by Jo Edwards
Dear Dad
Thank you so much for your letter! I can’t wait to see you so just let me know when you will be down. I could always come to Manchester; if I caught the 8.40 train, I would be there by 10.59, so we could have the day together. If I book the ticket in advance, it will cost just £29 (one way) – not that money’s any object anymore! I’ll need to take the day as holiday at work or I could come at the weekend, so just let me know what’s best for you. I know how busy you must be with the company so I am looking forward to helping you manage everything. Will I need to move to Manchester? Perhaps I could stay with you until I find a place. I’ll have to finish with Myra and Mum will miss me and have to get a job, but I know they will understand when they realise what a great opportunity you have offered me. I am so grateful – I promise I won’t let you down, Dad.
I am starring in a production of Grease on the 15th at Jubilee Hall – can you come? I will send you a ticket. I have quite a major role this time and get to do a lot of singing and dancing – I think you will be amazed at how much I have improved since you last saw me! Don’t worry though, I truly believe I can balance my theatre work with directing the company; it definitely won’t be a problem.
I really hope you can make it.
I miss you very much Dad. Please come soon.
Love from
Morto xxx.
It was a little bit of a white lie about having a major part, but as luck would have it, I could end up playing two roles, as Tom had told me that if Nervous Noel didn’t recover from shingles then I would have to play the part of Eugene as well. I went to post the letter and when I returned, I found Mum slumped at the kitchen table in her dressing gown with her head in her hands. “I’m dying, son,” she groaned. I told her not to be silly; she was simply exhausted from all her energetic dancing with Biffa’s uncle, or whoever he was. They’d disappeared towards the end of the evening; we hadn’t been able to find them anywhere and it was only the taxi’s headlights that had illuminated them scrambling out of the shrubbery in the walled garden. Mum said the poor man had felt unwell and she’d been helping him get some fresh air when he’d stumbled and they’d both fallen over. She was very considerate like that. She didn’t even seem to mind that she’d bruised her knees so badly.
I asked if there was anything I could get for her. She brightened up a little. “I think, perhaps, I could manage a pizza. You could get me one of those Meaty Feasts from Morrisons. And some garlic bread, too. Don’t forget the cheesy coleslaw and Doritos – get a family-sized bag. And diet coke, of course. Oh, and some choc chunk cookies and a nice bit of Battenburg for later. Can you manage all that on your bike? Sorry I haven’t got any money son, but all the housekeeping’s gone. Where does it all go, eh?”
It was Monday again but at least it was payday! Thank goodness – it had been the longest and most expensive month ever. I flicked into my Internet banking when I got to work; my account balance read £808. That was about right for payday. But hang on; that had included a loan for £1000! I’d spent one thousand pounds! My head swam and I clutched the edge of the desk. I’d sent Dad £600 but how had I managed to spend an additional £400? Myra’s outfit of course, and the taxi had been extortionate but lots of other bits and pieces must have added up … gosh, it was frightening. The new loan payment was going to leave me short this month, so I’d have to use the overdraft again. I’d only wanted to borrow twenty quid when I went into the bank! I’d never spent this much in my entire life … calm down. I’d see Dad very soon and he’d give me my cheque for £1200; then everything would be okay again.
I realised how lucky I was when some of the team arrived and started checking their accounts too. Nick sighed, “Have we actually been paid today? I’m still overdrawn.”
Jess said “the bastards” had bounced her Vodafone direct debit again, and Cathy asked if anyone knew how you made yourself bankrupt. I’d wanted to tell them all about my Company directorship today but it didn’t seem appropriate now; I didn’t like to brag about my own good fortune. Lucy was back at work – she was very pale and quiet and kept her seat next to Emma. I didn’t see her speak to George at all; she must still be disappointed with him.
I kept my head down as Kate was on the rampage. Apparently, the Chief Executive was due to visit us tomorrow and she was frantically trying to tidy the place up. I saw her tearing our team night out photos down from the wall and putting up a lovely poster of flying geese. My buttocks clenched as she swept past my desk; she stopped to examine my Katy Perry poster but it was a new picture of Katy at a red carpet event and she looked very dignified and charming in her cut-away, leather-look, bodycon mini-dress. I put my customer on mute, smiled at Kate and asked her, “What can I do to help you?”
