Kate vs Showbiz – Chapter 28

Sitting in her dressing room, Tracey relaxed. The second half had been pretty much incident free. She didn’t have so much to do and her big finale, killing the baddie had gone well. Best of all, when the cast have come on to stage for their final bow, the audience went wild as she walked on. As a main character, she processed down the steps in an amazing gown that looked like it should be in a cake shop. All the applause was for her. It was possibly the most wonderful moment of her life.

All the learning, all the work, it was worthwhile. Would the thrill still be there after a month of performances? It didn’t matter. For the moment there was a bottle of chilled champagne and a dozen roses sat beside the mirror. There wasn’t a name on the card, and she knew they were probably from that soppy old sod Gareth, but it didn’t matter. This was the treatment stars got and she wanted to revel in it.

Freddie stuck his head into the room. “Well done Tracey. You played a blinder. Who’d have thought you’d never done this before.”

A few minutes later, the dame wandered in and said the same. “Darling, you are a trooper. We didn’t think you’d do it, but you only did.” He gulped down a cup of the bubbly, “Listen, a few of us are going for a drink later. Fancy it?”

She paused. Normally a drink after work would be just right, but she was tired. On the other hand, how often is a girl asked out by a man in that much makeup? Not in the sort of bars she frequented of course.

“Oh, go on then”, she replied, “Are you going to get changed back into your normal clothes first?”

“Darling, you don’t think I’m going out like this do you? Gotta keep the magic in the theatre. It’ll be too exciting for civilians to see me in full regalia.”

She laughed, “Anyway, you might get asked again if you are a transvestite.”

“OMG. That little kid earlier. We drag them up on stage for a little time in the limelight, just so the moms and dads can Instagram a picture you know, and the little bugger asks that! He said his auntie had told him to say it too! What a bitch!”

“It made the audience laugh though.”

“Oh yeah. They love it when stuff goes wrong. Look how they laughed when Ali opened the shop door and the whole front fell backwards.”

Tracey looked puzzled. “I didn’t see that. What happened?”

“You were probably doing a costume change. Yeah. Ali Baba opens the shop door and the bloody set only goes and collapses.” The Dame fluttered her hand about to demonstrate.

“Aren’t these things tied to something?”

“Should be. Looks like one of the crew didn’t do their knots properly. I mean it’s only a canvas painting, but it still looks a bit rubbish.”

“And the pyrotechnics almost blew up the camel.”

The Dame laughed. “Poor guys got a dose of exploding stars up the jacksie. Enough to give them the right hump!”

Tracey frowned, “Quite a lot seemed to go wrong then really. I’m glad it wasn’t just me.”

“You? Oh no, you were fine. Look luv, we all fluff the odd line. It doesn’t matter so much for me as I can just mess around with the script anyway.”

“Doesn’t the director mind?”

“That old queen? Nah. Anyway, I’d soon give him a slap. Scripts are just for guidance in panto. We do something different every night.”

“Oh, I’ve been learning it by heart.”

“And very good you are too. You stick to the writer’s words and leave the ad-libbing to me and the others for the moment. We’re old pros. It takes years of practice, and that’s just for applying the makeup. “

With that, he swept out of the room leaving Tracey to her thoughts. Maybe she was OK. All the cast had been lovely and she had got most of her lines right. Give it another few performances and perhaps she’d feel more confident. One thing she did know, Tracey Dunn-Jones had found something she was good at.

Kate vs Showbiz – Chapter 27

In the foyer, Freddie was also dealing with someone covered in goo. Stewards flew around waving paper towels to try and wipe the lady mayor down but she batted them away, grabbing the clothes and doing her best to both clean and appear regal.

“My clothes are ruined! What the hell are you doing playing a trick like that?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I mean, this isn’t part of the act. At least it wasn’t in rehearsal.”

“You don’t know? What sort of place are you running here if you don’t know when you plan to drown an audience member?”

“I mean I know it isn’t part of the show. We might throw a little bit of glitter around, but we don’t mess with the audience.”

“Well you messed with this audience member, and when I get back to the office, I’m going to suggest that the council messes with you and this place”, she replied, waving a hand around to emphasise the point.

Freddie pleaded, “Please, this isn’t fair. Look how much fun the audience was having. I mean we’re doing so much good work here. You can’t let one little accident ruin things.”

