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

by Tracy Bloom

  Laura gazed over at him. He looked broken.

  ‘What the hell?’ said Jerry, leaping up. ‘Please don’t tell me to sit down again,’ he warned Phillip. ‘What did you tell me this morning, Tom? You said first nights are always shit. Well, there you go. We’ve got it out the way. It’ll be brilliant tomorrow, won’t it, Tom?’

  Tom didn’t answer.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Carly. ‘I’m no good, I told you I couldn’t do it.’

  ‘No!’ chimed Tom, Jerry and Phillip.

  ‘It isn’t you,’ Tom added, putting his arm around her. ‘You were brilliant.’

  ‘You were amazing,’ said Jerry.

  ‘The only decent thing in it,’ agreed Phillip.

  Amy and Laura exchanged glances.

  ‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ said Tom. ‘You stood out a mile. It’s the rest of the cast who were woefully under-rehearsed.’

  ‘I suppose I have had more experience than them,’ said Carly. ‘I’ve been in a lot of shows and done TV.’

  ‘You posted a letter in Albert Square,’ interrupted Amy. ‘You haven’t done TV, your left hand has.’

  ‘I don’t think we need to raise this just now, do we, Amy?’ said Tom, his arm still around Carly.

  Amy and Laura exchanged another glance.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ Tom told Phillip. ‘I was too ambitious. I got carried away. I should have realised our limitations. I’m sorry.’

  Phillip nodded in agreement as an awkward silence descended on the room.

  ‘So what are your next steps?’ asked Laura, drilling her gaze into Tom. Come on, she willed him. You need to respond.

  ‘What?’ said Tom, glancing over to Laura; he almost seemed to have forgotten she was there.

  ‘What is your action plan?’ she pressed. She’d had enough of this self-pitying navel-gazing and his sickening comforting of Carly. This was supposed to be a business meeting but everyone was behaving as though they’d just lost the final of Britain’s Got Talent.

  ‘I’ve presented the research,’ she said slowly and deliberately, ‘so now is the point at which we work out what the solution is.’

  Tom was staring at her as though she were talking in a foreign language.

  ‘Why don’t we take it right back to what your original objectives were,’ suggested Laura.

  ‘Objectives!’ cried Amy. ‘What the hell have they got to do with it?’

  ‘It can help,’ said Laura, desperate to get them talking about solutions rather than failure.

  ‘The objectives were to deliver entertainment that was seen by over sixty-five per cent of park guests, achieve an average of eight out of ten for enjoyment and increase secondary spend by five per cent,’ said Phillip, leaning forward. ‘The worst thing is that I reckon over sixty-five per cent of guests did see that wreck of a show and left with an extremely bad impression of Wonderland.’

  ‘Right, good,’ said Laura, ignoring Phillip’s troubled frown. ‘So how do we improve that satisfaction score then? Tom, what would improve the show? Give me one thing.’

  Tom shook his head, bewildered and desperate. ‘Getting rid of Theo and at least ten hours’ more rehearsal,’ he said.

  ‘Excellent, do that then.’ She leant back in her chair. Finally some progress.

  ‘We can’t, Laura. That’s the point,’ replied Tom, looking exasperated. ‘There is no one to replace Theo and we can’t rehearse on the stage during the day because there are visitors around. It’s useless.’

  ‘There is no one in the cast who can take over the male lead?’ asked Laura. She willed Tom to get on the same wavelength as her. Come on, I’m trying to help you here! At least try, she thought.

  ‘There is, but they would be worse than Theo, believe me.’

  ‘I’ve got a brilliant idea,’ Carly said, her eyes suddenly wide with excitement.

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ muttered Amy.

  ‘Tom could do it,’ Laura cried. She couldn’t let Carly steal her thunder. ‘You’d be brilliant.’

  ‘Fuck me,’ said Jerry, leaping out of his chair. ‘You are a genius,’ he said, kissing Laura on the cheek. ‘Of course Tom can do it. He knows all the lines; he knows all the moves. I’m telling you, Phillip, I’ve seen Tom and Carly do that Twisted Tango together. It brings tears to my eyes.’

