‘But he says we can have an aquarium.’
‘I don’t think Mum’ll care what star sign it is.’
‘That was a joke, Mais,’ Harper whispered. ‘Slap your thigh.’
‘Oh.’ She gave her thigh a half-hearted pat. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘You know, aquarium? Sounds like Aquarius?’
‘I thought fish were Pisces?’
Harper looked thoughtful. ‘S’pose they can be any sign, can’t they? I mean, they’re not all born in the same month.’
Deano groaned. ‘Right, that’s it. I can’t work under these conditions.’ He snatched Maisie’s script off her. ‘Don’t call us, love. See you later.’
‘Come on, Deano, let her do a bit more,’ Stew called out. ‘She’s nervous. And it was a pretty groanworthy joke.’
‘It’s panto. That’s how the jokes are meant to be.’ Deano wagged a finger at him. ‘And no cousin favouritism. You swore an oath, remember?’
‘I’m on Stew’s side,’ I said, taking pity on Maisie. ‘She’s only done two lines. Anyway, Deano, we all need to vote on it. You don’t just get to dismiss people.’
Deano’s brow lowered. ‘Look, who’s directing this panto?’
‘And whose idea was this panto?’
‘Oooh. Did Becks just pull rank on you?’ Marcus said, laughing. ‘Go on, bruv, let her do the rest of the scene.’
‘Fine.’ Deano grudgingly handed back Maisie’s script. ‘Make it good.’
‘Read this bit,’ Harper said, pointing out some dialogue. ‘You get the straight man lines here.’
‘Ok.’ She raised her voice. ‘You’re so lazy, Steve. When are you going to get a job?’
‘I had a job, but it didn’t work out,’ Harper said.
‘Did you?’
‘Yeah, I was a human cannonball.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I got fired.’
Even Deano had to work hard to suppress a groan at that one.
‘Was that it?’ Maisie-Jack asked.
‘No,’ Harper said. ‘After that I went to work at the origami factory.’
‘Let me guess. They had to let you go?’
‘That’s right. The business was folding.’
Marcus cringed.
‘Did we really write this stuff?’ he whispered to me.
‘I’m ready to deny everything if you are.’
‘All right, Maisie, that was… better,’ Deano said.
She beamed. ‘Thanks. I do see myself as more of a serious actor.’
‘Er, yeah. Ok, off you go. We’ll let you know when we’ve seen the others.’
She looked at Harper. ‘Why do they need to see the others? I did it good, didn’t I?’
‘Perfect, babe. They have to do things by the book, that’s all,’ Harper said.
‘Sorry,’ he mouthed to Deano as he led her backstage. ‘I’ll have her spot on for opening night, I swear.’
Another four aspiring principal boys tried out, and to give Maisie her due, they were all pretty poor. By the time they’d finished, I was heartily sick of slapped thighs, incompetent cannonballs and horoscope-obsessed sealife.
When the hopefuls had disappeared behind the screens, we went into a huddle.
‘Ok, Harper, I’m voiding your vote on this one,’ Deano said. ‘You’re too biased.’
‘Oh, what? What was the point me sitting through all them then?’
‘You’re supposed to be giving us tips,’ Lana said. ‘You know, on what to look for? That is why we invited you.’
‘I told you what to look for. Nice legs and big boobs and… my wife, basically. Go on, you know she was best.’
‘We’ll see,’ Deano said. ‘Go wait backstage. We’ll get you when we’ve decided.’ He nodded to Gavin. ‘And take sex, lies and videotape with you. This is private.’
‘Whatever.’ Harper stood up. ‘Come on, Gav. You can get some close-ups of Mais in her costume.’
‘Ok, votes?’ Deano said when they’d gone.
‘Maisie, every time,’ Billy said promptly. ‘She looks best in tights, plus she’s famous. That’s what our public wants.’
‘You mean it’s what you want, you dirty old man,’ Yolanda said. ‘I don’t see that she had such an amazing figure. Personally I’m voting for Sally Horsfall.’
I frowned. ‘The girl who mumbled all her lines?’
‘Yes, she’s a sweet little thing. Anyway, her grandmother’s one of my ladies.’
