by Anita Notaro
‘Peas in a pod,’ she’d joked.
But then I’d opened my big mouth. Later, I could have kicked myself, but all I’d wanted to do was to clear the air, so we could be friends again. ‘So, how’ve you been since the semis?’
She’d put down her coffee cup on the table, so that it clattered against the saucer, and then she’d looked at me steadily, her expression unreadable. ‘I’ve been great.’ Her voice had been flat.
‘Look, Amanda, I know it wasn’t fair—’ I’d begun.
She’d put up a hand to stop me. ‘Please. Don’t.’ And then she’d shrugged. ‘Look, I’m a big girl and this is a tough business. I know the score.’ She’d fixed a smile on to her face, a smile which I knew wasn’t genuine. She’d shrugged then. ‘I’ll get over it.’ And then she’d leaned over and picked her bag up off the floor. ‘Gotta go.’
‘I’m sorry, Amanda. I just want to be friends.’ It sounded so pathetic, but it was true. ‘I couldn’t have got through it all without you.’
She’d sat there for a second, her bag on her shoulder, and her smile had been sad, and I’d felt a rush of sympathy for her. She’d wanted this so much.
‘I know, kiddo. Good luck.’ And then she was gone. Since then I’d tried calling her, but her phone had always gone to voicemail. Eventually I’d had to make do with a text: ‘Really missing you. Hope you’re OK. Catch up soon? Toni xx.’ Hopefully, she’d text me back in a few days.
Part of the reason I was so laid back, I suppose, had to do with Niall. We were both busy, but we still found time to text each other regularly throughout the day. There were silly jokes, of course, but every couple of hours, he’d text to ask how I was getting on, and whether the rehearsal had gone well. And every night after I got home, I’d curl up on the sofa and call him, and we’d spend the next hour just chatting. It was odd that we’d ever been awkward with each other, and I couldn’t imagine why now. Perhaps him being there on my mother’s final night had given us a special bond. Or maybe that had come about because he’d finally told me the truth about himself – whichever it was, deep down, we now both knew that we were the same. And that we were lucky to have found each other.
I was dying to tell Mary and Colette about him, but at the same time, I felt shy, because what exactly was I supposed to say? ‘I’ve got a boyfriend, girls.’ It made me sound about seven, and it couldn’t go anywhere near the way I felt about him. And yet, I wanted to tell everyone, because he meant so much to me.
Eventually, Colette let me off the hook. She’d called around to run a new outfit by me for the finals. Karen thought it should be something showstopping, to go with the song, something with lots of sequins and feathers, but Colette thought it should be edgier, because the song spoke for itself. I hadn’t liked the leather dress at all, and was praying she’d go for something more conventional, sighing with relief when she pulled a bright fuchsia chiffon shift out of the bag. ‘It’s simple, but that colour really pops,’ she said, ‘and it’ll suit that lovely olive complexion of yours down to the ground.’
‘I like it.’ I looked at it, thinking that it was just perfect. Soft and girly, and yet the strong colour made it more grown-up, somehow. And when I tried it on, it was gorgeous. It was a bit short, but I was getting used to that. ‘I suppose I can’t wear leggings with it?’ I joked.
‘Ha. Ha. If you want to look like an eleven-year-old, maybe. But you’re a grown woman now, Antonia. And you have great legs, you cow.’
‘Thanks. Lots of fake tan covers up a multitude.’ I smiled as I stood in front of the mirror.
‘Still have to sort out the shoes …’ She was talking to herself. ‘Maybe the nude Louboutins again, or I’ve a nice pair from Jimmy Choo.’ And then she looked at me appraisingly. ‘There’s something different about you.’
It was a statement, rather than a question, but still, I feigned surprise.
‘There is?’
‘There is. You look like the cat that got the cream.’
‘Oh.’
She smiled at me. ‘Do you remember what you were like last Saturday?’
‘God, I was a wreck, I know. It was the cold and everything. I have never felt worse in my whole life.’
‘I know, but you got through. That took guts, pet.’ And then she looked thoughtful. ‘But it’s more than that. It’s that guy, isn’t it?’
