‘Oi! Dancing boy!’ Michael. I’d already said goodbye to him, but he told me he’d be watching out for when I left. He was standing on an outhouse roof. I ran back for him.
‘We’re gonna miss the coach!’ yelled me dad.
‘Will you stop being such an old woman?’ Tony scolded.
I ran back up to the outhouse. Michael jumped down.
‘See you then,’ I told him. He didn’t say anything, though. He just looked at me. ‘You’re being a right old woman, too,’ I said. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, like he kissed me once.
‘Eh, man, not here, people’ll see, I have to live here,’ he said. I just laughed.
‘We’ll miss the coach!’ bellowed me dad.
‘See yer,’ I said.
‘See yer,’ said Michael.
I ran back. Dad was practically running down the road, he was so scared we’d miss the bus. Me, I just thought nothing could go wrong now, but he was right to hurry, everyone else was already on board. The driver jumped out and put my bags in the hold, Dad hugged me ... and I was on. I got the seat at the back, my favourite. Dad and Tony stood on the pavement outside. I felt like a bit of an arse, watching them wait for the coach to go away.
I’d hardly said anything to Tony before then, but he came up close to the window at the back and he said something.
I said, ‘What?’ It was funny, you know, because I knew what he was saying by the way his mouth was moving. He was saying, ‘I’ll miss you.’ I just said ‘What?’ before I had a chance to think.
But he didn’t know that. He glanced behind him, all embarrassed, like. ‘I’ll miss yer,’ he shouted.
‘What?’ I said. The engine started up and we pulled off. I was trying not to laugh. We were pulling away and Tony was yelling, ‘I’ll miss yer!’ I stood up and banged on the window as if I was really desperate to work out what he was on about.
‘I’LL MISS YER!’ he bellowed at the top of his voice.
So then I pointed and I laughed. For a second he stared at me and then he realised I’d been having him on.
‘You bastard!’ he shouted. But he was laughing his head off and all. He came running after us shaking his fist and chucking bits of toffee, crisp wrappers and stuff he had in his pocket after the coach.
‘You little bastard! I’ll kill yer!’ Everyone on the coach could hear him. They were all laughing and Dad was laughing and I was laughing and Tony was laughing. And the coach went round the corner and …. then they were all gone.
Well, London never gets any smaller. Maybe it’s me that’s getting smaller. I’ve been down a few times now and those buildings seem to get bigger every time. It never fails to impress. I feel as though I own a bit of it now, that’s all.
I’m sitting in Covent Garden Opera House. You never saw anything like this place. They could build Everington inside here, it’s that big. All gold and red and satin and bows. These seats we were sitting in cost over a hundred pounds a go. Me and Tony. Tony still in his donkey jacket and jeans, looking like a miner. Still making a point. Got in for free, mind. Complimentary tickets. Outside above the entrance, in big letters, it says:
‘The Royal Ballet Company. Swan Lake. Billy Elliot.’
I’m Mr Elliot. How do you do?
I get Tony to call over one of the ushers, even though the music is just about to begin. I told him, ‘Will you tell Billy Elliot his family’s here?’
I always do that. I like him to know. Even though he knows already in this case. This is his first lead role. Dancing the lead. Brilliant, see? She was right, all those years ago.
Tony sitting next to me gave me a nudge.
‘What?’
‘Look.’ He was pointing to the bloke sitting next to him. He was one of those London types. He had a purple cloth wrapped round his head and make-up on.
‘What?’ I said.
‘Dad. It’s Michael Caffrey. Remember?’
‘Michael? Is that you? What are you doing here?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world!’
Tony whispered out of the side of his mouth, ‘Told yer.’ He did, too. That Michael’s a poof if I ever saw one. Tony’d said it half a dozen times as he was growing up. He wasn’t the only one, either. Well, he was right there. I reckon we could all see that coming.
He leaned across to shake my hand.
‘You must be a very proud man, Mr Elliot,’ he said. He’d almost lost his accent. That didn’t take long, I thought.
‘I am.’
‘It’s you that’s put him here, after all,’ said Michael, and no one ever spoke a truer word. I dug a lot of coal out of the ground to put Billy in here, just like my father and his father dug a lot of coal out of the ground to build places like this. There’s coal behind everything in this country. It’s still down there. We’re not.
The lights went down. The music came up. And a moment later there was our Billy. He ran on, paused ... and he jumped. I’d seen him do it a hundred times before but this time, on the stage, every eye in the house watching him, all the lights on him, he jumped like a bloody star. I thought he was going to hang for ever in the air. It’s marvellous the way they look just for a second as if they’re never going to come down and no one – no one, no one, no one – does it as well as our Billy.
When he landed and he spun round to face the audience and I could see him smiling at us.
‘Eh up, Billy Elliot!’ It was Michael, shouting it out at the top of his voice. I nearly died – you don’t do that sort of thing in these places. People turned round, some of them frowning, some of them grinning.
‘Go for it, our Billy!’ That was Tony. He stood up, cupped his hands, and hollered. Everyone was looking round and smiling now. Well, I couldn’t be left out, could I? I stood up and yelled as loud as I could.
‘Billy! Billy Elliot! Our Billy!’
And Billy was up there smiling his head off, and then he did that jump again, one more time, even though he wasn’t supposed to, even though it bolloxed the music, just for us.
Text © Melvin Burgess 2001
Original screenplay by Lee Hall © 2001 Universal Studios Publishing Rights, a division of Universal Studios Licensing Inc. All rights reserved.
First paperback edition published in Great Britain in 2001
This electronic edition published in 2013
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PB ISBN 978-1-903434-33-8
ePub ISBN 978-1-909489-18-9
Melvin Burgess, Billy Elliot
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