  Laura sat motionless, staring at Tom. He wasn’t saying anything, too stunned to speak. Clearly the option had never crossed his mind.

  ‘You were only just saying how much you missed performing,’ said Carly. ‘How much you loved it. Come on, you and me on the stage together: it’ll be brilliant. You must do it. Say you’ll do it?’

  Laura watched as Carly draped herself around Tom’s neck and begged him to dance with her. He turned to look at Laura.

  ‘Do you think I can?’ he asked her, his brow furrowed.

  Laura hesitated. In spite of knowing she had made exactly the right suggestion her entire body wanted to say no. Her stomach needed her to say no to get rid of the awful sick feeling that was rising up through her body. But she nodded her head and silently mouthed yes.

  He smiled back at her and then turned his face towards Carly. ‘Let’s do it,’ he said, grinning.

  Carly practically leapt on to his knee. ‘This is going to be the best show ever!’ she announced. ‘Seriously,’ she added, turning her head to Phillip. ‘We are going to knock it out of the park now, you wait and see.’

  Laura swallowed. She needed to get out. She wasn’t sure she could maintain this professional persona any longer. She glanced down at the notes she’d made and turned to talk to Phillip whilst Tom and Carly began to discuss how they could make the Twisted Tango even better.

  ‘You should consider cancelling the show for tomorrow night,’ she said to him as if on autopilot. It had been plain to her whilst watching the show that they needed more rehearsal time to have any chance of getting it halfway decent. ‘Give them tomorrow night after the park shuts to rehearse and get it right.’

  ‘Good idea,’ agreed Phillip.

  ‘And one last thing,’ she said, starting to gather her things together. ‘You need to take hot food and drink out to the guests. Everyone was cold and hungry but couldn’t be bothered to go and hunt out food.’

  Phillip nodded.

  ‘Maybe even a bubbling Halloween broth or something? If you themed a hot drink I bet you could charge a fortune.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell Commercial to get on to it straight away.’

  ‘They’ll be able to do the research without me the next time,’ she said, standing up. ‘I’ve shown them what to do.’

  ‘Well, I really appreciate you coming in tonight,’ said Phillip, following her to his feet. ‘Your contribution has been very worthwhile.’

  Laura nodded.

  ‘I’m glad the Research Department has been of use,’ said Archie, holding his hand out to Phillip. Laura had forgotten he was even there.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked Phillip.

  ‘No one,’ he mumbled and scurried out of the room.

  Laura shook Phillip’s hand, then turned and walked out, leaving the excited chatter behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Hannah

  ‘Why?’ asked Hannah, staring straight ahead.

  ‘Why what?’ replied Jerry, flicking his indicator on the side of the steering wheel of his Range Rover.

  Hannah stared ahead into the gloom of the autumnal early-evening. She actually knew why, but she wasn’t fond of the conclusion she had come to. Maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt.

  ‘Why the cigar?’ she asked, turning to watch her husband casually flick ash out of the narrow slit in the driver’s window.

  He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just fancied giving it a go.’ He took another draw and gave a small cough.’

  ‘Does Harvey Weinstein smoke cigars?’ she asked.

  He shrugged again. ‘Might do.’

  ‘Do you think smoking cigars will make
you look more like a Hollywood movie mogul?’ she asked.

  ‘Might do.’ He smiled, looking pleased with himself.

  Hannah turned away to stare out of her window. ‘Ridiculous,’ she muttered to herself.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said: Ridiculous,’ she repeated a bit louder.

  ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ he asked, taking his cigar out of his mouth and waving it around in a grand gesture.

  She turned back to look at him, his stubby fingers held in a rigid V shape around his latest accessory, his fake-tanned tangerine face poking out from behind a spotted cravat that he’d deemed appropriate to drag out of the depths of his wardrobe for this evening’s occasion. She sighed. She couldn’t help it.

  ‘I mean you look ridiculous,’ she said.

  His only reaction was a slight furrowing of the brow.

  ‘What do you mean I look ridiculous?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘What do you think I mean?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ he replied, sticking his cigar firmly back in his mouth.

