by Elton, Ben
Beryl got Shaiana through it.
‘You be strong, girl,’ she said. ‘Just you be strong. And you go.’
Shaiana nodded solemnly and began.
When it was over Shaiana stared briefly at the stage beneath her feet, her chest heaving as if the strong emotions which the song had wrung from her were only now departing her body. Like rings in a disturbed rock pool, they were radiating from her centre and rippling outwards, visible in her clenched fists and quivering lips.
‘That was completely . . .’ Calvin paused lengthily for effect – ‘ordinary.’
Shaiana looked like she had been punched.
Beryl leaped to her defence.
‘Calvin, behave!’ she exclaimed. ‘She’s worked so hard!’
‘Shaiana, you’re what I call an almost act,’ Calvin continued. ‘You’re almost pretty, you can almost move a bit and you can almost sing. You’ve even almost got a personality but I’m afraid rock ’n’ roll’s a tough business and “almost” just doesn’t cut it live. Never did, never will.’
Shaiana’s lip began to quiver. Tears were springing into her eyes.
Beryl put on her mumsiest voice.
‘You really want this, don’t you, babes?’
‘Oh Beryl, I want it so much. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, it’s my dream.’
‘Well, good on you for following that dream, girl.’
‘All right,’ said Calvin decisively, ‘what’s the verdict? Is she going through to All Back to My Place or does the dream end here? Rodney?’
‘I’m afraid it’s a no from me, Shaiana.’
‘Beryl?’ Calvin asked.
Beryl did her long agonized thing, staring at Shaiana with the deepest concern. Her face was set in the look of stony Botoxed immobility that she habitually assumed to show empathy. To anyone who knew the show at all it was obvious which way she was going, there was so much pain and sorrow in her eyes. It was her ‘I love you but you’re crap, fuck off’ face.
‘I’m sorry, Shaiana, but the dream ends here. You just can’t sing well enough. You’ll never be a star.’
‘And it’s a no from me,’ said Calvin. ‘Thank you, Shaiana.’
Shaiana just stared. She didn’t cry, she didn’t plead, she just stood and stared.
‘Thank you, Shaiana,’ Calvin repeated. ‘You can go now.’
‘Where?’ Shaiana enquired, still not moving.
‘Where what?’
‘Where am I supposed to go?’ Shaiana asked, her voice suddenly like a voice from the grave, deep and disturbing. ‘I didn’t make any plans beyond now.’
‘Well, I’m afraid that’s not our problem, darling.’
‘I told you, if I can’t do this there isn’t anything else for me to do.’
‘Shaiana, goodbye.’
‘Don’t you understand? God made me for this purpose. Who are you to contradict the word of God?’
‘You have to go now, Shaiana. We have a lot of people to see, all of whom believe in themselves as much as you do.’
‘I told you, I have nowhere to go. I had only planned my life up to this point.’
‘That is not our problem.’
‘I think it is.’
‘No, it isn’t. Goodbye.’
‘Yes it is, you fucking cunts!’
At this point two security men who had been edging ever closer appeared suddenly on either side of Shaiana.
‘All right!’ Shaiana screamed. ‘But you haven’t heard the last of me, Calvin fucking Simms, or you, Rodney, or Beryl fucking Blenheim.’
Shaiana turned on her heel and ran from the stage. As she passed through the holding area she nearly knocked down Graham, who was standing with Millicent waiting to be called.
‘Get out of my fucking way, you prick!!’ Shaiana screamed. ‘Can’t you fucking look where you’re going?’
‘He’s blind!’ Millicent shouted.
‘Like that’s my problem,’ Shaiana replied and then she was gone.
Pop School: Graham and Millicent
Graham and Millicent were feeling a little emotional themselves.
They had spent the morning shooting ‘specials’. First they had been taken to a small nearby bistro where, despite the fact that it was before 10am, they were placed at a table for two set for dinner and asked to chink wine glasses. After less than ten minutes in the bistro they went outside and were filmed walking through a field of poppies hand in hand. Finally they returned to the school gym, where footage was taken of the two of them at the piano, Graham playing and Millicent singing. The shots were grabbed quickly because the crew were working without the complication of sound.
