All Balls and Glitter (19 page)

At the beginning of 1990, Jane and I became an item. We resided in a one-bedroom flat in Crouch End, which was very romantic – a bit like Robert Redford and Jane Fonda in
Barefoot in the Park.
She had a great social network, as did I, so we lived life to the full and maximized every moment of it. We had so much fun together. I loved her zany qualities, her appreciation for the arts, her outgoing nature, her ability to converse with anybody, her strength, her passion – even her Welsh accent.

Jane adored having a tan, so one day, as a surprise, I splashed out on a sunbed. We used to indulge in these luxurious tanning sessions – we’d sit there, playing footsie and drinking wine, while we soaked up the rays. The bed used slow-release bulbs, so it was impossible to burn. We lived in that thing, which seems terrible now, knowing as much as we do about skin cancer, but it was just so relaxing.

Eventually, I decided I was in love with Jane and, in a rash moment, I asked her to marry me. The proposal was not thought
through at all; there was no getting down on one knee. I blurted it out one evening after dinner at our local Greek restaurant. To my surprise, she said yes.

Soon afterwards, we went together to the Wood Green register office to enquire about the wedding. We had a long discussion about the music and the other arrangements and then the registrar asked, ‘When do you want to get married?’

We answered simultaneously. Only I said, ‘Spring,’ and Jane said, ‘Summer.’ She won, of course. We tied the knot on 20 August 1990.

The wedding was lovely, but very low-key. We didn’t want a big fuss. My mum wasn’t there, sadly, because my dad had chosen to come, as he tied in the trip with seeing some of his old friends from his navy years. He was accompanied by my sister Sue, her husband David, and their young daughter Izzi. A few close friends rounded out the numbers.

Dad wasn’t drinking at the time, so we were getting on well. He was to be the barman at the reception, which I’m sure was a testing time for him, not to mention the rest of the family. We were all worried that he might start drinking again, but to his credit he stayed dry for the whole event.

I was so nervous when it came to the big day. I had been fine up until then – in fact, organizing the whole thing had brought Jane and I even closer together – but when it came to taking my vows, I was shaking like a leaf. I was trembling too much to get the ring out. Trying to place it on Jane’s hand was another battle, as both our fingers had swollen up due to the hot weather and nerves, so the wedding bands were not exactly gliding on as one would have liked. I went into a bit of a panic at that point.

Finally, after a struggle and what seemed an eternity, Jane’s ring went on. Then, as mine was being placed on my finger, she had to grab my whole hand to stop it from wobbling. I have never been more grateful to hear the words ‘You may now kiss the bride’ in my life.

After the ceremony, we held the reception in Hampstead at the New End Theatre, of which Jane was administrator at the time. It’s an old mortuary, which sounds deeply inappropriate for a wedding reception, but it’s a beautiful little venue that looks a bit church-like, so it was the ideal setting for us. Hampstead was also the very first place we went out together for a drink. We both loved the area as it was so picturesque. It was perfect.

Perfection appeared contagious at that stage in my life. No sooner had Jane and I tied the knot, I bagged a promotion at work that was to change the course of my entire career. Joining the company of
Miss Saigon
halfway through the first year proved an unexpected stroke of luck. Not long after I came in, there was a full cast change, so some of those who had been employed from opening night left. As I was staying on, I was offered the position of dance captain, which I took and relished for two years. Later, I was also asked to be the swing, meaning my performance role changed every night. Variety really is the spice of life, so that kept everything interesting.

As dance captain, my job was to look after the whole company, deal with last-minute changes and help new recruits to learn the steps. I loved it because it kept my brain as well as my body busy. If people were sick, or anything changed, it was my task to go round the cast and tell them about the differences in the show, and generally maintain the production. The dance captain also had responsibility for informing the stage management how many props were needed, where and at what time, and which ones should be removed if they were not being used in a particular performance. It involved thinking about the entire theatrical behemoth, not just your own tiny part in the show, so I became much more aware of the bigger picture behind the scenes.