“One little accident? Look at the Mayoral chain, it’s solid gold you know. It’s going to have to be professionally cleaned up. That’s council tax payers money you know.” She held the offending item under his nose just to make clear how bad things were. Freddie did start to wonder if it was real gold, as he thought he could see parts peeling off, but thought better of saying something.

“Perhaps I can get one of our tech team to have a look. They are really quite competent.”

“Really? They don’t seem to be able to nail down a giant pot do they?”

Well, I mean, I’m sure we don’t know how this happened.” He paused and then said triumphantly, “There will be an investigation!”

The mayor didn’t look impressed. “Oh great, an investigation. I’ve worked in local government for 30 years. I know how much use ‘an investigation is. I don’t want things investigated. I want to know who did it and then fire them.”

“Fire them, your honour? Surely we should work out what happened first.”

“What happened,” the mayor replied angrily, “is that someone tried to drown me with a vat of what tastes like a mix of wallpaper paste and flour. If drowning the civic party isn’t cause for a sacking or two, then I don’t know what is. And, as for the funding for your little theatre, that now needs some serious consideration too. Now get out of my way, I’m going home. I feel a long bath is required.”

“You don’t want to stay for the second half?” Freddie found himself saying weakly as the party stormed out of the front doors.

Watching them go, he didn’t notice Gareth appear beside him.

“Good news old chap. I’ve managed to sweet talk Tracey into carrying on.”

Still starting at the now closing doors, Freddie replied, “Going on. What do you mean?”

“Well, she was pretty shaken up the poor thing.”

Freddie turned around, “Shaken up? She’s shaken up? I’ve just been told we’re all for the sack and I’m supposed to worry about your office girl getting a bit mucky?”

“Steady on Freddie. I mean Tracey has pulled a blinder to get the show on the road. Without her, we’d not even have a show to open. I know this is a bit of a shaker, but I’m sure things will be fine. You know what ladies are like, they will calm down again I’m sure.”

“You don’t understand. This is bad. Really bad, but what’s worse is that the ticket sales aren’t as good as they usually are. I don’t think Sparks is as big a draw as we hoped he would be.”

Gareth looked at the busy bar. “Surely not. I mean this place is packed. You must have flogged loads of tickets”.

“Hardly any. For the first couple of shows, we give freebies to the council staff and local schools. None of this lot has paid a penny.”

“Oh. Why do you do that?”

“Well, we like to get a good crowd in for the first shows so there’s some word of mouth. It gives the cast a chance to get used to a full house and when the critics come in, it all looks better. The whole thing’s a sham though. In two nights’ time, we’ll be lucky to have a hundred in.”

Gareth looked shocked. “You didn’t say. I mean that’s terrible.”

“That’s showbiz. All smoke and mirrors. Never let them see you cry.” Freddie tried to laugh and then just put his head in his hands.

In the distance, a bell went to announce the second half would be starting.

Kate vs Showbiz – Chapter 25

“Quick Morgiana”, shouted the genie, “Al Racheed will be here any minute.” Morgiana looked suitably frightened at the thought of the ‘bad guy’ catching her. Casting his eye round the stage the genie spotted three giant oil jars. “Ah, that would be perfect, quick hide in one of the pots!”

In the audience, Freddie mutter to Gareth, “This is the big magic number to end the first half. Sparks gets to earn his money.”

Gareth looked at the stage. So far, Tracey seemed to have been doing OK. There had been a few fluffs on her lines, but the other members of the cast had covered those up. “How are the Councillors looking?”he asked.

Freddie peered into the darkness. The front row was full of smartly dressed old people, several wearing mayoral regalia. They didn’t seem to be smiling much and he doubted they would be joining in with the singing later. “It’s difficult to tell. They don’t smile much at the best of times.”

“Did they laugh at the ‘Don’t polish my lamp’ lines?”

“Don’t think so. Good job everyone else got the joke. I’ll give Tracey this, she can pull off a smutty line really well.”

On stage, Tracey lowered herself into a jar and pulled the lid down on herself.

“Boo, Hiss” cried the audience as Al Racheed stomped on to the stage waving his wooden scimitar.

“Where is that pesky slave girl?“ he bellowed, “I will find the wench and cleave her head from her body”. To demonstrate he meant it he swooshed the scimitar around.

There was a chorus of ‘ohs’ and ‘boos’ from the audience.

Tracey popped her head up from the jar, wearing the lid as a hat. “Help me genie. Don’t let the evil Al Racheed find me.” She dropped back down as Sparks appeared in a puff of smoke high up on the balcony of a wooden building.

