Whir, beep, click, breath. Whir, beep, click, breath.
Pippa Gallagher is rushed in to hospital following a traffic accident.
As Pippa lies unconscious, fragments of the past flash through her mind. The day she met Steve Gallagher, the man who would become the love of her life. The heartbreak she felt tonight as she got into her car, her eyes blurry from tears.
Meanwhile Steve sits at her bedside, his eyes fixed on her pale, still face. He has no idea where his wife was going when she crashed. No clue as to why she became distracted behind the wheel. All he knows is that she is his world. And that he wasn't there when she needed him most.
For the next twelve hours, Steve tells Pippa all the reasons he loves her.
But is it too late? Can Pippa find her way back to him?
9 May
Pippa
Bet Claire Danes didn’t have to deal with any of this. Bet Leo was the consummate pro. Seamless connection in the cast- ing, respect and deep admiration from the film studio and effortless communication with Luhrmann. The two will have demonstrated supreme support and onscreen kinship from day one.
Not like Jonty Ronson, who smoked a loaded skunk spliff on the way to the dress rehearsal, pulled a cataclysmic whitey and hadn’t even learned his lines till yesterday. Jonty Ronson, whose flirty attention had led me to believe that he only had eyes for his Juliet, but who quickly became a plague on both the households, promptly marking his territory by snogging the Nurse, then fondling Lady Capulet’s bounteous buttocks, and now trying it on with Lady Montague as she carries out her extensive (and exposing) physical warm-up. How am I supposed to move my audience to tears when my Romeo is too busy nuzzling his mother stage-left to run lines with me?
Deep breath, Pippa. And release. I shall not be dragged down by a lack of professionalism in others. I will give my all. I will sail over any troubling impediments thrust in my path. I will rise up like a phoenix from the dust. This is my big chance. This is the night I put any doubt aside and prove to my parents that I, Pippa Lyons, their only kith and kin, am destined to be a great actress. After all, it’s not every day that a fifteen-year-old gets the lead role in the centenary play, is it?
And it’s certainly not every day that the show is taking place in the local boys’ school that my dad just happens to be the headmaster of. If there could ever be more reason for me to dazzle, I couldn’t conceive of it. And boys playing boys !? Now there’s a novel concept. Up until now, I’ve cornered the market in those roles: from Mr Bumble, to John Proctor, to Worzel Gummidge (okay, maybe the latter wasn’t my finest hour), usually sporting a supremely itchy false beard and gamely kissing my own thumbs during any girl-on-girl em- brace. But this is different. This time we have the full gamut of the sexes covered! This time I’m in a costume that actually fits! This time thumbs are to be replaced by human lips! And this time I’m playing the lead! And not just any lead – Juliet!
I spot Tania on the other side of the stage. She is as jittery as I am, hopping from foot to foot, fiddling with her cravat and occasionally throwing nervy punches into the air. Tania Marley. My partner in crime. My stubborn, excitable, fero- ciously loyal best friend from day one of junior school, when the deal was indelibly sealed over a swapped friendship bracelet and a shared passion for Garbage Pail Kids. The only girl from All Hallows Girls School who had insisted she play a boy’s role despite the availability of the real McCoy.
‘Sod that,’ she had announced to our director (teacher) on the first day of rehearsals. ‘We all know Mercutio’s the most interesting part in this play, and I’m going to play him.’
And as usual, what Tania wants, Tania gets.
She looks up and sees me in the wings, her face breaking into a twinkly grin. She looks barely recognisable. Her unruly hair is scraped back into a slick bun, and heavily pencilled eyebrows make her face look even more angular than usual. She is wearing a black satin jumpsuit and gold cowboy boots and I already know her punchy and avant-garde Mercutio is going to bring the house down. With perfect synchronicity we raise our left arms and do our four-fingered BFFFE (Best Friends For Freakin’ Eternity) greeting. It falls some- where between the Girl Guides salute, the thing they do in Star Trek and an unfortunate touch of Heil Hitler. And with that we return to our own private panic chambers.
I begin circling my arms furiously, loosening my pelvis and humming sliding scales till my cheeks feel zingy. Next, I chew a ball of imaginary chewing gum in my mouth – a ball that grows bigger and bigger and bigger until I’m gurning like a madman, but no matter; as Dame Penny says in Behind the Scenes, ‘an extensive warm-up is essential for Shakespeare’.
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