Another duty was to give notes on people, telling them what they were doing right and wrong; the role taught me how to deliver criticism of the constructive kind. Believe it or not, being a dance captain honed my people skills and made me aware of the
importance of diplomacy in delivering feedback. I’m not sure the
Strictly
contestants quite appreciate that particular string to my bow!

My first task in the job was to teach the incoming company the choreography. The day before their technical run-through, all the new dancers were watching the live show to see the routines they would soon be doing themselves.

We were set to perform the ‘American Dream’ number, for which I wore a really flash, blue, 1970s-style suit with sequins. I said to the attentive gang ahead of time, ‘Whatever you do, don’t look at anyone else on stage except for me. I’m the only one doing it the right way.’

I was always one of the first company members out on stage, so I was easy to spot. All the men played johns in that routine – clients of the prostitutes in the show. I was with the first johns, who were usually the best dancers. After us came the second johns, who danced almost as well, and then the third johns, who were the singers. The person who couldn’t dance at all (the Chris Parker of the production) went into the limousine that flew in during a dream sequence and operated that.

That evening, I was gasbagging on the telephone upstairs in the dressing room when I suddenly heard the music for ‘American Dream’ start up.

‘Oh my God! I’m so late,’ I thought, as I ran downstairs. I threw myself out on to the stage and went straight into the routine.

I had misjudged my cue. Jonathan Pryce was on stage singing and I had jumped out from the wings and started dancing my socks off – at completely the wrong time. I’d told the whole company to watch me and then got it totally wrong. Poor Jonathan must have wondered what the hell was going on.

Jonathan is lovely to work with and hugely talented, but he can be a bit bossy in my opinion. He used to get on the tannoy backstage and give us all notes. I worked with Jonathan again on
a Christmas album, which was good fun, and he took part in
Hey, Mr Producer!
the 1998 tribute to Cameron Mackintosh’s work, in which I was also involved
.
Claire Moore, who played Ellen in
Miss Saigon
, was wonderful too. She always had a glass of Chardonnay before the performance ‘to lubricate the throat’, she’d say.

In 1991, I was dancing in
Miss Saigon
when we did a charity performance for the Entertainment Artistes Benevolent Fund, which Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother attended. Afterwards, we assembled in an orderly fashion to meet her. As the receiving line took place immediately after the show, we were all still wearing our costumes and some of the girls were in their hookers’ attire, so it was quite a surreal moment.

We met her on the stage itself, which had a six-foot rake. This meant it was on an extreme slope so that the audience could see the whole performance. The actors and dancers are essentially working on a hill, but we quickly get used to it. The poor Queen Mum had to walk horizontally across it. The rake changes the gravitational centre in your body, so you tend to start moving downhill; the receiving line was going further down the slope with each hand she was shaking. But, bless her, she coped really well and she was very sweet.

She was so small that she had to crane her neck a bit to talk to me. She said, ‘I really enjoyed the show. Thank you.’

It was lovely to meet her, and I was so glad the moment was captured on film – it’s a photo I’ve kept to this day.

Another treasured memento, for very different reasons, is a picture of three generations of
Miss Saigon
’s dance captains: Tash O’Connor (who moved up to resident director when I took over the job), me and my friend Gerard Casey. Sadly, I am the only one of the three who is still alive.

Tash was HIV positive when he went back to his hometown in New Zealand and died. Though he’d been formally diagnosed, no one knew he was ill. He would drink himself into oblivion every night on Jack Daniels and coke. He’d prop up the bar all evening
and then come backstage, hammered. We all loved him. He was such a party animal, really great fun and hugely talented.

Gerard died at thirty-five from an unknown cause. It was dreadful, probably one of the biggest shocks of my life because we were very close mates.

His death came out of the blue. I’d seen him only three days before in Amsterdam, where he was performing in
Die Fledermaus
and I was working on
Titanic: The Musical.
Gerard was due to come to our run-through on the Saturday, but was suddenly taken ill and rushed back to London. A couple of days later, I got a phone call, saying that he’d died. I could not believe it.

The funeral was so sad. I couldn’t stop crying the whole day. I thought I would be fine, but as soon as I saw the coffin, I thought, ‘Oh my God, Gerard’s in there. It’s real,’ and it all kicked in.

