Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love!

by Tracy Bloom

  ‘I’m so grateful,’ said Carly, launching herself at Laura and engulfing her in another bear hug. ‘I’ve had the worst day and I can’t believe it’s all worked out so well. Come on’ – she pulled Tom’s arm – ‘group hug.’

  Laura felt Tom’s arms tighten around the two of them as she was suffocated by Carly’s celebrity scent.

  ‘It’s all going to be OK,’ Tom said above their heads.

  ‘Do you know what I can’t believe,’ said Carly, abruptly pulling away. ‘The bastard left me on a Friday. Ruined my entire weekend.’

  Chapter Two

  Tom

  Earlier that day . . .

  How he was already at this roundabout, he had no idea. In fact he had no idea how he had got out of bed, got breakfast, got changed, got into the car and was already just ten minutes from work doing the same journey he’d done on way, way too many occasions. Only ten minutes and he’d be through those damned entrance gates yet again and past the sign, which read: ‘You have now arrived at your happy place so SMILE!’ He wanted to stick pins in his eyes just thinking about it.

  Another endless day at work was about to begin only today was worse. In fact it was one of the worst days of the year. Today he would have to pretend he was firmly in his happy place when it was the last place on earth he could possibly be happy in.

  Today was audition day. And not only that, it was Halloween audition day. He knew as he followed the brown tourist signs to ‘The Wonderland Theme Park and Resort’ that even as he drew into the staff car park there would already be a few hopefuls lingering around, waiting for their chance to shine. The keen ones always came early and they were always the worst. Hope plastered across their faces as thickly as their caked-on foundation. All super-keen to tell him that they were super-talented and on the fast track to a superstar career. The kind that would drop into their laps as soon as they auditioned for next year’s X Factor. They’d only failed this year because they’d been told they didn’t have enough performing experience. So here they were, at a theme park, super-excited about looking grotesque as a zombie and frightening the living daylights out of the general public.

  This was Tom’s fourteenth Halloween at Wonderland. A truly horrifying thought. He’d joined at eighteen as a performer in the Wild ’n’ Wacky Pirate Show as well as taking on the duties of the various costume characters that appeared around the park. Apart from the odd fluttering with a touring musical theatre company he’d never escaped. The day his boss had said to him that he wasn’t far off being too old to perform but he would be a natural in entertainment management was possibly the worst day of his life. Laura on the other hand had been over the moon at the prospect of a permanent rather than a seasonal contract, relieved that it would give them more stability. And so he couldn’t say no. He owed it to her. She had been the main breadwinner throughout their marriage up to that point so he couldn’t turn it down to continue the pursuit of his dream of maybe one day making it big on stage or screen.

  It was the hope and the innocence he saw on audition days that made his job pretty unbearable. They all reminded him so much of how he used to be. Keen and desperate. It was his job to smile and encourage when all he really wanted to say to them was to stop being so fucking deluded and go and work in KFC so that at least they would earn enough money to go and get wasted in Ibiza for two weeks a year and be happy.

  To be perfectly honest he’d rather audition the weirdos that turned up at Halloween. They held no false dreams of future fame. They weren’t there in the hope they were on a stepping stone to greater glory. They actually just wanted to dress up as a zombie and terrify people. An altogether much healthier aim in life.

  He turned right and stuck his tongue out at the welcome sign at the staff gates. He waved at the security guard; the man never waved back. Tom found it oddly comforting that someone was even more miserable to be here than he was every day. Five hundred yards up a driveway and that was it, the day would have to start and there was nothing he could think of that could make it in any way the slightest bit enjoyable.

  He glanced at the girl staggering halfway up the drive, dragging an enormous leopard-skin suitcase. Wannabe singer/dancer – he immediately recognised it. Long fit legs clad in shiny purple poking out underneath some kind of hairy purple coat that must be a fashion thing. As he indicated to overtake her, she glanced over her shoulder and rather than the cheery, hopeful ‘I’m here’ wave he expected he could see distress written all over her face and she immediately stumbled and fell to the ground.

