Coffee Conversations

5- Drink with me

My weekend at home comes to an end far sooner than I'd like, and before I know it I'm sat on the train, hurtling away from the warm, familial comfort that I constantly crave.

Caroline had emailed me all of the specifics of my new job, including my contract and rehearsal schedule. I try and take my mind off my unshakable loneliness, instead reading through the various documents she's sent me.

I take the time to transfer over my new schedule into my phone calendar, inputting where I need to be and when in a vain attempt to organise my busy brain.

But the image of Everett, head in his hands, head bowed as he prays, haunts me still.

My flat feels huge and eerily silent when I step into it, a thought I have every time I come back after visiting home. I try not to pay too much attention to it, instead having a warm shower and reading until my eyes fall shut of their own accord.

I rise bright and early the next morning, making a coffee at home instead of dipping into Starbucks. I don't have the mental capacity for Blue and his unnerving stares today.

My first stop is the theatre that I will soon be working in. I buzz the intercom at the stage door and wait, bouncing on my toes as I do. The button clicks suddenly and I state my name and appointment time.

I only have to wait a second for the door to buzz, and I push my way in breathlessly.

I meet with the stage manager; a wonderfully charismatic woman called Ellie, and the theatrical producer; a somewhat stoic man called Liam, shaking their hands firmly as I introduce myself. We review my contract together and I sign it, going through all the formalities of a new job.

After nearly an hour of tedious admin and endless forms that all require a signature and an abundance of personal details, I'm done. I escape into the freedom of the cool air, smiling as the weak sunshine hits my face.

From there I go straight to the rehearsal studios.

For the next six weeks I'll be in intensive rehearsals, learning choreography, rehearsing dialogue and, of course, practicing the songs until I hear the tune in my sleep. I grin to myself at the thought.

I can't wait.

I make my way to the studios on the underground, emerging in a familiar part of London. I'm just down the road from my old performing arts college and when I arrive, I flash my brand new, shining ID lanyard.

My identical, beaming picture matches my face and I'm admitted into the building automatically.

The receptionist, Theresa, guides me down the hall and I bound into the studio without a moments hesitation. I feel as though I've waited my whole life for this moment, and now that's here, I can't wait a second longer.

There are small groups of people milling around, each of them chatting quietly. Some are stretching simultaneously, some reading through battered scripts and I smile at the sight. I've missed this. I make my way over to the man at the front, who looks like every other choreographer I've ever seen. He stands tall and fluid, like a perfectly carved statue, and talks animatedly to the girl I recall as Rosie.

She beams when she spots me and I smile back, waving.

"Hi again!" I say and she laughs, bouncing forwards to hug me.

"I'm so glad you got the part! Hugo, this is Greyson. He's playing my Marius." She says enthusiastically.

Hugo glances at me, smiling in an amused, wry sort of manner. He stretches a hand out and I grasp it, shaking quickly.

"Nice to meet you, Greyson." He says, his voice husky and attractive.

"Please, call me Grey. Great to meet you too." I say.

"Well smack my arse," A voice says and I immediately respond.

"And call me Judy." I blurt, swivelling where I stand to spot a familiar face.

"Black and White!" He says and I grin.

"Cedric!" I say, laughing as our bodies collide into a fond tangle of limbs.

He slaps my back, squeezing me tight before pulling away.

"You've been cast?" He asks and I nod, my mouth hurting from smiling so wide.

"Marius." I breathe and he laughs suddenly.

"Fuck off! Congratulations!" He hoots, hugging me again.

"You're in the cast too?" I confirm and he nods.

"Enjolras." He says, beaming at me.

I bite my lip, shaking my head in disbelief.

"That's amazing!" I say.

"I'm guessing you know each other?" Hugo says dryly and I turn around.

"Mark and I went to college together." I explain.

BW and Cedric. Grey and Mark. He was my roommate, best friend and production partner for every show. But as far as I had been aware, he was abroad in a production of Joseph.

"Why do you call him Cedric?" Rosie asks and I laugh.

"My surname is Diggory. Black and white over here thought he was being clever." Mark says and I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, because 'Black and white' really rolls off the tongue as a nickname." I drawl.

"Sod off. How's the family?" Mark asks and I nod, dropping my bag to the floor.

"Yeah, good. How are you? I thought you were in the touring Joseph gig?" I ask and he nods vaguely.

"I was, but when my agent called about this, I couldn't let it pass me by. Les Mis, man. That was always the dream." He says, nudging my arm and I grin, nodding.

"Yeah." I breathe, not quite able to believe our reality.

Hugo's voice interrupts our reminiscing and he is quick to set us to work.

Rehearsals are the same everywhere, regardless of the show. But Les Mis rehearsals are gruelling. Hours of singing, harmonising, running through dialogue and endless choreo, and we haven't even begun the staging yet.

Each day ends with my body heavy with exhaustion, my bones feeling like lead and my throat in need of a gallon of honey, but it's also everything I've ever dreamt of. Our blood, sweat and tears pay off, week after week our rehearsals getting more and more precise until we're able to do complete run throughs of the show.

The cast are quick to become my family, each member a shining star in their own way, and enough characters to mean that you're never easily bored. Rosie and I click together, our chemistry natural and easy, and Mark and I bounce off one another without needing to try, our friendship off stage proving effortless to project into our characters.

We laugh and goof around and every Friday night we get horrendously drunk in the name of team bonding. With Mark's arm fondly shrugged over my shoulder and young, beaming faces reflecting only the purest of enthusiasm back at me, it's easy to forget my abuse filled morning coffees and my terrible, aching yearning for someone who will always remain out of reach.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong. I've found a new band of brothers, my comrades in battle who will sing and die by my side in the name of the French Revolution.

And I drink to that.