‘What guy?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, “what guy”? The hospital doctor. Wouldn’t mind seeing him in his scrubs, I can tell you.’ She chortled.
‘Colette!’
‘Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about him like that. And don’t give me the “just good friends” spiel.’
I blushed and looked down at my feet, the way I always did when I was embarrassed.
Colette guffawed. ‘Told you so. And you know what? I’m thrilled for you. You deserve it, Antonia.’
‘Thanks.’ I blushed again, but realized that I was grinning from ear to ear.
‘And he’s a great guy.’
I nodded. ‘I know.’ And I realized that I did know – Niall was a great guy, and I was lucky to have him in my life. I continued, ‘But it’s funny the way everything happens at once, isn’t it? For years, my life was the same, just Mum and me, and I honestly thought it would go on like that for ever. And now …’
‘And now, you feel as if life will never be the same again, eh?’ Colette said gently.
‘Well, yes, but then I think of how grateful I am for the opportunity—’ I began.
‘Hang on a minute, Missy,’ Colette interrupted. ‘This so-called “opportunity” is one you created yourself, because you have real talent, remember that.’
‘I’ll try,’ I said.
‘Good.’ Colette patted me on the shoulder. ‘Never forget that you made it happen, Antonia, nobody else.’
I didn’t like to tell Colette that if Eithne hadn’t entered me in the competition, I’d still be filling out job application forms and singing at Mass on Sunday. Colette had made me sound like a single-minded and ambitious girl, who’d simply gone for what she’d wanted and got it. But it wasn’t like that. I was Miss Mouse, after all. A lucky Miss Mouse, but Miss Mouse all the same.
I remembered what Niall had said to me when he’d left me that Sunday night. He’d stood on the doorstep and wrapped his arms around me. ‘No matter what happens, we won’t change,’ he’d said. ‘Even if you win and become famous, you’ll still be Antonia to me, the girl from Glenvara.’
‘And you’ll still be Niall, dedicated doctor and mountaineer,’ I’d joked.
He’d laughed. ‘You’re right. But I mean it, we won’t change. Whatever happens,’ he’d repeated. ‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
Over the next few weeks and months, I’d replay our promise to each other many times in my head as my world became more and more of a roller coaster, and my old life came to seem like something of a dream. It was odd that I saw less and less of my friends and family in Glenvara, all the people who’d loved and supported me for the previous months. It seemed so unfair, somehow. ‘That’s fame for you, pet,’ Colette said to me once. ‘And if you dare complain about it, I’ll strangle you with my bare hands.’
I didn’t complain, not about any of it, even when I got another taste of what fame was really like, the day of the finals. Colette and Mary were sitting beside me when it happened, trying to make me drink wine at eleven o’clock in the morning. We’d been laughing about how like a wedding the whole thing seemed. ‘All this fuss,’ I’d said, taking a large sip from my wine glass, and accepting Colette’s proffered bag of crisps. ‘The clothes, the make-up, I feel like I’m getting married.’ Just as I spoke, Betty dashed past with a huge tray of sausage rolls, a pot of hot tea in her hand for all the well-wishers who were turning up in their droves to wish me the best.
Betty was terribly excited about finals day, as she kept calling it, and was relishing her role as chief caterer, rushing around with sausage rolls an
d offering visitors cups of tea, whether they wanted one or not. ‘They’ve hired a tour bus to take the gang from Glenvara,’ she told me proudly. ‘Imagine! That many people want to see you.’
I should have been daunted, I suppose, surrounded by all the fuss and noise, but instead I felt curiously relaxed, sipping on my wine and allowing Colette and Mary to style my hair and try out some make-up ideas for the girls in the Celtic TV studio. I suppose I was in the eye of the storm, and it was strangely quiet there, still, even.
‘I think that gold shadow with the dark-brown mascara, don’t you?’ Mary was saying to Colette, who was nodding her head. ‘I’ll tell Valerie in make-up.’