  He slammed on his brakes, put on his hazard warning lights, which struck him as depressingly sensible, and leapt out to see if she was all right.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, offering his hand for her to pull herself up with. He felt long fake nails scratch at his palm as he clutched her hand and hauled her up. ‘Talk about stopping traffic,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasped. ‘I just tripped and there’s no path and this stupid suitcase is so heavy and . . .’

  She looked as though she was about to burst into tears.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said, noticing her beautiful blue eyes, fantastic figure and immediately felt ashamed. He pictured Velma out of Scooby Doo. Never failed.

  ‘No it’s not,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I have an audition today and if they saw me arrive like this, in such a state, they’d never give me the job and I need this job. I really need it.’

  Tom’s heart sank but before he could speak she carried on.

  ‘My boyfriend’s thrown me out and I have nowhere to go and no work and . . . and . . .’ The tears started their full-on descent down her cheeks.

  Tom’s heart sank even further. Why was it that wherever there were dancers, singers and performers there was relationship drama? Sometimes he felt his team was more in need of an agony aunt than a boss.

  ‘Anyway,’ the girl said, sniffing loudly. ‘Not your problem.’ She forced out a smile. ‘Thank you for having the decency to stop. I’ll let you get on with your day. Goodbye.’ She grabbed the handle of the suitcase and staggered off.

  Tom was stunned. Most unusual in his line of work for someone to begin a drama and then stop, despite the fact they had an audience. He’d never seen that before.

  ‘Let me give you a lift,’ he said, running after her and grabbing the case. ‘It’s not far but I can’t leave you struggling with this case.’

  ‘Oh.’ She turned back to face him. ‘That’s really kind.’ She looked at him through watery eyes, blinked rapidly, laughed and then touched her hair.

  Shit, thought Tom. She’d done that weird thing a lot of women do when they first meet him. It was Laura who first identified it. She even had a name for it. She called it Tom’s Fondle Fondue look. Apparently, according to his wife, he was so good-looking that he had the power to reduce new female acquaintances to melted cheese and wish they were in a fondle with him. He couldn’t see it himself. When he looked in the mirror all he could see was something quite ordinary apart from the slightly wonky nose and the horrific dimples that formed on his cheeks when he smiled. The girl was still standing on front of him flicking her hair. He pictured Velma digging a garden.

  He turned away and went to go and put the case into his boot. By the time he was back in the car she had settled herself into the passenger seat.

  ‘You got rocks in that case or something?’ he asked, putting the car into gear.

  ‘Oh no,’ she replied. ‘I didn’t take the diamonds. I didn’t think that was fair.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Tom nodded. There was an awkward silence. ‘So you were engaged then? That’s tough.’

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘He just liked to buy me diamonds. Well, he used to.’

  Tom could hear sniffing again and wondered what his exit strategy should be. He turned into the staff car park and headed towards his usual parking space, preparing his instructions of where she could go and get a coffee and sort herself out.

  ‘Here we are,’ h
e announced as they pulled up.

  ‘I certainly hope so,’ she replied. ‘Or else you’re a psycho who’s secretly drugged and kidnapped me, then taken me to some weird other land where they numb your mind with wacky music constantly playing and freak you out with giant ladybirds lurking around every corner.’

  ‘So you’ve been here before?’ asked Tom.

  ‘No, actually. Many like it. So can you give me any tips?’ she asked, turning to face him and making no move to get out of the car.

  ‘Well, let’s see,’ replied Tom. ‘Don’t go within a country mile of the hot dogs and if someone asks you if you want to win a pink teddy, run away very fast and whatever you do not look back; I repeat: do not look back. The Games Team are evil predators and they will hunt you down.’

  She laughed at him and he liked it.

  ‘No, silly, I mean about the audition. My friend auditioned last season and said the Entertainment Director is a right misery, never smiled once. Is he still here, do you know?’

  Tom swallowed. ‘I believe so.’

