A Moment Like This

by Anita Notaro

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Bridget,’ Betty chided. ‘This is hardly the place for that kind of behaviour.’

  ‘Oh, I’d say it’s exactly the place, wouldn’t you, Antonia, my love? Lots of attractive young men about …’ And she winked at me. I winked back. I knew that she was trying to distract me, and I was glad of it, to be honest. My stomach felt as if it was one huge knot, and my forehead was clammy, my ears ringing in pain from my cold.

  ‘I need to sit down,’ I managed, and Betty took me by the arm and led me to a sofa, pushing aside a pile of coats and bags to make room for me.

  I sat there while she held my hand and soothed me. ‘Your mammy would be so proud, love, no matter what happens.’

  No matter what happens. I knew what I wanted to happen, of course. I wanted to win. Especially now that I’d made such a mess of things. Until yesterday, all I’d wanted to do was my best, to sing as well as I could and see how far it took me. Miss Mouse hadn’t wanted to win anything. That was for ambitious people, people like Amanda. But maybe, I wondered now, I was more ambitious than I’d thought. Maybe Niall was right. I was getting sucked into this whole thing. But then it was hard not to. He didn’t understand how all-consuming the round of rehearsals, run-throughs, photocalls and performances actually was. You didn’t have a moment to breathe. It seemed funny that I’d been looking for a job just a few weeks ago – now, I couldn’t even imagine how I’d find the time.

  The clock had ground forward to the hour, and the audience votes were in. Karen came to the backstage area, a loudhailer in her hand, and bellowed, ‘Acts to backstage, acts to backstage!’ at the top of her voice.

  ‘Oh, God, that’s me,’ I said, getting shakily to my feet. ‘Wish me luck, everyone.’

  Sister Monica squeezed me hard. ‘You don’t need luck, Antonia. You have a God-given talent and everyone will see that. Besides, I believe in the power of prayer, and I’ve never prayed so much in my entire life.’ She smiled.

  ‘Well, say another few Hail Marys, everyone,’ I managed.

  ‘Good luck, Antonia!’ I was smothered in hugs and kisses before Karen tracked me down, chiding me gently for being late. I allowed her to lead me to the backstage area where the acts had gathered, all of us jittery with nerves.

  I found Amanda and hugged her tightly. ‘Here goes,’ I said.

  ‘Oooh, the nerves are killing me,’ she said tightly, clutching her stomach. ‘There’s no way I’ll be able to stand up on stage for the results.’

  ‘You won’t need to. We’ll do it together,’ I said. ‘OK?’

  She nodded. ‘OK. You and me. Like sisters.’ She grinned.

  ‘That’s it.’ I nodded. ‘Like sisters.’

  We held hands and walked out on to the stage together, waving and smiling enthusiastically as the audience’s cheering grew to a roar. It was deafening, only subsiding after several attempts by Aaron to get them to be quiet.

  ‘And now,’ he said. ‘The moment you’ve all been waiting for. The votes are in, and the phone lines are now closed. The results will be announced in reverse order with only the last three contestants going through to the live final, here, next week. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s see which of these brilliant acts you’ve voted into the final of That’s Talent!’

  The audience roared again, as one by one, photos of the acts flashed on to a big screen above our heads, along with our numbers. By this stage, Amanda was squeezing my hand so tight, I thought she’d cut my circulation off, and I leaned over to her and whispered, ‘It’ll be OK.’

  She gave me a watery smile and looked dead ahead, for the cameras, as one by one, the acts’ names were called out and the unlucky ones left the stage. And then there were only four of us: Damien, the talented singer-songwriter, 4Guys, Amanda and myself. One of us had to go, and I knew, just knew it would be me. I hadn’t done enough tonight, surely?

  It seemed that Aaron deliberately slowed everything down then, leaving a huge pause after he said, ‘And the final act to be leaving us tonight is …’ It seemed that the world stood still. I could see that the audience was screaming with excitement, but I couldn’t hear them for the roaring in my ears. I thought I’d faint, and found myself leaning on Amanda for support. I didn’t hear the name being called, except suddenly she was pulling her hand out of mine, and walking away from me across the stage. She didn’t even look back, just kept on walking as I stood there, my mouth open in surprise, nearly falling over as Damien threw himself on me.

