Page 38 of Take My Place

“Are you okay?” Declan comes to my side and rubs my back, an anxious look on his face.

“I just get really bad stage fright.”

“Well, you know what they say. If you feel nervous, imagine--”

“Yeah, yeah. Imagine everyone in their underwear. But then I’m singing in front of a bunch of out of shape people wearing ugly underwear. It doesn’t help, Declan. It doesn’t help!”

“Okay, you got me.” Declan laughs.

“I’ll be fine once I get out on stage,” I state. “It’s just getting out there in the first place that’s the problem.”

“I’ll be right by your side every step of the way,” Declan says. “Come on. Let’s go and sneak up to the back of the balcony. I want to see Ally’s dance. I hear it’sreallybad!”

I laugh and follow him out to the corridor and up the stairs which leads to the balcony, giving us a good view over the entire hall. We creep around the back row of seats to stand in the middle where we can see everything.

My stomach lurches when I see just how many people are crammed into the hall. I’ve never sang in front of such a large audience, and the thought terrifies me. What if I forget the words? What if I forget the chords? What if I forget the wordsandthe chords? I’d die of embarrassment. I’d never be able to show my face in school again.

Sensing my thoughts, Declan grabs hold of my hand and squeezes it. “You’re going to crush it,” he whispers as the lights dim and a spotlight tracks Mr Pilkington’s progress across the stage to a microphone stand ready and waiting for him.

“Good evening, everyone,” he says. “And can I say how delighted I am to welcome so many of you here to our annual Academy fundraiser. I hope you’ve all brought your cheque books!”

Everyone laughs at the mere notion they wouldn’t be ready to show off their wealth by splashing it about.

“As you are aware, this year’s charity is the King Town Donkey Sanctuary which is so cruelly targeted by thugs. I hope they’ll be apprehended very soon, but in the meantime, we can put a smile back on those donkey’s faces by building them a brand-new luxury stable. Now, I know you don’t want to hear me droning on all evening, so I’m going to make way for our very first act, the Ally Alligators!”

The audience bursts into applause as the curtains pull back to reveal a group of four girls all wearing skin tight leotards with an alligator print on them. Ally has been boasting about how her father is paying to get a top body painter to work with them and they’d certainly been worth their money because the leotards flowed seamlessly from material to flesh, making it look like they’d been transformed into an alligator/human hybrid.

It is a shame the dance doesn’t match up to the quality of the costume. Ever see any of the dances Gina did inBrooklyn Nine Nine?She is a first-class professional in comparison to this lot. Ally has been going on about how much rehearsal they’d been doing, but they are all over the place. When she goes left, everyone else goes right. At one point, she trips and knocks over one of the other dancers. A complete mess.

But Ally seems happy with it, running over to the mic to yell, “Donate, everyone!”

“If that’s the standard we’re up against, maybe I really don’t have anything to worry about,” I murmur to Declan.

“There’s a reason Mr Metcalf wanted us to perform,” he replies. “I told you we’d be fine.”

We stay there for the first half, watching comedians, magicians, singers, dancers, and even someone who’d brought their toy poodle along to do tricks. Unfortunately, the dog seems more interested in licking something off the stage floor than doing what it is told, but it’s so cute that nobody cared.

By the time the curtain comes down for the interval, I lose my nerve, but as the lights come up, they flood back with a vengeance. It isn’t long before it will be our turn to take the stage.

From my vantage point up high, I see my father get up from his seat in the front row and go over to talk to Romy’s family. They all seem to be smiling and laughing. Whatever they are talking about, the discussion seems to be going well.

“Come on, Ivy. Let’s go and get a glass of Dutch courage.”

Declan takes my hand, and I let him. It feels right, even though it might raise a few eyebrows.

He skilfully works his way through the crowd and down to the dining hall where refreshments are being served. Ignoring the queue, he goes around the side and behind a long table laid out with glasses. Grabbing a couple and a bottle of wine, he nods at the girl serving, who smiles back, before leading the way back to the music room where I’d left my guitar.

“Here you go.” Declan unscrews the wine and pours me a small glass.

“Is that all?” I raise an eyebrow. “I think I might need a bit more than that.”

“Sorry, Ivy. That’s all you’re getting,” Declan says. “Too much alcohol before a performance can screw your vocal chords. Besides, we need to save the rest to celebrate with afterwards. We’re going to be amazing, you know. There’s a reason we’ve been scheduled to close the show.”

“Yeah. It’s to make sure I’m as nervous as possible,” I joke.

“Stop putting yourself down,” says Declan. “You’re an amazing performer. Channel those nerves into your music. People will think the little wobble in your voice is vibrato! Besides, you saw the standard of the other performances. We could crash and burn and they’ll still be impressed. And we’renotgoing to crash and burn.”

“We’ll see.” I take a sip of my wine. I can tell it’s expensive, not just a standard supermarket plonk. If Pilkington is serious about raising money, I’d think he’d economise on things like this. A lot of donkey blankets could have been bought for the price of this wine.

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