by Tracy Bloom
‘And his sausages are shit.’ He dropped the boxes on the floor and then straightened up, stretching his back. ‘Hiya, Will, mate,’ he called over. ‘Where’s the number of that osteopath, love? I need some serious knuckles on my spine, if you know what I mean?’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Laura
The show was drawing to a close now and the entire cast was in the midst of delivering the Twisted Tango. Tom and Carly flicked and kicked their way through the complicated routine. They were so in tune with each other that Laura couldn’t help but admire their flawless synchronicity. Their faces were fixed and rigid as they expressed the intensity of the dance. Their bodies slipped and slid all over each other and Laura held her breath as the music built to a crescendo. This was it. This was the moment she had to see but couldn’t bear to watch.
Tom and Carly were alone at the front of the stage, the rest of the cast having lined up as a row of playing cards at the back, forming an impressive backdrop to the couple’s finest moment. Tom and Carly curled and swooped and bent around each other, casting striking shapes and patterns until the music ended with a dramatic flourish and the cards at the back of the stage tumbled over in perfect formation. The Mad Bad Hatter caught Malice up in his arms and swooped her on to his right shoulder in a triumphant final pose.
Laura could feel and hear the delight of the crowd behind her. They stamped their feet, clapped their hands and cheered and cheered while the performers held their final positions on stage.
Tom carefully slid Carly back down to the floor. Their eyes met as her feet made contact with the stage. They were nose to nose, oblivious as the cheers continued to echo around them. Tom grinned first, then Carly, and then they embraced, there on stage in front of hundreds of people. Tom buried his face in her neck and lifted her feet off the floor and swung her around before they fell apart and smiled from ear to ear at each other again.
Laura pulled her long coat around her and wrapped her arms protectively around her chest. The icy wind bit into her cheeks as she hurried away from the stage, pushing through the crowd of delighted theme-park goers, stamping their feet and cheering as the final curtain came down on Malice in Wonderland. She’d seen more than enough.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tom
That was it. They’d done it. It was all over. One hand supported Carly’s legs on his shoulders whilst the other was stretched out to his side. He fixed his broad grin for a count of eight, trying to absorb the reaction as much as he could until he assisted Carly to the floor and they wrapped themselves around each other in pure joy. If he weren’t on the stage he would have fallen to the floor and sobbed his heart out, such was the emotion tearing through his body right now. Instead, he took Carly’s hand from around his neck and led her to the front of the stage where they took their bows, the roar of the audience ringing in his ears.
They rose back up again and Tom gave himself a moment to commit the scene to his mind. A sea of kids in scarves and hats on grown-ups’ shoulders bobbed up and down, smiling, laughing and cheering. A small army of theme-park staff stood at the back, wolf-whistling and waving, having been allowed by Phillip to come and see the final performance of the show. The rumours had spread that it was actually something Wonderland should be proud of, which caused quite a stir among the rest of the staff, who were mostly cynical when it came to on-park entertainment. Right at the very front Tom could see Jerry on the verge of a nervous breakdown: jumping up and down, whistling, stamping his feet, his face bright red with excitement. He paused to give Tom a thumbs up, then blew him a kiss. Christ, thought Tom, Jerry was getting all theatrical on him. He was so taking this producer thing too far. Then he stopped. Where was Laura? He’d been so pleased to see her sitting next to Jerry when he’d first stepped out on to stage. He’d flashed her a massive grin and then thrown himself into his performance. He was determined to go out with a bang. But now, he could only see Jerry. The seat where Laura had been sitting was empty. Where on earth had she gone? Tom spotted Phillip with a couple of suits from Head Office completing the front-row line-up. His heart sank. Phillip hadn’t mentioned anything about VIPs. He should have learnt from bringing them to the first show that it was a bad idea. One was whispering something in Phillip’s ear so Tom couldn’t see his face; but he was clapping, Tom noticed. That had to be a good sign. Surely they couldn’t fail to be impressed by what had become the best show Tom had ever been involved with.