  ‘We’re through, we’re through,’ he kept yelling, but it still didn’t sink in, until I was pulled into the centre of the stage and Aaron announced our names one by one.

  ‘And, going through to the grand final, in this same spot next week, in third place …’ and he called out the name of 4Guys, who whooped and cheered, and one of them, Karl, did a cartwheel on the stage.

  ‘And in second place … the nightingale herself, Antonia Trent!’ As he called my name, I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them, I was still there, on the stage, the lights hot and bright on my face, and Damien was hugging me and the tears were pouring down my cheeks. I’d made it. In spite of everything, I’d made it. Whoever had sent that text had been wrong. I’d proved them wrong. Mum would have been proud of me. I knew that.

  Backstage it was complete mayhem, with crowds milling about, all wanting to get near to us, it seemed, as if some of the magic would wear off if they did. Maybe everyone wants to be famous these days, I thought. Somehow, Karen managed to find me in the chaos, taking me by the arm and steering me firmly down a narrow corridor to the press room. ‘The Sundays want a photo, so we’ll get that done now,’ she said briskly, opening the door so suddenly I was blinded, flashbulbs going off all around me. I could hardly believe it, and just stood there, blinking and trying to smile.

  ‘Toni, how does it feel, having got through after the night you had tonight?’ one of the journalists asked, before Karen interrupted.

  ‘Not now, guys, Toni is exhausted. But talk to Jean and she’ll arrange interviews, OK?’

  ‘Just one quick question. Toni. What would your mum say if she was here to see you?’ a cute guy with a kind face asked me.

  I swallowed, thinking that she was the only reason I’d got through tonight, and took a deep breath. ‘Well, I think she’d be proud and delighted for me, but I am just still in shock that I’ve gotten this far,’ I said. And I was in shock. After that performance, I couldn’t see how I’d made it, and yet the audience had been kind to me, had seen something that maybe I hadn’t. Either way, I’d made it. I felt a pang for a moment, for Amanda, and I wondered if I should go after her, see if she was in the dressing room still. I felt I needed to say something to her. She’d given the performance of her life and, well, I hadn’t. I knew that. Somehow, it didn’t feel fair, and yet I didn’t really know what I could do about it.

  I was distracted by Karen. ‘OK, guys, that’s it, this is just a photo op,’ she said, and led me out of the room.

  ‘You OK?’ she asked as soon as we were outside.

  ‘Yeah, but wow, that was wild.’

  ‘Well, you’re the star of the show tonight, that’s for sure.’ She grinned.

  ‘But Damien won,’ I protested. ‘And he deserved to – he should be the one getting all the attention.’

  ‘He’ll get his share, don’t you worry, but you’ve really hit a nerve, Toni, do you know that?’ Karen said. ‘Everyone loves your story, the way you came from nowhere and made it to the finals, because it could be theirs, except they don’t have the talent, of course.’ She laughed. ‘You’re living their dream, Antonia. That’s why they love you.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, unable to think of anything sensible to say, except, ‘I’m not sure I’m ready for all of this. All this attention …’

  ‘Oh, you are, Toni. You’re stronger than you think,’ she said. ‘And don’t worry, we’ll mind you, that’s part of the job,’ she continued as we headed for the backstage green room and once again my
gang went wild.

  Even Sister Monica was grinning from ear to ear as they all hugged me. ‘Antonia, my prayers were answered,’ she said as everyone gathered around me, congratulating me and opening bottles of champagne.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you you’d do it?’ Bridget said triumphantly.

  I nodded, feeling a sudden wave of dizziness wash over me. ‘I’m wrecked,’ I had to admit. ‘All the adrenaline kept me going, but now I just want to lie down and never get up again.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Billy said reassuringly.

  ‘And you should have seen the amount of photographers we had to meet,’ I said to them. ‘I’m really not sure I’m up to all this.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ he hugged me again and I thought of Karen’s words, ‘You’re stronger than you think.’ I wasn’t so sure that she was right.

  ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, I want it all, but I just can’t take the attention,’ I told Billy. ‘It terrifies me.’

