‘Wait – how do you know all this?’ says Leon sharply.
Jade pauses. ‘I – I helped her put them there,’ she says. While we stare at her open mouthed, she adds, ‘I regret that now. I’m sorry.’
I don’t know what’s the bigger shock: knowing that Jade had a hand in it all or hearing her apologize. Probably the latter.
‘You’ve known all year,’ says Kiki, her eyes blazing. ‘Why tell us now? Don’t tell me you’ve seen the error of your ways after all this time. The show first aired months ago. You could see what it was doing to us all.’
‘It’s backfired,’ says Leon cynically, watching Jade closely. ‘Something’s gone wrong for her. Hasn’t it, Jade?’
She tosses her hair back. ‘Well . . . kind of. Yeah. I thought I was in control, that if I cooperated with Sam, she’d make me look better, give me more exposure. I was happy to play the villain if it got me known. And then, she set up a meeting for me with a big agency – Wells Brignall? I went along, thinking it was in the bag, especially as she’d got the crew to film the interview. And they refused me. It was a set-up. You saw it, right?’
I’ve been deliberately avoiding the show, but Leon nods grimly. ‘She told them to refuse you?’
‘Yeah. And every other agent I’ve applied to has knocked me back. It’s Sam’s doing – I know it is.’
‘Why would she do that?’ says Alec.
‘Because it makes good television,’ says Leon wryly. ‘Presumably she got some of the other rejections on camera, too, Jade?’
‘She filmed my first couple of phone calls, but then I refused,’ says Jade. ‘She didn’t care – she’d got what she wanted.’
‘An end to her story,’ I say. I think back to my first meeting with Sam when I flagged up that I was unhappy to be pitted up against Jade. What was it she said to me? Don’t worry – it’s all weighted in your favour. You’ll come off as the good guy. Ironically, in a fucked-up way, I did. But look what I lost in return.
‘Fuck,’ Kiki says suddenly. We all stare at her. ‘You don’t think that’s what she did with me?’
Leon smacks his forehead. ‘Of course – it has to be. She was there as soon as you’d finished the call, wasn’t she, Kiki?’
‘Within minutes,’ says Kiki. She looks like she’s going to be sick. ‘And remember how she persuaded me to talk to camera about it, Nettie? Like, she was pretty insistent. Made up some bollocks about revenge, and then put it out on TV that I was too much of an emotional wreck to dance well.’ Kiki’s breathing is deep and measured, as she tries to keep her emotions under control, but I can see the rage rising.
‘Leaving the door open for me to win,’ says Jade. ‘I wondered how she’d managed to do that. Kiki was way better than me.’ We all stare at her. ‘I’m not proud of myself, OK?’ she adds in a mumble.
‘So what do we do about it?’ says Alec impatiently. ‘Remove the microphones? Confront her about Kiki?’
‘We can’t,’ says Leon. ‘If we do that, she’ll know we’re on to her, and goodness knows what she’ll do to us. There’s still the live episode to go, remember? We can’t risk it, not when all our futures potentially hang on this god-awful show.’
‘So what, then?’ says Kiki, livid. ‘We have to stop her. Prove what she did to me. Make it known she’s been listening to us. But unless we catch her in action, none of us can do anything about it.’
Something clicks into place.
‘No,’ I say. ‘We can’t. But I know someone who can.’
CHAPTER 25
It’ll be a miracle if this all works out.
The morning of the feature-length live finale of Triple Threat, I don’t go straight to college. Instead, I get my costume and make-up ready for the gala, to drop it off at the Piccadilly Theatre en route to college. We’ve got a whole day of rehearsing camera angles and timings at the music hall. After that, Miss Duke is letting Luca, Leon and me out at five to run back over to the theatre for a quick soundcheck and tech for the gala. That’s all we get. Then it’s back to the music hall for the opening night of Chicago, which will be filmed, live, both onstage and off, and straight back to perform in the gala, with the TV crew in tow. I’m furious that Miss Duke has bowed to pressure from Sam and allowed it all to happen. She’s many things, but I never thought she was a sell-out.