  ‘It means that I don’t get the cigar, I don’t get the cravat, I don’t get the fake tan, I don’t get it and I think you’re making a fool of yourself.’ Hannah sat back in her seat and tried to control her breathing, which out of nowhere was suddenly very fast. What had got into her? She was being mean but sometimes Jerry irritated the hell of her and it made her want to scream. Was this normal? she wondered. Were all marriages like this? A continuous challenge to ignore the inevitable irritations of living with the same person every day of your life whilst constantly trying to recall the reasons why you’d agreed to do it in the first place?

  ‘I’m just upping my game,’ Jerry defended himself. ‘Everyone has put so much effort into getting the show back on track for tonight that I thought the least I could do was look the part.’

  Hannah shook her head in disbelief.

  ‘Why don’t you try it?’ His hand clutching the cigar appeared in front of her face. ‘Smithy got them for me. They’re proper Colombian ones. The real deal. You don’t get these down Super Cigs, I can tell you.’

  Hannah shoved his hand out of the way, not trusting herself to speak.

  ‘We could come back from Australia via South America, you know? How do you fancy that?’ he asked. ‘Actually I quite fancy Rio. I’ve always wanted to go to Rio. That’s the one with the massive statue of Jesus, isn’t it?’

  ‘Christ the Redeemer,’ muttered Hannah, leaning her head against the side window.

  ‘That’s the one. I’d like to see that, and that Sugar Puff Mountain.’

  ‘Sugar Loaf Mountain,’ said Hannah.

  ‘That’s what I said. The really weird-shaped one. I’d like to see that. Wouldn’t you like to see that?’

  Hannah didn’t reply.

  ‘Hannah,’ he repeated. ‘What do you reckon? Do you want to go and see Big Jesus and the Sugar Puff Mountain?’

  ‘Not really,’ she replied.

  ‘Oh,’ said Jerry, ‘OK then. So where would you like to see? Or shall we just stay in Australia? We could, I suppose. Be a bit of a waste, though, don’t you think? If we are halfway across the world we might as well see some other stuff as well. Where would you like to go?’

  ‘I don’t want to go,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Don’t want to go where?’ asked Jerry. ‘To see Big Jesus? I know – you said that. But where would you like to go?’

  ‘Nowhere,’ she said, sitting up straight in the seat and staring forward out of the front window. She braced herself.

  ‘What do you mean nowhere? Do you mean you just want to stay in Australia?’

  ‘No,’ she said, feeling exasperated and desperate and petrified all at the same time. ‘I mean I don’t want to go anywhere.’

  ‘Anywhere at all?’

  ‘Yes.’ She faced him. ‘I don’t want to go anywhere at all on holiday.’

  He glanced over at her and then back at the road ahead. They were almost at Wonderland.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked. She detected a slight wobble in his voice.

  ‘I just don’t,’ she said, turning her head away.

  ‘You don’t want to go on holiday?’ he asked again.

  ‘No.’ Christ, did she have to spell it out? She could hear Jerry breathing heavily next to her. She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see his face.

  ‘Then what do you bloody want, woman!’ exclaimed Jerry as he slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

  Hannah jumped out of her skin. She’d crossed a line. She knew it. He was the most cheerful man she had ever met. He had never once during their eleven-year marriage got cross with her.

  ‘Tell me,’ he demanded, banging the wheel again. ‘Just tell me what you want, will you?’

  Hannah felt tears prick the back of her eyes and she gasped, trying to hold them in check. She couldn’t answer that question. As hard as she tried, she just couldn’t answer it.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

  Jerry pulled the car up in the staff car park at Wonderland. They could already hear the tinkling of the park music in the background – it was sharply at odds with the tense mood in the car. Jerry switched off the engine but didn’t move; he just stared straight ahead. Hannah held her breath, totally at a loss as to how to move forward. She felt paralysed. Everything felt paralysed: her body, her brain, her heart.

  They sat for what seemed like an eternity but in actual fact was only a few seconds. Suddenly Jerry reached across to open the glove box, making Hannah flinch. He took out a packet of cigars, sat back in his seat and looked over to Hannah. She looked back, fearing what he might say.

