Shit. There was just no way she could out-dance and out-sing all the other girls.
‘OK, we’re doing this immediately. Floor-dwellers up and out of the way of the MVPs.’ Róisín winked as she hurried the others off the stage.
‘Róisín?’ Ailbhe, armed with a powder brush, was approaching the choir director. ‘As it’s a key scene, Seb wants touch-ups.’
‘Sure, be quick. We don’t want to lose our momentum.’
Ailbhe bee-lined for Roe. ‘You need a touch up on that strong lip.’
‘I need something considerably stronger than a lip, Ailbh.’ Roe was pissed off. ‘I can sing and dance but the two at the same time and over and over while perfect ex-Billie-Barry-kid Denise will barely break a sweat. It’s too morto.’
‘Roe, go like this.’ Ailbhe stretched her lips into an ‘O’.
Roe obeyed and tried to calm her churning stomach as her friend swept the lipstick around her mouth.
Lindy hurried down from her spot at the back of the hall to Roe’s side. ‘Hey, pal, how’re you doing?’ She squeezed Roe’s hand. ‘You’re looking amazing up there. Remember, this is not just about the show: this is about showing yourself what you are capable of. Don’t get carried away worrying about the big picture – just focus on what you have to do right now, in this moment, to tick this off your snag list. You do not want to be lying on your deathbed and thinking “shite, I didn’t even try to do that thing”. Remember, failing is not a failure: failing is a sign that you tried in the first place. Plus, you are not about to fail. And if you’re dying of self-doubt and nerves right now …’
Roe listened, bracing herself for some kind of Brené Brown-style wisdom.
‘Remember, Roe,’ Lindy concluded sagely, ‘everyone shits.’ Roe and Ailbhe burst out laughing as Lindy continued. ‘Kristin Chenoweth shits. Idina Menzel shits. Anna Kendrick massively shits. Audra McDonald. Jennifer Hudson. That Billie Barry melt Denise in your choir shits. We all shit. Now break a leg. We love you, Roe!’
Ailbhe was convulsing with peals of laughter. ‘I thought you were going to say … something profound.’
‘Yeah, I think the Snag List script needs work.’ Roe blotted her lips.
‘I know.’ Lindy grimaced. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve booked myself a place on the diploma course with the Irish Life Coach Institute starting in September. I’ll only be coaching adorable guinea pigs like you until I’m qualified.’
‘Good to hear it!’ Roe turned back to take her place among the dancers. This was her chance. She was risking more than the others to be there. She was playing Russian roulette with her relationship. But Lindy’s ‘fuck it’-style pep talk was oddly effective, and as the music started up once more, Roe took a deep breath and began to move to the beat. The first round of the song saw everyone stay standing, but Roe kept her focus on her own performance. She realised as they headed into the second go, they didn’t necessarily have what she had. It wasn’t a given that they were better than she was. She was good. One of the cameras swooped in front of her and she gave a playful wink as she fan-kicked enthusiastically. She was enjoying herself, and Roe knew you didn’t usually enjoy doing something that you weren’t good at.
As they headed into the third rendition of ‘Save Your Kisses for Me’, the first dropouts began. By the closing bars only four of them remained, and Roe couldn’t stop grinning as she spun, waving bye-bye. Denise was actually looking quite stumbly and Roe knew she probably only had another go in her. The singing was hard and Roe was starting to get breathless – bloody vaping – but she wasn’t giving in. Finally, it was just Denise and Roe, and the whole auditorium was tense and silent except for the plinky backing track and their laboured singing.
Roe was hanging on by a thread and she knew it wasn’t worth continuing if her vocals were suffering, but then Denise abruptly stopped and bent over, gasping for a breath. The stunned room burst into applause; Mags leapt up and hugged Roe. ‘Oh my God, how did you do that? Seventeen straight minutes of singing and dancing!’
Roe could barely catch her breath to answer before she was being bundled in front of a camera and Seb was firing questions at her.
‘How does it feel? No one thought you could do it, am I right?’
Roe laugh-panted. ‘God, Seb, don’t sugar-coat it.’
‘C’mon, Roe, give ’em the goods – audiences love an underdog.’ Danny had appeared at Seb’s elbow. ‘In my talking head, I predicted you’d win!’ he added. ‘Well, we shot two versions and I predicted you’d win in one of them!’
Over on the other side of the hall, Denise was crying in front of a different camera with the production assistant nodding encouragement at her. What could she possibly be saying?
As though reading her thoughts, Seb leaned in and whispered, ‘Denise is playing the old “not feeling 100 per cent” card, just FYI.’
Danny shook his head in disgust. ‘I mean, we all know there’s no excuses in musical theatre. It’s like the majestic Maggie Smith says: “Never complain, never explain”.’
Roe was still sweating but elated. She nodded decisively at Seb. Then she grinned broadly at the camera. ‘OK, so I dunno how the hell I just did that. Maybe you’re watching right now, sitting at home and being all “no big deal”, but seriously that washaaard! I sense I might have looked like I was experiencing some light demonic possession at a few points but TBH I don’t even care – I just cannot believe I did that!’
‘Perfect!’ Seb clapped his hands together. ‘Right, can we just do a couple of talent-show filler lines about how this has been your dream for as long as you can remember yada-yada-yada.’
Roe smiled and looked down the barrel of the camera lens. She knew she’d gotten completely carried away. She was supposed to be low-key.
Still, the desire to revel in this success was strong. Feck it. She’d figure it out later.
She took a breath. ‘This has been a dream of mine for a really long time. I just never believed in myself. Until now.’
11
