HerNetta?
The lovely Netta that she’d been chatting to on the Family Listening Line for the last two years? Her confidante. Her source of comfort and advice? That Netta? No. Couldn’t be. And yet…
Kiki had watched as the ‘Netta’ on screen had calmed Ava down, related to her with a gentleness and patience that Kiki recognised, in a voice that was absolutely, definitely, unmistakably Netta. Just as she’d done for Kiki so many times over the years, Netta had listened to Ava’s problems, then calmly, gently offered a solution.
On screen, the two of them had closed their eyes, and they’d sung together, and oh dear lord, the electricity had come right through the screen to the hundreds of people who were sitting here with her now and caused an almost perceptible buzz. There had been gasps from some, murmurs of encouragement from others, and a silence from the ones who, like Kiki, had been holding their breath.
The shot had changed again, back to the theatre, where Ava was walking back in, head held high, portraying a new-found confidence that was only betrayed by a very slight tremor when she reached the microphone in the middle of the stage, and the camera zoomed in on her hands as she adjusted the height. Kiki had felt the almost palpable force of every single person rooting for her.
‘I apologise for my flake earlier,’ Ava said in a clear, strong voice. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’d very much appreciate if you would let me audition properly now.’
The shot had panned to Moira Chiles and three other coaches, and Kiki had thought she might faint from lack of oxygen as she’d waited for their reply.
‘Of course you can, Ava,’ Moira had agreed, with all the same maternal kindness that Netta had shown just a moment before.
‘Thank you.’ That’s when Ava had taken a deep breath. Then exhaled. As the music had started, she’d closed her eyes and begun to sing, her voice strong, pure, intoxicating, as if… well, as Netta had said, as if Celine Dion was her maw.
Now, Kiki stared at the screen, her chin dropped, her mind blown by what she was watching. Her girl was up there. Her amazing, gorgeous, soft-hearted, nervous, talented, brilliant girl. And right now, not only were the people in this room seeing how wonderful she was, but as this show was also being broadcast right this minute on Netflix, Kiki knew that the rest of the world was seeing it too.
As soon as the song finished, Kiki realised she was impatient for the show to end for many reasons. She needed to get down there and hug her girl and tell her how wonderful she was. She needed to go and track down Netta, who, by the looks of things, worked in the canteen here, and thank her for looking out for Ava.
And then… when all that was done, she needed to go down there and face him, and demand that he acknowledge her and pay for how he’d treated her.
28
GINNY
Ginny realised that when they’d been preparing for tonight, organising guest lists, inviting celebrity names, sending out press releases, setting up the theatre, prepping the students and managing their own expectations, they’d failed to bring in the one thing that she really needed now: some sort of apparatus to help her breathe again – because on the screen was perhaps the single most thrilling highlight of her professional career. And it had come in the same couple of hours as the second, third and fourth highlight of her professional career.
The first time she’d appeared on screen, she’d breathed a mighty sigh of relief, mixed with a fist-clench of elation. She’d made the cut. She was on the show. There would forever be a televised record that, yes, she’d worked at The Moira Chiles Academy of Drama and Music, and she had a two-minute clip of her singing and dancing to ‘She Had It Coming’ fromChicago. And even being objective, it had been impossible to tell that she’d been at a party in Stevie’s house the night before and had consumed so many home-made mojitos, her bloodstream as she high-kicked was almost certainly eighty per cent alcohol.
Her grandad, Hugo, had nudged her when she’d wrapped up the song, and even in the dim light, Ginny could see his eyes glistening. ‘Ah, sweetheart, you’re just flipping brilliant,’ he’d whispered. While her sister, Alyssa, on the other side of Grandad had whispered, ‘Is that my black stilettos you’re wearing?’
It was, but Ginny decided now wasn’t the time for sibling confessions.