There’s so much going on in my head right now, but I’ve got to put it all aside for one more day and just focus on the small matter of having two live-broadcast shows to perform in. I just hope I don’t fuck it up.
The guy at the Piccadilly Theatre stage door lets me go and find my dressing room, which is three floors up. I’ve got my own room for the gala – I can’t believe it. My name’s on the door and everything. I take a picture on my phone. My first thought is to send it to Fletch, but then it hits me like a train: I can’t. Swallowing my feelings, I dump my stuff and head back to the music hall. Today I just have to focus.
The Chicago camera rehearsal is slow and dull, especially after having done a dress run last night, which was so fast and tight. Sam is business as usual – just as sunny as she usually is with me, like we didn’t have a massive row last night, like she hasn’t just fucked up all of our lives. Part of me wishes I could just throw the whole thing back in her face, refuse to do the live finale, but I know I’ve just got to stick this out for one more day and hope that what we’ve planned works out.
At five, Luca, Leon and I are excused and head to the theatre for tonight’s gala soundcheck. We’re ushered straight on to the stage (where everything, embarrassingly, is paused for us like we’re some sort of A-listers), given radio mics, told who we’ll be following, walked through our blocking, and given a quick run-through.
Luca watches me staring at the floor as I get my mic adjusted. ‘Nettie, are you OK?’
‘Hmmn?’
‘You seem . . . distracted.’
I glance at Leon, who obviously knows exactly why I’m distracted. I’d tell Luca, but there’s not time to go into it properly, and I know he’s stressed about the live later. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Today’s just . . . a lot, you know?’
Luca nods. ‘Tell me about it. I’m sticking to writing as soon as I leave Duke’s.’
‘Nettie!’ a voice calls from the back of the stalls.
Shielding my eyes from the light, I can just make out Steph working her way down the aisle to the stage.
‘Hey, Steph!’ I say. I wait as she walks up the treads on stage right and then go over to hug her tightly. ‘I had no idea you were performing here tonight.’
‘Didn’t Fletch tell you?’ she says, surprised. ‘David Hirst got Better Spent a spot in the gala as promo, and Fletch was going to accompany me on the guitar. Saves them money using an intern – you know what these producers are like – and he’d helped to write a lot of it, so he seemed like the obvious choice. But, you know, since his accident we—’
‘Accident?’ I say, my heart almost stopping. ‘What accident?’
Leon and Luca look as shocked as I am. Steph seems surprised at our reactions.
‘You didn’t know?’ she says, confused. ‘Fletch had a motorbike accident last weekend in London. He’s been in hospital ever since. Cracked ribs, concussion, broke his leg, too, I think. He’s going to be fine,’ she adds, seeing the alarm on my face. ‘I think he was having an operation on his wrist today. But obviously, it’s put him out of action for a few weeks. I thought you’d know.’
‘Fletch and I broke up,’ I say quietly. ‘Last week. I haven’t heard from him since.’
‘Oh, Nettie, I’m so sorry,’ she says. ‘I’m going to the hospital tomorrow to visit him, while I’m still up here. He’s at Lewisham. You’re welcome to come?’
The thought of Fletch injured, in hospital, makes me want to drop everything and run all the way to him. Suddenly our fight seems small and insignificant. I have to go to him. I have to see him. But . . .
‘I’m not sure he’d be happy to see me,’ I say. ‘But thanks anyw
ay, Steph.’
Steph is called back to the sound desk, so she hugs me again and heads back down the treads. Luca and Leon look at me.
‘Oh my God,’ I say.
‘I know,’ says Leon.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Luca puts his head in his hands.
‘Why didn’t he tell me?’ I say. ‘Or any of us?’
Leon holds my hand, the shock etched on his face as clearly as it must be on mine. ‘You know what Fletch is like. He probably didn’t want us worrying.’
Oh God, I hope that’s true. Suddenly everything else I’m feeling is swamped in a desperate need to see Fletch. We can’t leave things like this, without talking. I need him to know how I feel. I need him to know that I love him.
