‘When I saw you today, all I could keep thinking was that you should have been on stage your whole life. Because of me, you ended up giving up your dancing and your singing and working in an office. All because I didn’t tell you to go for it when I should have.’
‘You did what you thought was best, Dad. You did what any sensible person would have done. For every little girl who follows her dream of being on stage and actually achieves it, there are thousands – maybe even hundreds of thousands – more who don’t get there and find that striving to succeed has cost them all sorts of ordinary happiness. Who knows what might have happened if I’d gone ahead and done that advert when I was seven. You’re right, I might have been the next Denise van Outen, like I wanted to back then. But I would probably have got fed-up with all the hours of practice I’d need to put in while my friends were all out having fun with boys. Or I’d have had more early success that petered out when I hit puberty, leaving me feeling rejected. Or I’d have turned into a proper prima donna and ended up with a fantastic career but no friends.’
‘You’d never have ended up with no friends,’ said Stu. ‘That’s one certain thing about you, Kirsty. I’ve seen that all your life. You know how to treat other people right. Everybody knows how warm you are. They all fall in love with you. No, I did you a great disservice back when you were a kid. I was frightened and I didn’t trust you to have the strength it takes to be a performer. I misjudged you. The stars were there within touching distance for you, my love, and I moved them further away. I should have listened to your mother. I made so many mistakes.’
‘Dad,’ said Kirsty. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘I robbed you of your dream.’
‘I’m living my dream right now, aren’t I, and however I got here, it was the right way. I’m glad I didn’t have everything fall into place when I was still a kid. And I know that everything you’ve done for me, Dad, has come from the right place. From love.’
‘Will you forgive me?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive.’
And Kirsty was surprised to find, as she said those words, that she absolutely meant them. ‘Everything has turned out just right.’
Elaine rang the bell.
‘Five minutes,’ she warned the players.
‘You’d better get back to your seat,’ said Kirsty to her father. ‘But I’ll see you afterwards, won’t I? You’re not going to grab India and rush straight off without saying goodbye?’
‘Of course not. Linzi’s here too. She wants to congratulate you. By the way, which one is your boyfriend?’
‘The one in the flares.’
‘The prince?’
‘That’s him.’
‘Oh, Linzi was sure it would be the other one.’
‘Which other one?’
‘Buttons.’
‘What?’
The bell rang again.
‘I’ll see you later. Break a leg.’
Watching her father navigate his way through a crowd of mice to get back to the auditorium, Kirsty knew that the second act was going to be her best yet.
Chapter Eighty-Two
Thea was on stage in a great many scenes that evening. She had clearly watched Thomas Nuttall very closely. She did not miss a cue. Not a beat. She whirled and twirled as the fairy godmother turned her into a footman. She squeaked with authentic fright and squirmed and wriggled as the clock struck midnight and her transformation back to rodent began.
Watching from the wings whenever he was able, Ben was full of pride and love for his darling little girl. But best of all was when they were on stage together.
As lead mouse, Thea was now one of only two mice who were on stage when Ben presented the song-sheet. Her job was to sing along and encourage the children plucked from the audience. To make them feel comfortable in what might otherwise be an intimidating situation.
Thea grinned at her father as he went through his spiel. A flash from the stalls told them Judy was capturing the moment for ever on her digital camera.
When the song-sheet was over and the audience members were back in their seats, Ben lifted Thea off her feet and twirled her round. The audience had applauded the brave children who got up to sing. Now Ben asked them to cheer the mice, especially his daughter who’d stepped in at the last moment that night to take a speaking part.
Thea gave a bow. And another and another.
‘Come on, floppy ear!’
Ben had to carry her off-stage.
Chapter Eighty-Three
The final scenes went brilliantly. The Ugly Sisters got even bigger laughs than usual. They were demob happy and brought out all their dirtiest jokes, not caring who might be offended. Least of all, Jon. His horrified expression as the sisters squeezed him in the middle of a fake boob sandwich was priceless.