‘I’m going for Maisie too,’ Stew said, grimacing. ‘Sorry, guys, but she is family.’
‘You what?’ Deano stared at him in disbelief. ‘The oath, Stew! You solemnly swore there’d be no nepotism in favour of friends or relatives.’ He wagged a finger at Yolanda. ‘And that goes for you too, Yo-yo. Pulling in favours for your WI mates.’ He turned to Lana. ‘Back me up, treacle.’
‘Sorry, Deano. I love you, but you know I have to vote with Stew,’ she said, squeezing her husband’s arm.
He shook his head. ‘Et tu, Lanasaurus?’
‘It’s not just because she’s family. If we get her we get Harper, don’t we? He’s the best asset we’ve got if we want to make money for the Temp.’
‘In blood. Next time I draw up an oath, I’m making everyone sign it in blood,’ Deano muttered.
‘Well I’m voting for Tilly Stanbury,’ Marcus said.
Deano nodded. ‘Knew I could count on you, bruv. Me too.’
‘She can’t do it,’ Billy said. ‘She’s five foot one with dumpy legs. Principal boy needs sex appeal.’
‘I liked her,’ Yolanda said. ‘Actually, can I change my vote? She was certainly the best actress.’
‘I agree,’ Marcus said. ‘Not that any of them were great. But she was better than Maisie.’
‘So you’ve got casting vote, Becks,’ Lana said. ‘Three votes for Tilly, three for Maisie. Who’s it going to be?’
I shot Deano an apologetic look. ‘Sorry, Deano, but I’m with Lana. Maisie’s name’s the biggest draw, especially if we get Harper Brady with her.’ I patted his arm. ‘Hope you can forgive me.’
‘It’s fine, Becks. Obviously it was absurd to expect you all to care more about art than money.’ He shook his head darkly. ‘I’m too bloody good for you.’
Marcus laughed. ‘All right, Deano, don’t milk it. We lost, fair and square.’
‘Honestly, I didn’t think she was all that bad,’ I said. ‘Ok, Tilly was slightly better – very slightly – but with enough practice I think Maisie could make something of it.’
Lana nodded. ‘Becks is right. Yeah, ok, she was kind of wooden, but some of that was nerves. And she’s got a BAFTA winner giving her private tuition, hasn’t she? None of the others can say that.’
‘Fine, have it your way,’ Deano said. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ He leaned round to Stew. ‘All right, go let Tits and Twat know they’re in. I can’t bear to do it.’
Principal girls auditioned next. I was last up, and my stomach was in a flutter.
We’d included a singing element to the Jills’ audition, since that was going to be an important part of the role. I didn’t have a bad voice, but after the first couple of girls I was getting nervous. The standard was really high. And there were six of them plus me, nearly twice as many as there’d been for Jack.
After the last one had finished her rendition of Copa Cabana, Marcus squeezed my arm.
‘Stop worrying. You’ll be fine.’
‘Dunno, Marc. That lass had some voice.’
‘So do you. Belt it, that’s my advice. Her voice didn’t carry like yours.’
I smiled. ‘You calling me loud?’
‘Yep, loud and lairy. That’s why I like you.’ He nodded to Deano, beckoning me up on stage. ‘Just remember, in panto there’s no such thing as ov
eracting. Serve it with plenty of ham.’
I made my way to the stage.
‘Um, hi,’ I said, giving the panel a bashful wave. It felt weird, being on the other side.
‘Here’s your lines, Becks,’ Deano said.
I pushed the script away. ‘No need. I memorised it.’
‘Trying to impress us, eh? Good girl.’ He glanced at his script. ‘When will you marry me, Jill? I’ve asked you a hundred times.’
I let out an involuntary snort.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Just nervous. Do it again, Deano.’
‘When will you marry me, Jill? I’ve asked you a hundred times.’
I stared at him, wide-eyed.
‘I’ve asked you a hundred times,’ he repeated patiently.
‘Oh God,’ I hissed. ‘I’ve forgotten the part!’
Deano sighed and thrust a script towards me. ‘Here, just read it.’
‘Let me do it with her,’ Marcus called. ‘She knows it, promise. It’s just nerves.’