‘These are mute shots,’ Chelsie explained, ‘to be dropped in to illustrate your interview. They’ll probably run in slow mo while you talk about your love.’
‘Love?’ Graham asked.
‘Yes, you do love each other, don’t you?’
‘Well, I . . .’ Graham replied.
‘Isn’t that our private business?’ Millicent added.
‘Girlfriend,’ Chelsie reminded her firmly, ‘if you have any interest in making it in pop you had better understand that nothing is your private business any more.’
Next came the interview itself. In the school grounds the locations department had found a picturesque little bridge over a babbling stream. The interview was much more demanding than the specials, and it took Chelsie half an hour of coaxing and tutoring before she was sure she had got the sound bites she needed. She had of course planned the segment meticulously in advance, as she knew that doing the job properly on the ground saved many hours later in the edit.
When she finally pieced the interview together it ran exactly as it had done in her script:
Opening shot. Keely addressing the camera.
KEELY: ‘Meanwhile, our two young lovers, Graham and Millicent, have had lots to deal with.’
Wide shot. Graham and Millicent are revealed standing together on the bridge.
MILLICENT: ‘It has been hard for us.’
Close shot on Millicent staring down at the water.
MILLICENT: ‘After what the judges said about my singing.’
Slow motion flashback (Birmingham footage). Millicent’s face as she’s told she is holding Graham back.
MILLICENT VOICEOVER (over flashback): ‘But we believe in ourselves and I’ve worked really, really hard to improve.’
Two shot. Graham and Millicent at Pop School rehearsal piano.
Wide shot of the two of them on the bridge. Graham speaks.
GRAHAM: ‘It really hasn’t been easy.’
Slow motion two shot. Graham and Millicent at Pop School rehearsal piano. Millicent at piano, clearly disappointed in herself. Graham feels his way towards her and hugs her supportively.
GRAHAM VOICEOVER: ‘But we’re there for each other.’
Mid two shot. Once more the couple are revealed on the bridge, now with their arms round each other.
MILLICENT: ‘One thing’s for sure, this whole thing has made us stronger.’
GRAHAM: ‘It’s brought us together and nothing’s going to tear us apart.’
Long shot of bridge. Fade out.
After the filming, Graham and Millicent had been returned to the holding area to await their turn to ‘audition’. It finally came after Shaiana’s dramatic exit from the competition.
After the usual love fest with Keely they were ushered into the presence of the judges, Millicent leading Graham by the hand as she had been instructed to do.
‘Hi, Graham. Hi, Millicent!!’ Beryl squawked. ‘Welcome to Pop School!’
‘What are you going to sing for us?’ Calvin enquired.
‘We’re going to sing “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”,’ Graham replied.
Knowing that this would be the reply, Beryl had quickly tugged at the hair on the inside of her nose again to make her eyes water.
‘Graham, I salute you,’ she said through her tears. ‘For a young man with seeing issues
and ocular challenges to choose such a very beautiful and poignantly ironic song is brave beyond brave.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Rodney, ‘“The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” is a great song, tough to sing but a great choice.’
Graham and Millicent held hands and sang their song together. As predicted in the very first assessment notes that Emma had written, Millicent sang sweetly and Graham sang poorly, and once more his free hand could be seen desperately strumming the guitar that he wished he was holding.
When it was over the three judges sat for a moment in silent, awestruck respect. The inside of Beryl’s nose was now completely bald and her face was streaked with crocodile tears.
‘Mister,’ she said finally, ‘Mister, I salute you. You rock – my – world.’
‘Yes, it was an incredible performance,’ Rodney interjected. ‘You’re going to sell a lot of records, my friend.’
‘You actually made me believe that you could see that girl’s face,’ Beryl pressed on. ‘Which, considering we all know you can’t because you are so tragically blind and unsighted, is simply so poignant and ironic it isn’t funny. You are a star, mister. A great big shining blind star.’
