Chloe's Rescue Mission (25 page)

The mood was set and our compère, the lovely, the gorgeous, the uber-professional Morgan Ash was there to link the acts together. Out front, he held the show together while backstage, I was racing from changing rooms to wings, checking my acts were in the right place at the right time. Morgan was smooth and flexible; stretching his patter to fill any unforeseen gaps. His gravelly, Shakespearean delivery – along with a touch of innuendo and eye-sparkling charm – gave the show real class.

And thanks to his ‘close, romantic association’ with the Italian baritone, we’d managed to get Dante Russo to perform his latest single, before sprinting off stage and into a taxi to The Royal Albert Hall, where he had his own fee-paying audience to entertain.

The lovely Jooli was a knockout, performing two of her big hits and loudly pledging a thousand pounds to the theatre. God love her, she’d set a trend. No professional act dare go on afterwards without matching her offer.

So, those were the class acts. We also had a couple of reality TV ‘slebs’ gamely doing a dance of the seven veils to the theme tune from their show ‘Real Men Cook’, peeling off tea-towels to reveal RMC underpants in fluorescent jungle green.

At half time, my anxiety levels were sky-high. Chiefly because, when the lights went down and the curtain went up on the second act, we three Steeles would be facing the audience. ‘It’s not as bad as potholing,’ I murmured as we waited in the wings. ‘You’re among friends.’

Beth was checking her lipstick in a greasy little mirror on the wall, and trying out a few killer smiles. Mum was pulling her own mouth into every conceivable position and making odd noises. Both were oblivious to me and my raging angst.

Good. If they were on their game, then our performance would at least be two-thirds as good as our rehearsals had been.

With a nod from the stage manager, we took our places centre stage; Mum in the middle and we two either side.

When the lights went down, and the cheers went up, so did my stomach, followed rapidly by my pulse. I swallowed. I breathed. I thought of Grandee.

Mum held our hands and when the music started we bobbed up and down to the beat. The curtain went up and we were on. There was a preposterously huge cheer from the front rows when they saw us, decked out as we were in spotty dresses with circular skirts and our wing-framed sunglasses. We’d chosen to sing
New Girl in Town
from
Hairspray
because it was fun and jolly. Before my stage-smile lips could fuse to my teeth, we were singing. We were singing and bouncing, and I realised the warmth coming from the auditorium wasn’t just down to the spotlights.

Several bars in, as we three changed places in our routine, Mum winked at me and I felt a quiver in my cheek. It was a real smile twitching. Not the plastered on, muscle-aching, stage smile but one borne out of the deep joy of being there, doing what we did so well. And doing it together, for Grandee’s theatre.

We dipped, we swayed and Beth did the splits in mid-air. She’d insisted. It was her party-piece and who was I to spoil her fun?

As the song came all too quickly to an end, we bowed to the front, and we bowed to the sides. I squeezed Mum’s hand with pride and we took another bow before Morgan strode on, applauding vigorously. ‘Weren’t they fabulous, Ladies and Gentlemen? The Glorious Steele Girls.’

We dipped a little bow to him in appreciation and walked hand-in-hand back to the wings, where we fell into each others’ arms, whispering our joy at having pulled it off. Then it was back to the clipboard, back to my sprint between wings and dressing-rooms, rallying the other performers to their starting blocks.

The last solo act of the night had to be Alicia-May, and she did not disappoint. She performed just the one number, but it lasted a full five minutes. It was a roof-raising rendition of I Will Survive. Spectacular. She was so good, people would have gladly paid twice the ticket price just to see her. I was genuinely proud to know I’d shared the stage with her all those years ago, and that she was here because of Grandee. And we were friends, even with all those miles separating us, she cared and we cared.

As she came off stage, she pulled the widest smile and hugged me so hard, I thought I’d turn purple.