  ‘Drat. I hate auditioning in front of someone who doesn’t smile. I know it’s probably all quite tedious, but come on, if you’re in that job you’re on the best side of the table really, aren’t you? You’re in work and the rest of us aren’t. The least you can do is smile.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Tom shrugged, opening his door and getting out. He lifted her suitcase out of the boot, deciding he had better ’fess up that he was in fact the miserable Entertainment Director.

  ‘Carly,’ she said, sticking her hand out to shake as she grabbed her suitcase from him.

  ‘Tom,’ he responded, taking her hand.

  ‘You have been an absolute star,’ she gushed. ‘Literally picked me up off the street and cheered me up.’

  ‘I didn’t really do anything,’ he muttered.

  ‘You made me laugh.’ She grinned. ‘On today of all days. Now if you could just point me in the direction of coffee I might become human again – unless you’d care to join me? Would you let me buy you a coffee?’

  ‘No, oh no – no need,’ he replied, backing off. ‘Stuff to do, you know. Canteen’s through that door over there.’ He pointed towards the bottom of the car park.

  ‘OK,’ she said, touching her hair again and not moving. ‘Wish me luck.’

  ‘For the audition?’

  ‘With the misery guts of an Entertainment Director.’

  ‘He’s really not that bad.’

  ‘We’ll see. Good to meet you,’ she said with a little wave.

  ‘Yes. Bye,’ said Tom abruptly; then he turned away to go and hide somewhere.

  ‘I’m late, I’m late for a very important date,’ screamed Nathan from Cleethorpes as he jumped up and down in an approximate impression of a demented rabbit before stopping suddenly, leaping forward off the stage and running at speed towards Tom and growling angrily in his face.

  Tom smiled inanely back at him from his aisle seat in the Celebration Theatre located in Back of Beyond World at Wonderland.

  ‘Excellent,’ he said through gritted teeth when Nathan eventually dropped out of character and took a step backwards.

  ‘I did a lot of improv at college,’ said Nathan. ‘So this type of exercise is like a walk in the park for me.’

  ‘So what do you think, Amy?’ said Tom, turning to his assistant seated next to him.

  ‘Utter shite,’ she mouthed at him before addressing Nathan. ‘Nathan,’ she said, ‘I think I need to see a bit more. I’d like you to get back on stage and improvise a bunny being boiled to death.’

  Nathan nodded enthusiastically and dashed back down the aisle towards the stage.

  ‘Amy, that’s not fair,’ hissed Tom.

  ‘He asked for it,’ replied Amy.

  ‘So should I be the White Rabbit out of Alice in Wonderland or can I choose what type of bunny I am whilst I’m being boiled?’ Nathan asked once he’d leapt up on stage.

  ‘I don’t care,’ Amy shouted back.

  ‘Right, OK, so just give me a minute.’ He turned his back on his possible future employers.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ muttered Amy. She tucked her lime-green Wonderland polo shirt further into her khaki polyester trousers. Tom had told her she didn’t have to wear the park uniform any more now she worked for him but she insisted. As she had pointed out to him, it was free, easy to clean, didn’t need ironing and had an elasticated waist, which was good for when you were having a fat day. Given that Amy was clearly overweight so likely to be having a fat day every day, and – although only twenty-two years old – capable of scaring the shit out of him on a frequent basis, he decided that he would never raise the issue of what she wore ever again.

  ‘I can’t watch,’ Amy whispered in Tom’s ear as Nathan turned around. His face was scrunched up and he had twisted his arms around his shoulders. He emitted an ear-piercing howl and began to spin around and around until he collapsed on the floor in a heap and lay there juddering for a few seconds before emitting one last ear-splitting scream. There was a moment’s silence before he leapt to his feet and took a bow.

  ‘Boiling water doesn’t spin,’ shouted Amy. ‘Why were you spinning?’

  ‘Aah,’ said Nathan, raising his finger to point at Amy. ‘I was the White Rabbit, you see. Not any ordinary rabbit. I was in a hurry to be boiled to death.’

  Amy stared back at him, then raised two fingers to her head and pretended to shoot herself.