‘Yes,’ Calvin agreed. ‘Graham shows enormous potential as a rock vocalist of great range and passion. He still had some pitching issues in his upper range . . .’
‘Calvin! Please!’ Beryl exclaimed in horror. ‘The boy is blind.’
‘And he deserves the respect of not being judged on that fact, Beryl,’ Calvin replied firmly. ‘We will consider him on his singing merit and his singing merit alone. The fact that he has overcome enormous hurdles to be singing at all is entirely irrelevant. I see Graham as a singer, not as a blind singer, and if he had come to us today as a solo singer, as far as I’m concerned he’d be through with a bullet and a serious prospect to win. But he didn’t come here as a solo singer. Did he, Millicent?’
The cameras focused on the quaking girl like the rifles of a firing squad.
‘No,’ Calvin continued, ‘he came here with you.’
Millicent could only gape in horror, her mouth open, her lower jaw almost hitting her collar bone. But no words came. Her tongue lay exposed and motionless, like a big, fat, dead fish, its tip resting on her lower front teeth. She looked as if she might never speak again.
Graham did his best.
‘We came here together, Calvin. We are Graham and Millicent.’
‘And I fear it’s beginning to look very much as if you will be leaving together,’ Calvin said.
‘No!’ Beryl exclaimed.
‘Calvin, the boy could sell a lot of records,’ Rodney added.
‘With old Mildew hanging round his neck?’ Calvin asked.
‘Well no, obviously,’ Rodney conceded, aware of his duties as a judge. ‘Clearly she’s the passenger.’
‘Passenger! It’s like Roy Orbison had teamed up with a checkout chick from Tesco’s.’
‘Except I’m sure some checkout chicks can sing,’ Beryl added.
They were speaking now as if neither Graham nor Millicent were present.
‘How do you feel, Millicent,’ Beryl asked, ‘to be the weight that’s dragging Graham down?’
What colour there had been in Millicent’s pale features had now completely drained away. Even her tongue had turned from pink to grey. The two young friends stood there motionless, powerless beneath the assault. The knuckles of their clasped hands were white with tension, shaking with it.
‘OK, here’s how it is,’ said Calvin, once more the cool professional. ‘We challenged you to improve, Millicent, and so far you have failed woefully.’
‘We said go away and grow, not go away and shrink,’ Rodney added, clearly delighted with the line.
‘But if we send you home as by rights we should, Millicent, we lose Graham. And that I am not minded to do.’
‘We can’t lose Graham!’ Beryl exclaimed. ‘He’s a babe!’
‘So in my view we have to give you another chance. One more and one more only. Go away, Millicent, and work. Work and learn and learn and work and grow. Will you do that, Millicent? Will you try to lift your game to justify this blind boy’s touching faith in you?’
But still the grey/pink mullet that lay in the saliva pit of Millicent’s lower jaw could not be stirred. No words came. Not even the suspicion of words. Just tears, suddenly and in a flood, big silent tears.
‘Millicent!!’ Beryl gasped. ‘You are being given another chance here! You’ve been given another chance when you should be going home. That’s not something to bloody cry about! I’ve seen kids during my charity work who have nothing to eat. That’s something to cry about! You should be crying tears of joy. Now go home, work, learn, pull yourself together and raise your game!’
Running through the holding area in tears, Millicent bumped into the Prince of Wales, who was deep in concerned conversation with a young mother and child. Chelsie was discreetly committing the encounter to camera.
‘Mind out where you’re fucking going!’ Chelsie shouted as Millicent ran from the room.
‘I say, no!’ the Prince exclaimed. ‘Really, please. There is a young child here. That kind of language is all very well on the rugger field or in the smoking room but it has no place among children.’
‘Sorry,’ said Chelsie.
‘I’m quite serious. How can we possibly expect children to achieve acceptable standards of civilized behaviour if we adults fail to set standards?’
‘Yes. You’re right. I’m sorry.’
‘I know I bang on about it all the time and of course I doubt anybody listens. But really, it starts with casual profanity and ends with crack cocaine.’
