‘She’d better be careful,’ Isadora continued. ‘She won’t be the darling of the exhausted early morning mums and dads if she wears that type of hot little outfit. They want blue jeans, wacky sweaters, spiky hair and overall purity for their Saturday morning televisual babysitters.’
Silence reigned for a brief moment until the awards’ theme music blasted out over the sound system and the show began. Finally, the nerves began to get to Tara. This was an important evening for her. She’d been working on National Hospital for three years and in April, she’d been promoted to storyline editor. The youngest person ever to get the job, Tara had had a lot to prove. But she’d done it. Thanks in no small part to her input, the scripts since then had been ratings grabbers. The critics loved the show, the production company loved the show, now, it was time to see if the people who gave out the prestigious Soap of the Year award loved it too. They’d been nominated for the past three years but had been narrowly beaten by Ardmore Grove, their nearest rival, every time. If only tonight was the night to claim the prize for National Hospital. Tara felt sick with the anxiety of it all.
Across the table, Aaron, the show’s director, sat with his beautiful blonde wife. Tara thought of Finn sitting at home waiting for her phone call. Her nerves wouldn’t have been nearly as bad if Finn had been beside her, his hand holding hers comfortingly. But only people like Aaron were considered important enough to get two invites to the ceremony.
Onstage, clips were being shown of the best animated films. Tara glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes gone. Although the show wasn’t live, it would still run pretty much to time. The soap category was in the first hour but there was ages to go.
The veteran Irish actor on stage was slowly opening the purple envelope for the animation award. He read it out and a table at the back of the ballroom erupted with squeals of joy. Everybody at the National Hospital tables smiled. The whole ballroom smiled. They were on camera, after all.
Three more awards trundled by. Winners gravely thanked everyone from their kindergarten teacher to their Pilates coach. The only excitement was when the forty-something Best Actress gave rather an over-enthusiastic kiss to the teenage boy band member presenting her with the award. The audience applauded with delight. At last, somebody behaving badly.
‘Give him another Frenchie,’ yelled a drunk at the back of the room.
‘That’s one comment for the cutting room floor,’ Tara grinned.
‘Were there tongues involved?’ demanded Isadora eagerly.
‘Not on his part,’ Aaron said. ‘The poor guy looked scared out of his head.’
‘He should be,’ Tommy pointed out. ‘She eats boys like him for brekkie.’
‘Don’t be ageist,’ snapped Isadora, who was feeling sensitive about arriving at the big four-oh herself. ‘Just because she’s over forty, she’s not a figure of fun, you know. It’s perfectly allowable to snog younger men. You’re no spring chicken yourself, Tommy, and I bet you wouldn’t say no to a big kiss from a teenage starlet.’
‘Now, children,’ remonstrated Aaron calmly, ‘let’s not fight. We have to look like we’re happy. Save the fighting for the studio.’
Everyone grinned. Tempers often got frayed when they were under pressure at work.
‘After the break, we’ll be seeing who’s the Radio Presenter of the Year, who’s the Best Actor, and, which soap has won the Best Soap,’ said the MC suavely. The crowd applauded obediently.
The lights went up and the MC added that there’d be a fifteen minute break. Hands went into the air immediately, waving for wine waiters.
Tara thought the break would never end but it did. The Radio Personality of the Year, late-night talk show host Mac Levine, made a very funny speech.
Isadora squeezed Tara’s hand under the table so nobody would see how anxious they were.
‘Isn’t this wonderful?’ Isadora said between teeth clenched into a false smile.
‘Wonderful.’ Tara clenched back. ‘Will he ever hurry up before I die.’
And then it was their turn.
A glamorous female singer read out the nominations for Best Soap. There wasn’t a sound at their table as clips of the various shows were played. Tara closed her eyes in supplication and then realised how strange and desperate she’d look on film, so she opened them again. The clips were finished and the singer was taking forever to open the envelope. Tara watched French-manicured talons struggling with the paper in agonising slow motion. She could feel her heart rate slowing down to comatose level, please, please let it be us.
‘The winner is…National Hospital.’
‘We’ve won!!’ shrieked everybody with one voice. ‘We’ve won.’
Screaming with delight, the occupants of both tables stood up and hugged each other. Tara could barely see with the tears in her eyes.
‘Oh, Isadora, we’ve won, I can’t believe it,’ she sobbed.
‘Come on, Tara, get your butt over here,’ said Aaron, his voice cracking. ‘We’ve got to go up and take the prize.’
‘What, me?’ said Tara, shocked.
‘Yes, you and Isadora,’ he said. ‘We can’t have everyone on the stage, but you’ve both got to go up, you’ve both worked so hard this year.’
Isadora was off like a shot while Tara stumbled over to Aaron. He put an arm around her waist. ‘This is your year, Tara.’
‘But what about Tommy and everyone else…?’ gasped Tara, trying to wipe the tears from her face.
‘This is your year, kid,’ repeated Aaron. ‘Enjoy it.’ The entire table of actors and Isadora were already on the stage with the executive producer when Aaron and Tara made it up there.
‘Thank you so much!’ squealed Sherry, elbows together, boobs shoved up for the cameras. ‘Thank you for loving us.’
She was subtly shoved out of the way by the show’s female lead, Allegra Armstrong, a deceptively fragile-looking brunette.
‘You have no idea what this means to all of us at National Hospital,’ Allegra said warmly, ‘we’ve worked so hard for this and want to say thanks to all our fans.’
The audience applauded. Allegra was a genuinely loved star and her portrayal of a brilliant surgeon on the show had already garnered her many awards.
‘Also, we’ve got to say thanks to all the wonderful writers without whom we wouldn’t have a show,’ added heartthrob, Stephen Valli, who played hunky Dr McCambridge. Stephen Valli had also won many awards, at least half of which were for sexiest TV star and the man most women would like to wake up next to. He reached back and put one arm around Isadora and the other round Tara, who blushed. She stared blindly out at the audience. The fierce stage lights meant she could see nothing but darkness and yet she knew that everyone was looking up at the team, and her. It was a strange feeling.
Through the haze, she heard another interval being called.
‘Congratulations!’ shrieked everyone as the National Hospital team clambered off stage.
‘My name is Jill McDonnell, I’m with the Sentinel. How does it feel to be part of the team responsible for the best soap?’ said a woman, suddenly appearing in front of Tara and thrusting a tiny tape recorder in her face.
Tara stumbled on her high heels and had to cling onto Aaron’s jacket to stay upright.
‘Wonderful,’ she bleated, not able to think of anything else to say for the first time in her life.
‘Could I set up an interview with you?’
Tara