‘All right, come on.’ Deano turned to me. ‘But we couldn’t have nerves shutting you down during the run, Becks. So stop being nervous right now, ok?’
‘Really not helping, Deano.’
I smiled gratefully as Marcus joined me. ‘Cheers, Marc.’
‘Call me Jack, please. I’m in the moment.’ He cleared his throat. ‘When will you marry me, Jill? I’ve asked you a hundred times.’
With Marcus opposite me, the lines I’d memorised came back easily.
‘How could I marry you? You’re so poor.’
‘Not for long. When my magic beans grow, they’ll make my fortune.’
‘Magic beans. Magic beans. Magic beans aren’t a sound financial plan, Jack.’ I turned to the audience. ‘I got an email yesterday from a prince in Nigeria who wants to give me a million dollars. Now that’s a plan.’
Lana laughed, which was pretty encouraging given it was the seventh time she’d heard the joke.
‘That was fab, Becks. Do the song now.’
‘Belt it, remember,’ Marcus muttered.
We’d told auditionees they could pick any song they liked and I’d chosen Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive. Shutting my eyes and pretending it was karaoke night at the Sooty Fox, I launched into it.
When I opened my eyes again, Deano and Marcus had their hands over their ears.
‘Oh God, was it bad?’ I asked Marcus.
‘It was great. But Christ, when I said belt… I think you might’ve broken all the windows.’
‘My ears’ve popped,’ Deano said, jiggling his head about.
I turned to the panel, who were staring at me. Slowly, they started to clap, and I flushed with pride.
‘You’re a dark horse,’ Lana said. ‘Where’ve you been hiding that voice?’
‘The shower, mainly. Cole reckons I sound like a drowning cat.’
‘Cole’s wrong.’
She turned to the others and they held a brief whispered conversation.
‘All right, the part’s yours,’ Stew said. ‘Unless Marcus and Deano want to object.’
‘No argument from me,’ Deano said. ‘We’ll need earplugs for the rest of the cast though.’
Marc slapped me on the shoulder. ‘See? Knew you’d get it.’
After that we auditioned the minor parts. The juvenile chorus was for kids under 14 and we approved all seven who sang for us. Then we had a couple of burly lads from the Fox’s pool team try out for the giant’s henchmen, and Roger Collingwood. He recited the whole of the comic monologue The Lion and Albert from memory, which was odd as he was only auditioning for the cow. He made a good job of it though. We decided to let him be the front end as a reward.
After some discussion, Harper was allocated the voice of the giant, whose presence on stage was going to be represented by a huge papiér machê foot. He also said he’d cameo as one of the henchmen, so the audience would know we’d got the real Harper Brady and they weren’t being fobbed off with a recording.
Then we auditioned for the Good Fairy, which, as it turned out, only Yolanda wanted anyway. I suspected she’d been sending out death threats to other potential auditionees via the underground network of her Ladies Who Lunched.
She was great though. The Good Fairy had to narrate the plot in verse, and she trilled her lines with just the right blend of sweetness and sarcasm before rounding off with a rendition of Nobody Loves a Fairy When She’s 40.
Billy snorted. ‘Forty, all right. We’ll have to tell the audience she was born in a leap year.’
After Yolanda’s audition, Deano called for the next lot.
‘Dame Trotts!’ he shouted. ‘To the stage please!’
We couldn’t hear any movement in the hall.
‘Dames!’ he called again. ‘Any wannabe dames?’
He came back behind the screens. ‘Well this is embarrassing.’
‘Really, there’s not a single one?’ I said.
‘Nope.’
‘Well we can’t manage without a Dame Trott. I mean, a panto without a dame: we might as well give it up as a bad job.’
‘Let’s not worry about it now,’ Lana said. ‘We’ll have to ask around, that’s all. There must be someone who’ll do it.’
‘So that just leaves Sleepy Steve,’ Deano said. ‘Marc, you can go last.’
There were three other hopefuls for the idiot sidekick role, but none of them was a patch on Marcus. He delivered his lines with a deadpan confidence that completely suited the part, and when Deano, as Dame Trott, jammed the bowler hat we’d provided down on his head – not filled with shaving foam as it would be on the night, luckily for him – the expression of comic gormlessness on his face had us all crying with laughter.
