by Tracy Bloom
‘Hold on to your hats,’ said Amy, blowing her rosy round cheeks out. ‘This could be a bumpy ride.’
One by one they trooped up and, sure enough, Captain Caveman warbled like Cher and the next one broke down in tears at the end of ‘I Will Always Love You’, confessing, ‘I still can’t believe she’s gone.’
‘We are doomed to putting on a back-from-the-dead Whitney tribute act this Halloween,’ muttered Amy.
‘Bad taste,’ Tom muttered back.
‘Carly Stevenson next,’ said Amy. ‘I think Leon said this was the good one.’
Tom swallowed hard. Maybe she wouldn’t see him because of the stage lights. Maybe she’d do her audition and not mention that they’d already met. Maybe if he smiled enough she’d assume he wasn’t the grumpy Entertainment Director that her friend auditioned for a year ago. But what if she couldn’t sing? What if he had to turn her down and she thought it was just because she’d insulted him earlier in the day? Today was turning out to be much worse than normal.
He watched her emerge from the wings shrouded by an enormous red cloak, a hood covering her head. She glided to the middle of the stage and positioned herself behind the microphone, her head bent low, waiting for her music to begin. Tom was holding his breath.
The opening chords of a familiar tune struck up and he watched Carly slowly raise her head and look him straight in the eye before she started to sing.
‘I put a spell on you because you're mine
You better stop the things that you do
I ain't lyin', no, I ain't lyin'
I just can't stand it, babe
The way you're always runnin’ ’round
I just can't stand it, the way you always put me down
I put a spell on you because you're mine . . .’
Tom was mesmerised and still didn’t breathe. Her singing was strong, clear, full of expression and so haunting he felt chills running up and down his spine. They had never had anyone of this calibre audition before. Halfway through she shrugged off her cloak to reveal a racy sparkling red gown that showed off her figure to the max, causing him to take a sharp breath and Amy to dig him in the ribs. Carly moved out from behind the microphone and performed a mini dance routine with grace, elegance and style before returning to finish the song.
She came to the end of her performance and there was a stunned silence in the auditorium. Even Amy sat there speechless at what she had just seen in their humble little theatre in Back of Beyond World. She was the first to come back to her senses, however, and without thinking stood up and clapped her hands enthusiastically.
‘Brilliant,’ she roared. ‘Eh, boss?’ She glanced at Tom over her shoulder. ‘That’s more like it.’
Tom couldn’t move. She was holding his gaze, not a shred of acknowledgement of their previous interaction on her face. She looked poised, professional and expectant.
‘It’s yours,’ was all he could manage to blurt out. ‘It’s yours. Please say you’ll take it. Please.’
‘Aw,’ interrupted Amy. ‘Do you mean we won’t be doing the dead transvestite Whitney Houston slash Cher tribute band after all?’
‘On hold until next year,’ said Tom. ‘That is if Carly wants the job.’ It was his turn to look expectant.
‘Really?’ she said into the microphone.
Tom nodded. ‘Really.’
‘Yes!’ She leapt off the stage and ran straight at Tom to wrap him in a bear hug. ‘Oh my God, what would I have done without you today?’ she cried. ‘When I saw it was you I nearly pissed my pants, seriously. I’m so sorry about earlier. I can’t believe what I said to you.’
‘Whoa there,’ said Amy, looking confused. ‘You two have met before?’
‘No, not really.’ Tom shook his head vigorously. ‘I just helped with her suitcase this morning.’
‘Suitcase?’ asked Amy.
‘My boyfriend’s chucked me out,’ babbled Carly. ‘Today of all days, can you believe it? So I arrived with a suitcase and no job and now I have a job and just need somewhere for me and my suitcase. Actually, if you could direct me to the nearest Travelodge then the day will have turned out much better than expected.’
Neither Tom nor Amy responded. Tom was very conscious of Carly’s arm still draped around him and of the evil glares that Amy was giving their new leading lady.
‘The Cow will have a room,’ muttered Amy eventually.
‘She means the Red Cow,’ added Tom. ‘A pub nearby.’