‘Is that a Christmas tree you’ve got in your pocket, Euripides?’ George Giggle asked their erstwhile director.
Jon could only pretend he hadn’t heard.
Then at last it was Cinderella’s biggest scene.
The hunt for the owner of the glass slipper was over. Prince Charming knelt before her by the humble hearth. The Ugly Sisters and their stepmother looked on in trepidation. Baron Hardup prayed for a fast solution to all his money woes. Buttons bowed his head for the moment when his queen would become someone else’s princess.
‘Cinderella,’ asked Jon in the guise of Prince Charming. ‘Will you marry me?’
Kirsty had already mentally moved on to the next line and was clasping her hands to her heart in readiness to say ‘Yes, oh yes, oh yes,’ as per the script, when she looked down and noticed that Jon was not holding the big comedy engagement ring, large enough to be seen from the upper circle, that usually appeared at this moment. Instead, he was holding what appeared to be a real ring in a small dark-blue velvet box.
‘Huh?’ she gasped.
Jon nodded to confirm Kirsty’s suspicions, then he got up from one knee, smoothed down his borrowed flares, and turned to address the audience.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I hope you won’t mind me taking this evening’s performance in a slightly different direction from that you’re all anticipating. I want to let you all in on a secret. Kirsty, that is to say Cinderella here, is my real-life princess and I’m using this moment to ask her to marry me for real.’
The audience broke into excited applause. Jon got back down on one knee again, smiling his matinee idol smile. The smile which had seduced Kirsty in the canteen at Countess Cruises all those months ago. Kirsty stared at the ring, which was bouncing the light in a way that the crystal prop ring never did. It was a real diamond for a very real proposal.
‘Let’s start again, shall we?’ asked Jon. ‘Kirsty Marie Watson, I have loved you from the moment I first saw you.’
That was news to her. He’d previously told her that it took him three months to be certain.
‘Since we got together, I’ve felt able to achieve more and reach greater milestones than ever before. Thanks to you, I’ve been able to direct this pantomime and at the same time gather the energy and power to win my new job in Dubai. I was always going places but I realise now how much better it is to go to those places with someone by my side, supporting me all the while. Kirsty, you are the moon around my sun. Will you be my wife?’
There was silence for a beat as Kirsty prepared her answer. What could she say in front of so many people but—
‘Noooo!’
The shout came from the wings. From Thea. Her floppy mouse ear jiggled with indignation as she jumped to her feet. ‘You can’t marry Prince Charming!’ Thea told her. ‘Buttons is the one who really loves you.’
‘Yeah!’ the other little mice agreed.
Kirsty whipped her focus to Ben, who was standing right behind her. But Ben was frozen. He was gripping his pill-box hat as he stared back at her, immobilised as if by the fairy godmother’s spell.
‘For God’s sake!’ Bernie gave Ben a dig in the ribs. ‘Ben? Bu
ttons? Say something!’
‘I … I …’ Ben managed at last. ‘I …’
Nope. That was it.
The audience laughed.
Jon shook his head in a pitying sort of way and continued. ‘Kirsty, say you’ll join me on the adventure of a lifetime in Dubai. With you by my side, I can achieve miracles. I’ll achieve my true potential.’
‘Hmmm,’ said the woman sitting next to Judy in row H. ‘But what about her potential, eh? What does she want?’
It was a good question. Judy watched anxiously as the scene played out.
Jon continued, ‘Stand behind me, my love, and there’s no knowing what we’ll …’
‘Stand behind him?’ Judy’s new friend spluttered. ‘What kind of offer is that?’
‘Don’t marry Prince Charming,’ came a shout from the stalls. It was April from the Bella Vista. Her grandson had brought her along.
‘Yeah! Prince Charming wears flares. Marry Buttons!’ yelled someone else.
‘Buttons is much nicer-looking,’ shouted Judy’s friend.
