What's Up, Pussycat? Read online

  I fled the stage, slammed into the dressing room, and sank onto a chair. I sweated and shivered, my heart thumping so hard I could barely distinguish one beat from the next. I’d fucked it up—irreparably. They were probably all laughing at me and shaking their heads. Maurice must think he’d made a huge mistake in offering me the role. As for Karl—I could only imagine what he would say when he appeared, any minute now, laughing all over his tabby face.

  Anger filled me—anger than I’d let that man get to me so much. But at the same time, I was upset. I’d failed myself and I’d failed Andrew. I’d have to go groveling to Maurice and tell him I wasn’t cut out for it, assuming Maurice didn’t tell me to take a hike first. Unhappiness overtook the anger, and two fat tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I sunk my head into my hands and snuffled miserably, so intent on my own feelings I didn’t hear the door open.

  “What’s up, Pussycat?”

  I cringed at the sound of Karl’s voice. He was the last person I wanted to see at that moment. I groped for some tissues to wipe my face, and just before I began to scrub at my tears, and my makeup along with it, Karl grabbed my wrists.

  “Don’t, you’ll ruin your makeup.”

  I lifted my gaze to Karl’s face. Strangely his expression was one of sympathy.

  “What do you want?” I croaked. “Can’t you leave me alone for two minutes?”

  “They’re all waiting for you. Maurice wants you to give the dance another go.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he does. I’m sure he’s waiting to tell me to go home and forget this stupid idea of being on the stage.” I jerked my hands free and dabbed carefully at my cheeks.

  “What happened out there?” Karl asked.

  “I fucked up, or hadn’t you noticed? I’m surprised you’ve nothing to say about it.” I adopted his usual taunting tone. “Whoever heard of a cat falling over its own feet? Golly, Mummy and Daddy will be so disappointed.”

  Karl’s face fell and he lowered his bright green eyes.

  “Cat got your tongue?” I sneered.

  “I’m sorry.” He looked up again. “I mean it. I know I go too far sometimes. I only joke around, but I think everyone sees me as the clown and just laughs at the stuff I say. I’m sorry if I’ve said things that upset you.”

  “The trouble is, you don’t think at all. You take the piss out of everyone and the hell with how they might feel about it.” My anger returned and my tears dried. I was furious with the man who made my life a misery for the past two days. I’d started to dread the show even more than I dreaded the stage-fright, due to the thought of having to spend six months seeing him every day. I remembered I overcame the stage-fright before, and I could certainly do it again if I didn’t have to contend with the idiot’s torment. I sprang to my feet. “Do you want to know why I’m really doing this?”

  Karl nodded silently.

  “Remember Andrew McInnes?”

  His eyes widened. “He was an amazing guy. Everyone loved—”

  “Yeah, especially me. We were together for seven years. I’m doing this because I wanted to make him proud—to honor his memory. And you… you’re fucking ruining it for me!” My temper slid away as quickly as it had appeared, and I choked on the last word. I turned away and breathed hard, trying to get myself together. When I caught sight of Karl in the mirror, the man was on his feet, mouth hanging open, his cat face a picture of shock.

  “I didn’t know,” he whispered eventually. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because it’s my own business. Maurice and James know.” I reluctantly turned back, and touched the tissues to the corners of my eyes again before more tears spilled over. “I didn’t want anyone to think I got this role on a sympathy vote. I can only imagine what you’d have said about that.”

  “That’s really what you think of me? I could be that cruel?” He looked crushed. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like that. Nothing I say means anything. I’m the first one to admit I’m full of shit. And I’ll tell you something else. I know all about stage-fright. That’s why I put on this stupid, over-confident act and tease everyone. It’s like another character I step into so I can leave the shy, fearful Karl at the door and make a success out of this.”

  I raised my head, surprised. “You’re telling me you’re shy? That you lack confidence?”

  “You haven’t seen me backstage right before a performance. I’m usually throwing my guts up.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I’m trying to apologize. I want you to see who I really am. That I’m not the twat who’s been ruining things for you. If you must know, your Andrew picked up on it pretty soon after we met. He saw right through me, and told me to find some other outlet for my stress than taking it out on other people. It worked for a while. That must be how I recognized you when we first met. I saw you at a distance with him.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Finley. You won’t get any more trouble from me, I promise.”

  “It’s probably too late anyway. I should think Maurice will fire me after what I just did.” I wasn’t sure what to think about what Karl had told me. He seemed genuine, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t revert to his usual ways later.

  “Of course he won’t fire you. Everyone messes up occasionally. He’ll tell you to get your ass back on stage and do the dance again. Come on.” He offered his hand, palm up. I ignored it and bent to look in the mirror, checking I hadn’t smudged my makeup.

  “Go away, will you? I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Karl left the room without another word, and I took a minute to prepare myself. Maybe all wasn’t lost after all. I could hear Grizabella practicing Memory, and I opened the door and listened for a few seconds.

  “I can do this,” I said aloud. “And I’m not just doing it for you, Andrew. I’m doing it for me.”