I tried to stifle a smile. Valerie in make-up didn’t like taking instructions from Colette, who, after all, wasn’t a make-up artist, but Colette made sure she listened – and did what she was told. Nobody argued with Colette if they had any sense. But she’d transformed me from a dowdy young woman to a real pop star. Because of Colette, I looked like a grown-up – confident, assured and trendy – and I was grateful to her. It’s much easier to play the part of a pop star if you look like one, after all.
And that’s what I was doing, I realized. Playing a part. Of course, I didn’t feel like a pop star. I was still Antonia from Glenvara, but once I realized that all I had to do was to act like one and nobody would be any the wiser, I found that I could relax a little. It was just acting after all.
‘You know, this is probably the most exciting thing that has ever happened in Glenvara,’ Colette joked. ‘And the most exciting thing that will ever happen again in this one-horse town, I would have thought. This place makes my home town look like New York.’ Colette was from Youghal, a pretty fishing village in Cork, that she jokingly called the ‘end of the world’. It was hardly a city, but I supposed it must have been a bit livelier than Glenvara.
I bristled a bit. ‘Hang on, Colette! Glenvara may be quiet, but everyone’s been so brilliant …’ thinking of Betty and Bridget, Eithne and Billy, and how they’d been there for me every single step of the way. As I spoke, I could just see Bridget standing at the front door, intercepting callers, deciding who she did and didn’t like the look of, and either inviting them in or sending them packing.
‘Now, Ellen, I’m sure you’ll understand that Antonia is indisposed at present …’ we could hear her say to a local, and we all burst out laughing.
‘“Indisposed.” She makes you sound like something out of a Jane Austen novel.’ Mary giggled. ‘But seriously,’ she continued, shooting Colette a look. ‘It’s at times like these, you realize how fantastic it is to live here – even if Colette thinks it’s a one-horse town. Everyone rallies around and wants to be part of the whole thing. Although, it’s true, we haven’t had this much excitement since Barney O’Brien won the National Ploughing Championships a couple of years back.’
‘The National Ploughing Championships?’ Colette burst out laughing. ‘Crikey, I rest my case, I really do.’
‘You’re just a snob,’ Mary said tartly. ‘Anyway, Antonia, it’s your big day, well, almost. How are you feeling?’
I shifted in my chair and took another sip of wine, before putting my glass down on a table out of reach. I wasn’t used to drinking, and I didn’t want to end up singing in the finals half-drunk. ‘I actually feel OK,’ I admitted. ‘I thought I’d be quaking, but instead it all just feels surreal. It’s all too strange, really, for me to feel worried about it. Does that sound odd?’
Mary shook her head. ‘Not at all. I suppose you’ve been through the worst of it, anyway, with last week and everything …’ Her voice trailed off, and she looked at me nervously.
I reached out and touched her arm. ‘It’s OK, Mary. You’re right. Last week was an absolute disaster, but I’m still standing, so from now on, everything is a bonus. At least, that’s the way I look at it.’
‘Good for you,’ Mary said, reaching out to squeeze my hand. ‘You’ll blow them away, Antonia. I know you will.’
‘Thanks, Mary—’ I began, and then my phone bleeped. It was the hundredth time that morning, message after message, wishing me good luck, and I’d stopped answering them, just glancing at them occasionally to see who they were from. I picked up the phone now and took a quick look, seeing a bit of the message flash up on my screen. ‘BITCH …’ It seemed to begin. My heart stopped. I knew that I should delete it. That reading it would only make me feel bad, just like the previous one, but something made me press the ‘open’ button to reveal the whole text. And then I gasped so loudly, Colette looked up from her work, combing out my hair after the heated rollers.
‘What is it?’
I didn’t say anything in reply, just held out my phone so that she could read it. Her mouth moved as she said the words to herself under her breath: ‘BITCH. HOPE YOU BREAK YOUR NECK IN YOUR SILLY SHOES TONIGHT. YOU HAVEN’T A PRAYER.’
She didn’t say anything for a moment, her lips set in a thin line.
