The Boy I Love (13 page)

Peggy returned and took up her place again in front of the mirror.

‘Now where were we? Oh yes, my things. Well, as you can see, I have collected from all over the place. Those little bells hanging over the lampshade came from China, you know. I had a dear
friend who sent them to me. All the ornaments have a meaning. Mostly they are First Night presents given to me for luck, so naturally one would never get rid of them. It is a wonderful feeling to
come into the theatre of an evening and wipe away the outside world. I am always in at least two hours before a show and will spend my time just pottering, you know? If I have been out during the
day, to lunch or the cinema or something, I like to clear my head of all these events and just breathe in the atmosphere in my room – the make-up and the candles and the costumes. It makes me
feel secure. Life is so full of insecurities, don’t you think? Things we can’t control, people we don’t understand. Well, here in my world I am secure and safe, and in
control.’

Peggy looked through the mirror at Sally sitting behind her and smiled a little sadly. ‘Don’t mind me, darling, just a silly old actress doing “her thing”.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Sally, who was genuinely moved. ‘I find it all really interesting. I have so much to learn yet. Thanks for the tea, Peggy. I will leave you in
peace now and go and find Percy, because Giles wants you both for the last scene. Will you be down in five?’

‘Of course, and tell that Sarah to make sure my prop chair is placed stage right. She got it wrong this afternoon and I couldn’t find it. Threw my scene completely, and then she had
the nerve to give me a note! Bit above herself, that one, I might say – I’ll have to make sure she knows her place.’

Sally left before she got embroiled in backstage diplomacy. So far she had managed to keep her nose clean.

The run-up to the first night was like a roller-coaster gathering pace as it reached the top of the incline and hung there for a few seconds before dramatically plunging down
again. The cast ate, drank and slept their allotted parts. Giles finally pulled them all together, casting his magic from the front of the Royal Circle, or whispering from the box. He seemed to
feed them all energy. Sally could no longer feel her feet as she stomped out the beat with the rest of the cast for the finale. Every bone in her body was crying out for release from the pain of
spending eighteen hours on her feet. On the Sunday night, when the technical rehearsal threatened to go on until the early hours, succour came from an unexpected source. About midnight, Mrs Wong
from the Chinese takeaway next door appeared at the side of the stage with a huge box of food. Delicious aromas were wafting across the stage and everyone was transfixed by the thought of sweet and
sour pork balls.

‘Who dares to interrupt my rehearsal?’ bellowed Giles from the auditorium.

But Mrs Wong was not cowed. ‘Mister Giles, you terrible man make all work too hard! Mrs Wong bring food and all will go better. Come, come, everybody, eat now. Mister Giles, you come too
and take a break.’

The cast let out a spontaneous cheer and fell upon the food, tearing off the foil and stuffing their mouths.

‘Oh my God, this is so good!’ mumbled Sally through a spoonful of chicken in black bean sauce. It was the turning point of the night, and Mrs Wong became the heroine of the hour. For
the rest of the season the cast would turn to her sweet and sour sauce and chunky chips for inspiration. It became the one constant in their schedule: technical rehearsal and Mrs Wong’s
takeaway.

They finished the run at around three o’clock in the morning. Janie and Pete and Sally staggered up the hill to the house and fell into bed. Next morning came round in a flash and they all
appeared in the kitchen, bleary-eyed but ready for the next onslaught. Pete had cooked them a huge ‘full English’, since Janie, efficient as ever, had cannily found the time to stock
the fridge for such occasions.

‘This will probably be the last thing we eat today,’ she warned them.

Sally felt guilty that she herself was so behind in organizing things in real life. For the last week all she could think about was the show. How would she ever survive when she moved to her
flat? And what on earth would Dora make of it all?

The three of them gathered everything they needed for the rest of the day and set off for the theatre. The dress rehearsal was scheduled to start at two, but Sally had so much to do before she
could even start thinking about her own performance.

Heather was waiting for her at the stage door.

‘Listen,’ she said. ‘Before you get stuck in here, can you whip down to Woolworth’s and buy some balloons and those party-popper things? Bloody Giles has decided he wants
the cast to set them all off at the end of the show. Here’s some petty cash – I hope it’s enough.’

Sally dumped her stuff with Gladys and set off. She practised her numbers as she sped along the road, until she caught the eye of some youths hanging out on the corner of the street, pointing at
her, and laughing and hollering along with her. Oh well, so they thought she was potty – who cared!

When she got back to the theatre there was a traffic jam at the stage door as the band appeared to have arrived. Frank, George, Terry and Gil – double bass, trumpet, piano and drums all on
loan from Crewe’s very prestigious brass band.

‘Hi, can I help at all?’ she asked.

‘Frank Masters, at your service,’ said a tall jolly man with a fine head of hair, extending his hand from behind his double bass.

‘Sally Thomas,’ said Sally, taking his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you. Shall I show you to the Band Room?’

Frank laughed. ‘Oh, I think we know the way there by now, don’t we, lads? This is our tenth year playing for this lot.’

‘Oh sorry, how stupid of me,’ apologized Sally, feeling very foolish. ‘I am the new girl, of course. But let me help you at least, and organize some tea or coffee.’

‘Don’t you mither yourself, my girl, we are fine. You get on and we will see you in the pub later.’ Frank managed to make a space for Sally to squeeze past. She went straight
to the props corner and presented Heather with her purchases.

‘Well done. Now can you make sure that everyone has their opening costumes and that all their props are checked on the prop tables either side, please? I will be calling the half in five
minutes, God help us.’

The half was called twenty-five minutes before curtain up and it was legally binding that every member of the cast be in the theatre when it was called. This allowed stage management to keep
tags on anything untoward or any latecomers. The biggest problem would be a no show from an actor, so the understudy would have to be informed and dressed and ready to go. If the actor arrived
after the half had been called, he would still not be allowed on; it was down to the understudy.

Five minutes! Sally rushed to complete her tasks. She was desperate to get to her dressing room and practise a little with her make-up. She took the stairs to the top of the theatre two at a
time. That would have to be her warm-up for the show. She was sharing one of the dressing rooms with Sarah; it was usually reserved for the chorus so it was slightly larger, with several dressing
tables and a couple of basins in the corner. The boys were next door in an identical room. Needless to say though, theirs was in a hell of a mess. The boys had hung a makeshift clothes-line across
the room, from which hung a huge variety of underwear, some cleaner than others. Odd socks and shoes lay where they’d been chucked in the corner. Smelly trainers and the odd football and
soggy towels lay in piles, and books and magazines were scattered all over the floor.

It was horrible to see!

Not my problem, thought Sally as she passed the ever-open door and moved to her own dressing room. There had been no time to personalize it at all, so everything was rather cold and pristine.
Sarah had managed to put up a couple of posters her end of the dressing table and laid out her make-up and towel, but poor old Sally’s end was decidedly bare. Oh well, time enough for all
that later. She had picked up her opening costume on the way up and hung it carefully on the rail then quickly unpacked her bag of goodies. She sat down in front of the mirror and finally drew
breath.

The face that stared back at her through the rather grubby glass was wide-eyed and pale. She had bags under her eyes for the first time in her life, and her hair needed washing. Was this an
actress in the making? Too bloody right it was! She had fifteen minutes to get ready. She stuck her head under the tap in the basin and pinched some of Sarah’s shampoo. The water was cold but
did the job. She had actually bought herself a little hairdryer so she attacked her wet locks with vigour for five minutes and then stuck it up in a roll ready for her nifty hat! She then whacked
on the five and nine and a good dollop of scarlet on the cheeks, but no time for the red dots this show. She gave her lips a good outline though, with the old lipstick and some awful gloss stuff
she had seen on offer in Woolies. It tasted disgusting, and when she smiled she had it smeared all over her front teeth. Not a good look.

She started to haul herself into her black fishnets as the Tannoy over the dressing-room door suddenly crackled into life, making her jump.

‘Five minutes to curtain up, ladies and gentlemen. Five minutes, please. Could Miss Thomas come to the prompt corner immediately, please?’

‘Oh shit!’ Sally swore as she got her boot-zip stuck. ‘I am not going to be ready.’ But she managed it. Took a quick look in the mirror and was amazed how a bit of
theatrical make-up and sparkle had transformed her from tired ASM to cheeky drum majorette, and sped down the stairs.

She made the prompt corner just as Heather was calling beginners.

‘Well done, girl, you look great. Now just make sure they all line up in the right order and stand by to raise the curtain, please.’

Crewe was still waiting for its automated Tabs (curtains) so they had to be raised by hand on pulleys. Sally assumed the position, and was ready to haul away, much to the delight of the boys who
were all lined up behind her ready to go on, and had the perfect view of her fishnets. As she raised her arms to pull the curtain, her rather short tunic was beyond the realms of decency.

‘Oh shut up, you losers!’ she hissed and then got an attack of the giggles.

Suddenly there was only bright lights and the sound of the drums beating out their entrance, and they were off and running. Well, nearly . . .

‘Stop! Stop, hold the tabs! We have a problem with the follow spot!’ Giles was screaming from the centre of the circle. ‘Go back and reset and start again.’

Unfortunately, dress rehearsals are notoriously fraught with danger. The old adage ‘Bad dress rehearsal great show’ is always there to adhere to, cling to – pray to!

They managed to get through the whole show just about intact, but it was now nearly six thirty and the show was to open at seven thirty! The cast were gathered in the stalls for their notes.
Some had managed to grab a cup of tea, or an apple, just to keep them going. Giles gave each actor their notes, ticking them off his pad theatrically with a grand gesture of his pen.

‘Well, it is the usual kick bollock and scramble,’ he said, ‘but the basic show is there, and we are going to get out there tonight and sell it one hundred and fifty per cent.
We want our audience to come back again and again. So, I know you are tired and hungry, but this is it, guys! This is why we do it and we are going to do it well. Good luck – and see you
upstairs in the bar afterwards for a glass of bubbly.’

They all clapped and hugged each other and suddenly disappeared. Sally was just clearing final pieces of paper from the stage and was aware of the silence in the auditorium. It was as though the
theatre had taken a deep breath and was waiting. She could almost hear the walls whispering with all those voices from so many shows over so many years. The air was filled with a hidden energy,
waiting for the spark to ignite the show; it was a bit like being in a church. She tiptoed off the stage, not wanting to disturb the setting before it was time.

As she made her way upstairs to the dressing room she was reminded of her impression that the theatre was like a doll’s house. If she opened any of the doors now as she passed there would
be a slice of life taking place. An action, a word, all in miniature, captured behind these doors. The sounds of laughter, a high note soaring out. Someone gargling, a thumping of feet on the floor
followed by a cheer. Every corner of the building was alive and throbbing with anticipation, and then suddenly it was released.

The band played out and Sally felt the thrill of hearing the pure chords of a live trumpet against the beat of a drum. The audience started to clap along with the band. Then as quickly as the
crowd was cheering they went quiet, hushed as the lights went down, and the huge embroidered curtain rose above the stage with a swish. Momentary blackness, then white light bursting onto the stage
as the cast seemed to spring from the wings in their bright Pierrot costumes, singing, ‘Oh! It’s a lovely war!’