Extract From Remember My Name From Abbey Clancy

Liverpool, a few years ago…

Jess could feel the heat of the spotlight; the glare of gif multi-coloured strobe flitting over her face as it criss-crossed the stage. She could feel the swag oozing its way through her make-up, the strain on her lungs as she recovered from the last note. She was blinded by the dazzling glow, deafened by the sound of applause hammering in time to her own frenzied heart. Her legs were weak from dancing, her throat was sore from singing, her stomach was cramping with effort and nausea, and she felt like she might collapse at any second.

It was, quite frankly, the best moment of her entire life.

She blinked her eyelids a few times to try and get rid of the droplets of sweat that had gathered on her long lashes, and stared out at the audience. She knew they were there – she could hear them, feel them and, thanks to the hot dogs that had been served at the interval, even smell them – but the spotlight turned them into a mass of dark blobs. Dark blobs that were all standing up, shouting snd cheering and clapping. Even people that weren’t related to her by blood were joining in – although she could definitely hear her dad yelling louder than everyone else. All she could see was the dark outline of bodies, silhouetted hands waving in the air.

All those people. Cheering. For her.

Panting, exhausted, on the biggest high she’d ever known, a wide smile cracked her face in two. She’d done it. She’d played the lead role in the biggest show of the school year and she played it well. So well that the whole place on its feet.

So what if she passed out afterwards. And who cares if the fright wig she was wearing tore her own hair out in clumps when it was removed? And what did it matter that she might have broken her big toe during that last routine? It was all worth it.

All the hours of rehearsal; the time away from her friends and family; the pain and dehydrating and the frustration of getting it wrong time after time. It was just…worth it. This is where she was born to be, and she’d never have been happier.

Jess sensed the rest of the cast running out to be with her, grinned as Ruby grabbed one of her hands and Adam pulled her other, and raised them up in victory before they performed their bow. The others were there too; the dancers and singers from the chorus; and the girl who’d worked on the costumes, the woodwork team who’d built the set, and Mr Carlisle, the teacher who produced it.

Everyone apart from Daniel Wells, that is Daniel, who’d not only written the story, but also scored the songs, designed the stage, and organised the lighting – he, Jess knew, would still be tucked away in his tech booth where he seemed to live. Daniel hated the spotlight as much as she loved it.

Finally, eventually, after several more bows, the curtains swished closed in front of them. The lights dimmed. The roar of the crowd subsided.