‘What, what does it say?’ Mary pulled herself up off the sofa, from where she’d been sitting, and came around to stand beside Colette to read the text. Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, who would send something like that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Colette said grimly. ‘Somebody deranged and nasty, by the looks of it. Antonia …’ she said warningly, looking at my chalk-white face. ‘You are to delete this text and forget all about it. That’s the problem with success – it makes people very jealous, and they hide behind anonymity to say all kinds of nasty things. You mustn’t let it affect you.’
I nodded silently. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t the first text I’d gotten like that. ‘I just can’t believe somebody would write something like that …’ I said.
‘Oh, Antonia, pet, you are one of the nicest people I know,’ Mary said gently. ‘But there are some not very nice people in the world as well, you know, and it can be hard to accept that, but you have to try to ignore this. It’s just somebody sad ranting on. Try to hang on to the fact that you are in the finals of That’s Talent!, and you’ve got there because you are good and you’ve worked hard, and whoever it is can go to hell.’ There were two bright spots of colour on Mary’s cheeks now, and she was fighting to keep her voice under control – Mary, who was always so sweet and patient.
‘I know,’ I murmured. ‘It’s just … after all the support, I suppose, I didn’t expect something so …’
‘Vitriolic, deranged, sad?’ Colette said. ‘It’s just some nutter, Antonia.’
‘That’s fame for you, Antonia,’ Mary said gently. ‘Colette’s right. It brings out the worst in some people, I’m afraid.’
I nodded. ‘I know.’ Of course, I didn’t know. Until the night of the semi-finals, I’d thought that everyone was happy for me. It had honestly never occurred to me that people might be envious of my success. It seemed I still had a lot to learn about life.
I looked up to see two pairs of eyes looking anxiously back at me. I knew that Colette and Mary were waiting for me to say something, to show them that this text hadn’t got me too rattled. They were relying on me to stay calm, not to be affected by it. Imagine if they knew about the other text! I thought. I couldn’t tell them about it, I just couldn’t. Instead, I put a big smile on my face. ‘You know what, I’m going to delete this message and forget all about it. It’s clearly from some crackpot and I’m not going to let it get the better of me,’ I said firmly.
‘That’s the spirit, Antonia,’ Colette said warmly. ‘Now, why don’t you let me have your mobile for the rest of the day so I can screen out any crap?’
I shook my head. ‘Thanks, Colette. I appreciate it, but I’m a big girl, honest. I can take it, and if I don’t like something, well, I can just delete it.’ And anyway, I thought, I don’t want to miss any messages from Niall.
She looked at me doubtfully. ‘Sure?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said, more firmly than I felt, pressing the ‘delete’ button and tossing the phone on to the table. ‘Ther
e, all done. Now, let’s get on with the day, shall we?’ I beamed.
‘Sure thing,’ Mary said, picking up on my tone. ‘Let’s forget all about it and concentrate on what really matters. Now, group hug,’ she ordered, and we all huddled together in a warm embrace.
‘What would I do without the two of you?’ I said, pulling away to look at them.
‘You’d be fine, I suspect,’ Colette said dryly. And I knew that she was right, I probably would, but my life wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. Because even though I tried to forget it, the text had rattled me. It hung around the edge of my thoughts for the rest of the day, even with all the fuss and distraction, even when I’d set off for The O2 in Billy’s large comfortable car – which, he proudly pointed out, he’d had valeted specially – even when we pulled up to the backstage entrance. I’m not a bitch, I know that, I kept telling myself, I’ve worked hard for this. But I wasn’t sure I believed it, not deep down, where it really mattered.
It was only when I got out of the car at the studio that the thought occurred to me that it had to be someone I knew. Who else would have known the song I’d chosen for the semis? But then I shook my head. What did it matter who’d sent them? My response had to be the same: not to let this person win, to show them that I wasn’t Miss Mouse any more.
‘Nervous?’ Valerie in make-up was standing over me, brushing powder over my face as I lay back in the chair in my dressing room in the vast backstage area of The O2. With a capacity for twenty thousand people, The O2 was a cavernous place, a warren of tiny dressing rooms and corridors backstage. The show wouldn’t start for another four hours, but Karen liked to have us ready early. I was still amazed by how much sitting around was involved in this so-called glamorous world.