I clear my throat. ‘Wise up, McCreevy, no one gives a …’ I can hardly get the words out I’m laughing so much. ‘… no one gives a monkey’s about your sectarian shite. It’s Friday night for Christ’s sake.’
March explodes. ‘Where are you from … Uganda … Beijing?’
Somehow, we manage to keep going, reading aloud across the table, laughing like drains at the state of ourselves. Whatever else happens today, I’ve already had the best time.
The set is only a few streets from the unit base but we travel by minibus. The road we’re filming on is closed to traffic at both ends and all the modern cars have been replaced with old bangers and the shop signs have been changed too. I’ve never been to Belfast, but I’d definitely believe we’re in some kind of time warp that’s not today, or London. We’re standing around when the actors arrive on set and run lines with the director on the other side of the street. March points to the guy leaning against the old Ford.
‘I recognise him from TV,’ she says. ‘D’you?’ I shrug. ‘Look, he’s getting into the car. D’you reckon he’s Gerry the big man?’
She does her atrocious accent again and when most of the camera department turn to look at us I have to bite my cheeks not to laugh. We’re introduced to the first AD next and she runs through the scene with us. Turns out it’s not enormously different to our dramatization on the top of the bus: basically, two Northern Irish guys have a banter before one drives away. That’s literally it, but I spend the morning walking up and down outside a betting shop with a boy our age called Ben, who is carrying a football. March is on the other side of the road, pushing an ancient old buggy in the opposite direction.
After lunch, Matt tells us we we’re on standby for the afternoon, which means we get to sit around on the top deck of the bus again and drink even more tea.
‘I can’t believe we’re being paid for this,’ March says as we sit down.
Ben and the girl who was cycling the bike in the same scene are on the table opposite. ‘Can we join you?’ the girl says. She’s older than us, maybe seventeen but not much more.
March taps her hand on the tabletop. ‘Course,’ she says.
The girl budges in beside me and Ben sits beside March. ‘I’m Lizzie,’ she says. ‘And it’s not a competition …’ She holds up her hands and looks around. ‘But my shell suit definitely wins outfit of the day.’
I like Lizzie already.
‘I’d totally wear that,’ March says. ‘I’ll swap it with you for my bockety buggy, which, by the way, doesn’t even have a baby inside it.’
We laugh at this for ages. I’m laughing because it’s funny and she says ‘bockety’ in an Irish accent, just like Viv, but I suspect Lizzie and Ben are laughing because they want to be nice to March. I wonder whether she knows the effect that she has on people? I think she must.
‘How long do we have to sit around up here?’ Ben says.
Lizzie shrugs. ‘Could be hours.’
‘I don’t suppose anyone brought a pack of cards,’ March says.
She’s joking but suddenly Lizzie gets up and returns seconds later, holding the end of her shell suit top like a sack, which she shakes out on to the table. Mini biscuit packets spill everywhere. ‘Who’s up for two truths and a lie?’ she says, budging in again.
‘Me!’ I say quickly. I’m surprised by my enthusiasm but there’s something about the fact that we’re all stuck here on this bus in our old-fashioned clothes that makes this seem like a genuinely fun idea. ‘It’s not like we’ve got anything else to do,’ I add. March and Ben quickly grumble in agreement.
‘Right,’ Lizzie says, handing out biscuits like a card dealer. ‘Everyone knows how to play? You have to give three statements about yourself. Two of them should be true, and one of them should be a complete lie. And we have to guess the lie, obviously.’ She takes out her phone and opens the stopwatch. ‘No going easy on friends now,’ she says looking at me and March.
‘What’s with the biscuits?’ I ask.
‘Whoever gets it wrong forfeits a pack to the person on,’ she says. ‘And the first to lose all their biscuits has to …’ She looks up, like she’s thinking. ‘… has to do the next scene with two whole Bourbons in their mouth, while the camera is rolling!’ She claps her hands. ‘Maybe three.’
‘No way I’m getting fired!’ March says.
Lizzie winks at her. ‘Better think of some good truths then.’
‘Let’s just start,’ Ben says, stockpiling chocolate digestives, but he wins the draw and then sits on his hands in silence.
