‘Yep. Total ball-ache.’
The girls were lead through a number of doors that could only be accessed by a security card until it felt as if they were being brought into the bowels of the building.
‘Where are we going?’ Star moaned. ‘My Choos are killing me,’ she said.
‘Don’t you pronounce shoe in a funny way,’ Will said, oblivious.
‘My Choos! My bloody Jimmy Choos!’
‘All right. Keep your knickers on,’ Will said. ‘Right, here we are, girls.’ He showed them into a room that at eye level looked like a ballroom, but with the slightest of neck tilts looked exactly like what it was, a TV set. There were boom mikes and glaring lights dangling from the ceiling and the room was surrounded by cameras. Catherine gulped; this was the first time she’d been on a real TV set. In her previous auditions, although they had been constantly filmed, it hadn’t been this obvious. ‘And here are the American girls,’ Will said, gesturing to the six young ladies sitting on chairs, nervously waiting. ‘Shoneeka, Lindsay, Freya, Jenny, Petra and Meagan, meet Kim, Catherine, Star, Sierra, Therese and Carly.’ The girls all nodded, weighing one another up. Catherine had expected the Americans to be super-confident and scary, but on very first impressions they seemed as nervous as she felt.
‘OK, girls. There’s no real time to get to know each other at the moment. We need to get on,’ Will told them. ‘What we will be doing after this is having you learn a few lines and pretend that you’ve been together for a few days and that you’re all getting on famously. Get you to hug one another, that sort of thing.’
Gasps and laughs went around the room, ‘You’re not serious?’ one of the American girls asked incredulously.
‘I certainly am. The public wants to see bonding and camaraderie. Unfortunately we haven’t got the time or the budget for that to develop naturally.’
‘But that’s dishonest!’ Kim said righteously.
‘Come on, you don’t honestly think that people on reality TV have the time or the inclination to become best friends, do you?’ Will asked. Catherine couldn’t believe that he didn’t seem the slightest bit phased by his own cynicism. ‘It is a competition, you know. Not a love-in. Right, where’s my right-hand man with the run-through sheets?’ Will said, looking around.
Andy stepped forward into the light. Catherine, for some reason that she couldn’t quite explain herself, felt like clapping. That would have looked really cool, wouldn’t it? she chastised herself, clapping like a seal just because someone you quite like has entered the room. But she knew it was more than that. She really liked Andy, and he seemed to like her. And she felt that they were somehow in this together. They seemed to share the same sensibility about things. She hadn’t known him long, but she just sensed she could trust him.
Andy saw her and smiled shyly. He looked great, Catherine thought. She could tell that he wasn’t aware of how attractive he was. Andy was very tall, but obviously thought himself too tall, which he wasn’t. He had broad shoulders and slender hips and a shock of hair that made him look dishevelled in a sexy way. She knew that if anyone pointed this out to him that he would probably blush, a thought which made Catherine smile involuntarily.
Catherine waved a small wave and looked over at Andy as Will went through what they were all expected to do this afternoon. Once Will announced that they were all to sit down and wait for their name to be called, Andy walked towards Catherine. She felt giddy but tried to pretend that she was a composed Ice Queen.
‘Hi,’ Andy said.
‘Hello,’ Catherine replied. Ice Queen, Ice Queen! she told herself.
‘You look nice …’ Andy blushed. ‘Have they done something with your hair and make-up?’
‘No, I did it myself, they want us to look natural until we get to the live finals, if we get to the live finals should I say, I’ve never had my make-up done … well, I have, when my sister Jo wants to practise on someone … and then we got to choose something to wear … well sort of, they kind of told us what we were wearing and then we could say if we really didn’t like it, but I quite like this.’ Catherine pulled the green skirt that she was wearing out to one side, like a little girl about to curtsey in front of royalty. She was out of breath and flushed red; so much for the Ice Queen act.
‘You look very nice.’ Andy smiled appreciatively.