  Tom pushed Amy’s hand down sharply.

  ‘Thank you, Nathan,’ he said. ‘That was, er, very interesting.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Nathan nodded in agreement. ‘And I’d just like to say, Tom – may I call you Tom?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ replied Tom.

  ‘I’d just like to say that I think your theme for Halloween is genius. Malice in Wonderland is so clever. It’s like a gift to someone like me. Really something I can get my improv brain’s teeth into.’

  ‘Improv brain’s teeth?’ muttered Amy in amazement.

  ‘And I know you have probably only thought of all the obvious interpretations so far but what I have learnt from all my experience in improv is that it’s the unexpected that really works. Do you know what I mean?’

  Tom and Amy nodded mutely.

  ‘That’s why I did the White Rabbit,’ he continued. ‘No one will think of the White Rabbit, and no one will think of turning him into an angry white rabbit, like I just did in my audition.’

  Tom cast his mind over the thirty-plus Halloween interpretations of the White Rabbit out of Alice in Wonderland he’d already seen that day. He stood up and walked down towards the stage and grasped Nathan by the hand.

  ‘Well, thank you, Nathan. We’ll be in touch.’ He smiled and nodded his head towards the exit to indicate his time was up.

  ‘Mad Hatter,’ Nathan suddenly shrieked, just as he was about to depart. ‘I could do you one brilliant Mad Hatter. Bet you’ve not seen any of those today either, have you?’

  Tom cast his mind over the fifty-plus Mad Hatters he'd seen that afternoon. ‘Thanks, but you really have given us enough for now. Goodbye.’

  Nathan reluctantly walked off the stage and Tom returned to his seat. ‘What?’ he asked when he noticed that Amy was glaring at him.

  ‘You’re weird today,’ she announced.

  ‘And your point is?’ he said grumpily, picking up the list of applicants.

  ‘What’s with all the smiling and the handshaking bollocks?’

  Tom just shrugged.

  ‘You never smile or shake someone’s hand during auditions. In fact it’s the first rule you ever taught me. Don’t look them in the eye, you said. Don’t be nice, you said. You said you gave me the job because I excelled at being cold and dismissive.’

  ‘Maybe I’ve remembered what it’s like to audition. It’s shit. So maybe we should actually try and make it a bit less shit.’ He picked up his pen and put a cross through Nathan’s name. ‘I assume you agree Nathan’s performance was utt
erly dire and we hope never to see him darken our door ever again.’

  ‘Correct,’ said Amy. ‘I crossed him off before he even opened his mouth. He was wearing a Take That T-shirt. I can’t bear all that retro crap.’

  Tom groaned. Another downside of working at a theme park was that generally everyone was younger that him and he hated it when they so casually reminded him.

  ‘So who have we got next?’ he asked.

  Amy flicked through some pages on her clipboard. ‘Last but not least for today we are doing the female lead in the show,’ she said. ‘Are we marking out of ten for this one? What are today’s criteria? Best Whitney Houston impression? Best Cher impersonation? Or the one who looks the most like a drag queen?’

  ‘Let’s not, eh?’ muttered Tom, glancing down the list and spotting Carly’s name.

  Amy looked at him. ‘All this smiling and handshaking has made you even more miserable than usual,’ she told him.

  ‘Just bring ’em in, Amy.’

  ‘You’re the boss,’ she said, hauling herself up from her chair and heading out to the changing rooms to notify the next set of lambs to the slaughter.

  Tom sat back in his chair feeling slightly sick. Somehow he hadn’t managed to get Carly out of his head. He’d been dreading her audition and the moment she realised that not only had she been dumped but she’d also insulted the man who today held her fate in his hands.

  Amy arrived back and told him not to get his hopes up. There were only five left in the running after Leon the choreographer had weeded out all the rubbish dancers in his audition that morning.

  ‘There’s really only one that’s any good apparently,’ said Amy, ‘so if she can’t sing we’re screwed.’

  A short girl who’d overdone it with the hair extensions, which made her resemble Captain Caveman, strode on to the stage.