‘It’s not,’ he says as quickly as he can, still sounding nonchalant.
She laughs again, collecting brushes and zipping them up in the bulging make-up bag, then holds his chin in one hand and surveys him. ‘You make a gorgeous girl, though it’s more to do with those cheekbones and big blue eyes than anything I’ve done.’
William curses his fair skin as he feels the blood rushing to the surface again, but their talk leaves him feeling grown-up, as if he’s just gone through a rite of passage; discussing not only the difficult bits of his family, but his own sexuality – with Imogen Mussey!
? ? ?
An hour later, William is playing Sophia, with whom Martin’s character, Giovanni, is in love. William hasn’t mastered the finer plot points of the play, beyond who he’s supposed to love and who loves him. The rest of it involves him being greeted with, ‘Ciao bella!’ by just about everyone, and having to repeat it sounding as female as possible, which isn’t too hard, as he has a fine contralto voice to call upon. As the curtain, taken from the boys’ bedroom, is yanked up by Edward, William judges it prudent to throw all he’s got into his ‘Ciao bellas’， so from the outset and unrehearsed, he lowers one hip, resting his hand lightly on it, bends his other knee a little and pats his bubbly blonde wig.
Mrs Mussey is tickled right away and, as her throaty chuckle gets louder, she sets off not only the rest of the small audience, but the cast too. By the second act, when the liver/heart is removed from Edward’s character, as soon as anyone delivers the line, ‘Ciao bella!’ in William’s direction, the audience starts laughing in anticipation and the cast is reduced to giggles.
Intoxicated, William stretches out his performance, waiting hand on hip, bent knee, for the mirth to build; then, with a powerful falsetto and an overblown accent, he replies, ‘Ciao bella.’
By the final scene, audience and cast are swimming in a sea of endorphins. William has been camping it up for an hour, hidden behind the make-up, wig and ridiculous voice. When it comes to the final falling-domino scene of kisses, he’s able to participate wholeheartedly in the giving and receiving of a hearty smacker in the evidently insatiable hunger for yet more laughter. The whole thing is so exciting and fun and warm, and smells of make-up and cotton sheets, with lights making the stage so bright and sparkly, that he feels he has crossed over into an altogether more exciting and vibrant life than he had imagined possible for himself. He is touched beyond measure when the cast has taken its bows and everyone drops hands to applaud him, the unexpected star of the show.
He inhales the smell of hot milk and chocolate as they form a line near the range, where Flo ladles out cocoa from the large pan. When Imogen puts an arm round his shoulder, he worries that the sudden erection must be visible through his frock.
‘William!’ she says. ‘You certainly connected with your inner diva.’
‘He did, didn’t he?’ laughs a delighted Martin.
‘It’s that beautiful voice he’s got in there.’ Flo taps his chest.
‘Martin tells me you’ll be doing the “Miserere” this year,’ Mr Mussey says. ‘Mind if we come to hear you?’
‘I might not,’ he says, face burning, ‘but if I do, of course. That would be great.’
‘You wouldn’t sing for us now, would you, boys?’ says Mrs Mussey, seated at the kitchen table with her father. ‘Before Grandad goes home?’
Martin looks expectantly at William, who nods back.
‘What shall we do?’ says Martin.
‘“Myfanwy”？’ William says.
Martin pulls a face. ‘Bit of a downer? And they heard it three years ago.’
‘But it’s about unrequited love,’ says William.
‘Oh, let’s have that, Martin!’ Mrs Mussey looks from one to the other. ‘We could do with a bit of calming down.’
‘We can do it in Welsh or English,’ William offers, becoming gradually conscious of the make-up and dress he’s wearing.
‘Welsh!’ a few voices shout. This lot seem predisposed to favour the more challenging option. William was astonished to discover earlier that the Musseys think it’s cheating to look at the picture on the box when you do a jigsaw.
‘But you have to tell us what it means first,’ says Imogen, looking solely at William.
‘Let’s go back into the sitting room.’ Mrs Mussey gives an arm to help her father up. ‘We can all sit down and you can give us a translation before you sing.’