Page 12 of Benidorm Again

‘Not very friendly, is she?’ I hear her say, just as I’m about to fling myself down the stairs and hurry away. ‘Although,you’ve had many a snooty singing partner. I’m sure you can handle it.’

Wait. I’m his what now?

My jaw falls slightly open as I’m stopped in my tracks mid-step. I turn slowly towards him.

‘Oh, didn’t I mention? I’m the lead tenor,’ says Luke, looking distinctly unimpressed. ‘Graduate of the National Conservator of Music, one of a handful to reach an octave above middle C without breaking a sweat and celebrated in over forty countries. You’re insanely out of your depth but do try not to feelemotionalabout it.’

What a cheek.

I’m immediately incensed. ‘Wow. Forty countries. And yet you manage to remain so modest,’ I say. ‘It’s a wonder the Sinfonia can afford such a global super star.’

I seem to have hit a nerve. He screws his eyes at me. ‘Don’t come crying to me when you can’t keep up.’

Dolly’s eyes are pinging back and forth.

‘The only crying I’ll be doing is with joy, when this tour is over,’ I say tightly.

‘Looking forward to that day already.’

I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. Instead, I blink deliberately slowly at him. The atmospheregrowing increasingly hostile. How am I ever going to get through this tour with a partner like him?

‘Time to go,’ says Dolly, breaking up the spat. ‘We don’t want to be late.’

I scamper down the steps away from them. My heart is beating wildly. I am not great at confrontation at the best of times, never mind with an accomplished international singing star who obviously now hates me.

Luckily, there is a concierge who will deliver all of our heavy cases to our rooms while we are in rehearsals. I just have time to join the massive queue to collect my key at reception, scroll through a variety of messages from The Dollz on how to confront perverts, stalkers and smug singing partners, take the lift to the third floor, open my door, sweep my gaze around – basic but clean - and close it again… because my twenty minutes are up.

Chapter 5

My nerves are completely on edge as I make my way up the steps to get into the theatre. There was an anxious silence on the coach all the way to the theatre from the hotel. Nobody spoke a word. It felt as though it would be bad luck to break it, so I couldn’t ask anyone what was going on. Even when we arrived, and the other coach full of musicians spilled out, they filed into the theatre as though it’s a funeral. The atmosphere is very disconcerting. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life. And no one is making eye contact either. It’s so strange. If I wasn’t nervous before, I am bloody petrified now.

I follow the stragglers into the theatre, across the grand marble foyer, through some double doors marked STAFF ONLY and down a narrow, plushly carpeted corridor lined with antiquated wooden panels. We troop silently past baroque-style paintings hung on deep plum-coloured walls, through a curtained side entrance, into the backstage area.

Luke is standing at the edge of the stage as I approach.

‘Where’s your wife?’ I ask him. ‘I need the running order from her.’

‘My wife?’

‘Yes, Dolly. Your wife, girlfriend, partner, significant other, soul mate, whatever.’

‘Ah, that wife. She’s on the other side,’ he says pointing to far stage right. He’s not going to make this easy for me.

‘Places everyone!’ barks a sour-faced stage manager. A huge shuffle occurs while the chorists take their places on stage, musicians scurry to find their seats, instruments are being tuned, violins screech, and the conductor marches to the centre. He is small in both height and frame but has a big aura. He smoothes back thin wisps of hair over his balding head, as he sweeps his beady gaze around the orchestra.

A sudden hush falls across the entire theatre as the lights dim. The conductor taps his long, beaky nose four times and clears his throat noisily before flicking the sheet music back and forth. He is deep in concentration.

Flick. Flick. Flick.

Is this code? Am I supposed to know what is going on? Who is in charge?

I stand rigid at the side of the stage, unsure of where I am supposed to be. Luke seems to have disappeared and the temperature has suddenly plummeted to zero degrees as a frosty atmosphere descends. All we can hear is the rustling of the sheet music. My nerves are wound tight as I witness everyone in the orchestra looking anxious. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, one of the chorus girls leans in to murmur in my ear, making me jump with fright.

‘It’s his ritual. The nose tap. It grounds him.’

‘Okay. Thanks for letting me know. But next time, try not to sneak up on me. You nearly gave me a heart attack,’ I hiss, keeping my eyes glued to the conductor. He twists around to give me an unforgiving stare. He must have the hearing of a Barn Owl. He has heard us whispering, and we have broken his concentration. I rotate slowly to find she has sunk into the shadows, nowhere to be seen. I swallow nervously as the conductor continues to bore holes into me. He is livid.

He shakes his head with a sigh and continues flicking the pages back and forth before landing on one that agrees with him. He studies it in deadly silence.

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