The second highlight had been when she’d absolutely, if she did say so herself, nailed a scene from one of her favourite movies of all time, the legendary Rob Reiner’s romcom,When Harry Met Sally. Thankfully, it wasn’t the orgasm scene, as that would have been wildly inappropriate, but it was the kissing scene at the end, chosen by one of the students in an acting class that focused on classic romcoms. Ollie had been in the Academy that day and had joined the class, but probably wished he hadn’t, when they’d got to the part in the scene where Ginny had puckered up and snogged the face off him. Grandad hadn’t commented on that one, but that was probably because the embarrassment beaming from her bright red face was giving him heatstroke. It wasn’t that kissing Ollie had been a chore, but he was her pal, as was his girlfriend who’d been watching in the wings, so feigning that level of passion had been cringe-inducing.
The third clip was in the third and final episode, when she’d been on the panel for Ava’s audition and had sought her out afterwards to check she was okay and tell her that she’d been sensational. She’d then had a lovely chat with her about her dreams and all the things she could do to help her achieve them. And, for once, she wasn’t overly sweary, didn’t say anything flippant and she’d even inadvertently delivered a truly emotional moment when she’d filled up as Ava had told her how much she loved her mum and just wanted to make her proud.
Of course, the huge shock from that episode had been the secret weapon, the bloody incredible Netta, and Ginny intended to go find her right after this was over and pay homage to her brilliance.
But back to her own highlights for now, and her final scene… how ironic that the ultimate highlight, the absolute pinnacle of her contribution to the show, had happened when she was completely unaware that she was being filmed.
It was right after she’d heard that she would have the opportunity to audition forJudas – The Traitor. It was late at night, and the only other people in the building were Jean and Senga, who’d been cleaning the windows of one of the sound studios when she’d gone in there to rehearse. As soon as they were done, Ginny had cleared her throat, composed herself, ready to warm up. She’d done her vocal scales, then pressed play on her iPhone and closed her eyes as an acoustic soundtrack of ‘I Don’t Know How To Love Him’, fromJesus Christ Superstar, had come on. She’d opened her mouth and begun to sing, like no one was watching, like she felt every word, like her soul ached from the pain of it, until two tears fell down her cheeks because her heart had been ripped out. Even tonight, watching herself on the screen, she thought it might be the best performance of her life. Better than every other song she’d ever sung. Better than her audition earlier today.
The camera had then cut to Jean and Senga, sitting on the couch next door in the control booth, eating packets of cheese and onion Taytos, while Senga clutched her heart and murmured, ‘I swear I love that song so much I could shag Andrew Lloyd Webber.’
Cut back to the soundproof studio. Ginny on the screen hadn’t heard that, and she had no idea how good she’d just been, because, just seconds after she’d finished and dried her eyes, the power in the room had blown and she’d been plunged into darkness.
That’s when she’d bellowed up to the heavens, ‘Jesus, if you did that because I butchered the song, I apologise,’ causing the entire viewing audience in this Glasgow theatre to crumble into laughter. Suddenly, improv comedy was back on the CV.
A hand had taken hers, and she’d realised that Alyssa was leaning over to her. ‘I don’t think you’ll ever have to come back to work in my café. Thank God,’ she’d added, but even in the darkness, Ginny had seen the pride in her sister’s eyes.
Now, both thrilled and delighted, Ginny glanced down at the VIP row, the only section of the theatre that was illuminated, because the Netflix team were filming their reactions. Even from this distance, and with all the shit that he had going on in his life right now, she could see that Ollie was chuckling along, and she knew he’d be happy for her. Moira was dabbing at her face, and Ginny guessed that was because she adored that song too. But her very own boyfriend, sitting a few seats along the row? Stony-faced. Not even a hint of humour or pride. And that hit Ginny somewhere right in the gut.
She was still thinking about that when the end titles of the final episode rolled, the lights came up, and the whole theatre burst into thunderous applause. Ollie, Moira and Calvin stood up, turned around, mouthing ‘thank you’ as they applauded the crowd.
Ginny felt the same gratitude going the other way – to the other coaches, to the Academy staff, to Jean and Senga, to the family that was hugging her now, and to the students whom she’d worked with every day and who’d given her the absolute privilege of being part of their dreams. And, oh bugger, why did all this rhetoric in her head make her feel like Gwyneth Paltrow giving her Oscars speech in 1999? She’d only been a baby back then, but it was one of those folklore events that every actor had watched at some point in the years since.