‘Perfect! I could do with a drink after the day I’ve had. Couldn’t give me the number of a taxi firm, could you?’ Carly asked, giving Tom the Fondle Fondue look again. ‘You must think I’m such a pain expecting you to sort out all my problems. I’m not normally like this, I promise.’
‘No problem, honestly,’ replied Tom. ‘Look, I can drop you off there if you like. I only live down the road.’
‘Seriously?’ cried Carly. ‘I think you are the kindest man I have ever met.’
‘No, I’ll take her,’ said Amy firmly, taking a step forward and putting her hand on Tom’s free arm. Her face was grim and set and Tom had seen that look before. Normally it meant he had to let her have her own way even though he was the boss.
‘Well, that’s very kind of you,’ he said, taking a step back so that neither lady was in possession of one of his limbs, ‘but how exactly are you going to get Carly and her suitcase on the back of your moped, Amy?’
‘I’ll do it in relay. Suitcase first then her.’ Amy stabbed a cursory finger in Carly’s direction.
‘Well, that does seem a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it, when I’m already passing with a car that not only has a passenger seat but also a boot?’
‘I think he’s right,’ agreed Carly. ‘But thank you for offering, so kind . . . Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’
‘Amy,’ spat Amy.
‘Amy. Well, I’m really looking forward to working with you.’
Amy didn’t reply; she just turned to Tom. ‘I think Nathan would work really well with her, don’t you think? The perfect match in fact.’ She turned and stomped out of the theatre.
‘Well,’ said Tom, turning to face Carly. ‘Welcome to Wonderland. We hope your stay is a pleasant one.’
‘Oh, I’m sure it will be,’ replied Carly, going slightly Fondle Fondue on him again.
He coughed. ‘I just need to grab my things; then let’s get you installed in the Red Cow, shall we?’
‘I’ll go and take my stage clothes off,’ she replied and turned to go. About halfway back to the stage she stopped and shouted to Tom: ‘You will let me buy you a drink, won’t you? I mean you must, after all you’ve done today?’
Oh fuck, thought Tom. A woman in a skintight red dress with a thigh-high split was asking him to go for a drink with her.
He nodded. ‘Just one then.’
Couldn’t hurt, could it? As long as he had Velma with him.
Chapter Three
Laura
Laura slammed the washed saucepan on to the drainer. Tom had been upstairs ‘showing Carly her room’ for the past fifteen minutes. The spare room wasn’t even that big. Only nine by eight, in fact. She remembered feeling really posh because she owned a house with a spare room. She’d never lived in a house with a spare room before. She now realised there was a very good reason not to have a spare room: so your husband couldn’t bring home every beautiful blonde waif and stray that he liked, to stay in it.
She stiffened as she heard the kitchen door open behind her. Tom came in and opened the overhead cupboard where the wine glasses lived. He was humming, for goodness’ sake. What on earth was there to hum about? She felt him approach her and bristled, then melted slightly when he landed a kiss on the back of her neck. She waited for him to speak. To request forgiveness for his outrageous behaviour or at the very least to ask for misguided reassurance that it was OK to bring a stranger into their home.
But there was silence and then to her horror she heard him leave the kitchen to go into
the dining room without saying anything. No apology, no nothing. She slammed another vigorously cleaned saucepan on to the drainer.
She was just drying her hands on a towel and preparing her tirade when Tom popped his head back around the kitchen door.
‘You’d not put any glasses on the table,’ he told her.
Her jaw dropped in reply.
‘I’ve done it and I’ll set an extra place for Carly, shall I?’ He disappeared and she could hear the clanging of the cutlery drawer complemented by Tom whistling. If he made any more happy noises she thought she might actually kill him.
‘I’ve lent Carly a towel,’ he shouted from the dining room. ‘That’s OK, isn’t it?’
Now you ask for permission, she thought. For a towel! When exactly were you planning to ask permission for a blonde bombshell to invade our home? She reached round to untie her apron. Some things needed to be made clear before this all got any further out of hand.
Bing-bong.
‘That must be the others arriving,’ shouted Tom.
