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 andthe 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,
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 andthe 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,
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