“Don’t worry Morgaina, that evil man will never find you.”

The audience cheered and then booed as Al Racheed snarled at them.

“Be quiet you lot,” he shouted, “I’ll find her and when I do…” he waved the weapon.

“She’s behind you!” called a lone voice from the audience. Freddie groaned.

Playing to the crowd, Al Racheed replied, “Is she really?” and turned to look at the pots. “I bet she is in one of these!”

“Boooo!” called the audience.

With a flourish, he pulled the first pot forward and lifted off the lid. “She’s not in here!” he cried, “She must be in one of the other ones. Putting the jar back on its stand he moved along the row and repeated the examination. “She’s not in this one either!”

Again, the jar went back on its stand and he looked at the final one. “I have you now!” he cried and pulled it forward grabbing the lid. The audience gasped. Inside there was nothing to be seen, yet only moments before, they had seen Morgiana climb inside.

At the other end of the row, Tracey popped her head up out of the first pot. The audience cheered.

“Have you seen her?” bellowed the baddie, “Where is she?”

Running back to the first jar, he grabbed it and looked inside. As he moved, the genie waved his hands and sprinkled some glitter on the stage. There was nothing in the pot. Tracey appeared briefly in the middle jar. The audience cheered.

Again, the genie sprinkled glitter and Al Racheed looked in the pot. Nothing. He tried the end of the row and again, nothing. This time Tracey appeared in the first jar.

Time and again, they repeated the game. Once, the baddie slipped on the growing pile of glitter. Each time, the audience clapped and cheers. Sparks beamed from under his genie turban.

Suddenly there was a scream from inside a jar. Tracey appeared out of the top but her face was covered in goo. Coughing and spluttering she tried to climb out.

“What on earth…” gasped Freddie, “what the hell is she doing?” Grabbing a radio, he spluttered, “Get the curtain ready. Something’s gone wrong!”

Kate vs Showbiz – Chapter 15

“Look on the bright side”, said Tracey, “at least we got one of the bar staff to make the coffee. Freddie’s attempts always taste like boiled shoes and the contents of the vacuum cleaner.”

Gareth swilled his almost empty latte around and watched the foam settle. They had been waiting for quite a while. Lovely as the managerial office was, making small talk with Tracey wasn’t easy and he didn’t know quite how much of her wild night out stories to believe, or indeed, which were suitable listening for a happily married man. She certainly seemed to enjoy a more active social life than he had at her age.

Freddie had been proving elusive recently. It seems that the pantomime was living up to its name. Despite there being another week until the curtain went up on what would be a make-or-break season, the whole place was in chaos. Backstage staff were busy painting giant urns and there were short people everywhere trying on costumes. Gareth had made a bit of a faux pas when asking about midgets, the term not being politically correct any more. “Artists of restricted growth” was apparently the correct phrase, although the bolshie one who explained this in a patronising way nearly found himself labelled “shortarse” in revenge.

Wandering out of the office, the barman was busy nailing a “Casbah Cafe” sign up. A big box of rather tired Christmas decorations awaited his attention. Gareth decided against asking for more drinks and stuck his head into the auditorium to see if there was any sign of the missing manager.

On the stage, he spotted Freddie standing in front of a giant pile of polystyrene that was carefully being crafted to look like the entrance to a cave. Beside him was a very casually dressed Sparks the magician. They seemed to be having a heated discussion.

Back in the office, Gareth said, “I think we might be in for even more waiting I’m afraid.”

“Do you think we should go back to KOD?” his colleague enquired, “I mean if he’s not going to turn up again, we’re wasting our time.” She didn’t mention that a quick return would allow her a lunchtime in the House of Fraser sale, and a chance to snap up the Whistles bargain she had her eye on.

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be that much longer”, he replied, although she was already looking wistfully out of the window.

Tracey’s retail dreams were interrupted by the arrival of Freddie, looking harassed. “Sorry I’m late. Look, can I get you a coffee to make up for it?”

“No thanks”, Tracey quickly replied pointing at their empty cups, “we’ve already had one.”

“I think your people outside are a bit busy anyway.”, added Gareth.

“Are you sure? Don’t worry, I was going to make it myself.”, Freddie looked at the pair making slightly exaggerated head shaking gestures.

Tracey leapt in, “You look troubled Freddie. Big night nerves starting to set in?”

