is Eileen, our wicked stepmother. Lauren is our Cinderella, Callum is playing the handsome prince, and Angie and Helen are our brilliant ugly sisters.’
She gestured to each one in turn as she introduced them and they each did their own individual greeting when they were called upon. Most just waved or smiled but Callum, aka Prince Charming, blew a kiss in my direction and winked at me. After I returned his smile, he came down the steps and walked up to me.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alice. My name’s Callum Stone and on behalf of everyone, I’d like to welcome you to the Silver Bells Theatre.’
He bent his head low and kissed my hand. I gasped in surprise and tried to ignore the goosebumps snaking their way across my skin. Out the corner of my eye, I saw the woman named Lauren’s face fall a little.
‘Well it’s lovely to meet you all,’ I replied, trying to hide my obvious blush. ‘Just tell me where you want me! I’m happy to do anything.’
I felt an all-too-familiar buzz being in a theatre again, although I didn’t want to admit it. I was very aware that an important person – my boyfriend, my best friend, my partner in crime – was missing. Doing something he loved when he wasn’t there to enjoy it with me made my insides twist into knots. Silently, I cursed my mum for convincing me this was a good idea, and myself for coming in the first place. However, as I stared around the little theatre, I began to feel the old rush of magic I’d always felt when treading the boards. Although the prospect of being involved in the theatre again filled me with dread, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
*
Since the production was so short-staffed, Christabel and I agreed that I’d help out wherever I could. That night involved painting the sets for the chateau scenes. Armed with the world’s stubbiest paintbrush and some very watery paint, I set about creating the chateau’s sweeping grand staircase.
As I worked, I couldn’t help but listen in on the rehearsal. Well, the parts of the rehearsal that weren’t dominated by Christabel barking orders at people anyway. The poor actors couldn’t get more than a few lines out without her interrupting them with her “creative suggestions”.
‘Lauren, for goodness’ sake, you’re supposed to be a downtrodden servant girl and you’re prancing round the stage like you’re a Disney princess! You need to identify with your character; what are her struggles and motivations? Eileen, your wicked stepmother is about as fierce as a newborn kitten! And, Callum, don’t get me started on how utterly weak your handsome prince is. He’s supposed to be the hero of the story, not a bystander who just sits back and watches the story unfold!’
A collection of moans and groans followed Christabel’s critique and I was sure I heard someone murmur, ‘Get a life, you silly cow.’
‘Enough!’ Her voice was a loud bark that bounced off every corner of the room. ‘Now, since we can’t seem to get any of the scenes right, let’s do some drama exercises instead. Come on now, let’s all pretend to be trees. Chop chop!’
That got her another load of complaints from the cast, who reminded her that opening night was just a month away and they’d hardly rehearsed any of the scenes.
‘We’re going to look stupid up there,’ the girl named Lauren grumbled. ‘Just like we always do!’
‘Nonsense!’ Christabel clapped her hands and joined the actors on stage. ‘Now, imagine you’re a tree with branches reaching up to the sun.’
So they’d have an example to follow – although I couldn’t imagine why they’d need one – Christabel stood at the front of the stage and contorted herself into some weird shape that looked nothing like a tree. Everyone else looked around in sheer bewilderment, probably wondering what any of this had to do with putting on a pantomime.
‘Are you all reaching for the sun?’ she asked, pushing her fingertips even further towards the ceiling. ‘Remember, you have to let your branches soar up to the sky!’
I shook my head as I carried on painting the staircase. I’d worked with countless would-be directors who thought techniques like this actually worked. Then, when it came to opening night and none of the cast knew what they were doing, the director would blame them!
I wondered if I should step in and give Christabel some pointers, but decided not to. They probably wouldn’t go over very well and she’d see it as the Broadway actress storming in and taking over. The last thing I needed was this panto giving me any aggro. I’d come here to try and move on with my life after the worst three years imaginable, not to incur Christabel’s wrath.
As Christabel instructed the now thoroughly pissed-off actors to pretend they were feathers, I stifled a giggle. It was pretty safe to say that the Silver Bells Christmas pantomime was going to be every bit as awful as it always was.
*
In a way, I was glad when the rehearsal finished. Watching Christabel pretty much waste everybody’s time for an hour and a half had been quite painful. They hadn’t done much rehearsing at all, what with all the pretending to be trees and feathers. After all that malarkey, she’d instructed each of them to write a one thousand word essay on their character and have it ready by the next rehearsal.
I was just putting away my paintbrush and preparing to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Lauren.
‘Hi, erm, I hope you don’t mind me coming over to say hello! So you’re Alice Woods.’
‘Um…yeah that’s me!’ I raised my paintbrush in a funny sort of salute. Why did I have to be so damn awkward?
‘I’m Lauren Baker.’ She reached forward and grabbed my arm, making my paintbrush clatter to the floor. ‘I saw you on stage in New York when you were in Hairspray; you were amazing as Penny Pingleton! I just thought I’d come over and say hello properly, since there wasn’t time earlier.’
I gently prised my arm out of her vice-like grip and smiled, flipping some of my dark brown hair away from my face.
‘Thanks, that was a while ago now!’ I’d never been good at taking a compliment and nowadays, I was worse than ever.
‘You inspired me to follow my dreams.’ Lauren’s chocolate-brown eyes were now the size of dinner plates. ‘I mean, look at you; you’re from Luna Bay and you’ve achieved amazing things. You’ve performed all over the world! I want to do the same one day, just have to get out of the village first. Ooh, and you’ve got lovely hair!’
She reached out to touch it, but I managed to deftly duck out of the way. ‘Um…thank you again! Anyway, I need to get going; lots to do and all that…’
Lauren sighed and twirled a strand of bright auburn hair round her finger. ‘I’m sorry, I can be a bit…overenthusiastic sometimes! It’s just when I saw you on stage, it made me realise that I wanted to do that for the rest of my life. You were just so…alive, I guess. Like you could really tell you belonged up there – know what I mean? You’ve probably been asked this, like, hundreds of times already, but why are you here painting our sets and not off on some glitzy world tour or something? Didn’t something awful happen to you? I remember hearing rumours when you came back to Luna Bay that something terrible had happened in New York.’
My stomach twisted itself into knots as I tried to think of an answer that didn’t include “my boyfriend died so I stopped performing”. In a way, I was glad she didn’t know the full story: I’d had enough concerned head tilts and pats on the arm to last me several lifetimes.
‘I…’ The words I wanted to say stuck in my throat. ‘I guess I just didn’t have the heart for it any more. But you were great up there when Christabel let you do your stuff!’
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