The Caged Bird

"A Peacock?... seriously?" The sighs resonate around the room, and collectively they take a deep breath. "I’m sure you all think it will look 'amazing' but your asking me to stand on stage dressed as a peacock. Surely I have to feel comfortable in it... don’t I?" Handing over the control of any part of my performance was difficult for me ... since the beginning of all this I have done it all myself, choreography, music, costume, makeup and hair ... it may not have been perfect but it was me, and now I’m supposed to be perfect so my choices aren’t good enough.... "Miss Grace if you would just look at these sketches" now it was my turn to sigh, fine I will look but I wont like them. Browsing pictures I ache a little inside several sketches showed all angles of a purple satin corset overlaid with turquoise lace. A waterfall of peacock feathers flow down the back replacing the usual bustled skirt. I couldn’t deny that it was going to be a stunning outfit. Better than anything I had ever worn in the past. Why did I feel so hemmed in? I wanted to be excited glad of this enormous opportunity. Why couldn’t I see the shining lights the others were so certain of? Looking around me I saw the trappings of where I was headed. The hotel was breathtaking. This wasn’t just the usual bed and wardrobe that had been my staple for the last few years. I missed the tightness of the travel lodge. The familiar bedding, the tea tray. Here I have a separate bedroom and sitting room. Hey I have more room here than in my pokey flat, and if I want tea I just lift the phone and the efficient voice at the other end sends me it in a real bone china cup and saucer. The pictures are still in my hands and their faces are looking towards me like I have the answer. Like I have any choice in this. I move to the desk and the costume designer follows me “Could we perhaps extend the lace up over the shoulder to make a sleeve add some opera length gloves and it will be fine” It would be spectacular but I certainly couldn’t admit to that now. There was a lot of shuffling as people headed out the room. Hardly another word was said to me. The rehearsal hall would be available from 3 and a car would collect me at 2.30. I nodded my acknowledgement as they left me in opulence but also alone and in silence. I stood a moment realising I had 3 hours. Maybe I could go out and get lunch somewhere nice. Do some shopping. I looked out of my window. I was too high to work out what anything was on this street. I pause for a moment; I don’t think I even know where I am. I pick up the phone and after only one ring the efficient voice says “Good morning Miss Grace what can I do to help you” Honestly I think to myself, I don’t know.