Sarah sung out the last note of "Love Song" in the musical "A Tale of Two Lovers", London's newest west end musical. Benjamin sang his last note and the song ended; the show ended; Sarah's fifth performance ended. Yet something was about to begin.
The cast walked forward and bowed, Sarah and Ben in the front as the leads, their cheeks rosy red with pride and make-up as the crowds stood up and cheered them endlessly.
Eventually, the noise died down, the curtain fell, and Sarah heaved a sigh of relief. "Ahhgh!" she fell forward as Sammy smacked her hard on the back in a gesture of congratulation.
"Well done! You were brilliant!" he said enthusiastically.
"Uh, cheers," she spluttered back, trying to regain her breath. Sammy was a big man, very muscled but clumsy, adoring. One could not help liking him; he was like a mischievous child. His long, strong arms collected up huge piles of props, and Sarah watched as he lumbered offstage.
By that time, the rest of the cast had dispersed, the curtain was drawn up, and the audience had vanished.
Ben and Sarah were left sweeping the stage before being hustled off to remove their make - up and get a drink.
Ben took a sideways glance at Sarah. She was still wearing the long, maroon - coloured Victorian dress she wore for the play. Her long, black hair had been let loose from the confines of the intricate looping and twisting it was subjected to during the play, and now hung loosely down her back. The make-up she had to wear made her eyes look dark and mysterious, as if she had a secret to hide. Ben loved watching her walk, he movements were casual, languid, fluid. She walked with an elegant, easy grace that attracted him to her like a magnet. When she was close to him, he could feel the electricity sparking. However, he first fell in love with her voice. Clear when she sang, perfectly tuned, an instrument giving such simple pleasure yet delighted and riveted him. When she sang the final love duet with him, he fancied she was singing those heavenly words to him, they flowed through his body like water and he forgot the audience and sang to her alone, trying to make her understand he was singing out his heart. Yet he could not make her understand. She stared at him blankly, waiting for the next part where she would sing again to him, blind to the passion racing through his body. Sarah looked at him suddenly and he glanced away, quickly going red. She called softly to him,
"Ben, come here." He walked wonderingly over to hear. She caught up his hand and said, "You were brilliant today. It really sounded like you meant every word you sang!"
He choked. What could he say? He HAD meant every word he sang, he had sung it for her. He realised she would never understand his feelings for her, and that made him sad. He looked down at their joined hands, feeling the sweat gather between them. Looking back up into her face, he whispered,
"I did." He watched as her face changed expressions, surprise, confusion and then astonishment. He left her as her face softened, he did not want to hear her tell him she was flattered, did not want to hear she liked him but only as friends. He turned his back on her, lifted up his broom and walked offstage, leaving her standing there, her hand still lifted as if they were joined again.
*
Sarah watched as he walked away. She wanted to run after him, tell him that she felt the same, that she had wanted him from the very first moment she had heard him sing. His voice made the desire rise course through her like fire, she wanted him, needed him. Yet she was rooted to the spot, unable to move.
By the time he had disappeared, she had let her hand fall down to her waist. Looking down at herself, she realised she must look like a mess, swathed in a Victorian dress, make-up smothered all over her face, threatening to be smeared by the tears making their way out of her eyes. Sniffing, she looked around the place, checking that everything had been picked up. It had, there was nothing else to do. She sank to the ground, wishing she had said something in that moment, wishing he would look on her again as he had when he last sung to her. When they sang together, it was just him and her; she was oblivious to the audience. If only he felt that way, if only they could pour all their passion and desire into each other. Her make-up was beginning to stain her dress. She stood up, steadied herself and made her way swiftly to the changing room.
Once there, she stripped herself of her dress, stepping into the connecting bathroom. There she turned on the shower and stepped in, losing herself to the sensation of the water on her body. It was perfect, cool, and blissful. It cooled down her body, raised her nipples, and made her squeeze her eyes up in delight. She washed herself down slowly, enjoying the bubbles and the smell of the soap. She scrubbed away at the make-up, ran shampoo through her hair and stepped out, smelling like a summer dream. Pulling a towel round her, she reached for the door handle, and stopped. She heard someone in the room outside, someone was rooting through her things.