‘Today, Ben!’ Lizzie says.
‘Um …’ he starts. ‘I’m left-handed and I can … touch my nose with my tongue. And … I had an operation to pin my ears back when I was six.’
Lizzie rolls her eyes. ‘None of those things really tell us anything. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other,’ she says. ‘At least one of the options should be a bit juicy – even if it’s a lie.’
Ben bites his lip and looks cautiously around. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘I might be obsessed with my math camp leader.’
March turns to him, mouth open. ‘Whoa!’
‘I’ve written him an email,’ Ben says. ‘But I’m not sure if—’
‘You’re going to send it?’ March says, in a way that would suggest this might be the WORST idea ever and when Ben doesn’t answer all the muscles in my body go tight.
Lizzie face-palms. ‘Guys, can we focus, please.’ She leans across to Ben. ‘OK, you were brilliantly on point there, but the extra detail about your crush kinda gave the game away.’
Ben’s head drops, then he lifts it, smiling. ‘At least it was juicy.’
Lizzie places a hand on his shoulder. ‘True,’ she says, ‘but maybe I should start. Dummy round?’ Ben nods and she rubs her hands together. ‘So … I lost my virginity on a train in Belgium last summer. I have an … outie belly button … and I played Clarinet to Grade Six.’ Everyone exchanges looks like they get it, then she taps the timer on her phone.
‘I read somewhere that ninety per cent of people have innies, so statistically …’ March says, scratching her head, ‘the belly button has a high chance of being the lie!’
Lizzie smiles and moves on to me. I think March is right, but I’m not going to just agree with her and because I don’t really want to probe what Lizzie may or may not have done on Belgian public transport, I say, ‘The clarinet?’ She wiggles her brows then moves on to Ben.
‘You didn’t really lose your virginity on a train in Belgium last summer,’ he says, deadpan.
‘Correct!’ she cries. ‘Technically, we were still in France!’ Ben giggles at this, a lot. ‘OK, let’s go clockwise,’ she says, pointing to March. ‘Which makes it your turn.’
‘Oh, right,’ March says, sitting back. ‘So … I can … breakdance.’ She speaks slowly. ‘I peed in the pool at a swimming gala in Year Nine, and … I once sent an ex a load of nude selfies wearing only my mum’s leopard print stilettos.’ She covers her eyes, peeking out between her fingers to set the timer on Lizzie’s phone. She hits start.
I sit up, trying not to picture March in those photos, but then I realise she’s just called Pez an ‘ex’ already and I’m hit by a pang of something like sadness … for him. The timer goes before anyone has answered. ‘C’mon,’ March says, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Which one’s the lie?’
‘No way a girl like you has pissed in a pool,’ Ben says.
Lizzie’s mouth twists. ‘Mate, everyone has pissed in a pool,’ she says. ‘I reckon it’s the photos. I don’t doubt you sent them. I’m just not buying the stilettos.’
March leans across the table to me. ‘Vetty?’ she says, lifting her eyebrows. ‘Which is it?’
I stare back at her. ‘I’ve never seen you breakdance.’
‘Ha!’ she says, raising her hand to Ben who high-fives it. ‘I’ve never peed in a pool! At least not since reaching double figures. And, Lizzie, sadly those stilettos were real.
Amateur hour of me. I’d never do it now. I’m still terrified the shots will turn up online one day.’ She shakes her head, shivering at the thought of it, and I’ve a sudden urge to defend Pez here. ‘Ladies, your biscuits, please,’ she says then, holding her hand out. ‘Jammie Dodgers preferred.’
I slide a packet of custard creams across the table without looking at her. ‘Wait!’ Ben says intercepting them. ‘Really they should get to see a windmill demo before handing over the goods.’ He shakes the biscuits in front of March’s face.
‘There’s no room for windmills up here,’ she says, laughing.
Ben looks like he might protest when the radio downstairs crackles. I can’t make out what it says but he hops up. ‘We’re back on!’ he shouts.
Lizzie finishes lining up her Bourbons then tips them over like dominos. ‘Let’s do this,’ she says, shoving one in her mouth before leaping from her seat.