It was only when the gales died down that I realised Lana was actually crying.
‘You ok, kid?’ Stew asked in a low voice.
‘Yeah. Marc reminds me of Dad, that’s all.’ She laughed, wiping her eyes. ‘Daft cow, aren’t I?’
‘But you’re my daft cow,’ he said, kissing the top of her head.
‘Got anything else for us, Marc?’ Deano asked when they’d finished the scene.
He shrugged. ‘I could do some magic.’
‘Now who’s breaking the oath, Deano?’ I called. ‘You didn’t ask the others for extra material.’
‘You lot voided the oath. Now it’s every man for himself.’ He nodded to Marcus. ‘Go on, bruv, show them what you’ve got.’
Marcus ran through a few tricks, some from his current act plus some that went wrong from his old uni act, which had everyone laughing again.
‘Here, Becks, lend us your balls,’ he said, approaching the table. I handed him my juggling balls and he paired them with his own set to perform an impressive six-ball juggle as a finale.
He got a standing ovation. Easiest casting decision of the night.
Chapter 14
Well, it looked like tonight was the night Cole had finally become so wrapped up in his painting he’d forgotten I existed. But it was curry and a pint night, according to the menu I’d been staring at for quarter of an hour, so swings and roundabouts.
‘You ready to order?’ the bored-looking waitress asked.
‘Ten more minutes, please. I’m waiting for someone.’
I’d only been mildly annoyed when Cole admitted he’d forgotten to book the tapas restaurant I’d wanted to go to for our anniversary, despite repeated promises he’d sort it. He’d managed to get us a table at a restaurant called The Adelphi instead, an old Victorian theatre, so at least we’d be in gorgeous romantic surroundings.
It was a lovely building, I had to give him that. It was also a bloody Wetherspoon’s.
I tapped out an angry text.
Where the hell are you?
‘You ok all on your tod, love? No
t been stood up, have you?’
I looked up from my phone to see who the voice belonged to. A swaggering lad in a high-vis vest had wandered over.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘I’m meeting someone. He’s running late, that’s all.’
‘Course he is,’ the man said with a grin. He nodded to a table where his mates were seated. ‘Why don’t you come join me and the boys? You won’t have to buy a drink all night, I guarantee it.’
Oh God. So this was it, rock bottom. Stood up in a Wetherspoon’s, being offered a pity foursome by a bunch of guys on an after-work drinking bender.
‘Oh!’ I held up my phone so he couldn’t see the screen. ‘There’s my boyfriend now. Felt it buzz.’
I held it to my ear and performed a quick fake conversation.
‘Held up at work? Well, can’t be helped, sweetheart. I’ll just go on home.’
Gathering up my bag and my blushes, I hurried to the door.
By the time I’d driven home, I was seething. Cole had promised this anniversary meal would be special, and where was he? In his bloody studio, forgetting I existed, like pretty much every evening for the last two months. Maybe our anniversary had clashed with some sentimental date he was sharing with his sodding oil paints.
I marched in, kicked off my high heels and jogged upstairs to the attic.
He chucked a sheet over the painting he was working on when he heard me storm in.
‘Hello, darling.’ He took in my little black dress, the necklace dripping over my collarbone. ‘Have you been somewhere nice?’
‘No, mate. I’ve been to fucking Wetherspoon’s.’
He frowned. ‘There’s no need for language, Becky.’
‘There bloody is!’ I hissed. ‘Do you know what day it is?’
‘Well, it’s…’ He hesitated. ‘It’s Friday, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right. Friday fourth of May. Sound familiar?’
He slapped his forehead. ‘Oh God.’
‘Four years since our first date. Where the hell were you?’
‘I just got so absorbed, I… I’m sorry, Becky. It won’t happen again.’
‘How many times have I heard that since you moved up? God, even down in London you managed to ring me every night.’ I squeezed out an angry tear. ‘I thought when you got here, it’d be the start of our big future together. But ever since you came up, it’s like… like you’re bored of my company.’
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