Every day it had improved. Every day Tom had made Amy sit in the audience and then give her opinion on the performance. In true Amy style she’d pulled no punches, but instead of shrugging his shoulders and not doing anything about it, Tom had done his best to fix the mistakes. Every day he made the cast come in early to listen to Amy’s review and they’d agreed on how they could improve things until eventually even the cast members were coming up with their own enhancements without being asked. The buzz in the dressing room was no longer about the stink of chip fat or the lack of mirrors, but about how they were going to top the previous night’s show. The cast had grown into a company who all wanted the same thing: to deliver the best possible show they could.
Tom and Carly stepped back and allowed everyone else to take their last bow in the limelight. Tom took his opportunity to look in the wings to check if Laura was waiting for him there but she was nowhere to be seen.
One last glance at the delighted crowd and he signalled for the tarot cards to start shuffling off the stage. The stage lights lowered and the security lights emerged on full beam to guide the guests back to the exit and their journey home.
The cast bounced off stage, whooping and hollering into the blackness of the wings and back out into the real world again. A world not dominated by rehearsals and performances and costumes and make-up, fuelled by nerves and adrenaline.
Usually, when the curtain closed on a theme-park season Tom experienced a feeling that can only be described as dullness edged in failure. Another year wasted delivering lacklustre entertainment with only the prospect of a few months’ planning another load of lacklustre entertainment for the following year to look forward to.
But there was no dullness this evening. He felt on top of the world, alive and happy. Really happy. A happiness that was bursting inside him and which he had to try his hardest to grab hold of because any minute he knew it would deflate leaving a shell of remembered joy.
He bounced into the dressing room, leapfrogged over Tweedledee who was undoing his shoelaces and leapt straight on to the steel bench.
‘Shut uuuuuuuuup,’ he shouted at the top of his voice above all the post-show hubbub. As if by magic Amy appeared and banged the bench very loudly with a frying pan. Everyone immediately shut up.
‘Thank you,’ he said, throwing his arms wide. ‘I just want to thank you all for the most amazing experience! I’ve dreamt of doing a show like this for so long and you guys made it happen.’ Jerry gave a loud cough at the back of the room. ‘And especially you, Jerry of Camberwells Construction. The best mate any man could have. A mate with tradesmen at his fingertips.’ Everyone laughed. ‘This happened because of you too, mate.’ Tom thought Jerry might burst with pride. He watched him cast his head round to make sure everyone knew exactly who Jerry Knight was. He looked back up at Tom and then took a step forward and Tom realised that Jerry was going to try and join him on his makeshift stage and possibly make a speech. He decided he had to wrap up quickly before Jerry could get to him but before he could do so Carly was hoisted up on to the workbench by Tweedledum and Tweedledee.
‘Just one minute,’ she said and grabbed an enormous bottle of champagne out of someone’s hands. ‘May I butt in?’ she asked, turning to put her hand on his arm. ‘Tom, on behalf of the entire cast of Malice in Wonderland, I would like to say that you have been bloody awesome.’ She threw an arm around him, raising the bottle of champagne in the air with her free hand. Everyone stamped their feet and cheered. Jerry stopped in his tracks, realising this wasn’t his mo
ment.
‘Malice in Wonderland is a brilliant show,’ announced Carly. ‘We all did our best to fuck it up for you – well, actually Theo did his best to try and fuck it up for you,’ she continued as Theo turned bright red in his supporting-cast, tarot-card costume. ‘But the truth is, even though you perhaps didn’t always think so, there was no way it could fail. Your vision and creativity were far too strong for that. All we had to do was deliver it. And didn’t we do just that?’ she cried out to her appreciative audience.
The crowd roared and suddenly all the pots and pans in the place were pulled off the shelves and an impromptu conga line was formed, lids and spoons creating a rhythmic beat.
Carly turned and took Tom’s hand. ‘Shall we?’ she asked.
‘Don’t mind if I do.’ He grinned, and they sashayed around the workbench to the beat of kitchen-utensil music. When Carly nearly fell off, Tom grabbed her, pulling her in close.