I follow down the stairs behind March but as soon as we’re off the bus and the others have scarpered off, I turn to her. ‘He wouldn’t do that, you know.’
She stops licking the icing from the middle of her Jammie Dodger. ‘Huh?’
‘Pez. He wouldn’t put those pictures of you online.’
Her hand drops and her face scrunches up. ‘What are you talking about, Vetty?’
Up ahead, our minibus parks outside Matt’s trailer. ‘Forget it,’ I say, walking over. ‘I’m just saying you don’t need to worry. That’s all—’
‘Wait!’ she says, pulling my arm. ‘Back there, in the game, I wasn’t talking about pictures I sent Pez.’ She tilts her face a few times like she’s reading mine. ‘The photos I sent him … they were—’ She stops. ‘They were of my face!’
My mouth drops open. I should stop but I can’t. ‘And the video?’
She shakes her head, like she can’t believe I’m asking. I can’t believe it either and my cheeks are starting to char-grill. ‘Jesus! It was some stupid Boomerang. I was doing a handstand against a hay bale. Mum took it. She didn’t even get the timing right.’ She draws her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Why did you assume any of those were nudes?’
‘I didn’t,’ I say, but her eyes narrow. ‘I misunderstood. Sorry.’ I tighten my ponytail and take a step back, but she looms forward.
‘Has anyone else made similar assumptions?’ she asks.
Um … yes, clearly Rob did. He sounded so sure when he told me and now I’m entirely beetroot-of-face and possibly more confused than when this conversation started. So, this means Pez asked March for photos of her face? It sounds almost too innocent to be true. Unless … I dunno, I guess it’s possible he was lonely and just wanted to see her. It’s not only possible, it’s kind of lovely, and I’ve got the uneasy feeling that I may have underestimated what March means to him. And him to her. God, this is embarrassing. I swallow hard. ‘No,’ I say, ‘it was me who jumped to conclusions.’
She studies me for a while. ‘And so what if I’d sent him a picture of my bits? Seriously, so what?’
‘Exactly! I just meant that if you had, Pez wouldn’t share them online. He’s not like that. That’s what I’m saying.’
She puts her hands in her dungaree pockets and lifts her face to the sky like she’s thinking. ‘Sully pestered me for nudes for like … forever. He used to call me tight because I wouldn’t, but he kept on asking and when I finally did – he told all his friends I was a skank.’ She tilts her face and looks right into my eyes. ‘Have you ever felt like you can’t win?’ she says. ‘Because I have, and I’m so over it.’
28
It’s the first day filming the rave scene this morning. The warehouse set-up looks amazing but it’s nothing like as much fun as yesterday. The location is a long bus ride away and because March was sent back to the costume truck for a different jacket after breakfast, we’ve been separated, which means we’ve spent the whole morning on different sides of this enormous building. I’m still embarrassed about the photo showdown and today is Mum’s anniversary too, so of all the days to be alone with my thoughts, it’s not the greatest.
The entire space has been blacked out apart from the strobe lights that move with the music, so it’s impossible to see anything or anyone apart from the people nearby. When the first AD shouts ‘Rolling!’ into the loudspeaker it means the cameras are on, so we have to dance, and we have to keep moving until we hear ‘Cut!’ Mostly I copy the moves that people around me are doing so it’s reasonably straightforward, but it’s not exactly a laugh. I keep hoping March will appear by my side, as though her presence alone will make me feel less guilty about all the assumptions I made and magically less lonely too, but she never does and now we’ve been released in different groups for lunch.
I choose lasagne and sit on the top of the bus alone, staring at my phone. When it rings, I jump on it. ‘Where are you?’ I say, assuming it’s her.
‘Vetty?’ It’s Rob.
I let my fork drop on to my plate. ‘Hey,’ I say.
‘Everything OK?’
Um … not really. I’d quite like to blame him for getting me in hot water with March yesterday but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I see I let my mind run wild. ‘Yeah, I thought you were someone else, that’s all.’
‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Sure there’s nothing up? You haven’t messaged in a while.’
‘N’ah,’ I say and I picture his eyes squinting like they’re hurt.