  ‘Well, just take it one step at a time, OK, pet? And we’ll mind you, won’t we, gang?’

  There was a chorus of yeses and I had to smile. ‘Thanks. Just knowing you lot were here is what got me through.’

  ‘My God the tension waiting for the result! They sure know how to milk it. Sister Monica nearly broke my arm she had me in such a grip.’ Billy laughed. ‘Then when your name wasn’t called out she started praying out loud.’ We all laughed, including Sister Monica, who was sipping from a glass of champagne.

  She nodded and said, ‘I could get used to this. I’ll tell you, it’s going to be hard getting back to prayers on a Saturday night when all this is over.’

  ‘I think I owe God a major thank you,’ I said. ‘God and you lot,’ and everyone whooped and cheered again. ‘But now, I have to go home, everyone. I’m just beat. I hope you all understand.’

  There was a chorus of agreement. ‘I’ll go and get your things,’ Colette volunteered, clattering off to the green room in her platform heels, as everyone finished up their champagne. It was funny, the whole thing felt a bit anticlimactic. I had spent the day feeling worse than I had ever done in my entire life, and it had taken everything for me to perform. It had been such a grind that now, I simply felt drained.

  Later on, in the car, I remembered to switch on my phone. My inbox was crammed with good wishes from everyone, from the florist in Glenvara to the girls in Mary’s office. It seemed as if the whole country was rooting for me. But there was only one message I really wanted to see.

  I kept Niall’s for last. I could see the envelope and his name beside it, but I waited before opening it. ‘So sorry I can’t be there for you tonight, but I’ll be watching every step of the way. Promise. Love, Niall xx.’

  I put the phone down on my lap and wondered for a moment, then I looked at the message again. He’d had an emergency at the hospital, so he’d had to leave. That was fine. I understood, and I was relieved that he was still talking to me after the row we’d had. But ‘love, Niall’? What did it mean? I was probably just reading too much into it, I thought. Everyone said ‘love’ nowadays. Still, I dithered, wondering how to reply. If I said ‘love’ would that mean what I thought it meant? Oh, God, I was tying myself up in knots. Eventually, I took a deep breath and composed a reply. ‘Thanks – really appreciated the support, and hope to see you soon.’ Does that sound a bit businesslike? I wondered, my finger hovering over the ‘send’ button. I added, ‘Antonia xxx’ and pressed ‘send’.

  And then, when the car pulled up outside the house, I waved goodbye to Colette and Mary, opened my front door, went straight up the stairs and threw myself on the bed, still in my leather dress. I felt my bedspread under my cheek as I tried to keep my eyes open for a second, just long enough to try to persuade myself to remove my eye make-up and brush my teeth. But it was no good. I just didn’t have an ounce more energy. I was beat.

  19

  WHEN I WOKE up it was still dark. I sat up in bed, groping around for my mobile phone. I blinked at its harsh light and looked at the time. Six o’clock. I couldn’t believe I’d only slept for four hours – must be all the excitement, I thought. Perhaps I just couldn’t wind down, not yet. Still, at least I could take off my make-up now. I felt a lot better – my temperature seemed to have gone down.

  I put on a dressing gown and shuffled to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and attempting to remove some of the make-up from my face. It was a hard job, because they really trowel it on thick for these shows, but ten minutes and two applications of face scrub later, I was just about presentable. It was funny. My face looked so different without a thick layer of foundation, and the smoky eyeliner Colette liked applying to my upper eyelids. I looked younger, somehow, fresher, I thought. Odd, people kept telling me how much better I looked with an inch of foundation applied to my face. I hardly recognized myself with it on, but still, the natural look would probably not work well on television. I giggled to myself.

  I had just finished when I heard a loud noise downstairs. My heart stopped. A burglar. It had to be at this hour. I crept to the bathroom door, and stuck my head around it. There was a rustling at the letterbox and then it flapped open and a voice shouted, ‘Antonia? Are you in there?’

  Niall. I ran down the stairs thanking God that I’d brushed my teeth, which was an odd thought, I supposed, but still. It was only when I opened the door that I realized I still had my pink fluffy dressing gown on over my leather dress. Too late, I thought.