No shit, Sherlock, thought Laura, pausing to find out whether his current mystery-solving powers would actually lead him to open the door to see if he was right. The clanking and jangling of cutlery continued as he evidently decided against greeting their guests personally. Laura chucked her apron on to the counter, strutted out into the hall and for the second time that evening threw open the door. Thankfully the sight that met her this time was no surprise. There was Jerry, Tom’s best mate since forever, red-cheeked and jolly, standing next to his long-suffering and patience-of-a-saint wife, Hannah. Behind them hovered Will, Tom’s older brother, casting a lopsided grin in Laura’s direction.
‘There she is,’ cried Jerry, stepping inside with two bottles of wine swinging from his hands. ‘The hostess with the mostest. Is that the Laura Mackintyre infamous king prawn curry I can smell?’
‘No,’ replied Laura briskly, stepping forward to give Hannah a hug. ‘It’s probably Anton Du Beke. He’s dead and floating at the top of the fish tank.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Hannah.
‘The Anton Du Beke?’ asked Jerry.
‘Of course not,’ said Laura. How many more people did she have to explain Anton Du Beke to? ‘The goldfish was called Anton Du Beke.’
Jerry screwed his face up. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because we can,’ replied Laura.
‘I worry about you two sometimes,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘Not half as much as we worry about you,’ said Tom, strolling in and slapping Jerry on the back. ‘Hi, everyone.’
‘Tom, could you get Anton out of the tank and do something with him?’ asked Laura as she hung up Hannah’s coat. ‘I think he’s beginning to smell.’
‘Erm, I . . . erm . . .’ stuttered Tom, looking horrified. ‘I’m not sure I actually could. Will?’ he asked, turning to his brother with a hopeful look on his face.
‘It’s all right,’ said Will, beginning to roll up the sleeves of his red-and-black-checked shirt. ‘I’ll do it. He might get his hands dirty,’ he said, winking at Laura.
‘It’s not that,’ said Tom. ‘It’s just, you know . . . it’s dead.’
‘Exactly,’ replied Will. ‘What’s it going to do? Bite you?’
‘It’ll feel all funny,’ Tom continued, screwing his face up.
‘You big jessy,’ declared Jerry.
‘You do it then,’ challenged Tom.
‘Er, no, you’re all right. Will asked first. He’s good at that sort of stuff. Anyway, where have you been all day, Tom? Thought you were popping on to site for a cuppa,’ he said, hastily changing the subject.
‘In audition hell,’ said Tom, rolling his eyes. ‘Speaking of which, I hope you don’t mind but we have an extra guest at dinner.’
So he asks his friends if it’s OK, seethed Laura, but not me, his wife, the one who’s cooked the sodding dinner.
‘Will he be supplying beverages?’ asked Jerry.
‘It’s not a he, it’s a she,’ replied Tom.
‘Ooooooooh,’ Jerry said. ‘A she? Details, quick. Young, old, fat, thin, blonde, brunette, legs . . . Tell me she has legs, and most importantly of all . . . the big question . . . would you?’
‘Jerry,’ gasped Hannah. ‘You’ve not even met the poor woman yet.’
Laura watched as Jerry studied Tom’s reaction to his question. Tom’s cheeks took on a rosy glow.
‘Result,’ cried Jerry. ‘So where is she?’
‘Having a shower,’ replied Tom. ‘We lent her a towel, didn’t we, Laura?’
Laura couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was still slightly pink from Jerry’s interrogation and now he was passing on the responsibility for allowing Carly to rub her naked body with their towels. She blinked at him and tried the raised-eyebrows approach again to indicate that all was not well with this new situation but Tom looked away.
‘Drink, anyone?’ he asked.
‘Do chickens cross the road?’ replied Jerry, roaring with laughter at his own wit. ‘Do you get it?’
‘No,’ Laura answered.
‘It’s a joke,’ said Jerry. ‘You know, why did the chicken cross the road?’
‘I know the joke,’ Laura said, not in the mood for Jerry’s off-kilter humour. ‘It just doesn’t make sense in this context.’
‘You know your problem?’ said Jerry. ‘You overthink things. It’s a joke, that’s all.’
‘But it’s not funny,’ replied Laura.
‘Why-did-the-chicken-cross-the-road jokes aren’t funny?’
‘Yes they are but you weren’t telling that joke.’