Next came the finale, when the entire company – or at least those who hadn’t headed for better venues or fancier parties – took to the stage for a rousing reprise of
There’s no Business like Show Business
. I was bursting with pride and relief. Thrilled at having survived the ordeal with honours, I beamed up at the box where I knew Duncan’s party was sitting. His words, his encouragement had brought me back to the stage with a renewed perspective. He was right. There were many worse things than getting up on stage and bringing entertainment to an enthusiastic audience. I hoped he could read the gratitude in my smile. More than that, I hoped he could see me, because I couldn’t see him in amongst the Thorsen Leisure crowd. Owen was holding Tom and cheering; Marlean and Emily were at the front with their sons who were clapping frantically.

Just as I was preparing to step forward and deliver a speech of thanks, Mum and Beth clutched my hands. There was a shuffle of movement at the back of the auditorium.

I could feel my insides leap as my excitement turned to panic.

Heads and bodies in the audience began to turn.

What was going on? Did we have protestors? Had Barnworth town councillors resisted slamming a demolition order on our theatre till now? I peered through the spotlights for some clue as to what was happening.

The doors opened. A light came on. I could hear a roll of drums, then a pulsing beat and the skirl of bagpipes rose from the foyer.

Marching through the doors came, would you believe, Duncan – bagpipes and all. Behind him were six other pipers and four drummers – kilts swaying and pipes piping.

A marching band will always stir my passions, but with Duncan pacing through the audience, my passions hit a record high.

As the crowd caught on to who was leading the band, their cheers gathered momentum.

Hot men in kilts marched to the front of the theatre, separated and marched either side to mount the steps to the stage.

Instinctively, we moved back.

Once lined up, they completed one more chorus of some familiar Scottish tune I couldn’t name and wrapped it up with a flourish of drums.

The audience were on their feet.

My goose-bumps reached new peaks.

I’m not sure any Scottish piping band had ever received such an ovation outside of the Edinburgh Tattoo.

‘How fabulous!’ cried Mum, clapping frantically.

‘Seriously sexy,’ Jooli growled behind me.

Who was I to argue?

Duncan was right in front of me, centre stage, his broad back blocking my view of the crowd. He raised an arm to the audience. Eventually, he was able to speak. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, you all know this fabulous show tonight wouldn’t have been possible without the hard work of a dedicated and very proud family. Please put your hands together for Jennifer, Chloe and Beth Steele!’

He stepped aside and turned to invite us through.

I cast him a very swift and appreciative glance as we did so.

While the audience cheered and clapped, again, we took another bow. Finally, Mum and Beth propelled me forward.

I had to speak now? With this tide of emotions surging through my system?

Standing tall, I walked into the spotlight. I shielded my eyes and spoke into the microphone. ‘Hey, I’d like to see all those lovely people who’ve been brought to this wonderful event by the power of Joshua Steele’s legacy. Can we have the house lights up, please?’

The lighting crew obliged and I looked around at all the faces. Some I knew from home, some I knew from TV. After thanking them all for supporting our project, I added, ‘You know, when I appeared on television, all those weeks ago, I’d no idea I’d be standing here now, or that things could have happened so quickly. But I owe a great debt of gratitude…and possibly money,’ the audience laughed, ‘to Duncan Thorsen,’ I braved a quick look in his direction, ‘and his staff at Thorsen Leisure.’ I swept my arm up to the box. Hugo and his colleagues waved back.

More applause.

‘And, of course, my family’s thanks must go to all these wonderful people behind me, who so generously gave their time and their talents in aid of the Joshua Steele Theatre. Believe me, my grandfather would have been deeply touched…as indeed we are. Thank you.’

As the applause rang out once more, we stepped back and the curtain fell for the final time.

Mum, Beth and I hugged. Then Mum set upon Duncan. ‘Duncan, that was spectacular! Thank you so much for agreeing to do it. Rounded off the event perfectly.’

The sneaky mare. ‘You knew about it? Well thanks for telling me,’ I said, trying to sound cross and failing. ‘I thought I was running this show.’