Whenever I look at that photo, it makes me immensely sad to think of two incredible talents taken from us at such a young age. It also makes me grateful that I’m still here.

Time passed on
Miss Saigon.
The moment came when Jonathan Pryce decided to move on, so he had a leaving bash. The redcoats from the theatre, as usual, served the drinks. They are the guys who do front-of-house meet-and-greets and look after royals and dignitaries in the champagne rooms.

As I chatted to various members of the cast, one of the redcoats came up beside me and accidentally spilt champagne over my shirt. ‘I’m so sorry,’ spluttered the flustered server. Any irritation I might have felt disappeared when I turned round to look at him, only to see the most gorgeous guy I had set eyes on in quite a long while. That was the first time I met Lloyd.

At that stage, things were magical between my wife and me, but my feelings towards men had not entirely jumped ship. Nevertheless, I brushed them off and didn’t think about Lloyd until several months later, after my relationship with Jane had hit the rocks in spectacular fashion.

Despite the perfect wedding, the marriage, as it turned out,
was not quite so flawless. It didn’t last, mainly because our sex life diminished somewhat and I suppose that led to the inevitable scenario – Jane slept with someone else.

I discovered the affair just before our two-year anniversary. We had a friend whom we called Lightning, on account of his not being very quick off the mark, and I found out that they were sleeping together. I moved out and he moved in.

We are friends now, Jane and I, but it wasn’t very amicable at the time. It got really stressful and silly. She even chucked my fridge down the stairs. I’d asked for my fridge back and I got it – on the pavement. It was horrible and we didn’t talk for a long while. It all seems so petty now, looking back, but at the time I was very hurt. Thoughts raced through my mind as to who was at fault and why: I blamed myself, I blamed Lightning, I blamed Jane … Frankly, it was just a big mistake. I thought I could have everything – the wife, the kids and the boys – but I was immature and needed this lesson to grow up and be true to myself.

The divorce, of course, was very difficult to cope with. You see your future just torn up and dropped in the gutter. It was all so technical as well, with paperwork flying backwards and forwards, and it drove us to distraction. We both wanted an easy annulment, but there is no such a thing, that I had to learn.

Jane’s relationship with Lightning came to an end after a few years and she was devastated. That’s when we became mates again and knew truly how much we adored each other. Now we can go out for lunch and talk about life honestly. I love her deeply as a friend, now and forever, and wish her all the happiness in the world. She has since remarried and has a beautiful son with her second husband.

After my split from Jane, my path again crossed Lloyd’s. This time, I was free to explore my feelings for the handsome redcoat. I couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

L
loyd, it transpired, was not just a pretty face. As well as working at the theatre, both on front of house and as a backstage fireman, he was studying to be a lawyer. All the girls and several of the boys in the company had spotted this eligible bachelor and were saying things like, ‘Who’s that cute guy on off prompt? Who’s the fireman? Someone needs to go and ask him out.’

Gerard Casey decided that it would be me, even though I was convinced that Lloyd was married or had a girlfriend. For some reason, I assumed he was straight, despite our instant chemistry over the spilt champagne.

Towards the end of the performance that night, in a break before the ‘American Dream’ number, I plucked up the courage to attempt Gerard’s dare. My objective in the task was to get Lloyd to come out drinking with us after the show.

As Lloyd was at law school, my opening gambit was to ask advice on getting a divorce! Then I said, ‘Do you want to come out with us tonight?’ as a general invitation. It was my dear friend Tracey Odell’s birthday and we were all going over to PJ’s Bar and Grill – but I had double-booked myself, as I always do, and had also promised another pal, Ali Kane, who was a dresser on the show and the best mate of Gerard, that I would go to a party at her house.

I was successful in my ploy, and persuaded Lloyd to come to the grill with me. Still thinking he was straight, I said to Tracey, ‘I’ve brought you a birthday present, darling – this cute guy from backstage.’ She was single at the time, so I thought it would be a nice gift for her. We still laugh about that. I brought her a birthday present … and ended up keeping him for myself! Lloyd and I celebrated Tracey’s birthday, then went to Ali’s party where, to my surprise, we shared a sneaky kiss in the kitchen.