‘Thanks.’ Catherine paused for a moment and then had to fill the air. ‘Sorry for gabbling. I think I’m nervous. And I sometimes get a bit gabbly when I’m nervous. Is that a word? Gabbly?’
The first time that Catherine realised that Star was standing behind her listening to all of this was when she felt a hand on her arm and then the sensation of being yanked away from Andy. Star pulled her to the side of the studio and looked at Catherine seriously. ‘I had to save you from yourself there. You were making me blush,’ Star said. Catherine wanted to tell her she had a cheek, thinking that she could intervene in this way, but actually she was glad. Someone needed to, before she talked herself into such a frenzy that she just exploded, right there in front of Andy’s eyes.
‘Calm down, walk back over to him and ask him how he’s been. And then …’ Star lowered her voice. Catherine thought she was going to impart some amazing worldly knowledge and leant in to hear it, ‘… let him get a word in edgeways.’
Catherine nodded. Star might be the stroppiest, most self-absorbed person she’d ever met, but she seemed to know what she was talking about when it came to conversing with the opposite sex. ‘Thanks,’ Catherine said appreciatively. It was obvious advice, but advice that she needed all the same.
She walked back over to Andy and said, ‘Sorry, where was I? That’s right, I was going to ask you how you’ve been.’
Andy began to tell Catherine what he had been doing since he’d arrived and she bit hard on her tongue so that she didn’t begin to bore the poor guy to tears again.
Andy was midway through telling Catherine that he had had to stand outside in his underpants the previous evening when the fire alarm had gone off in the hotel where he was staying, when his voice suddenly dropped and, after checking that no one else was listening, he said, ‘Can I have a word with you?’
‘We are having a word,’ Catherine said earnestly, before quickly realising that he meant about something more serious than standing in the street in his undies.
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘I did something the other day and now I feel terrible about it …’
‘What?’ Catherine said, she really couldn’t think what it could be that he felt he had to explain himself to her. Before he had a chance to say, Will came over and guided Catherine away from Andy.
‘Richard needs a quick word before we shoot,’ Will said.
Catherine turned around to see that Andy was standing looking after her, ashen-faced.
* * *
Catherine was guided into a room where Richard Forster was talking to one of the production staff who Catherine didn’t recognise and where Shoneeka and Star were seated, going over their scripts with the resident media coach, a lady called Serena Crabtree. Catherine hadn’t known what a media coach was until she had entered this competition. When the contestants had been introduced to Serena for the first time, she had explained exactly what her role entailed. ‘I take someone who might otherwise go on national TV and put their foot firmly in their mouth and I ensure that they keep their foot as far away from their mouth as possible. That’s the top and bottom of it.’ Catherine had since learned that there was far more to the role than that and that Serena was on hand to advise on posture, body language and voice projection, among many other things.
‘This is some bullshit,’ Shoneeka said, hitting the script she had been given.
Catherine flinched. She didn’t think shouting at the media coach was a good idea, no matter how strongly you felt about something. Shoneeka was a petite black girl with a rich soulful voice and she was insisting to Serena that she didn’t want to follow the script as she had been p
itch perfect all morning in rehearsals. From what Catherine could gather, her script was instructing that halfway through her rendition of ‘Respect’ by Aretha Franklin, she was going to have to fluff her words and hit the white grand piano that was being played to accompany her in frustration.
‘Well, at least you don’t have to cry and say that this song reminds you of your mother,’ Star said, rolling her eyes at Serena. ‘I wouldn’t mind, but it’s about a bloody rat!’ Star had been asked to sing ‘Ben’ by Michael Jackson.
Catherine felt odd. She hadn’t been given any instructions yet. In her script she had to sing her allocated song, whereas everyone else was with a vocal coach or a media coach and now Richard Forster wanted a word. This didn’t add up. Will, who had been briefly distracted by one of the runners asking him a list of questions, before dashing off to action them, now turned his attention back to Catherine.
‘Why does Richard want a word with me, Will?’ she asked.
‘Dunno. Think it’s something he wants for your script.’
Richard was sitting inside a dressing room looking through some papers while a make-up artist put the finishing touches to his cheeks. He looked strangely like a ventriloquist’s dummy with his full make-up on, his eyebrows seemed too heavy for his face. A cigarette was burning in an ashtray next to him, despite the fact that smoking was banned indoors. Catherine thought that it must be weird to exist in a bubble like Richard, where he could pretty much do what he wanted anywhere in the world.
‘Fancy a coffee, Catherine?’ he asked, beckoning her inside and indicating for her to close the door.
‘Please,’ she said nervously.
‘Take a seat.’ He sensed her unease. ‘There’s no need to be nervous. I just need to speak to you about something.’
Catherine sank into the swivel chair opposite Richard. He poured coffee from the jug behind him and, placing the cup down, stared at Catherine intently.
‘I’m not going to beat about the bush, Catherine. I know about your home situation.’
‘What home situat—?’
‘I know that you look after your dad. And I know that he has cancer.’
Catherine felt as if someone had just punched her off the chair. ‘How … what … I never told anyone …’ she stammered.
Richard let her sit for a moment with what he had just said. Kim, Catherine thought. She could feel the anger boiling up inside her. She couldn’t believe it. Why would she do that? She might have thought she was helping Catherine, but surely she realised that she’d rather get by on her own merits than because of a sob story.
‘Kim told you …’
‘Catherine, if you look after your dad and he is ill – and I’m only saying this for your own good – you need to say so on the show.’
‘I am not using my dad’s illness to further my time in this competition.’
‘It will come out, Catherine, these things always do. I just think that as a human interest story it really is lovely and I don’t know why you’re so ashamed of it.’
‘I’m not, he is,’ Catherine snapped.
‘Your father’s ashamed?’
‘Yes. He doesn’t want anyone to know. And that means anyone. He didn’t even want my sisters knowing. He’s not going to want it announcing on prime-time telly, is he?’
Catherine’s stomach tensed, her legs weakened; she felt pressurised to do something that she really wasn’t comfortable doing.
‘No. Maybe not, but I just thought that it might be something you’d consider.’
‘I won’t.’ Catherine was not going to back down on this.
‘That’s fine, then. These things do have a way of coming out, though.’
‘Well, no one knows except my family and you and Kim …’ Catherine said and then added bravely, ‘… so if it does come out then I know where from, don’t I?’
‘Good. We’ve cleared that up.’ Richard said, nodding at Catherine.
‘So nothing will be said.’
‘Not from me. That will be all, Catherine. Have a good audition.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, Catherine …’ Richard stopped her, ‘… I wouldn’t want you accusing the wrong person over this. It wasn’t Kim who told me; it was Andy.’
‘Right,’ Catherine said, leaving the room, hoping that Richard Forster hadn’t seen her hand shaking as she grasped the door handle. Catherine was horrified – why would Andy tell them? She thought she could trust him. She didn’t like the way that Richard Forster had just volunteered this information either – the way that everything just seemed to be business to him – but that was the least of her worries for the time being. Catherine gathered herself for a moment outside of the office and then, seeing Andy standing with Will and Jason P. Longford, stormed over to him.
‘Oh Christ, did they really put her through?’ Jason asked, as Catherine stormed towards them.
Andy had just seen her walk out of the meeting room and now he felt sick. She knew.
‘I really thought they might have seen sense but no, every years it’s the same “stick her through … everyone loves a girl next door” crap. Well I, for one, bloody don’t. Let’s have some decent glamour, for cock’s sake!’
‘Can I have a word?’ Catherine asked, without even looking at Jason or Will.
Andy nodded.
‘You, lady, have got a nerve. There’s a pecking order on shows like this and you are down here …’ Jason pointed at the floor. ‘So when you come up to the presenter and the production team, a bit of courtesy might be nice.’
Catherine looked at Jason. She was evidently fuming. ‘Oh, why don’t you just shut up?’ she asked angrily.
That was a very good question, one that Andy wished he’d had the courage to ask himself. But he knew he couldn’t be too impressed with the question because the angry manner in which it was asked was, he knew, all down to him.
‘Why don’t I what?’ Jason reeled around, his hand to his chest; well and truly flabbergasted.
‘You heard,’ Catherine said, marching past them and looking at Andy.
He quickly followed her. He could feel Jason hot on his heels. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked the TV host.
‘This will make great telly.’ Behind him a camera was getting his kit together – Jason had obviously beckoned him across.
‘This will not make great telly, Jason. This is private. End of.’
Jason sneered at Andy. ‘You are proving a little more difficult to work with than I thought you’d be.’
‘Well, the same goes, Jason.’ Andy walked away, throwing a look at Jason that suggested he didn’t follow him. Andy finally caught up with Catherine in the corridor.
‘Catherine, I’m so sorry.’
‘So you admit it then? You told them about my dad?’
‘I know it was the wrong thing to do and that it was none of my business but I thought they were going to throw you out of Boot Camp because they didn’t think you had enough to sell you to the public.’
‘Sell me to the public? Do they teach you rubbish like that at TV school?’
‘I didn’t go to TV school. I’m not sure it exists even.’ Andy realised his attempt at light humour was completely misplaced as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
‘Really. If this is such a joke to you then I’m sorry, but it isn’t to me. This is my family and my life and I’d thank you not to go using it like some bloody currency to get me a bit further in this bloody competition.’
Andy felt terrible and he knew that what Catherine was saying was right, but he wasn’t going to stand here and let her shout at him and not at least tell her to stop. ‘There’s no need to be so angry, if you don’t want it to go any further then it won’t. They just won’t use it. But you might not get through, that’s all. And I was only trying to help.’
‘Thanks for nothing, Andy. I really don’t need help like that.’ Catherine turned on her heel and stormed off.
Andy was left feeling terrible. ‘I�
��m sorry,’ he said quietly, but he knew that she was so mad with him that no amount of apologies was going to get her to see why he did what he did.
When Andy got back to the main studio, Jason was waiting for him. ‘What’s up with fat arse?’
Andy glared at him. ‘What?’
‘Your mate, fat arse …’
‘She has not got a fat arse. Why say something like that?’
‘Whatever … anyway, what’s her problem? She came storming through here like a woman possessed.’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Andy lied.
‘Lover’s tiff?’ Jason asked meanly.
‘No.’
‘Well, whatever’s wrong with her, she’d better straighten her face out or she won’t be going anywhere.’
‘Look, I’ve just put my foot in it massively with her, OK? Can we just leave it at that?’
‘And she hates you?’
‘I’d say that, wouldn’t you?’
‘I wouldn’t waste my time on someone like her; go for one of the American girls. That way you can have a bit of a fling and dump her after the live finals.’
Andy looked at Jason and tried to work out how to reply to this. He had to tread carefully, after all he was, technically, his boss. Then again, he was also a nob. ‘Right, thanks. That’s really good advice,’ Andy lied.
‘I’m great when it comes to relationships. I just have this sixth sense about what to do. Friends always come and ask my advice,’ Jason said.
And so humble, Andy thought. ‘Have you got a boyfriend at the moment?’ Andy asked conversationally.
Jason’s face clouded over and suddenly it seemed as if all the air was being sucked from the room. Jason turned puce. Andy stood stock-still, waiting for the fallout to his question.
‘Boyfriend? Boyfriend? Don’t you read the papers?’ he hissed. ‘Number thirteen most fanciable male in Cosmo, number eight in Heat’s Hot One Hundred and number one Housewife Hotty in Take a Break.’
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