  Chapter Six

  Karl was true to his word. He didn’t tease me anymore, and he toned it down with most of the others, too. He made an effort to speak to me whenever he could, but I wasn’t quite ready to forget his taunts, and mostly ignored him.

  Maurice said nothing about my clumsy dance, and the second time it all went perfectly. I danced and leaped and whirled around Karl as he sang, and never put a foot wrong. The full rehearsal the following day went just as well.

  The group moved to London and took up residence in the block of studio apartments rented by the theater company. They were all furnished with a bed, a chest, a sofa, and a TV, with a small cooking area in one corner and a tiny bathroom consisting of toilet, sink, and shower. It was all that was needed and it meant none of the actors had to share.

  I made an extra visit to Andrew the night before I left Nottingham, and explained tearfully that I wouldn’t be around for six months. I intended to go back for the anniversary of his death, but otherwise, I would have to end my visits. I took the photo of Andrew as Mistoffelees with me, and put it in pride of place on the chest next to the bed in my apartment. Andrew would understand.

  The cast had one night to settle in before opening night at the theater. I called Carol to tell her how things were going, then after some hesitation, I rang my mother. She answered in her usual pretentious voice.

  “Good evening, Harrington residence.”

  “Mum, it’s me.”

  “Finley! It’s been so long since we heard from you.” She sounded more pleased than I expected. “You must come and see us.”

  “I can’t. I’m in London for the next six months. I’m in Cats, remember? It’s opening night tomorrow.”

  “Oh! Yes, of course, you did mention it. I’m sure you’ll be very good, dear.”

  “I’m sure.” I wondered what the other cast members’ mothers were like. Probably more like Carol. She and Andrew’s dad hadn’t been able to get tickets for opening night, but they were coming to the show the following week. Carol had gushed over me as if I were a big star.

  James’s parents were goin
g to be at opening night, and Annette’s mother was attending. It wasn’t new to the rest of them, but some had family members coming to the shows, simply because it was in London.

  I made small talk with my mother for a few minutes, but was relieved when a knock on my door interrupted the conversation. I ended the call, and opened the door to find Karl on the other side of it. He had one of the other studios on the same floor. I looked him up and down warily. Wet hair dripped down his neck, and his over-sized T-shirt was coupled with Bart Simpson pajama bottoms.

  “What do you want?” We’d formed a kind of truce, but as hard as Karl seemed to be trying, I still didn’t trust him.

  “I, um, I just wondered how you’re doing.”

  “I’m okay. You?”

  “Shitting myself, actually.” Karl laughed and tugged a hand through his hair. “Want company?”

  I definitely didn’t want company. I wanted to spend the evening talking myself out of my fears and chatting to Andrew. I hesitated before answering, and Karl spoke again.

  “Sorry. Of course you don’t. Not from me anyway. I’ll, um, I’ll leave you in peace.”

  An unwelcome pang of sympathy for Karl gave me pause. He had admitted to stage-fright and if he felt anything like I did, he’d be dreading the next day. No one else in the cast knew the real Karl, and he probably felt he didn’t have anyone to turn to.

  “Come in,” I invited, resigned.

  “Really?” His eyes widened.

  “Yeah. I was going to have a beer. Do you want one?”

  “Thanks.” He closed the door behind him, and took a seat at one end of the sofa. “I see you brought Andrew with you.” He nodded at the photograph.

  “Yeah. I don’t want to talk about him with you, okay?” I turned away to the mini fridge.

  “Of course. What do you want to talk about? Tomorrow?”

  “No, not really.” I passed him a bottle of beer. I’d slipped out earlier to get some supplies. “Have you got anyone coming to opening night? Family?”

  “No. I’ve been doing this for eighteen months. They come to a couple of the Nottingham shows, whatever musical I’m in.”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “What about you?”

  “Andrew’s parents are coming next week.”

  “No family of your own?”

  “I think they’d choke on their silver spoons if they were forced to sit through a musical.” I was amazed to find myself joking, and I laughed along with Karl. As the evening progressed, I told him about my upbringing, boarding school, my parents’ attitudes, and how I met Andrew. Despite stating I didn’t want to talk about my love, that was exactly what I did. Two hours and three beers later, I’d told Karl about coming out, my parents’ disapproval, meeting and loving Andrew, living together, and losing him. I talked with tears pouring down my cheeks while he listened mostly in silence, making the occasional sympathetic sound that almost mimicked a cat’s purr.

  “Sorry,” I choked eventually. “I doubt you wanted to hear all that.”

  “I don’t mind. It seems like you needed to get it out.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I blew my nose. “I didn’t mean to ram all the gay stuff down your throat, though.”

  Karl giggled. Usually he cackled or let out loud belly laughs, but this time he giggled like a kid. “I’m gay, Fin,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on that.”

  “I’m not good at reading people. You flirt with Annette more than anyone else, and you fawn over Maurice like you want to lick his boots, but so do lots of people. Besides, Andrew’s the only man I’ve ever been with. If I ever did manage to move on, I’d be clueless as to who’s gay and who’s not.”

