When the Curtain Falls

by Carrie Hope Fletcher

  ‘Two dozen. Even nicer!’ said Doug, signing them all in.

  ‘Pass them here,’ Olive said as she kicked the second lot of double doors open, her arms outstretched for the box.

  ‘It’s all right, I’ll bring them up. You’re on my floor anyway,’ Howard answered, carrying the large box with ease.

  ‘Aww, thanks. See you in a bit, Walter!’ Olive called back as they disappeared into the theatre together.

  ‘How did you get so chummy with the door man?’ asked Sammy as they all climbed the stairs.

  ‘Dunno. We just got chatting. He seems sweet enough.’ Olive shrugged as she started opening one of the three letters she’d found in her pigeonhole.

  ‘He’s old. How long has he been working here?’ said Doug.

  ‘No idea, but it’s nice that the theatre has kept him here despite his age. If someone wants to keep working doing what they love, and they can manage it, then why not!’ said Howard.

  ‘Well, tell him the lightbulb in our room is still broken,’ said Sammy, peeling off to the door on the first floor with Doug.

  ‘That’s weird, one of mine broke the other day too,’ said Olive, giving Sammy a hug before she went to her dressing room.

  ‘These theatres are so old, the electrics are bound to be a bit dodgy. See you guys in a bit!’ said Howard and when the door closed he whispered to Olive, ‘Is something going on between the two of them?’

  ‘What? Doug and Sammy? No! I mean… I don’t think so. Sammy would have said something,’ Olive said as she overtook Howard on the stairs.

  ‘Urgh, I’m so bad at this. I just can’t figure out who fancies who!’

  ‘Stop trying!’ Olive laughed.

  ‘No, I know it shouldn’t matter. It’s just fun, isn’t it? You spend so long with people you’re bound to start fancying at least someone in the cast. Problem is the person I fancy only has eyes for you, it seems.’ Howard nudged Olive’s elbow with his own, almost dropping the box of flowers in the process.

  ‘Oscar?’ Olive scoffed, keeping her eyes on the open letter in her hands but unable to focus on any of the words. ‘He’s got eyes for more people than I thought.’

  ‘Olive, my love. Can I be honest with you?’ Howard said, as she held her dressing room door open for him.

  ‘Go on…’ she groaned. He put the box down on her desk and slid it towards her as she sat in her chair.

  ‘Make him sweat. He deserves that. But don’t ruin your own happiness. I’ve seen how he looks at you when you’re not looking. And if he’s looking at you like that when you’re not looking, it’s proof that he’s not just putting on a show. He likes you. Whether you believe it or not. He’s just being very immature about it all.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed, putting the box between her legs and gently removing the bouquet of twenty-four deep red roses that spilled out into formation as they came free from the box.

  ‘He’s a lost little boy who up until now hasn’t needed to think about what he wants because everything has always been given to him on a silver platter. Now that he’s found you, something he very clearly wants, he’s just a little bit frightened.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I know you know. But it’s easy to let the voices in your head win and convince you otherwise so I just thought I’d stick my nose in and give the good voices a bit of back up.’

  Ladies and gentlemen, this is your half hour call, this is your half hour call. Thank you.

  ‘Right! Break a leg! God bless! Don’t be shit!’ And just like that, Howard was gone. Olive moved a few roses out of the way, hunting for a card and finding one at the very centre of the bunch of gorgeous blooms.

  Can we start again?

  Meet me tonight at stage door?

  When the curtain falls.

  Oz

  x

  When Olive had first seen the box of flowers in reception, she’d wondered if they’d been sent by Oscar – her agent usually just sent a bottle of champagne. All the way up the stairs she’d been debating with herself whether she wanted the flowers to be from him or not. If he had sent them, then he’d won a few brownie points, but Olive wasn’t sure she wanted to give him any, even if the flowers really were quite extravagant, not to mention how beautiful they smelled. And if Oscar hadn’t sent them, then why not? Not that Olive thought she deserved flowers, but he had screwed up and if he really did want to sort things out between them, then a bunch of flowers would be a lovely start.

  Now that she knew he had definitely sent the flowers, she couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, which made her feel so conflicted about her own feelings that she then felt annoyed with herself. In the end, Olive started crying for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

  ‘Why couldn’t you have just… not kissed her?’

  She folded the card in half and as she ripped it along the crease, one by one, all of the bulbs along her mirror shattered.

  ‘OH MY GOD!’ She jumped up from her seat, thankful she still had her shoes on as there was glass everywhere. She ran to the door and fumbled in the dark to flip the switch to turn on the main overhead lights. ‘HOWARD!’ she yelled down the hallway.

  ‘What on earth is going on out there?!’ Oscar appeared in his doorway, his costume shirt on but still undone.

  ‘Nothing! Nothing! I just need Howard.’

  ‘Have you been crying again?’ Oscar started to walk up the corridor towards her, but Olive quickly retreated.

  ‘No, of course not!’ She turned back into her room and quickly wiped her face.