We take off our mics and hand them back to the sound number two. As we walk up the stairs to the stage door, all I can think is that I have to see Fletch. I have to. Maybe I could go tonight, after the show? But what if he won’t see me?
‘Give me a sec,’ I say to the others. Then I run back into the building, suddenly dark after being out in the bright daylight again. I head to the auditorium and up to the sound desk, where the sound number one is on the desk, fiddling with several volume levers.
‘Excuse me?’ I say.
He turns around. ‘Hi, darling. You all right?’
‘Yeah. I was hoping I could send you a different track for my song tonight,’ I say. ‘I sent the wrong one earlier.’
This had better work.
Leon, Luca and I walk back to the music hall in silence, just in time to find Miss Duke, mid-speech, riling everyone up into a state of greater anxiety than they were already in about tonight’s performance.
‘I am sure I need not remind you that there is a lot riding on the success of tonight,’ she’s saying. ‘As rehearsed, the sections Sam wants to focus on will be filmed in here, the studio theatre, during the first performance of Chicago, with interviews taking place backstage. When Sam leaves for the Piccadilly Theatre with those of you who are lucky enough to have been chosen for the gala –’ she locks eyes with me for a second – ‘Anand will be heading up the production side of things here.’
Miss Duke continues. ‘At Duke’s we are used to live performance. We are a theatre family, after all. But in half an hour, over three million people will be tuned in to watch you. No second chances. No making up for it in tomorrow’s performance. No second or third takes. You have only now, this moment. Show the world why you’re here, why you were chosen. Show them why you’re at Duke’s.’
Sam takes the floor. ‘The most important thing from our point of view,’ she says, ‘is for you to ignore the cameras. Obviously be aware of them, especially the dolly cams, but other than that, act as if we’re not here.’
I sneak another peak at Kiki, whose eyes are fixed on Sam as always, except that now, instead of their usual adoration, they look cold.
We go and get ready backstage. I quickly write a message to Alec, Kiki and Leon on our group chat.
18:02
CHANGE OF PLAN!
Kiki looks at me in the mirror in alarm but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she texts straight back.
Kiki:
WTF??
Alec:
Nettie, don’t do this to us.
Will explain, but first I need to have a clear and loud conversation right now with Kiki in the changing rooms. You have to trust me.
Leon:
OK x
Kiki:
Alec:
Kiki looks terrified. It’s fair enough – acting isn’t her strong point, and I’ve basically just asked her to star in an impromptu improv scene with me.
‘I’ve decided not to do the finale of the concert,’ I say loudly.
‘Oh, really?’ says Kiki nervously, wisely plumping for a safe answer that gives me the chance to explain without actually having to add anything much herself. ‘Why not?’
‘Because Fletch is in Lewisham Hospital,’ I say.
When the five’s called, Kiki and I head downstairs together holding hands. Kiki crosses the stage to be with Shaiann and the rest of the dancers; I stay in the stage-right wing and try to centre myself, switch off all the noise, and focus.
This is the moment I’ve been building up to all year. All the hard work, the tears, the drama – it’s all coming together now, in this moment. And millions of people are watching, judging. I start to panic. What if I fall flat? What if – What if I . . . let Mum down? An overwhelming anxiety starts creeping over me. I suddenly feel cold.
Lisa appears next to me in the dark. ‘You’re gonna be great.’
I turn to face her. She holds my shoulders and looks down at me kindly.
‘A lot to live up to, huh?’
My eyes are blurred. I nod, smiling through the tears.
‘You know, I did class with your mother once,’ she says. ‘A fundraiser for ACT UP on Broadway. All the famous dancers showed up. She was fantastic – so beautiful to watch.’
‘But I’m not like her,’ I say. Fresh panic surges and I can feel my throat start to tighten like it did last year. Oh God, not now. Not after all this time.
‘No, you’re not at all like her,’ agrees Lisa. ‘Nor do you have to be. Yeah, she was . . . ballet. But you – you’re scrappy and ballsy and razor sharp. You’re Fosse.’