  “I’ve known since puberty.” Karl drained his last bottle of beer and slouched back on the sofa. “I hid it while I was at school. Kids can be little bastards—kind of like me. I even dated a few girls as a cover. I came out on the last day after the exams, in a stupid outfit and makeup, and announced it to anyone who’d listen, as if I was thumbing my nose at them all. It turned out some of them had guessed anyway.” He shrugged. “I’ve dated a few guys, but none that lasted more than a few months. I’m not very good with relationships.”

  His admission surprised me. I was surprised by the evening in general, and I realized my fears about the first show had lessened as I shared them with a man who felt exactly the same.

  Eventually, Karl returned to his own studio, and I changed and got into bed. Just a few more hours and I’d see how I coped with being in front of an audience again.

  Chapter Seven

  There was a final rehearsal without costumes on the London theater’s stage the following afternoon. A bus transported the cast from the accommodation block to the theater, and Maurice was at his most picky as we had our last practice run. For once it was Karl who made the more noticeable mistakes, when he had to perform his solo dance. He recovered from it, but by the time everyone was in the dressing rooms preparing for the show, he was just as nervous as I was, but more obvious about it.

  “How are you coping?” James asked me.

  “I feel sick,” I admitted. I felt worse after hearing Karl vomiting in the toilets. I was tempted to hang around and offer comfort, but I hated anyone to see me when I was in that situation, and besides not wanting to embarrass him, I couldn’t find it in myself to deal with someone’s else’s fears.

  “You’ll be fine. Once we get out there, it’ll be just like rehearsals.”

  “Yeah, with hundreds of people staring at us. What if I fuck it up? I’ll let everyone down.”

  “You won’t fuck up. You’re amazing, Fin. Stop worrying so much.” James gave me a reassuring smile.

  I did my best to get myself under control. I sat still with my eyes closed while my makeup was applied, then slipped away for a few minutes alone in the toilets. My nausea receded, but my heart pounded with fear, and I sweated under the lycra. I ran cold water in one of the sinks and dipped my hands in it for a few minutes to cool down.

  When I returned to the dressing room, it was almost time and I didn’t have the chance to get worked up again. The cats lined up ready to go on stage, and Maurice charged up and down giving instructions. This was it.

  I spent the first half hour of the show inwardly shaking. I concentrated fiercely on every move and every word I sang, and told myself not to look out at the audience. Mostly it worked and by the time I had to do my solo, my fears were behind me. I found myself enjoying performing, and it surprised and pleased me. I knew it showed when I danced, and I delighted in the pre-set explosions and fireworks, arranged to look as if they were shooting from my fingertips. When I finished with the split jump, my main part was over and I slipped back into the chorus for the rest of the show.

  After the cast collected in a row and bowed to the cheering audience, everyone scampered backstage, shouting and laughing with excitement. The first night was over and Maurice was delighted by how well things had gone.

  “You okay?”

  I turned to see Karl looking down at me. “Yes, I was shaking for half of the first act, but after that it just felt good. How about you?”

  “Good. I’m always fine once I stop puking.” He grimaced, then smiled. “Your solo was amazing.”

  “Thanks.” I left him as we reached the dressing rooms, and everyone got changed and fought over mirror space to take off their makeup. Some of the cast went to meet family members and friends, and the others went out to get on the bus to go back to the apartments. I was one of the first on the bus and as I sat alone, I took the photo of Andrew out of my bag. I’d slipped it in there at the last minute when I left my studio.

  “I did it,” I whispered. “I did it and it was great. I was terrified at first, but then I just… I enjoyed it. I wish you could have seen me. Maybe somehow, wherever you are, you were watching.” I held onto that thought as I waited for the bus to take me back to my studio.

  Most of the cast wanted to celebrate that night, and both James
and Karl asked me to join them, but I refused. They expressed concern that I might be wallowing, but I assured them I was fine, and only needed some time alone. They left me and I took a shower, got into bed, and lay thinking. I felt better than I had since I lost Andrew. I had finally taken the first step required to move on, and I knew my man would have been proud of me.

  A single tear slid from the corner of each of my eyes and rolled into my hair, but they were no longer desperate, agonized tears. A blanket of sadness covered me, but at the same time there was hope and a certainty I could make a success of the rest of my life after all.

  * * *

  After a week’s performances, my confidence was improved, but the stage-fright didn’t leave me. I continued to feel sick with nerves each night before the show, but no one knew about it other than James and Karl. I was surprised I was becoming friends with Karl, and I found my former tormentor to have a hilarious sense of humor and deep sense of loyalty. I wondered if Andrew would have liked him the way he was now. They hadn’t been friends when they worked together, but Karl wasn’t the same person he was then.

  Andrew’s family came to the show the following weekend as they’d promised, and I met them afterward for a late snack and drinks. Carol had a few quiet words with me away from the others, and told me she noticed a difference in me, in just the short time we spent together. I was brighter and more confident. My eyes had life in them again.

  Her words made me feel even better about things. I still spoke to Andrew every night, but the one-sided conversations no longer brought me to tears, and I was happy in the knowledge that I was doing what Andrew had loved so much. Playing Mistoffelees seemed to bring us closer together, even though we were so far apart.