‘Buttons has loved you all along!’
‘But-tons! But-tons!’ the chant went up. April from the Bella Vista started it.
‘But-tons! But-tons! But-tons!’ the children on the stage joined in.
And then so did Bernie. And the Giggle Twins. And Vince. And Annette. And the orchestra. Even Glynis when she finally looked up from her paperback and realised the cast had gone wildly off-script.
Jon got to his feet. He glared at Kirsty.
‘Well?’ he asked her.
‘Jon, I … I can’t hear myself think,’ was what she told him.
‘For crying out loud,’ said Jon. He stalked off stage right, looking almost as evil as Baron Hardup.
‘Buttons! Buttons! Buttons!’ the crowd continued to roar.
‘Jon,’ Kirsty called after him. ‘Jon, wait!’
But Bernie grabbed her by the elbow before she could follow Jon off.
‘Just bow,’ said Bernie. ‘Bow. The audience think it’s all part of the show.’
Off-stage, in a desperate attempt to stop the chaos, Elaine was busy trying to bring the curtains down. Meanwhile, Glynis pressed the Pyroflash, sending the first five rows ducking beneath their chairs. It might not have been entirely accidental.
The tabs closed abruptly, then whooshed back up. The other main characters joined Kirsty and Bernie at the front of the stage and bowed for all they were worth before the curtains swished shut again. After three calls, Kirsty shook her hands free of Bernie and Ben’s and made for the exit as fast as she could in pursuit of Jon. How on earth was she going to sort this mess out?
‘Where did he go?’ she asked Elaine.
Elaine pointed Kirsty towards the dressing rooms.
Meanwhile Ben exited stage left, feeling every bit the baddie.
Chapter Eighty-Four
It was mayhem. Backstage, everyone was racing about, trying to find out what was going on. Where was Jon? Where was Kirsty? Can you believe what he asked her? In front of everybody? What was she going to say?
‘She’s not going to marry him,’ said Vince, firmly. ‘She’d have said yes right away if she was.’
‘But he surprised her. She wasn’t expecting it,’ said Annette. ‘She gave up a job on a cruise ship to be with him. Of course she wants to get married.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ said George Giggle. ‘We’ve all seen the way she is around …’ George tipped his head in the direction of Ben.
Ben was in the wings frantically undoing the buttons on his jacket. One of the wardrobe witches was fussing around him.
‘Careful!’ said Angie. ‘This costume’s got to be Caractacus Potts in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Ben, pulling off his frilly collar. ‘I just want to be out of it and out of here.’
‘But it’s the last night,’ said Angie. ‘Everyone’s going to be in the bar. And maybe we’ll have something really big to celebrate if Kirsty tells Jon what I think she will.’
Ben just gave Angie a look.
Bernie rescued him. She tucked her arm through Ben’s and marched him into the small rehearsal room for a pep talk.
‘She’s not going to say “yes”, Ben. I’m sure of it. Don’t worry.’
‘Why would I worry?’
‘Because the way you feel about her is as plain as the nose on my face.’
‘Was it so obvious?’
‘There are some things even the best actors can’t disguise. And I would bet my house on her feeling the same way about you.’
Ben’s eyes watered at the idea.
‘Bloody greasepaint,’ he said.
Bernie nodded kindly.
‘Bloody greasepaint,’ she echoed. ‘Don’t rush off, Ben. Not yet. This could be your moment.’
Or it could just be a replay of that awful night all those years ago when Charlie chose Jon, thought Ben. He was always destined to lose out to Jon Manley.
‘Your mum is looking after Thea,’ Bernie continued. ‘At least come and have a drink with the rest of the cast downstairs? Just one. Give the dust time to settle.’
Reluctantly, Ben agreed.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Jon had not gone to the dressing rooms. Instead, Kirsty found him in the props room, in the semi-darkness, leaning on a cardboard Doric column as he considered a plastic skull. When he heard her come in, he turned towards Kirsty with venom in his gaze.