  ‘Did you… oh my… what the hell happened in here?’ Oscar said as he walked into her dressing room to find glass scattered on the floor and the card from his roses ripped neatly in two lying amongst the shards.

  ‘I don’t know, all the bulbs just started… exploding. Howard said this building had dodgy electrics, but this was something else.’ She started to collect the shards of glass carefully into her hands.

  ‘Something else? What do you mean something else? Here, let me help.’

  ‘Well… I don’t know! Ouch.’ Oscar picked up the small plastic bin so she could decant the glass from her hands into it, but a small fleck of blood was already forming on her palm.

  ‘Please don’t tell me you think this was a ghost, Olive.’ He put the bin back down and took her hand, inspecting her palm. He wiped it clean with his fingers when he was sure no glass was still stuck in her skin and in the split second he was deciding whether or not to kiss her palm, she pulled her hand away.

  ‘I don’t care what it was, Oscar. I just want things back to normal.’

  ‘The bulbs or…’

  ‘Yes, Oscar. The bulbs. I think everything else is a little harder to fix.’ Olive took the bin and continued to pick the glass up off the floor, their conversation clearly over, and Oscar left to go and find Walter at stage door. He was so certain the roses would have helped, even if only a little, and so to see her crying again made his heart descend in his chest.

  14

  Oscar Believes

  Olive entered into the stage right wing, where the majority of the ensemble were huddled together and buzzing, as were the crowd.

  ‘Awww man, I hate that sound,’ said Doug, running up the wing to try and get a peek of the audience in the gap between the gauze and the edge of the proscenium arch. People were jostling past one another in rows to get to their seats, sweet packets were being rustled and there was a steady murmur of people discussing what the evening might hold. But what made Olive’s stomach churn the most was how dressed up everyone seemed to be. No one dressed up to come to the theatre these days unless it was a really big event. Olive liked to pretend that opening night was just a dress run or even just another performance of a show she’d been in for years. However, seeing all those suits and dresses and sparkling jewellery gave her skin a sweaty sheen.

  ‘You and me both,’ Olive said, following him and peering over his shoulder. ‘Is there anything going on between you and S
ammy?’

  Doug laughed. ‘That was subtly asked!’

  ‘Sorry! I know you well enough not to beat around the bush, don’t I? So… are you beating around hers?’ Olive gave his ribs a jab with her finger and enjoyed the laughter that bubbled in her throat when he flinched and grabbed her wrists to stop her from doing it again.

  ‘Eww, don’t do that,’ he laughed.

  ‘What?’ She wobbled in her heels, trying to release her wrists.

  ‘You’re too sweet to say things like that!’ he said, holding both her hands in one of his.

  ‘But it’s fine when you say them?’ she said, giving him a slight tap on the shin with her foot.

  ‘Well, yes! I’m disgusting! I’m saving you from being like me. And oww!’ he said, letting go of her hands with a push.

  ‘You’ve still not answered my question!’ she said, her index fingers outstretched as a warning.

  ‘No! Of course nothing’s going on! Have you asked her this yet?’ said Doug, straightening out his waistcoat.

  ‘I saw you first.’ Olive checked herself over for any ungainly creases in her dress.

  ‘Stand by, everyone! We have front of house clearance! Stand by!’

  ‘You might wanna fix that,’ Doug said, pointing at her chest, and when she looked down he swiped his finger up, catching her nose.

  ‘Very funny, loser! How old are you?’ she said with a smile and with a deep breath, she thought about how pleased she was to be starting the show on a good note with someone at least.

  ‘Pssst. Olive!’ She didn’t know where it was coming from, but she knew immediately who it was coming from. She squinted from her little pedestal on centre stage into the stage left wing and there was Oscar, waving his arms about. ‘Break a leg!’ he whispered, giving her a double thumbs-up. He’d caught her in a good mood and she couldn’t help but smile back, returning the thumbs-up gesture, and even laughing at how lame it was.

  You okay? she mouthed. Oscar held his hands out in front of him so they hit the lights and even from the middle of the stage she could see they were trembling. ‘You’ll be fine! Just imagine everyone naked!’ She winked.

  ‘He probably doesn’t have to imagine too hard for you.’ Sammy snorted through the curtain behind Olive’s pedestal, at which Olive tutted loudly. Oscar tried to pretend he hadn’t heard but Olive caught him smiling as he gave her one final thumbs-up and disappeared into the darkness of the wing. Olive took another deep breath to compose herself, and as the audience fell silent, the music began and the curtain rose.

  ‘Not bad, TV!’ said Doug, ruffling Oscar’s hair as the cast filtered out of the wings and into the corridor behind the stage. Oscar was far sweatier and more exhausted than he ever thought imaginable.

  ‘We have to do this eight times a week? I don’t even think I’m gonna wake up tomorrow!’ Oscar said, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand whilst needing the other to hold himself steady against the water cooler.

  ‘You’ll get the hang of it, gorgeous.’ Sammy winked as she ran ahead of him up the stairs.