‘I was. Wasn’t I?’ he said, looking round. ‘Didn’t I just say: why did the chicken cross the road?’
‘Because she wanted to lay it on the line,’ came a voice from behind them.
Everyone turned to see Carly standing there in all her glory.
Jerry whistled under his breath. ‘Bloody hell.’
Oh, hilarious, thought Laura, staring at Carly’s beautiful sparkling red sequined strapless dress with a slit up to her . . . well, her crotch.
‘I’m rubbish at jokes,’ she said nervously when no one laughed, just stood staring at her. ‘Did that come out right?’
‘Did that come out right? Did that come out right? I have never seen anything come out so right in my life,’ boomed Jerry, glancing rapidly between her face and her hemline.
‘What a beautiful dress,’ said Hannah politely. Laura looked daggers at her.
‘Oh, I know it’s over the top,’ Carly answered, glancing at her audience dressed in their high-street best, ‘but I didn’t have anything else.’ Her eyes hovered for a moment over Will and then snapped back to look innocently at Laura.
You really had nothing other than a dress more suited to a red carpet than their cheap Ikea hall runner? thought Laura.
‘I didn’t have time to pack properly so I just bought my work clothes really which are pretty much all Lycra and I didn’t think you’d want to see me in those.’
‘Don’t know about that,’ muttered Jerry.
‘So this is Carly and she auditioned at work today – wearing this dress, I believe,’ Tom announced by way of explanation.
‘I was supposed to be like a girly devil,’ added Carly. ‘I had this big red cape over it and some little horns . . . I think I pulled it off,’ she continued, looking at Tom.
‘She blew us away,’ Tom told them all. ‘Best Halloween devil I’ve ever seen.’
The devil, mused Laura. How apt.
‘So you’re a singer?’ asked Jerry.
‘Well, a dancer really, but I can sing as well. Whatever I need to do to get work.’
‘So you’re taking in performers now?’ Jerry asked Tom.
‘It’s just temporary,’ he replied.
Jerry turned to Carly. ‘You know we have a lot of spare rooms at ours. To be honest, our house is much bigger than this one. You could have your choice of any number of guest rooms complete with wal
k-in wardrobes and en-suite with the latest state-of-the-art rainforest-effect shower.’
‘Jerry is a builder,’ Tom told Carly, ‘and very house-proud.’
‘Not just a builder,’ said Jerry. ‘A very successful builder.’
‘Jerry,’ said Hannah in a pleading tone.
‘And this is Hannah,’ continued Tom. ‘Jerry’s much better half, and my little baby brother Will.’
‘Oh,’ said Carly, gazing up at Will’s six-foot-tall frame, broad shoulders and well-cultivated facial hair.
Will bent to offer her a handshake. ‘I’m actually older than Tom but he likes to keep me in my place,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and sort out that dead fish problem for you now, shall I, my big brave brother?’ He grinned at Tom and then headed for the kitchen, leaving an awkward silence behind him.
‘So,’ said Jerry eventually, slapping his hands and rubbing them together. ‘What does a thirsty man have to do to get a drink around here?’ he asked as he took Carly’s arm and led her though to the dining room. ‘Let’s find out some more about this young lady, shall we?’
Laura was staring at Carly through narrowed eyes and a fog of red wine as she reached for another cheese biscuit. If she concentrated hard enough she could picture red horns coming out of her head and red flames leaping around in her eyes. Her tinkling laughter had punctuated the evening like daggers through Laura’s heart as she winced over her simpering at Jerry’s terrible jokes and thinly veiled flattery. Jerry had now pulled out the big guns and was in full throttle, telling Carly all about how he’d built his father-in-law’s local building firm into a thriving company specialising in leisure developments across the country.
‘I started as an apprentice and then married the boss’s daughter.’ He chuckled, winking at Hannah. ‘We were just twenty-one, can you believe it? Mind you, she’s the brains behind it all. She manages the office, deals with the suppliers, pays the wages, all that kind of stuff. I’m just the front man really, but I’m a bloody good front man. I just got a deal for two new hotels in the North-West. I won’t tell you how much it’s worth for fear of embarrassing you!’ He laughed and punched Carly lightly on the shoulder.