Freddie looked downcast. “Not first night nerves I’m afraid. We’ve got a bit of a crisis on our hands.”

“Crisis? Surely, it’s all a storm in a, well whatever those giant jars are.”

“Oil jars. It’s what the forty thieves hide in. No, we’ve got plenty of those. Bloody thieves coming out of our ears if you’ll pardon my French.”

“Really? Sounds expensive. Couldn’t you have picked a panto with a smaller cast? We are on an economy drive you know.”, Tracey chided.

“Cast? No. Sorry”, Freddie chuckled, “We only need ten people, and two of them are in the camel.”

“Camel?”, inquired Gareth, “You have a camel?”

“Not a real one. It’s a couple of the stage hands in a costume. The kids love it.”

“Oh. But what about the forty thieves. It’s on the poster you know.”

For a moment, Freddie was confused. “No, no, no. You see we have people doubling up. You never see forty thieves all at once. I mean we did consider getting a local dancing school in to make up the numbers but in the end, they were more trouble than they were worth. You should see the paperwork, and then you have to deal with all the pushy parents…” he tailed off.

Tracey looked at her watch. The chances of getting a shopping trip in were fading away while they discussed camels and thieves. “So, what’s up. Anything we can help with? Our plans are rather replying on this show going well.”

Freddie looked sad again. “There is a bit of a problem. You remember Spark’s assistant Julie?”

“The one who was chucking up when we came over a few weeks ago?”

“Yes. An unfortunate incident. Anyway, the problem is that she and the great magician have had a really big bust-up and she’s walked out of the show.”

“Walked out?”

“Yes. Stomped off leaving the act. Left a note in the dressing room saying she was fed up with playing second fiddle to his ego. “

Tracey snorted. “Surely this happens all the time with showbiz types? I saw a couple of midgets…”

“You can’t call them midgets”, interrupted Gareth, “Artists of restricted growth is the correct term apparently.”

Freddie groaned, “Did Gary tell you that. He really is a pompous little man. Literally in this case. Dwarf is the correct term, but to be honest I just call them ‘supporting artists’ and ignore the height issue. As long as they fit in the oil jar, then we don’t care what shape they are.”

“Doesn’t that cause problems with casting? Do you just say ‘must fit in a jar’? Won’t the PC police be all over you. I mean, I could demand to play the part.”

“We are running a production where the leading lady is played by a man in drag, the principle boy is played by an attractive young woman in thigh-high boots and you are worried about labels? Right at this moment, you can try the oil jars for size and I’ll have big Chris from the tech staff sit on the lid to make sure you get inside.”

Dragging the conversation back to the main topic, Tracey broke in, “So what about Julie? How do you know she’s not going to come back?”

“It was her note. She addressed it to Barry.”

“Barry?” Tracey looked confused.

“Sparks’s real name. But he was very picky about being called Sparks. Said that if you didn’t you weren’t being respectful of his artistic status or some such rubbish. I got away with it because he’s never managed to get a bank account in his stage name so if he wanted paying, the money had to go to Barry, but woe betide anyone else using the ‘B’ word.”

“Julie really meant it then.”

“Oh yes. She’s gone and that gives us a big problem. “

“Why? I mean she was great, but surely there must be other assistants out there.”

Freddie laugher nervously, “Of course, but she was playing one of the big parts in this show, Morgiana.”

“Sorry old man”, said Gareth, “Who is Morgiana?”

Freddie looked surprised. “You don’t know the Ali Baba story?”

Tracey and Gareth both shook their heads.

“OK, let me keep it short. Morgiana is Ali Baba’s slave girl. She kills all the thieves and then stabs Al Racheed, the baddie, to death at the end of the show.”

Tracey looked stunned. “Hold on? She kills forty people and then stabs someone to death? And this is for kids?”

“Oh yes. It’s a very traditional panto. I mean there is quite a lot of death in it, but that’s all just part of the fun.”

Still not convinced, she asked again. “Forty-one deaths is what you guys call a good night out for the family? “

Freddie laughed again, “Forty-two actually. Kassim Baba, that’s Ali’s brother, gets killed quite early in the show. The thieves chop him up and put him in the cave as a warning to others.”

Tracey shuddered again. Newspaper headlines screaming “Massacre at the panto” crossed her mind. “Seriously? I mean what do you do for an encore, eat the camel?”

