Chart Throb (49 page)

Read Chart Throb Online

Authors: Ben Elton

BOOK: Chart Throb
9.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Millicent took Graham’s hand and together they walked away to conduct their tear-drenched post-rejection interview.
Meanwhile Calvin instructed Trent to film him wandering up and down beside the pool looking torn and confused.
‘Torn and confused, boss?’ Trent repeated.
‘Yes. Stick the camera on the other side of the pool, clear everybody out of the shot and get a nice big wide shot of me alone, torn, confused and with the weight of pop’s future upon my shoulders.’
‘On it, boss,’ Trent said. ‘It’s all good.’
The camera was set and Calvin (who had ruffled his hair into a mop of anguished concentration) wandered about in the shot looking splendid and alone. He threw his arms skywards as if appealing to God for guidance, he sat on a sunlounger with his head in his hands as if deep in tortured concentration. He took up his phone and, without bothering to call a number, playacted a torn and troubled consultation with a mythical adviser.
‘I just don’t
know
,’ he said into the dead receiver. ‘I
can’t
let the guy go, he’s too good! But we can’t give her any more chances. The chick just can’t cut it . . . She’s taken the rope and she’s hung herself . . . I guess I don’t have any choice.’
Calvin put away his phone and called ‘Cut!’ Then he instructed Chelsie to bring back Graham without Millicent.
‘Take a crew,’ he added. ‘Make sure you cover the moment when you tell them that I want to see Graham alone.’
‘I’ll take two,’ Chelsie volunteered with enthusiasm. ‘Leave one covering Millicent while she waits.’
‘Good girl.’
And so the pantomime was created. Graham and Millicent had been sitting quietly together on the coach that was to take all the contestants back to the airport at the conclusion of the final ‘audition’. There had been much wailing and keening on the coach as the louder personalities who had been rejected lamented their lot. There was cheering too and singing, high fives and punching of the air from the ones who had got through. Only Graham and Millicent were silent. Sitting together, holding hands, they concentrated only on each other.
‘I’m happy really,’ Graham had said, finally breaking the silence. ‘I don’t think I could have handled another round of them treating you that way.’
‘God, they’ve been shitty,’ Millicent agreed.
‘Yes, but it’s obvious why, isn’t it? The drama of it all. I’m not stupid, Milly, I study music, I know which one of us is the better singer. The
only
singer, in fact, and it’s you. We both know that. I’m an instrumentalist.’
‘Do you
really
think that though?’ Millicent pleaded. ‘I mean I always did think I could sing but honestly they’ve made me lose faith in myself. He
is
Calvin Simms after all.’
‘Come on, Milly. You know I can’t sing.’
‘But you are a real musical talent. Maybe they’ve spotted that. Maybe that’s what they’re going on about.’
‘Well, we’ll never know now, will we? Because it’s over and I’m glad because what I really wanted to say to you, Milly, and I’ve been waiting till we got chucked out before I said it, was—’
At that point Chelsie burst on to the bus with her camera teams.
‘Graham,’ she said, ‘Calvin wants to see you . . . alone.’
Graham gripped Millicent’s hand. It was obvious what this summons might mean, the only thing it could mean.
‘Why?’ Graham asked. ‘He’s chucked us out. It’s over, isn’t it?’
‘He wants to see you.’
Millicent squeezed Graham’s hand in return.
‘You go,’ she said. ‘See what he wants.’
And so Graham was taken from the bus and brought once more before Calvin.
‘Mate,’ Calvin said, ‘here’s how it is. Your journey should not end here. This is where it should be beginning.’
‘How do you mean? I thought it
had
ended.’
‘I can change the rules at any time, Graham, and I’m prepared to do that now. I’ll let you through to the finals but only if you go it alone. You have to drop Millicent.’
‘But she’s a much better singer than me,’ Graham protested. ‘You may not know it but it’s obvious to me.’
‘Maybe she is a better singer, Graham, but that doesn’t make her a great singer and it doesn’t make her a Chart Throb. You, on the other hand, are a real musical talent. You write songs, I hear you are a fine instrumentalist. In the finals you’ll be able to play. You can’t pass up this opportunity.’
As Graham wrestled with his conscience the cameras crept in ever closer, feeding on his anguish.
‘She said that if you ever tried to split us up she wouldn’t do it. That she would never leave me.’
‘Why would she want to leave you, Graham? You’re the talent.’
Graham clearly did not know what to say.
‘I’ve been watching you two, you know,’ Calvin said.
‘You’re pretty fond of each other, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, yes, we are.’
‘Then I guess she knows how talented you are, mate. And what a crime it would be if that great talent was never tested before the public. Do you
really
think she would want to stand in your way?’
Of course in the end Graham agreed to continue in the competition alone and he was sent back to the bus, along with Chelsie and a camera team, to explain the news to Millicent.
Calvin chose the opportunity of a brief pause in the proceedings to call Emma and bring her up to speed.
‘How are you going to get round the fact that Millicent was actually the one who could sing?’ she enquired.
‘Plenty of dancers and very heavy backing tapes like we always do. But I don’t think he’ll be in the finals long. He doesn’t really have a story now that we’ve got rid of Millicent. I mean, like you say, if he could sing it would be different.’
All Back to My Place: HRH
Sitting right at the back of the queue of auditionees due to face Calvin in Morocco were His Royal Highness and Bree, the young battered wife whom Chelsie had discovered in the women’s refuge.
Calvin had kept Bree at a very low profile until this point, nodding her through as an In and Out in the early stages, but now the moment had come for her to play her part.
His Royal Highness had been forced to arrive late at Calvin’s holiday home because of an invitation to take tea with the Moroccan royal family.