‘Yes. You’re right. I’m very sorry, sir,’ Chelsie insisted.
‘Good. We’ll say no more about it, eh?’ and once more the Prince turned to the young mother.
‘I’m so sorry we were interrupted,’ he said. ‘You were telling me about your little boy?’
‘I was telling you about my little Sam here, how he’s waiting for an operation.’
With the cameras still rolling, Keely walked back into shot.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said, ‘we need you for your audition.’
‘Oh bother,’ the Prince replied, adding, to the young mother, ‘Look, I have to go and strut my funky stuff, as my boys say, but I shall get someone to find out who to write to about your problem. Some ghastly quango or NHS pen pusher, I imagine. Personally I think they should stop counting the teaspoons and employ more nurses. But that’s just my opinion, and I don’t suppose any politician is going to listen to muggins here. I shall keep banging on regardless, it’s all I can do. Who’d be a prince, eh? In the meantime I shall certainly try to find somebody to write to about young Samuel here.’
‘Samson.’
‘Really? As in Judges, chapters thirteen to sixteen?’
‘No, as in the World Wrestling Federation.’
‘Goodness! How fascinating.’
‘Cut!’ said Chelsie. ‘Fucking perfect. I mean . . . great.’
Pop School: Iona
The Quasar was through. Suki the prostitute was through. Bloke were through. Stanley, the single dad who was just doing it for his kid, was through. Tabitha the lesbian was through, having turned up and been filmed wandering hand in hand with her glamorous girlfriend in the same field of poppies that had provided the backdrop for Graham and Millicent’s romantic tryst. The Four-Z were through and had paid fulsome tribute to the Lord Jesus Christ for the crucial part he had played in their success so far.
The Prince of Wales was also through, having delivered a spirited rendition of ‘The British Grenadiers’ before he was whisked off to open a Whole Earth centre in Cornwall and deliver a speech on the importance of teaching history at Exeter University. The news of the Prince’s entry into Chart Throb was not yet in the public domain since the early programmes had still to be broadcast. The confidentiality agreement that all entrants signed would have kept the news from leak
ing out had it been necessary to invoke it, but the truth was that those contestants who had noticed the Prince at all continued to believe him to be a lookalike. Even the young mother whom he had offered to try to help set no store by his promise.
‘He’s been playing it so long,’ she assured Keely, ‘I reckon he thinks he is the blooming Prince.’
The comment was of course time-code-noted for inclusion in the final edit.
As the Prince hurried away with his detectives and his equerry in tow, Iona was finally summoned for her audition.
She looked very nice and she sang very well. As an experienced semi-professional who had been through the entire audition process the year before, she had the edge and it showed.
‘I should like to sing “A Woman’s Heart”,’ she explained.
‘That’s a good song,’ Rodney said, almost by instinct. ‘“A Woman’s Heart” is a great song to choose.’
Iona turned and stared at Rodney for a moment but she did not comment. Instead she looked away and sang her song in a pleasant, clear voice with what appeared to be genuine emotion.
When it was over Beryl was once more misty-eyed. While not actually crying – she had used up the last of her reachable nose hair on Graham – she was obviously moved.
‘Iona,’ she said, ‘you owned that song.’
‘Thank you, Beryl,’ Iona replied sweetly. ‘Coming from you that means a lot because I know you’ve had your doubts about me in the past.’
‘Not today, Iona. Not today,’ Beryl replied firmly. ‘I’m a woman and a mum and I know all about the pain in a woman’s heart, particularly because, as you know, for quite some time my woman’s heart beat in a man’s body and you can’t get much more painful than that, and let me tell you now, you were so emotional it wasn’t funny.’
‘Yes, Iona,’ Calvin agreed, ‘I thought that was a very fine performance indeed. Clearly as a woman you understand heartache. You’ve been through rejection and disappointment and you’ve used it to grow. Don’t you think so, Rodney?’
Calvin, Beryl and Iona all turned to look at the hapless Rodney. There was a long pause before Rodney turned to Calvin and whispered sotto voce, ‘Please, Calvin . . .’