Chrysalis Days & Butterfly Nights [Wattys 2023 Shortlist]

37

Cheers erupted as the last staff member on stage finished their song. They sounded very appreciative of the effort and now Lucinda didn't want to follow after someone so good, she could never compare. That staff member brushed by her as he left the stage, grinning. One of the dancers that worked with Helen, he kissed Lucinda's cheek and rushed off, almost diving through the velvet curtain.

"Next, we have Lucinda! She hasn't done any stage work before, so be kind!" The DJ wasn't exactly bulling her up. "Ladies, gentlemen, boys, girls, grrlzs and every other iteration, please welcome our Bottle Bar Babe, Lucinda!"

Again cheers, muffled by curtains and walls and the blood in Lucinda's ears, came from the main hall. Whistles. Claps. Stamping feet. The whole deal. For the first time in a while, she felt unsteady on her tall heels. Almost stumbling, she made awkward steps out, onto the stage and found that she couldn't stop gurning a teeth-grinding grin. She almost bowed to the DJ before stepping up to the microphone that awaited her, like a pencil-thin predator about to devour her.

The stage lights weren't as bright as they would be on a normal night and she could make out several people beyond them. Helen and Krystal sat in their usual booth, joined now by Annalise, who already sat forward on the edge of her seat, hands clenched together in front of her mouth. Deacon had come, alongside a husband Lucinda had only learned about tonight. There, at the back in a booth commandeered all for herself, Carlo forced to stand at the side, Clarisse sat as though she had far better things to do with her time.

With a jerking turn, eyes drooping, she gave the DJ a nod and nodded back, starting the music and setting the automatic, sound activated lighting in motion. Tinkling bells sounded, like falling stars and the lights flickered in random, singular sequences. As Lucinda caught the cue to sing, her throat tightened, the music continuing without her.

"I'm sorry." She turned away from the crowd of people that she knew and practically begged the DJ with her eyes. "Give me a second and start again, please?"

The DJ nodded again, reset the music and waited for her. The lights stopped their flashing and Lucinda took a deep breath, remembering how far she had come, the obstacles she had overcome. Her fears and her pains, her torments, but also her triumphs. She was here. She was dressed as the woman she always knew herself to be but had always denied. She had come so far, so very far, and she was not about to choke now. She couldn't, wouldn't let herself. With her eyes closed, she held the microphone and its stand and nodded again.

"Get on with it!" She knew that voice. Bloody Michael! She ignored it, keeping her eyes closed, but she opened them at the next noise.

"You shut it, gobshite! Or I'll kick your fucking head in!" Krystal, in her fairy princess outfit, wand in hand, stood on the table of their booth, pointing that wand towards Michael. The Doc Marten's boots on her feet completed the scene. Then she turned toward the stage, her voice changing completely. "Go on, Lucy! Ignore the dickhead."

The tinkling music began once more, the lights making their dance, but Lucinda couldn't see the lights. She had closed her eyes again and this time she didn't miss the cue.

"One rule for us, For you another, Do unto yourself as you see fit for your brother."

She had taken great care in choosing this song. Whether the lyrics were meant to convey the feelings she wanted to sing, she didn't know. When she had listened to it, as a young Luke, confused, angry at something that he had no control over, this song had spoken to her. It reminded Lucinda of the dips and troughs she had encountered throughout her life.

"Is that not within your realm of understanding? A fifty second capacity of mind, Too demanding?"

Her eyes remained firmly closed. She didn't want to see the reactions of the people she worked with. Didn't want to know whether she did well, or had made a fool of herself. Right here, in this moment, she needed to sing for herself, to the people she cared about so very much. Most of those people she may never see again after this night.

"Well then poor unfortunate you, There are a myriad of things that you can do, Like pick up a pen and paper or go talk to a friend, The history of the future, No violence or revenge."

Now she opened her eyes, looking out towards her audience. Her friends, her companions, her colleagues.

"Your shame is never ending, Just one psychological drama after another. You are guilty and how you ever entered into this life."

Before she realised what she was doing, she took the microphone from its stand, moving it to the side and stepped forward to the front of the stage. She no longer felt unsteady on her tall heels, she felt stable. Confident. Her eyes roved over the faces before her. Some were dancing along and Lucinda smiled as she sang.

"God only knows the infinite complexities of love. We all have the ability, Our freedom is fragile. We all laugh and we cry don't we? We all bleed and we smile."

She continued singing, the words coming from a mouth that could not stop smiling. She moved from one side of the stage to the other, catching the eyes of one person, then another. She began to parade, flounce across the stage, her hand moving in a weaving flare around herself. How she wished she could have done this years ago! To live like this. To be herself.

An instrumental section broke into the song and, of a sudden, she saw Deacon jumping up on to the stage. He began to dance beside her, his face a picture of fun and happiness. Then others appeared. Krystal clambered up, like a child climbing onto the limbs of a tree and then, striding along, swaying her hips and waving her arms, Helen joined them. All three dancing with Lucinda until the song came back to the chorus.

At every mention of the word 'guilty', Helen led everyone, those on stage and in the audience in an echoing 'guilty'. People raised their arms, jumping to their feet and dancing and, as she continued to sing, edging closer to the end of the song, Lucinda felt tears pricking her eyes. She felt glad the song was coming to an end, because she felt certain her voice was about to break and, when the last words tumbled from her lips, she let Helen take the microphone and she clasped her hands to her mouth as the entire audience cheered and roared, clapping, whistling even more loudly than they had for the dancer before her.

To the side, Annalise, tears falling down her face, jumped on the spot, laughing and clapping. She blew Lucinda a kiss and continued clapping. Lucinda could do nothing but look out across the people that had made her feel welcome and loved. Even Clarisse had risen to her feet, giving her a dignified, slow clap, Carlo beating a fast rhythm with his own hands, beside her. But Lucinda didn't look at Clarisse for long. She had seen someone else, right at the back in front of the bar. Someone she knew so well. Andy.

"Muah-ha-ha." Helen, leaning in to Lucinda's ear, told Lucinda exactly who she had plotted her revenge against.

It was her.

[Songwriters: Andy Bell / Vince Clarke
Drama! lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC]