Diamond Star Girl

by Judy May

  The extras were ‘wrapped’ (aka finished and sent home) early at around five today, which meant Nick was gone for the evening, and Ro got the night off so she was with the rest of us. Miss Higgins asked us to keep out of the way in the house as the director needed absolute quiet for a scene with two of the leads in the rose garden.

  That’s how the eight Grangers ended up in the large sitting room again this evening, which was no longer sheltering adult extras, but still had the big signs that Ro had put on the doors about no tea and coffee and taking off your shoes before entering. Miss Higgins had set up a buffet for us at the far end of the room, and when Stephen locked the door we all felt ourselves heave a huge sigh of relief.

  Paul had this idea about turning out the lights and telling ghost stories. The room had a magical feel to it, especially after Stephen found these old silver candlesticks, placed them around the room and lit the candles. Paul told ‘his’ ghost story, which Ro and I have heard a thousand times. Then Alex told a story that he swears is true about a car running on empty because a child needed rescuing from an earthquake in the middle of the night. Lorna and Alice almost told a story between them, but neither could remember the ending. Gussy told a story about a guy he worked with last summer and it was slightly interesting, but not scary as he forgot it was ghost stories we were telling.

  Much to everyone’s surprise Stephen volunteered to go next. He explained that his was a true story and (probably unlike Alex’s one) we could check it out in a book in the library.

  ‘When The Grange was built three hundred years ago, a young woman came to stay here,’ he began, and it became obvious that he could tell a good story so we settled down to listen. ‘She would spend most of her days reading in the library,’ he continued, ‘and no one paid much attention to her until one day she began to speak in this weird language no one could understand. She acted perfectly normally apart from these strange words, which she didn’t seem to realise she was saying. Her sister came to visit and see if she could help, and she noticed that the young woman was wearing an unusual necklace with a huge diamond and ten smaller diamonds in a circle around it, a necklace that the sister had never seen before. When they tried to take the necklace from the young woman’s throat she went into a frenzy of spitting and cursing and scratching at them. They called in the local holy-man who did everything in his power, but all that happened was that the clear diamond in the centre of the necklace started to shudder and turn cloudy and dark.’

  At this point it was too scary for Alice who said she needed to use the bathroom anyway and got the key from Stephen to leave the room, locking it behind her as she went.

  ‘Er, we’re locked in now,’ said Ro, and the guys started making horror sounds.

  I was desperate to hear the rest of the story and urged Stephen to go on.

  ‘For ninety days and nights it continued until the young woman suddenly returned to normal, with no recollection of the previous three months, and the diamond turned clear once more. The only thing that she would acknowledge was that she had hidden the diamond necklace for safe keeping, and she said nothing about why the shape of the pendant part of the necklace with the large stone surrounded by ten smaller ones was burned into the palm of her hand. The woman went on marry the heir to the estate and lived to be a hundred years old. During that time people began to believe her claim that if the necklace was ever taken from The Grange then the building would fall to the ground, like with the ravens in the Tower Of London. On her deathbed she confessed that she herself had buried the diamond necklace somewhere in The Grange to be sure the house would always be safe. Her grand-daughter went to fetch pen and paper so she could draw a map, but when she returned the frail old woman was speaking in the same strange language as years before, talking faster and faster until she could no longer breathe, and she died right there on the spot, and the secret of the cursed necklace was buried with her on the grounds of the estate.’

  ‘Where on the grounds?’ asked Paul excitedly.

  ‘I bet she’s buried in the utility room,’ Lorna piped up. ‘There’s a funny smell from there.’

  I was too involved in the story to notice until then that Ro was gripping on to Paul’s sleeve really tightly from fear, or from something anyway.

  Then Alice returned and insisted we turn the lights back on, closely followed by Ro reminding us we need to get some sleep.

  I guess that means me too.

  DAY SEVENTEEN

  I was so tired today from staying awake to write, and my hoped-for morning nap didn’t happen as they were ready to shoot almost immediately after breakfast. The monotony of doing the same thing over and over was relieved to some extent by chatting with some of the adult extras and Sophie who was also in my group of ‘walkers’ today. Sophie was a bit annoyed that none of the other teens were in our group and also that she has to wear this white sort of cap that children wore in those days while we all get to look more like young adults.

  We were all talking about the fact that someone broke into the trailer of one of the lead actors, we think it was Antonia’s, but no one is saying for sure. Apparently nothing was taken, but the police came around to check it out anyway. Gussy thought the police were extras dressed up, not thinking that perhaps their ‘costumes’ might be from the wrong century.

  At lunch, Nick was visible from my viewpoint beside Wendy, Lizzie, and Sophie. No one was fooled by my pretending to listen as my focus was on the blonde lady talking to Nick who I suddenly realised was the woman I’d seen in the courtyard that night. When I went to fetch dessert for me and Sophie, Nick was there too and I asked, ‘You know that blonde lady you were talking to, what does she do here?’

  And instead of the answer I expect like, ‘Oh, she’s one of the lighting crew,’ or whatever, he started saying, ‘Oh, jealous are we?’ and really making fun of me.

  For the first time ever I was glad to see Stephen who came over and told Nick he was needed by Lizzy.

  LATER

  I can hear the click of billiard balls, but the door is locked so I’m guessing he’s hiding out there. I didn’t mean to insult him, I just wanted him to swap partners.

  Earlier, just after we wrapped, Lizzy told us that for the next few days of ballroom scenes she was pairing us up with each other. She automatically put Lorna with Alex, much to his delight, Alice and Paul were cool with being put together, and then she told me that Stephen would be my partner, which makes sense because of the height thing. Sophie almost cried because she isn’t considered old enough to dance in the scenes and has to sit with two old lady extras. When Bonnie found out she’d be paired with Nick she came rushing over to me saying she’d be happy to switch. Nick doesn’t know yet as he’d gone home by the time Lizzy made the announcement. Lizzy said the switch was fine as long as Nick was the same height as me or taller and if Stephen didn’t mind, but he’d wandered off by then so I had to go find him.

  I figured Stephen couldn’t possibly have a problem with it as Bonnie is way more fabulous than me, and her peach dress looks like a red-carpet thumbs-up after what Wendy did with it. With this all making perfect sense to me I took myself off to ask Stephen to be Bonnie’s partner for the next few days instead of mine.

  I thought maybe I hadn’t made myself clear as he just stared at me, so I began to talk through it again when he stopped me and said, ‘I got it the first time,’ and stalked off, no doubt to ask his dad for the keys to the billiards room. I’ll just hang out here and explain the background history (or lack of) between me and Nick, although he must be the only person on set, or in this town even, who is not yet aware of the fact.

  STILL LATER

  I was sitting on the stairs writing when Stephen stormed out of the billiards room, and as soon as he saw me he marched into his dad’s office and came out with two sheets of paper. He sat down on the step above mine and handed me the paper.

  ‘I’d like you to do something for me, Lemony,’ he said. His voice was steady, but kind of strain
ed. ‘I know you like writing. I’d like you to write down everything I’ve ever done wrong to make you hate me so much. I’ve been trying to work it out, but as far as I can tell I’ve only ever been nice to you and helpful, so I need you to put it on paper for me. I may not be able to joke about and dance around the way your brother and the other guys can, but I don’t think that’s reason enough to get all snappy with me and pull away every time I walk into a room. I don’t understand and I like to understand things so please do me this one favour and I promise I will stay far away from you for the rest of the summer.’

  I felt completely stunned so I just took the paper from him and as he walked off, I blurted, ‘It’s just that you speak Chinese and picked the onion bits out of the quiche.’

  He looked really angry with me although his voice was still calm as he said, ‘I can’t help speaking Chinese and I get severely embarrassed when my dad shows it off like I’m some prize pig, sometimes to the point of merely being able to sit there and grin like an idiot. And I’m so allergic to eating onions that my face and hands turn red and blow up like a puffer-fish, so I was either in a position of offending your mum’s cooking or ending up in a hospital or a freak show. Lemony, I know I don’t exactly fit in sometimes, it’s just that I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and at school I’m working so hard to keep my scholarship that I don’t have time to hang out and party like Alex. I really hope that Chinese and onions aren’t my only crimes.’

  I might have seen the beginnings of smile but I couldn’t be sure.

  And he was gone.

  I know he’s been really annoying me, but I didn’t think it showed. If I’m honest it’s that he reminds me of myself so much and I don’t really like being me. I sat there for about five minutes feeling sort of sick and hating myself, especially since his chin had been all bruised from where my glasses hit against him yesterday. When other people are mean to someone I’m always the first to stick up for them and now I realise that I’ve been the horrible one.

  I went back upstairs to the attic and Lorna was still awake. She’s not a girl to pull her punches so I asked, ‘What do you think of Stephen?’

  ‘Stephen? Why? He’s cool.’ Lorna is not as fluent in girl-talk as the rest of us.

  I was hoping she’d say he was really annoying or geeky or something so I’d feel better, but instead she said, ‘He’s much more mature than the rest of them, and more intelligent.’ By then she was on a roll. ‘He always notices other people and how they’re feeling, like yesterday he went and gave your cousin Sophie a hug because he could tell she was hating having to do the scene over and over and feeling left out when we were laughing about that time with Dairne at the café.’

  ‘Who are we talking about?’ Alice was now awake.

  ‘Stephen,’ Lorna said, ‘Lemony wants to know what I think of him.’

  ‘Just because I don’t really know him as much as I know everyone else,’ I said way too quickly.

  ‘Stephen?’ Ro now joined in.

  ‘Lemony wants to know him better,’ Alice explained.

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Forget it!’ I said, ‘Goodnight.’

  Now they all think I have gone off Nick and am into Stephen, which is not true, but is a lot less embarrassing than the truth.

  DAY EIGHTEEN

  I skipped the dining bus at breakfast this morning and instead brought Wendy a cup of tea and a bourbon cream up to the wardrobe room. She could tell this was code for needing to chat.

  ‘I’ve been horrible to someone,’ I explained.

  ‘On purpose?’ she asked, losing half her biscuit in the first dunk.

  ‘No. But that doesn’t make it any easier for the other person,’ I sighed.

  ‘True. You’re a smart girl, what are you going to do about it?

  ‘No idea. I guess I’m not smart when it comes to the stuff that counts.’

  ‘Well, Lemony, the tea and biscuit thing is making me feel great.’

  ‘Give him a cup of tea and a biscuit? Like a symbolic peace offering? I have always said that there’s not much in this world that can’t be healed with a jammy dodger.’

  ‘That’s my girl!’

  Problem was that by the time I got back outside Stephen was standing beside Nick, but I was determined to be a better person and marched over with the tea and three of the more interesting biscuits from the kraft-table selection and handed them to a rather surprised Stephen. They both looked puzzled for a moment, but then Stephen nodded and smiled. Then Nick took the biscuits from him, which wasn’t supposed to happen, but Stephen kept smiling so I felt better. I also handed him the two pieces of paper which were folded small against prying eyes. The word ‘sorry’ is written on one, and the word ‘very’ on the other.

  The scene we were shooting today involved us all sitting on garden chairs as if watching an outdoor concert and I was in a position where I could stare at Nick between takes. I am actually getting paid for gawking at Nick Collins all day, but also getting a bit bored with him. I’ve never been in his company for long enough to realise that he has so very little to say. Today he talked about sports results and made fun of other people and that was it. Still, maybe I can be the interesting one in the relationship and he can be the fun one. And Donna can do what? Fetch us snacks? Keep forgetting about her.

  We wrapped at a sensible time and I’m in bed early, and vowing to be less of a reason for people to want to shut themselves away with billiards. What is a billiard anyway, I mean when it’s not doing the plural thing?

  DAY NINETEEN

  Nick is no longer on the film! He was warned by Lizzy more than once about twitching around and drawing attention to himself when the cameras were rolling, and apparently last night Julian, the director, decided he’d had enough. Major! Even all the adults are talking about it. In fact Wendy told me first, but not until I was in my new white ball gown for the dancing scenes, which showed that she knows what I’m like.

  Alex asked his dad if Nick could have some other off-camera job, but his Dad said that if Nick didn’t have the self-discipline to be an extra then he wouldn’t be considered for any other job either. Paul, Ro, Miss Higgins and pretty much everyone including Lizzy and Bob (who Ro must have told) came over to make sure I was going to stay on the film.

  I am going to stick with it because I said I’d do the job, and because I really want to be here. The thought of Nick hanging out with Donna every day isn’t bugging me as much as I thought it would. I’m a bit ashamed of him really, and that’s saying something if you consider I didn’t even feel shame that time he ate tar for a dare.

  All that banishment and drama-drama, and the fact that Fraser left when Nick did, meant that the dancing partners all had to be swapped around anyway. Lizzie was having a stressy day and just looked at the clump of us teenagers as if we were a pile of unscaled fish, and said, ‘Oh sort yourselves out.’

  So in an act of fine diplomacy I stood beside Stephen who actually had the nerve to laugh at me, but then asked, ‘Would you care to dance Miss Smith?’

  I replied, ‘That’s remarkably forward of you, Mr Brown. However, I would love to dance on the understanding that you shall keep your hands where a gentleman ought.’

  ‘I shall struggle to comply,’ he smiled.

  He was an OK dancer (compared to Gussy and Paul at least) and my feet and my dignity survived, so all good there then.

  The guys all looked amazing in their dress uniforms and I asked Stephen if he thought my ivory ballgown suited me.

  ‘Em, yes … yes, very much,’ he said, sounding surprised.

  I have a theory than you can tell what kind of person a guy is by the length of pause he takes before lying to you about how you look. Too short a pause and he’s a habitual liar, too long a pause and he doesn’t care enough about you to make up something good quickly. Stephen’s pause was just the right length. I told him my theory and thanked him for his gentlemanly dishonesty, and then the first AD yelled ‘Places!’ so we
had to concentrate.

  This afternoon one of the older extras was given a line to say, and he was ridiculously excited about it because he is usually a plumber with dreams of escaping to Hollywood or the RSC. Hanna and I helped him learn his one short line for four hours, which probably means that he will remain a plumber and not be in the Shakespeare festival any year soon. Sophie is now cool about not dancing because she was heavily featured in a shot where she had to act with the lead character, helping her to re-tie a ribbon at the back of her dress. I just contacted Mum to make sure they all make a fuss and phone her.

  It’s starting to feel like home around here. A circus style of living, but a good one once you know what’s what. I have worked out that biscuits are the currency on set. This is because they both feed your stomach and your need for something new to do. There are two classes of biscuits, good biscuits and boring ones, and if you have a stash of the good stuff then people need you. You have the power to withhold or bestow, to please or disappoint, to feed or to starve, and that is the kind of power that kings themselves would envy. The stocks are replenished at the tea and coffee table twice a day, but I’ve become friends with John and Caro on the catering crew and they let me pillage in advance. I would have been so good in the Second World War, I would have controlled all lines of supplies and communication, I would have outwitted everyone and kept Europe for myself. Proof? I have five custard creams and two chocolate chips right now hidden in my woolly hat. Which I am not right now wearing. Naturally.