‘Well, I just wanted to hear your voice,’ he says and I immediately feel bad, like I should say something to explain my silence. ‘I’ve been working, that’s all. I’m in West London. On this film.’
‘Yeah, course,’ he says. ‘Met any famous actors yet?’
‘I don’t recognise any of them.’
‘Must be unheard of,’ he says, with a laugh that’s short but warm, then I hear his breath at the other end.
‘Um … Rob. Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure,’ he says.
‘You know the photos and video of March, the ones that Pez has on his phone?’
‘Yeah,’ he says, like he can’t believe I’m still going on about them.
I can’t let it drop until he knows the truth. ‘Well, what made you think they were … nudes and stuff?’
‘Um … he did,’ he says. ‘Like, duh.’
‘Pez said it? Like, he actually said she was naked in them?’
‘He didn’t have to,’ Rob says. ‘It was obvious. Kyle took his phone the day she sent them, and Pez went ballistic. You should have seen it. There was no way in hell he was letting any of us see them.’
I sigh. ‘So, you … assumed—’
‘C’mon, Vetty. You know what those two are like. The way they—’
‘Rob!’ I say, cutting him off. ‘They were just pictures. Photos of her face … photos with her clothes … on.’
‘On?’ he says.
‘Yeah, on! I’m only telling you so you stop mouthing off about it.’
‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Oh, man. You’re sure?’
‘God, yes! I’m positive.’
There’s a funny noise down the line like he’s sucking air in through his teeth. ‘OK. OK, I hear you,’ he says. Then everything goes quiet and I watch my lunch going cold. ‘I was calling to see if you’d like to come over tonight. Mum’s working and Tom’s with my dad. So …’ he stops.
The silence that follows this feels loaded, suggestive almost, and while it’s nice to feel wanted, I don’t feel like hanging out with Rob tonight. He’s not someone I want to spend Mum’s anniversary with. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Minding Arial.’
‘Right,’ he says, sounding disappointed. ‘Well, we’re all heading to Primrose Hill tomorrow night, if you’re up for it?’
‘Um … sure.’
‘Nice one,’ he says. ‘We’re meeting around eight. So, I’ll see you there?’
‘Shall I see if Pez is up for it?’
He sighs. ‘I tried calling him but guess what? He didn’t answer,’ he says. ‘Because he nev
er answers.’
‘Maybe I’ll talk to him?’
‘Sure, but good luck.’
‘K. See you tomorrow.’
‘K. Bye.’
I dial Pez’s number. ‘Hey!’
‘What’s up?’ he says, like I’ve woken him.
‘Not much. It’s pretty boring today, to be honest.’
I picture him sitting up. ‘So, I was right?’ I almost hear him smile.
‘I didn’t say that. What you doing?’
‘I’m at yours, watching Stranger Things,’ he says.
‘Episode?’
‘Just started series two,’ he says.
‘And was I right?’
‘It’s so freaking good,’ he says. ‘But that’s the difference between us. See, I’m big enough to say yes.’ He laughs. ‘Man, all that eighties shit is sweet.’
‘And you haven’t seen their Ghostbuster outfits yet.’
‘Jeez, girl, stop talking,’ he says, then he stops. ‘But it’s not just the retro stuff, is it? It’s them. The way those kids are.’
‘It’s us,’ I want to say. Pez has been Mike Wheeler in my head for a long time but I can’t work out whether I’m Eleven or Will Byers and something catches in my throat. ‘Did Arial get off all right?’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Bought her some Nerds on the way though. A banana is not a proper snack. You should know that.’
‘You dick.’ He laughs and it’s so nice. Then Matt’s voice comes over a walkie-talkie on a neighbouring table, ushering supporting cast back to the bus. People around me start getting up. ‘I better go.’
‘Safe,’ he says. ‘See you later.’
We only wrapped ten minutes ago but we’re already on the train. March is going to Amira’s tonight and she didn’t want to hang around. ‘Come with me,’ she says as we take our seats.
I’m so pleased she asked but I shake my head. ‘It’s my mum’s anniversary.’
Her mouth opens. ‘Oh,’ she says, inching closer on the seat. ‘D’you do anything?’ she says. ‘To mark it?’
All the Invisible Things Page 21