  ‘It’s show time,’ he said firmly; then he turned and let himself out of the car.

  Hannah tried to concentrate but the last place she needed to be right now was watching a Halloween Show at a theme park. But what do you do when your best mate calls and asks you to go and observe her husband whilst he cavorts on stage with an attractive younger woman.

  ‘No,’ had been her answer, but Laura didn’t appear to have taken that in.

  ‘Why don’t you go?’ Hannah had suggested then. ‘Go and see for yourself.’

  ‘I can’t, I’ve got research groups every night this week out in Chesterton,’ replied Laura. ‘But I need to know. I need you to tell me how they perform together.’

  ‘As in: how good they are in the show?’

  ‘No, not really. Just how they look together on stage?’

  ‘I don’t understand what you are asking me.’

  ‘You can tell, can’t you?’ said Laura. ‘You can tell when a couple dances together if they are in love?’

  ‘You want me to watch Tom and Carly dance together and tell you if I think they are in love?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No way. I’m not doing that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘What if I get it wrong? No, Laura, you can’t ask me to do that.’

  ‘But I need to know.’

  ‘It’s a performance, Laura. You know that. They are performers; it’s all an act. You can’t make a judgement on a performance.’

  Laura was quiet for a minute and Hannah heaved a sigh of relief. Hopefully she’d got herself off the hook.

  ‘But there’s the moment, isn’t there?’ continued Laura.

  ‘What moment?’

  ‘The moment. The moment after the dance has finished. When they are not acting, when they are themselves. You can tell in that moment exactly what the relationship is. You can tell by the look. You can tell by the body language. You tell by the spontaneous embrace. You can just tell, Hannah.’

  ‘You might be able to, but not me.’

  ‘Just try,’ begged Laura. ‘Please.’

  Hannah sighed. How did she get herself into these situations?

  ‘I’ll try but I’m not promising anything,’ she eventually said.

  ‘Yes!’ hissed Laura. ‘I’ll call you as soon as I’ve finished
the research group. You are such a star. Let me know if I can return the favour in any way, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course, Laura,’ Hannah replied. ‘If I ever need someone to spy on my husband, you will be the first person I call on.’

  ‘It’s not spying.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  ‘It’s data collection.’

  To Hannah’s amazement she really enjoyed the show. Jerry had told her what a car crash the first night had been so she wasn’t expecting much but she was entranced by the stunning array of freaky costumes, the clever twists on the Alice in Wonderland story but most of all the beauty of Carly’s voice. You literally could have heard a pin drop in the large crowd that had gathered to watch the show in the darkness when she hit the high notes on her opening number.

  In fact Hannah was so swept away by it all that she completely forgot to concentrate on what may or may not have been going on between Carly and Tom on stage. As the crowd erupted with delight, and she joined them in a standing ovation, she realised she hadn’t checked what they were doing at the end of the final number and had no idea whether or not they’d shared a moment – whatever that was. It was clear, however, that they’d fixed the catastrophe from two nights ago. From the roar of the crowd it sounded to Hannah as though they had a huge success on their hands.

  She watched as Tom and Carly took their bows. They were holding hands and looked extremely happy – did that count as some kind of moment? Or were they justifiably pleased with the reaction they were getting? Tom took a step back, prompting Carly forward to take her turn in the limelight as the cheers increased. She picked up the edge of her blue skirt and did a sweeping curtsey before stepping back and pushing Tom in front of her. He shook his head in a modest fashion and then dipped down in a further bow, doffing his hat. Tom and Carly retreated to let the rest of the cast bask in the ongoing glory and then easily and comfortably they joined hands again and skipped off into the wings and out of sight. Hannah studied them carefully throughout but was still none the wiser as they disappeared.

  ‘We smashed it,’ cried Jerry, flinging his arms around Hannah. ‘We smashed it,’ he repeated right in her face, their earlier awkward conversation clearly erased by the excitement of being the supplier of the stage to a successful theme-park Halloween show. He embraced her in a bear hug and she hugged him back, carried away by his euphoria. Eventually he pulled back and gazed into her eyes. He looked so happy. So happy it almost broke her heart.