‘You did that,’ she said to him, nodding at the demented crowd.
‘I know,’ said Tom, grinning back at her.
‘Help me up, will ya?’ came a cry from Jerry, standing behind them.
Tom laughed and held out his hand, hauling him up with all his strength.
‘Looks like there’s quite a party going on up here,’ Jerry said, raising his eyebrows at Tom.
‘Just telling your mate how brilliant he is,’ Carly yelled at Jerry, trying to make herself heard over the din.
‘What, him?’ said Jerry. ‘Utter fuck-up until I got hold of him. You know what they say, behind every great show there’s a—’
‘Man who knows an electrician,’ interrupted Tom.
‘Precisely,’ agreed Jerry, slapping him on the back.
‘May I interrupt just for a moment?’
Tom looked down and saw Phillip standing next to the workbench, surrounded by youthful debauchery. Shit, the scores, he thought. Phillip had said he was going to get Archie to run off the show average for the whole run. He must have the result. He scrutinised Phillip’s face. He was smiling although it did look as though it was through gritted teeth. But then again he was getting pummelled in the back by not one but two foam flamingo croquet sticks, which could explain his discomfort.
Tom fell to his knees and shouted in Phillip’s ear: ‘Did we manage it?’ He knew the scores had been consistently good all week but it was never over until the fat lady sang. Particularly in show business.
Phillip offered Tom his hand, which Tom shook, thinking it was a tad over-formal.
‘Pull me up, you fool,’ Phillip said. ‘Let's tell everyone, shall we?’
Tom grabbed his hand and hauled him up to join him, Jerry and Carly on the now rather crowded steel table. Phillip coughed politely as though that would be sufficient to grab the attention of the bawdy revellers. Tom searched the crowd for Amy to see if she could do the honours again and within moments there was a massive clatter of pots and pans. Phillip covered his ears in horror.
‘Thank you,’ he said when everyone had finally noticed the big boss was awaiting their attention. ‘Before you all go off to goodness knows where now the theme park is shut I thought you might like to hear your overall average score for the show.’
‘Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten,’ came a shout from the back of the room until everyone else joined in. The only person who could calm them was Amy.
‘Will you all shut up and listen to the man,’ she screamed. ‘Oh, and by the way, for those of you who clearly failed Maths GCSE: there is no way we can get ten, as this is an average overall score. Can anyone tell me what an average is?’
Everyone stared back at her blankly.
‘Thought not. You add up all the scores and then divide that figure by the number of days the show ran for. Do you understand?’
Still silence.
Amy shook her head in despair. ‘In idiot speak, to achieve an average of ten, we would have to have scored a ten for every show, which we know we didn't.’ Amy turned to address Phillip. ‘May I offer my apologies for the stupidity of this cast? Numbers are not their strong point.’
Phillip looked out over the now silent crowd. ‘Can I start by offering my congratulations to you all for a job very well done—’ he began but Amy interrupted his flow by tugging on his coat.
‘I'd get on with it if I were you. Just tell us the scores and you can go home.’
Phillip nodded, then reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
‘I'm delighted to announce that your average score for Malice in Wonderland has ended up as a whopping nine point two.’
The cast went wild, shouting and cheering. Tom embraced Carly and Jerry and they all started jumping up and down again, very nearly pushing Phillip from his podium.
‘However . . .’ Phillip shouted at the top of his voice.
Oh no. There's a however, thought Tom.
Everyone hushed.
‘However, if you take out the first show’s score, which we could in hindsight treat as an extended dress rehearsal . . .’ he said, pausing to look at Tom.
Tom nodded enthusiastically.
‘Then your average score from the guests of Wonderland Theme Park would be an extremely impressive nine point five.’
‘Nine point five,’ gasped Jerry. ‘Round that up and it's a perfect ten,’ he said, grinning at Amy. ‘Ten, ten, ten, ten,’ he chanted until the entire building was a vibrating cacophony of shouting tens, all pointing at Amy.