  He was obscured by a huge bouquet of flowers, so big he had to crane his neck around them to say hello. ‘Hi. These are for you,’ he said shyly.

  ‘Well, I should hope so.’ I grinned. ‘Otherwise, you are breaking into my house with a large bunch of flowers.’ And then I thought, was that the right thing to say – something cheeky, jokey – after what had happened yesterday morning?

  I knew I was OK when he laughed out loud. ‘Very droll,’ he said, handing me the flowers. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I replied, taking the huge bouquet into my arms. I could barely hold them, and the heavy scent of lilies filled the air. I love lilies. ‘They’re beautiful. Are you just off shift?’

  ‘No,’ he looked surprised, and I thought, of course, he couldn’t be. He was dressed in jeans and a skating hoodie that I’d never seen him in before – it was olive green and it suited him. Made him look less … uptight, I thought, although perhaps it was better not to mention that.

  ‘It’s just … it’s quite early …’ I began.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s dinner time, Antonia. Six thirty. On Sunday.’

  I put a hand to my mouth. ‘Oh my goodness. I must have slept for the whole day!’

  ‘Are you just awake?’ He looked at me as if I’d lost my marbles.

  ‘Well, I must be, I suppose.’ I burst out laughing, and so did he.

  ‘You’re worse than me,’ he joked.

  ‘Sorry, it’s just I was so exhausted, with the cold and the semis and everything …’ And then I remembered my manners. ‘Come on in.’

  He shifted from foot to foot. ‘Ah, no, I’ll leave you to it—’

  ‘To what?’ I interrupted him. ‘To my exciting evening washing my hair and ordering a takeaway?’

  He shrugged and grinned. ‘Oh, well, maybe we can do it together. My hair needs a wash. Not that it’ll take long,’ he said ruefully, patting his thinning blond hair.

  ‘Very funny,’ I said, ushering him in the door, wondering why it was we got on so well sometimes and others, well …

  He stood in the living-room doorway for a bit, looking uncertain. Searching for something to do, I said, ‘I’ll just put some tea on.’ Before he had the time to reply, I scuttled off to the kitchen and busied myself filling the kettle.

  ‘So, how does it feel to be in the finals?’ he shouted from the living room.

  ‘Strange,’ I replied. ‘The whole thing was a bit of a blur, to be honest.’ I took my time putting the tea bags into the cups, pouring over the boiling water, sniff
ing the milk for signs that it was still fresh. The truth was, I didn’t know what to say to Niall about the row, and yet I knew that I should say something. We couldn’t just pretend it hadn’t happened, could we?

  But I didn’t have to, because he came straight into the kitchen and took the mugs of tea away from me, putting them down on the counter. ‘There, we’ll leave them to brew for a few minutes,’ he said, and then he took my hands in his much larger ones. ‘I’m sorry about yesterday, Antonia, I was way out of line—’

  ‘Oh, so was I,’ I interrupted. ‘You see, I was feeling just so bad and so guilty that I’d dragged you out—’

  He silenced me by putting a finger to my lips. I felt my stomach flip. ‘It’s not you, Antonia, it’s me.’

  ‘You?’ I looked at him incredulously. I didn’t understand. I was the selfish one, surely, with my all-consuming, well, ‘career’ was probably not the right word for it, I thought – my life. Because it was my life right now.

  ‘Yes, me. I haven’t been entirely honest with you, and I’ve blamed you for it. And I’m sorry.’ He looked so upset that I wanted to hug him, but didn’t dare, in case he got the wrong message.

  Instead, I shook my head. ‘I don’t understand …’ I said.

  ‘C’mon, let’s go and sit down,’ he said, taking me by the hand and leading me into the sitting room, where he pulled me down beside him on the sofa.

  I waited for him to talk, looking at him as he ran a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was harassed, his forehead creasing in concentration. Eventually, he took a deep breath. ‘You remember when I talked about your background, and how it didn’t give you the confidence that everyone else has?’

  ‘Yes.’ I looked at him suspiciously, hoping that he wasn’t going to rake all that up again. Because I’d made my peace with that when I was seven, and didn’t see the need to go over and over it.