“Resign.”
I just love her sense of humour! She moved on to Ben and I heard her telling him to cover up one of his tattoos.
“I’m not arguing with you, Ben, it’s not a worm wearing a helmet, is it? I know a penis when I see one; I’ve worked here long enough. Cover it up!”
I went back to my customer who was still complaining bitterly that we kept on spelling their name wrong. I apologised to Mr Belland as I watched Kate rubbing ‘Nick is a bum bandit’ off the whiteboard.
Dress rehearsal
I was extremely excited about tonight’s dress rehearsal. Tickets for opening night would be available now, so I could send one to Dad. Nervous Noel had still not recovered from his illness, so I was going to have to play two roles. It was a challenge, but what a great chance to show my acting versatility! Tonight was going to be brilliant.
The atmosphere was electric at the Jubilee Hall. The girls looked terrific in their satin Pink Ladies jackets and I felt the absolute business in my black PVC T-Birds jacket, even though the sleeves were a little too short. I also had Eugene’s Rydell High School pullover and nerd specs to slip into when I changed character. I almost forgot about the nagging pain in my back as we got ready for the opening scene. Tom was in a bit of a panic as Barry hadn’t shown up, but just as we were about to start, the doors were flung open and he lurched into the hall clutching a can of Special Brew. Then we were off!
I pushed my bike slowly home after seeing Myra safely indoors. The front tyre was flat and my pump had gone missing. My ears were ringing after all the yelling, shrieking, screaming and histrionics that had accompanied the final run-through. It had started to go wrong, in my opinion, when Frankie Trevino decided to portray Danny as a wired-up demented cokehead. He stormed around the stage, taking swift drags from a real cigarette and yelling at Sandy, “Yo, Bitch!” He slammed me (Eugene) so hard against a prop school locker that I was totally winded. Because I was still trying to catch my breath, I forgot to change character and had to do ‘Summer Nights’ with the other T-Birds while wearing my tank top and nerd glasses.
The girls didn’t fair much better. Myra sat down a tad too heavily on a picnic bench causing it to snap, and poor Debbie Cleaver had to constantly wrestle with Barry as he tried to touch her up. I couldn’t recall the line “Give us a snog you frigid cow” from the film, so I think Barry might have been ad-libbing. Thin Lizzie broke down in tears during ‘Sandra Dee’ when the pillow fight got rather rough – Myra almost knocked her off the stage when she caught her with an over-zealous sideways blow.
Afterwards, as I sat back stage trying to pick the splinters out of Myra’s bottom with my nostril tweezers, I could hear Tom ranting at the cast. I never knew he had such a terrible temper! I suppose that’s what perfectionists are like, though; always so very pernickety. As we were leaving, I tried to comfort him by saying, “Oh well, Tom! You know what they say; bad dress rehearsal, great opening night!” I could tell that made him think for a moment because his eyes narrowed into slits.
“Yes, I’m sure it will be a great opening night, Foggy, provided someone doesn’t sing two beats behind everyone else, or make the arm movements in Greased Lightning look like a Nazi salute or do their well-a well-a’s like a demented fucki
ng chicken!” His eyes had gone all goggly, and Myra pulled me away, saying Tom needed some “down time”. I wondered to whom he was referring? We didn’t have time to ponder for long as we had to move sharpish to avoid Barry, who was projectile vomiting as he staggered around outside the hall. He was just like a sprinkler.
I had to drag myself into work the next morning; I felt utterly exhausted. Kate was still zooming around the department preparing for the Chief Exec’s visit. “I’ve confiscated Katy Perry,” she told me. “You can have her back when he’s gone.” She peered at me. “What have you done to your eye, Foggy? It looks very sore.” I told her that Frankie Trevino had pinged me with his metal comb during the diner scene. He was supposed to just flick the end of my nose. She seemed momentarily lost for words then said, “Well, just keep your head down so you can’t be seen. Actually, you’re better off not looking directly at the Chief Exec; it’s not a pretty sight.”
I kept looking over at Lucy, who was wearing her lovely blue dress, thinking that she’d probably be concerned by my bad eye, but she was busy on calls. Jess told me that Lucy had put on Facebook that she was no longer