Spud - Learning to Fly (33 page)

Then Boggo opened up his scroll and promptly turned pale. His eyes darted around the page looking for the correct line. Then he snapped the scroll shut and shouted his first line with a spectacular knackjump. Fatty turned his face away from the stage and his shoulders bobbed up and down. I bit my lip and screamed in my head to stay professional. Then The Guv opened his mouth and the audience roared again. Vern suddenly sneezed loudly and the audience nearly wet themselves, especially after he sauntered off stage and then returned some seconds later with a handkerchief. This obviously happened in the middle of Boggo’s first major speech so everything he said was drowned out by the hysteria.

Soon the problem was no longer enough laughter, but rather too much laughter. We struggled on and forced our way through the scene although most of the lines including mine were inaudible. The only thing to be done was to scream out your lines above the din of three hundred junior girls all shrieking with laughter and giggling hysterically. Eventually, the lights faded to blackout. I scurried off into the wings and collided with Spike who was marching on at the same time. I staggered to my feet and limped back to the dressing room where wild hugs and high fives were taking place.

‘We’re gonna be famous!’ trumpeted Boggo. ‘How easy was that?’

The second scene was just as chaotic as the first. One got the feeling that the audience were just waiting for the mechanicals to return, because they burst into loud applause and laughter when the lights came up for Act III Scene 1. Vern bowed self-consciously when he heard the laughter and three hundred girls went ballistic again.

During the play within the play scene, a girl in the front row broke her chair from laughing so hard and was forced to sit in the aisle. Unfortunately, the chair breaking caused further shrieking. It happened as I was galloping around as Thisby with Vern/Lion bounding after me on all fours and growling like a deranged house cat.

The audience raised the roof when the mechanicals came on for the curtain call. They all stood up when The Guv took his final bow.

Standing ovation!

‘Now that is Shakespeare!’ shouted The Guv raucously in the wings as he gave me a thump on the shoulder. Everyone was manic and throwing their arms around everybody else. I even found VPH wrapped around me for a very sexy second and a half.

Viking burst through the crimson curtains looking wild and savage. His eyes fixed on us like an immense explosion was imminent. Then his face broke into a grin, and a great rasping laugh escaped his lips. Viking was not only smiling, but he was laughing like a madman – it was like seeing two rainbows at once.

Then Viking and The Guv were hugging and dancing on the spot at the same time.

‘It’s beautiful!’ Viking shouted. He pointed his finger at Vern and roared, ‘You, sir, are a revelation!’ Vern blushed and looked at his feet. Then he grinned deviously and slunk behind the curtains.

‘Wonderful!’ boomed Viking.

‘Your best ever, Victor!’ hailed The Guv and thumped Viking on the back.

I strode back to the house before the others. I didn’t feel like flirting and spading girls in the remote hope that one of them will suddenly find me attractive.

Ambling along the path in the clear moonless light, I knew for sure that I could never do anything else and be truly happy again. It’s a drug, and I already want my next fix.

Another rip-roaring performance, this time for the senior girls. Tonight I felt more in control and began anticipating the laughs before they happened. The only disaster was when Rambo intentionally switched Boggo’s crib scroll with another identical one shortly before curtain up.

Boggo only noticed the problem as we were about to stride onto the stage for our first scene. Without his secret weapon, he fell apart at the seams and had about three blank outs, during which he repeatedly opened up his scroll as if hoping that the lines might magically reappear. The awkward pauses didn’t make any difference, because The Guv jumped in and said all of Boggo’s lines and his own without it sounding strange. The audience were watching Vern anyway.

Rambo thought his practical joke was the most hilarious thing ever, as did the giggling VPH who stood in the wings massaging his neck from behind. Sometimes it’s difficult not to be jealous.

6:00 ‘There’s a review in the newspaper!’ shouted Brenda through my door like the house was on fire. I heard doors opening and closing and the sound of scampering feet and anxious voices. On the coffee table lay the paper with a picture of Rambo and VPH leaning seductively against a tree.

Final Performance

In typical Wrexham killjoy form, there will be no cast party after tonight’s performance. Thankfully, Geoff has come to the rescue and The Guv and Viking have negotiated the use of the Wrexham minibuses to ferry the cast up for a day-long celebration at Lawson’s farm on Sunday.

18:00 ‘What am I gonna do, Spuddy?’ asked Fatty looking terribly upset. Once again he had dragged me into the garden behind the theatre. It was on the same bench as our previous meeting, although this time Fatty was too agitated to sit.

‘I still haven’t kissed Penny and like tonight’s the final night,’ he said with twitchy eyes. ‘I’ve been trying to kiss her all week but it hasn’t been working out.’

I asked Fatty what technique he had been adopting.

‘The one from the movies,’ he said. ‘You know … like when you get in really close to her face and then both your heads like slide slowly together until you kiss.’

‘Maybe it’s your breath,’ I suggested.

‘Nought,’ replied Fatty. ‘I’ve been chewing Beechies non stop for a week.’

We fell into a thoughtful silence. Then Fatty said, ‘Brenda keeps asking me when I’m going to make my move, and I’m getting nervous and stuff.’

I nodded with an understanding expression but Fatty set off again. ‘I was planning to do it at the after-party, but now that’s cancelled and it’s like blind to do it in the daytime tomorrow when everyone’s around.’

‘Okay, this is what you do,’ I said and I outlined an impressive battle plan for Fatty. He listened intently and repeated everything I said. Once I was finished he asked, ‘What happens if she says no?’

‘She won’t,’ I said. ‘I promise.’

‘Thanks, Spud. Wish me luck,’ he said, taking a deep breath.

‘Break a leg,’ I said, and returned to the theatre, to find the female cast in uproar because Rambo had just dumped Victoria Perez Hamilton in her dressing room.

What an idiot.

22:45 The final night wasn’t anything like Oliver. I suppose nothing ever will be. Just like nothing will probably be as momentous and intimidating as my first year at boarding school. The show went by like lightning. One minute I was wishing everyone well for the performance, and the next I was bowing my head to the roaring crowd for the final time. The great red curtain swooped across the stage and it was over.

The mostly adult audience loved it as much as the girls did, and the headmistress soon arrived backstage and said it was the best school play she had ever seen. We all packed up our props and hung up our costumes. Then, under the withering gaze of Mr Owen, we headed sadly back to the house.

23:00 So that’s that. Hundreds and hundreds of hours spent on perfecting a mere two. It hardly seems fair that we will never do this again. All that’s left is a collection of moments and memories, some of which I have captured, and others that have slipped through the net and will no doubt be forgotten. That thought still kills me.

A great depression has descended as I lie in bed writing this. It’s like a flame has been doused and the colour and light is gone. I thought about home and the holidays, and I didn’t feel excited. I thought about going back to school for the final term, and I felt anxious. I then pondered being completely free and roaming around the countryside like Jack Kerouac. Even that felt empty and uncertain. I pulled the duvet over my chin, closed my eyes and waited for sleep to take me somewhere better.

11:00 Fatty made sure that he was sitting next to me on the bus trip up to Geoff Lawson’s farm. Since Boggo and Rambo were seated right behind us, we couldn’t speak but were able to communicate using the Wrexham technique of surreptitiously passing little notes back and forth:

Fatty tapped his breast pocket and winked at me with feverish eyes. Then he turned away and stared out of the window for the rest of the journey.

Viking and The Guv wasted no time on arrival setting up camp on Lawson’s veranda. It became obvious that they were planning on some serious wine drinking and storytelling.