift at the café. (I’m supposedly there to check on his progress, but really I just need to talk to someone who understands me.)
He laughs. ‘I’d come to the airport with you but there’s this panto dress rehearsal I’m going to see later . . .’
I narrow my eyes at him threateningly. ‘Don’t you dare!’
‘Why not? You’re going to be great.’
‘Because I’ll be nervous enough without knowing you’re in the audience. And besides, this performance today is just for the school kids.’
‘Spoilsport.’
I smile. ‘Don’t worry. When I’ve made it big in Hollywood, starring in a blockbuster movie, you can walk me up the red carpet.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
It occurs to me then that actually, I’d rather like it if Rob were in the audience this afternoon. It would be nice just knowing he was there, silently cheering me on.
‘What on earth have you got under there?’ He points at the bulges poking up under the scarf I’ve twisted round my head. ‘A supply of scones and cupcakes to keep you going all day?’
‘Rollers,’ I explain. ‘Huge ones that will make my hair all bouncy and gorgeous and Fairy Godmother-like. At least, that’s the theory.’ I’m about to add that hopefully I’ll look glamorous for my date tonight as well, but something stops me.
‘It’s already gorgeous. Your hair.’ He grins a little sheepishly. ‘You should never tamper with perfection.’
When Rob says things like that, I’m never sure if he’s being serious. So I just laugh. ‘I’d better go. I’m late.’ Leaving the barn, I wave over my head and dash through the rain to the car, glad of the scarf to protect my curls.
My shift at the café flies by – with Ellie still ignoring me - and then it’s time to head for the village hall. The performance starts at two o’clock but there’s lots of preparation to be done before then.
I haven’t been able to eat a thing for the past few days, but it’s not entirely down to nerves. Some of the butterflies that have taken up permanent residence in my tummy are due to excitement.
Ethan has put his faith in me and I really want to do him proud.
Soon after one-thirty, the seats start filling up. When I peek out through the curtain, the village hall is awash with row upon row of school children in their black skirts and trousers and red jumpers.
‘Break a leg,’ says a voice behind me, and when I turn, it’s Cressida.
‘Oh.’ I stare at her, startled. ‘Thank you.’ What surprises me even more than the generous sentiment behind her words, is that she appears to be smiling.
I say ‘appears’ because it could actually be a wince - the sort of expression that comes over your face when you’re trying to decide if you locked the door or not before you left.
‘Same to you, Cressida,’ I reply cheerfully, and she lifts the corners of her mouth again and departs. (Definitely a smile. Possibly a bit rusty because her smiling muscles don’t get out much.)
I stare after her, a feeling of cautious optimism rising up inside me.
Perhaps Cressida is the sort of person who takes her time weighing new people up. Maybe she’s realised that I’m actually okay. And then I’ll feel accepted at last by the entire am dram group . . .
Finally, the curtain rises and the pantomime begins.
I’m actually feeling calmer than I thought I would – mainly because the show is going off without a hitch and the audience of under-twelves seems highly appreciative, laughing in all the right places. The whole atmosphere is relaxed, happy and upbeat.
When my scene arrives, I give it my all. And when I lift my wand and wave it about, calling the magic words, I’m remembering what Ethan told me about projecting my voice to the kids in the very back row.
‘Bibbity-bobbity-boo! Cinderella, you shall go to the ball!’
I raise my arms and my wand to the sky, anticipating the audience’s delight as an abundance of glittery ‘snow’ falls from the heavens.
I wait, my wand frozen in the air – but nothing happens.
So I repeat the words, flinging my arms up even more dramatically this time.
Still nothing.
There are a few titters from the audience, who are obviously sensing an interesting cock-up.
Suddenly I remember someone telling me that they always engineer a ‘mishap’ in the dress rehearsal to make the kids laugh. So this must be it, although ‘no glitter falling down’ does seem a little tame . . .
But just in case the props person hasn’t heard my cue for some reason, I gaze to the heavens once more and call with even greater enthusiasm, ‘Bibbity-bobbity-boo! Cinderella, you shall go to the ball!’
‘Coming down!’ shouts a comically deep voice.
Cinderella looks up with a startled look and skips nimbly out of the way.
And before I know what’s happening, a stream of slippery green gunge descends from above, drilling onto my head and completely coating my face and upper body – all in less time than it takes for me to splutter, ‘What the absolute fuck?’