“Of course not. No animal is harmed during one of our productions, the audience wouldn’t stand for it.”

“But that are happy to see enough people to populate the quarter-finals of the FA cup get the chop?”

“They don’t all get the chop. Most are killed by pouring boiling oil on them.” Freddie was enjoying the look of horror on his visitors faces. “As I say, it’s all good family fun.”

The conversation was interrupted suddenly as the great magician burst into the room clutching his mobile phone.

“She’s not coming back”, he snarled, “I finally got her on the phone and she said she’s on the train back to London and I can, well, I can do something that isn’t physically possible. “

Freddie stood up and touched Sparks shoulder. “Perhaps when she’s had a chance to cool down a bit. I mean, you know what women are like,” he shot a glance at Tracey, “Present company excepted of course.”

“Oh, I don’t know, “ Gareth chuckled, “Young Tracey has quite a tempter on her when roused”. Her look made him wish he’d stayed quiet.

“Tracey!”, exclaimed Sparks, “Tracey! You could be our savior.”

“Me?”

“Yes”, he continued, “You could take the role. I mean you are perhaps a little more, erm, buxom, than Julie, but I’m sure you’d fit the costumes.”

Freddie stepped in, “Hold on. We booked the two of you as professionals. This isn’t am-dram. We’ve a week to go and can’t just drag someone off the street to fill in a major role. I mean, all due respect and everything Tracey, but you aren’t an actress, are you?”

“Well, no.”, she stuttered, “I mean, I did a bit in college, but it’s wasn’t serious or anything.”

“Perfect!” Sparks shouted in joy, “She’ll do perfectly! I mean there are lines to learn, but you’ve got plenty of time.”

“No!”, replied Freddie sternly, “If you can’t get Julie back then either we find another experienced actress to take the part, or we don’t open.”

It was Gareth’s turn to look shocked. “Not open? But you must. I mean if you don’t open, then all our plans to persuade the council fall apart. This is your big earner each year and if it doesn’t happen, then the coffers will be empty.”

Sparks looked at Freddie. “We won’t get another actress at this short notice Freddie old mate. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Freddie looked crestfallen. “I suppose so. I mean it’s not perfect, but I suppose this is better than refunding all those tickets. What do you say Tracey?”

*

“She’s doing what?” Kate roared, “Have you gone mad? We’re letting her take a month off to ponce around on stage?”

Gareth stood his ground. “I’m afraid it is the only option. The show really must go on.”

It’s behind you….

Candice: We’ve not talked about the new book too much recently.  Phil has been busy with his modelling career (!) and I have been busy trying to find myself a new job.

You know you need a new job when the thought of going into the office makes you feel physically sick.

That plus preparing for the Nativity at school, Christmas Fayre, Homework and all the other fun stuff that comes with being the parent of a school-age child.  Anyway, excuses aside, Phil has been more productive than me and I’ve completely lost my mojo.

The central theme of the book is a theatre company who needs some help. And one of the big shows that they perform is a panto, Aladdin, something that Phil and I both know is important to both funding and crowd attendance in the world of theatre.

Phil has written the bulk of the piece.  As an expert in theatre after many years working front of house in a local one he knows more about the ins and outs than I do.  My experience is more on stage than off (Darlings).  But he decided we needed more research into this Panto in particular and suggested a Nolan Parker day out to go and shout “It’s behind you” and “Oh no it isn’t” at some unsuspecting cast in a very British tradition.

However, I have scuppered the plan.  I’ve taken to going to a Panto once a year for about the last 15 years, after I got given free tickets to see Bobby Davro in one a long time ago and loved it.  Some of them are better than others, some of them are ruder than others but all are good fun.  We particularly like the ones at the Birmingham Hippodrome which are always more adult and risque.  This year, however, the main star of Birmingham’s for many years, John Barrowman, has taken himself off into the Jungle instead for some reason.

The In-Laws suggested that we take the small people to one this year.  Now I knew that Birmingham would be a no go, and they live down south so we wanted something central.  Out of sheer fluke, we’ve ended up with tickets to Aladdin, the show that Phil and I have written into the book.  So, when Phil emailed the other day suggesting research, I had to say no as I was already going to see it somewhere else. He’s a bit put out.

I think this one will be slightly different experience than the usual as we will be wrangling three fidgeting children and there are no B or C celebs in the one we have chosen.  But I will be absorbing the plotline and performance for another reason this year.  Do I need to take my notebook?