‘No,’ she screamed back. ‘You can't claim a ten. The average can't be ten.’
Jerry jumped down from the table and with the help of Tweedledum and Tweedledee lifted a kicking and screaming Amy on to his shoulders. She bobbed about above the crowd and eventually had to force a smile and start chanting ten along with everyone else.
‘Well done,’ said Phillip, turning to Tom amidst the chaos. ‘I wasn't sure this was all going to work out but it's been a massive success. Commercial spends are up fifteen per cent as well so Head Office are coming in for a meeting at the end of next week to find out how we did it. You're around next week, aren't you?’
‘Should be,’ he replied, glancing over at Carly.
‘I think they might ask you to look at the entertainment offering at some of the other group attractions, so be ready for that.’
Tom nodded, but looked blank, struggling to take in what Phillip was saying.
‘You understand this could be a big opportunity for you,’ continued Phillip. ‘They’re very impressed with the reaction they saw this evening. They’re rethinking entertainment and you could be a big part of that.’
‘So they liked it?’ asked Tom.
Phillip nodded. ‘They really liked it. Especially the scores, of course.’
‘Of course,’ said Tom. ‘So I still have a job then?’
‘More than that,’ said Phillip. ‘This could lead to something much bigger, Tom. Seriously well done.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Tom, feeling a little dazed.
‘So is Laura here?’ Phillip asked, casting his eye around the room.
‘Er, no. I don’t know where she is actually. She disappeared after the end of the show.’
‘Shame. I wanted to thank her too. We would have given up if it hadn't been for her, wouldn’t we?’
‘Probably,’ Tom was forced to agree.
‘Will you pass on my thanks? Tell her I'll be in touch soon. I’ve got some thoughts on a few other projects she can help us with. She's clearly got a good head on her shoulders, that one. No idea why she married you,’ Phillip said with a grin.
‘Neither do I,’ replied Tom.
‘Well, I'll leave you to it. Have a good night. You deserve it. See you tomorrow.’
‘I've booked a day off.’
‘Oh, right. Well, Tuesday then.’
‘Yes. See you on Tuesday.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Laura
Laura was curled up in her pyjamas at home, trying to block out the turmoil in her b
rain by watching the Strictly Come Dancing results show, when her phone rang.
‘Where the hell are you?’ she heard Hannah whisper. ‘Why aren’t you here? I really need to talk to you about what’s happened this afternoon. I’ve had one,’ she hissed.
Laura looked at the phone in confusion. She’d assumed Hannah must be ringing to ask why she wasn’t at the after-show party where Tom would be having the time of his life with Carly, his ‘favourite leading lady’. She turned down the volume on the telly to make sure she could hear what Hannah was saying.
‘What did you say?’ she hissed back.
‘I said I’ve had one,’ Hannah whispered again and then laughed.
‘What have you had?’ asked Laura, pressing pause on the TV. She was starting to get impatient.
‘Are you ready for this?’ asked Hannah.
‘I’ve no idea!’ cried Laura. ‘You rang me!’
‘You are so not ready for it,’ declared Hannah.
‘If you say so,’ said Laura sarcastically. ‘Go on then, spit it out. I’ve got Claudia Winkleman hovering very strangely.’
‘I really don’t know how to tell you.’ Hannah laughed again.
‘Are you pissed?’ asked Laura, suddenly feeling suspicious. She checked her watch. The party must barely have started.
‘Possibly,’ replied Hannah. ‘I opened a bottle before everyone arrived. But, Laura, I feel so happy I could burst.’
Laura looked at her phone in amazement. ‘Excuse me but I am speaking to Hannah, aren’t I?’
‘Yes!’
‘You don’t sound normal.’
‘That’s because my normal was bloody miserable,’ Hannah said. ‘Now I’m happy and hope very much that this will become my new normal.’
Laura picked up the remote control and switched Claudia off. Anything that made Hannah swear deserved her full attention.
‘So what has brought on this dramatic change in personality?’ she asked.