Something releases at her words. She’s right – I don’t have to be Mum. I just need to be me. And this work, this choreography? Well, right from day one, I knew inside that I could do it. I felt it.
‘You’ve put in the work,’ says Lisa. ‘Now just enjoy it. Remember, imperfection can be beautiful. You’ve got this.’ She gives my shoulders an encouraging squeeze and goes through the pass door to watch the show.
Shaiann’s started singing ‘All That Jazz’. I go and find Taro for our entrance together. After everything that’s happened this year, I just need to celebrate this moment, lose myself in it. As I make my entrance, Lisa’s words echo in my mind and I forget about everything else – Mum, the cameras and Sam – I just concentrate on letting the movement flow, enjoying how it feels.
It works: I’m dancing.
Alec’s in the front row, and I see him give me a little nod as I finish singing ‘Roxie’, as if to tell me I’m fabulous and he approves. But I don’t need it – I can already feel it. Something’s finally connected.
Kiki’s stunning. She dances everyone else off the stage. Leon’s also brilliant as Amos; honestly, he’s the true meaning of the phrase ‘triple threat’. He really can do it all. Luca’s looking confident, but as our added dance break in ‘Razzle Dazzle’ starts, I see the tiniest spark of fear in his eyes, presumably at the thought of the lifts. I give him a wink with my upstage eye as we go for it, and before I know it, I’m way over his head, flying high above the audience and the band and all the performers as he carries me round the stage. Part of me wishes Mum was here to see this, but another part of me can feel she already is.
In what seems like seconds, the show’s over. We all take our final bows and the curtain drops. Raucous chatter breaks out as the cast congratulate each other.
‘You did it!’ cries Kiki, launching herself at me.
‘You did it!’ I joke, hugging her back.
There’s no time to linger. Luca, Leon and I are ushered offstage and told to immediately make our way over to the gala. We sprint over to the Piccadilly Theatre, where Dave is waiting with a camera at stage door. We run past him and up the stairs to our dressing rooms. I push my door open, dump everything on the floor and grab my dress, which I wriggle into and run back down the three flights of stairs, flinging my bag at the stage door keeper and asking as politely as I can while running if she wouldn’t mind looking after it. Someone’s there to meet me at stage level, which is good because I can’t remember where I’m going. A sound number two puts a radio mic on me, shoving the pack down the back of my dress without a waistband.
‘Will it stay?’ he says through the torch in his mouth.
I nod, unceremoniously hitching up my dress to tuck the mic pack into my pants. Wow. My first professional gig and dignity’s already gone out the window.
The intro starts, and I walk onstage, with no idea if the sound guy will actually play the track I sent him, or (thinking about it now, which is admittedly a little late in the day) if I can even remember the words. Oh my God, actually, I can’t remember the words. Shit.
I can just make out some of the faces in the dark, waiting for me to sing, expectant. My mind goes back to the first time Fletch and I met, when he played his song for me in the library – the one I helped him finish about losing someone you love. That wonderful moment when we first connected. When I knew I loved him. Without even thinking, my lips form the shapes of the first few lines, and before I know it, I’m singing our song. I don’t even have to act; the emotions are all there.
What have we both been doing – this strange dance around each other? If both of us had just been honest in the first place – about everything – none of this would have happened. Fletch wouldn’t have been jealous; I wouldn’t have been angry and resentful. In all the drama, the miscommunication, we forgot the most important thing: that what we had was precious, and we should have done everything we could to protect it. I was so bent on making it perfect that I forgot perfection doesn’t exist – as Lisa says, there’s beauty in imperfection. What we had wasn’t perfect, but it was beautiful. I know all of this as I sing; I just hope he knows it, too.
The audience lets out a roar as I finish. I smile gratefully, but there’s only one reaction I care about right now. The lights dim, and I run straight off the stage, bung my mic at the sound number two, and pelt up the stairs to stage door, grabbing my phone on the way. The Uber’s outside waiting; I throw myself in, almost ripping my dress in the process. As the driver speeds off towards South London, I check my phone. There are messages from Kiki and Alec.
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