‘I’m afraid I simply can’t be on Moroccan soil without paying my respects,’ he had explained to the anguished production secretary, who had been forced to change his call time. ‘It’s not just a matter of
etiquette
, it’s also
simply good manners.
Which I
do
think are important. Don’t you?’
When the Prince did arrive, Calvin had him placed at the end of the queue beside Bree. Calvin knew very well that when thrust into anybody’s company the Prince’s instincts would lead him to enquire who and how they were. A lifetime of brief encounters with complete strangers would ensure that His Royal Highness would not simply ignore the woman he was sitting next to.
‘How do you
do
,’ he began. ‘Are you
well
? Isn’t it fearfully hot? I have an umbrella in my case – would you like to borrow it to ward off the sun?’
Bree declined the offer, saying that she was very happy to soak up as much sun as she could get, there not being a lot of it in Birmingham.
‘Yes, I suppose you’re
right
,’ the Prince agreed. ‘But really, please do be careful. You know, the carcinogenic properties of sunlight have only recently been
fully revealed.
Particularly with this awful business of
ozone
depletion, which
I
for one have been
banging on about
for years. Won’t you at least take a squirt of my Factor 30 for the tip of your nose? My wife insists I positively
slap it on.
’
Bree accepted a small blob of sunscreen from the royal tube and dabbed it on her nose.
‘You don’t half look like the Prince of Wales,’ she said. ‘I suppose everybody says that to you.’
‘Well, they have done quite a lot around here,’ the Prince conceded. ‘Normally it rather
goes without saying
, but here of course everybody seems to think I’m a lookalike. Ironic really because I can tell you there have been many occasions over the last few years when I’ve wished I
was
a lookalike.’
Bree smiled sympathetically, clearly thinking the old boy slightly mad.
‘I think he’s all right as it happens,’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘The Prince of Wales,’ Bree said. ‘I once went on an outward bound thing done by his Trust.’
‘Goodness. How splendid!’ the Prince said, brightening enormously. ‘Did you enjoy it? I do hope so, it’s really made a difference to so many young people’s lives. That’s something I’m enormously proud of, you know.’
‘It was great. We had a real laugh. I’d never been in the country before.’
‘And did you
learn
something, do you think? Independence? Self-reliance? I do think those qualities are
so important.
’
‘Well,’ Bree replied, ‘perhaps I might have done but in the end I don’t suppose I can have, really.’
‘Goodness. Why is that?’ the Prince enquired.
With little further prompting Bree told her tale. It was a long afternoon and there were no other distractions. She told how she had fallen into an abusive relationship, how her violent partner had beaten her and how time and again she had taken him back in the classic cycle of abuse.
‘You know the old phrase,’ she said. ‘If he hits you once, shame on him, if you let him hit you twice, shame on you. Easy to say, of course.’
The Prince had listened sympathetically, murmuring expressions of concern which Bree seemed to appreciate, and all of which the cameras were recording at a discreet distance.
‘Well, do you know, I really do think it’s a matter of self-respect,’ the Prince said finally. ‘You have to convince yourself that you don’t have to be a victim. It’s not
preordained.
You have the means to stop it simply by
believing
that you can.’
‘I know,’ Bree lamented. ‘It’s just sometimes so hard to stand up for yourself.’
‘Don’t I
know it
?’ the Prince exclaimed. ‘But one simply
has to try.
What song have you chosen to sing?’
‘“Stand By Your Man”,’ Bree answered. ‘I like Country.’
‘Oh heavens!’ the Prince exclaimed. ‘I know that one. The cook sometimes plays it. Goodness, you mustn’t sing that! It’s a victim’s song. Even
muggins
here can see that. You need something empowering and self-assertive.’
‘Like what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, like “Men Of Harlech”, or “The Battle Hymn Of The Republic”.’
‘I don’t know them.’
‘Well, do you know “Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves” by the Eurythmics? Terribly stirring. They did it at a concert thing we organized. I
do
admire David and Annie and they’ve been
so
helpful with my charity work over the years.’
‘You really think I should change my song?’
‘Absolutely. If you’re going to start standing up for yourself now’s as good a time as any. I know that’s why
I’m
here. Look, we’re right at the back of the queue, you’ve got ages to practise. I’ll go through it with you if you like. I had been meaning to write a letter to the Dalai Lama about the nature of
faith
but I expect he can wait. He’s such a
calm
fellow. So
centred
.’
Hell Hath No Fury
After the All Back to My Place recordings there was a hiatus in the
Chart Throb
schedule to allow time for the footage to be edited and for the completed shows, which were already being broadcast, to catch up with the recording process.
During this brief respite before the ten-week haul of weekly live finals began, Rodney had returned to London and it was there, while killing time playing indoor golf in his office, that he received the news from his secretary that Iona was once more on the line. In the past Rodney had of course been in the habit of avoiding Iona’s calls, but that was before the new series of
Chart Throb
began to air. Once the Birmingham audition episode had been broadcast his attitude to his ex-girlfriend changed considerably.
Iona’s performance of ‘You Raise Me Up’, Rodney’s dismissive comments about it and Iona’s explosive retort had been big news.
‘I was good enough for you before, wasn’t I? In public and in private.’
The press had been full of it and ‘in public and in private’ had become very much the catchphrase of the week. The Iona/Rodney scandal had been the main story of the series so far, Calvin having decided to hold back the Prince of Wales’s first appearance until the last of the regional audition shows.

Other books

The Staff of Naught by Tom Liberman
A Bridge to Dreams by Sherryl Woods
The Change (Unbounded) by Branton, Teyla
Alfred Hitchcock by Patrick McGilligan
Close Your Eyes by Amanda Eyre Ward
Battlescars by Collins, Ann
Girl of Rage by Charles Sheehan-Miles