Duncan grinned at me. ‘We wanted to surprise you.’

I couldn’t help grinning back. ‘You succeeded.’

‘Nice one, Duncan,’ Beth said. ‘Now, the important things, we’re off to crack open the Cava.’ She grabbed Mum’s hand and followed the excited performers to the wings.

‘Well done, Chloe. You’ve done a great job,’ Duncan said, before leaning in to hug me.

He was warm and strong and solid. Although it has to be said, I found the involuntary moan of the bagpipes a tad disconcerting.

‘It did go pretty well, didn’t it?’ I said, into his shoulder.

‘Fantastic. I’m proud of you.’ He hugged me harder and it felt like he really meant it.

Which one of us was going to break first?

Me.

It had to be me.

‘Right. I’d better go and pat a lot of backs. People have been brilliant. And I loved the bagpipes. First pat on the back is yours,’ I said, actually patting him on the arm.

‘Enjoy your party.’

‘You’re not joining us?’

‘No. This is your night.’

‘Only because you helped us. We’d be nowhere without your support.’

‘You enjoy it. You deserve it. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He leaned forward and gave me a warm, brief kiss on the cheek, then made his way to the side of the stage.

I didn’t have time to sulk, although I may have enjoyed an indulgent bout of crushing disappointment.

*

Duncan had fully intended to go back to the hotel with his family. He didn’t have many opportunities to spend time with them, and he knew Jim would enjoy a pint or two in the bar. His sister, however, had other ideas. ‘You don’t need to come back with us. I’m absolutely done in. You stay here and enjoy the party.’

Little Harry was clearly done in too. He was in Jim’s arms, already starting to doze on his shoulder.

‘You know me, Em, I’m not really a party guy.’

‘Make a sacrifice!’ she chided, flipping his chest with the back of her hand.

‘No, I’d rather leave the theatrical lovies to their fun and games.’

‘I think it would be rude to leave. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of that company of lovies, now.’

Duncan carried on walking to the exit with them. ‘Hardly.’

She grinned at him. ‘You were in your element up there, playing the pipes.’

‘Aye, well there’s not much chance to play them, these days.’

Out on the street he guided them to the left. ‘We should be able to pick up a taxi down here.’

As he flagged down an approaching cab, his sister took his arm. ‘Duncan, never mind all your nonsense about lovies, why don’t you just stay a while? It’ll mean a lot to the Steeles, I’m sure.’

He looked at her for a long moment, while Jim and Harry climbed into the cab.

‘Okay, you win.’ He handed her his bagpipes. ‘Look after these for me.’

‘Good lad.’ She stepped up and kissed his cheek. ‘We’ll catch up with you tomorrow.’

As he watched the taxi pull away, he felt a calming moment of satisfaction.

He looked around him. The streets were bustling. Theatre-land was so alive at night-time.

A car horn sounded out.

He turned back and gazed up at the theatre. Above the teeming pedestrians, hung the huge poster of Alicia-May with Morgan Ash – all razzle-dazzle and starry. Another smaller poster showed Joshua Steele in his heyday, looking inscrutable. Smaller still was a picture of Chloe, smiling in her straightforward way.

He thought back to Chloe’s performance with her family. They had all shone with talent but it was Chloe he couldn’t take his eyes off. Just like in Spain, when she’d danced flamenco, she’d been in her element. Performing was in her blood and watching someone with that kind of gift was a privilege. Oh yes, Alicia May was a stand-out star, and all the other professionals had given faultless performances, but he didn’t know them like he knew Chloe. He hadn’t seen their wobbly moments of insecurity like he had hers. In spite of her past experience of stage fright, for the sake of something she believed in, she’d risen to the challenge and scaled it. A glow of admiration fired in him.

He smiled.

Could there be more of Chloe in his life? Would she be able to take his feelings seriously after all that had happened?