‘What do you want?’ he hissed at her.
‘Jon,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting … I’m so sorry,’ she blundered on. She put her hand on his arm in a placating gesture. He shook her off. ‘I’m just so sorry.’
‘Is that all you can say? I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. Buttons!’ He spat the word out. ‘They think you should be with Buttons rather than me.’
‘No they don’t,’ Kirsty insisted. ‘Not really. It’s just the story … The audience wouldn’t have said that if they knew us in real life. They were caught up in the fairytale.’
‘And the cast?’
‘It was just excitement of the play—’
‘My play,’ Jon reminded her. ‘And I didn’t write you falling in love with someone else into it. Least of all Buttons.’
He didn’t seem able to say ‘Ben’.
‘I—’ The words caught in Kirsty’s throat. She shook her head.
‘Have you fallen in love with him?’ Jon asked.
Kirsty just shook her head again. What else could she do? She didn’t think he really wanted an answer. Her heart was breaking. She had never seen Jon look so unhappy. So vulnerable and small. And in his own theatre. After his own show. When he should have been in the bar with the rest of the cast revelling in triumph at the end of a wonderful run. She had ruined it for him. In that moment, Kirsty would have done anything to see him smile. Said anything. Even if it would mean a whole lot of trouble later on.
‘You just took me by surprise,’ she told him again. ‘I was confused by all the lights and the shouting. I didn’t know what to do. What to say.’
‘How about yes? Or no? Just some kind of bloody answer would have been useful.’
‘In front of all those people? If I’d had any inkling that you were going to propose, I would never have let you do it in such a public way.’
‘So it was the way that I did it?’ Jon asked.
‘Yes. I mean, no. Not just … But it’s not a question I would ever have wanted to answer on a stage, for heaven’s sake. You must understand that. Some things are private. We should have talked about it, just the two of us first.’
‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘You certainly did that.’
‘Oh, Kirsty. You’re my princess. My leading lady. Can’t you see how much I love you?’
He certainly seemed to love her right then but there were so many other things going on in Kirsty’s heart. When she looked at Jon, she could see both the love-struck suitor wh
o had asked her to marry him in such an ostentatious way and the selfish boyfriend who assumed his dreams trumped hers all at once.
Suddenly Jon put down the skull and grabbed Kirsty around the waist. He pulled her against him,
‘Seeing you on stage night after night in that wedding dress of Bernie’s, looking so lovely, what was I supposed to do? I had to make you mine. And I wanted everyone to know that I’d chosen you for my wife. Everyone. So what if I asked you on stage? I’d have asked you on the TV news if I could have. We can make this work,’ he said. ‘I know we can.’
Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her hard on the lips. Like a mongoose hypnotised by a snake, Kirsty sank into the embrace.
Which was the point at which Annette opened, then swiftly closed, the props room door, having seen all she needed to draw her conclusions.
The news reached Ben even as the props room door was still creaking shut on the happy couple. Ben bid the rest of the cast ‘goodnight’ and left the theatre for what he was sure would be the very last time.
Chapter Eighty-Six
As down in the bar the remaining cast members clubbed together for a bottle of champagne to toast their newly engaged director and his Cinderella, the passionate clinch that had convinced Annette the deal was done was over as quickly as it started.
Kirsty pushed Jon away. She wiped her mouth.
‘I can’t do it,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘I can’t marry you.
Jon looked at her as though she was speaking Mandarin. When he realised she was serious, however, his upper lip curled in disgust and he immediately rushed to make it his decision.
‘You don’t want to marry me? Forget about it. You can consider my offer withdrawn.’
He went from loving fiancé to vengeful ex within seconds.
‘I don’t know what I was thinking,’ he said.
For a moment, she was lost for words. But then she said, ‘I don’t know what you were thinking either. We hadn’t talked about marriage at all until you proposed to me.’
A Fairy Tale for Christmas Page 30