  ‘You coming for a drink tonight, Oscar?’

  Tamara was already out of her costume, in her underwear and holding her dressing gown loosely to her front. Olive and Doug came through the double doors, Doug expertly averting his gaze and Olive… not so much.

  ‘Erm… no thanks, Tamara. I’ll be giving it a miss.’

  ‘But it’s the press night drinks!’ she whined.

  ‘At least show your face, mate!’ said Doug. Oscar looked at Olive and she gave him a vague sense of a smile, and something in between a shrug and a nod.

  ‘I’ll go for one, but only if Olive has that drink with me.’

  ‘For God’s sake.’ Tamara pushed past Oscar, catching him on the shoulder as she scarpered up the stairs to her dressing room.

  ‘Erm… ouch,’ he said, rubbing his shoulder.

  ‘You did kiss her and then decide you didn’t want her any more,’ Olive said with a sigh as she followed Tamara up to her own room.

  ‘Once! I kissed her once and I was —’

  ‘Drunk! Everyone knows!’ Doug gave him a slap on the cheek.

  ‘Ouch. Why is everyone hurting me today?’

  ‘Because everyone’s a little bit angry with you today! Look, just give Olive time. She’s mad at you, but she’s also mad about you.’ Doug started unbuttoning his own shirt, his hat and waistcoat in the crook of his arm.

  ‘And I’m mad about her! I just want this to be fixed. I want simple and happy and so far all this job has been is complicated and miserable.’

  ‘Does she know that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That you’re mad about her?’

  ‘… I think so.’ Oscar shrugged.

  ‘Have you said those words to her? Those exact words?’

  ‘Well… no, I don’t think so. Not exactly.’

  ‘So… all she knows is you like her enough to spend time with her, but don’t want to be with her.’

  ‘How do you know all of this?’

  ‘She tells me everything.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘And I mean everything…’ Doug briefly glanced downwards and Oscar could feel his cheeks flush.

  ‘Which begs the question, Oscar, why are you stood here telling me that you’re crazy for her? Tell her that! She’d love to know! In fact, if you’d been telling her that from the start she would have had far less to be insecure about.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Oscar rubbed his eyes.

  ‘Truth hurts, mate.’

  ‘I’m not a soppy person! I don’t like PDAs, I’m not good with telling people how I feel —’

  ‘You’ve just told me how you feel! You never have to say anything you don’t mean, you don’t even have to be gushy or soppy. But if you can tell me you’re mad about her then you can tell her that too. Simple as that.’ Doug gave Oscar a slap on the back and disappeared down the small spiral staircase to his own dressing room, leaving Oscar on his own.

  He reached his corridor and paused briefly at Olive’s door. His hand was poised to knock but, despite Doug’s words of encouragement, Olive had said she needed time and Oscar was worried that things between them would never heal if he didn’t do as she asked. So he kept on walking, lost in his thoughts, until suddenly Olive’s door burst open.

  ‘Has anyone seen my clothes?’ she called down the corridor, Oscar the only one around to answer her.

  ‘Your clothes?’ he laughed.

  ‘Well, I’m not going to the after party in this.’ She gestured at the big purple towel wrapped around her like a dress.

  ‘I mean, it’s definitely a look!’ Oscar said, trying to look anywhere but at her body.

  ‘Have you taken them?’

  ‘Eh?’ he said, finishing unbuttoning his shirt.

  ‘Is this some kind of weird ploy to get me to come into your dressing room? Because if it is…’

  ‘I don’t have your clothes, you crazy naked lady!’ Oscar said, as he opened the door to his dressing room and took a step inside.

  ‘Oh but…’ she started. Being angry at him is really… really, hard, she thought. ‘… the least you can do is help me look for them. Someone’s obviously being a dick and I don’t really want to wander from room to room in a towel looking for them on my own.’

  ‘You don’t have a dressing gown?’

  ‘Wait there.’ Olive’s door closed, and she re-emerged twenty seconds later in a long dressing gown. ‘There we go. At least if we don’t have any luck I can pass this off as some kind of weird, trendy dress that’s all the rage in Paris.’

  ‘All right, weirdo, if you say so.’ They walked down the corridor together and Oscar went to drape his arm around her shoulders, but then let it fall by his side before she noticed.

  ‘We’re starting with Doug. He loves a prank and knows I hate them. My money’s on him.’ In her bare feet, Olive’s pace was quick.

  ‘And if it’s not him?’ Oscar asked, pulling his shi
rt around him as they stepped out into the stone stairwell.

  ‘Well, my dress for tonight hasn’t just vanished!’ Olive pitter-pattered down the stairs, sometimes taking more than two at a time and disappearing around corners before Oscar had only just turned the last.

  ‘You could always wear what you wore here today?’ he called after her, struggling to keep up.

  ‘No, it’s all gone. I left them all in a pile on the radiator and the whole lot is missing. Not on the radiator. Not in my room. Gone.’ They got to stage level and Oscar suddenly realised he had never actually seen the male ensemble dressing room.