Star Struck

by Anne-marie O'connor

  ‘Yes, of course. You Brits all look like snaggle-toothed freaks when you get to the States; we have to have you looking your best for the small screen.’

  ‘Do we have to have anything else …’ Catherine flapped her hand up and down her body ‘… done?’

  Antonia had become distracted by someone behind Catherine that she evidently needed to speak to. ‘What? No honey, just the exercise, the food and the teeth. The Botox and the facelifts are for the over-twenty-fives.’ Catherine’s mouth fell open. ‘Listen, great to meet you, see you in New York.’ Antonia marched off but then, remembering something, spun around and said to Catherine so that anyone within earshot could hear, ‘If all else fails we’ll get you some lipo on your hips and stomach.’

  ‘OK!’ Catherine said shrilly.

  She looked around. Everyone else was engrossed in conversation so she decided to take her seat at the table. She wasn’t very good when it came to mingling. She would ask someone something and become acutely aware of the social situation she found herself in and then not be able to concentrate on what the person was saying, because she was too busy thinking of the next question to ask so that they didn’t fall into a dreaded silence. She saw Andy walk in and immediately cast her eyes to the floor, she couldn’t speak to him, not now. Maybe later, she thought as she headed for her seat. Unfortunately for Catherine, Jason P. Longford had been seated next to her.

  As the champagne flowed, Catherine began to think that maybe Andy deserved a second chance. He was a nice guy – he had probably said what he had about her father for the right reasons and anyway, it hadn’t done her any harm in the end. She was building up the courage to go and speak to him when Jason, who had been engrossed in conversation with Star, turned to her. ‘So Andy, you like him?’

  Catherine was taken aback by the question, ‘Well, I might but …’

  Jason looked around and then lowered his head towards Catherine’s. ‘Look, I don’t want this going any further, but he flirts with everyone. And I mean everyone. He was knocking off one of the other runners until you lot turned up and then I think he just thought that he’d better align himself with someone who was going to do well. I know he comes across as a nice guy but that’s part of the act, I’m just saying because I’ve seen things like this happen too many times. Civilians come into the world of TV and get their fingers burned …’

  Catherine stared at Jason. He had to be lying. Andy wasn’t some cad about town.

  ‘He’s a great guy,’ Jason continued, ‘just playing the field. Lots of guys in TV are like that, they get to box above their weight, if you get my drift. I just wouldn’t want you getting involved and it affecting your performance.’

  ‘No. Well, thanks for the heads up,’ Catherine said, stunned. She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t particularly like Jason and she didn’t particularly trust him but why would he lie about something like this? On the other hand, she already knew that she couldn’t trust Andy after he had gone behind her back to tell Richard Forster something she had told him in confidence. Catherine looked along the table to where Andy was sitting. He was chatting to two of the decoy girls. When he saw her looking over he smiled and waved. Catherine looked away, embarrassed and annoyed. He had some nerve, she thought.

  There was a bank of photographers waiting outside for the full two hours that the Star Maker entourage were in the restaurant. Will stood looking out of the window. ‘This is the start of things to come, girls,’ he said, mock-ominously. ‘Best get you out of the back.’

  But as they filed out of the restaurant and out through the tradesman’s entrance, the paparazzi rounded the corner, cameras flashing. Clearly they must have been tipped off. Catherine felt a hand on her back and she was bundled into a car. She looked up to see Andy.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, as the driver put his foot down and drove through the crowd of photographers.

  ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘But I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Catherine said. ‘Just leave me alone.’

  ‘Is that what you really want?’

  ‘Yes please,’ Catherine stared out of the window.

  ‘OK.’

  Catherine wanted to be excited with Andy, to tell him that it was so mad to have photographers trying to get a picture of her, to have him bundle her in a car and take off through the streets of London. But he had betrayed her trust and if what Jason said was true, this was just what he was like anyway. Why wouldn’t he be? He worked in television, he was used to this shiny way of life. He probably had a different girl every week. Catherine decided to remain silent until they arrived back in Mayfair where she politely, but with a distinct distance, told Andy that she would see him in New York.

  Jo was sitting on the chair-arm wearing one of her own creations; a pink jumpsuit with shoulder pads and sky-high heels. She had decided that if anyone asked she would say she was channelling Lady Ga Ga meets Grace Jones. Her hair was scraped back from her face and she was wearing her favourite chandelier earrings. She jumped onto the settee, then back again to the armchair, crossing her legs.

  ‘Will you sit still?’ Maria hissed and then smiled politely at the cameraman in the corner of the room. She was wearing a tight pair of black satin trousers and a revealing white blouse.

  ‘I don’t know where to sit, I’m so excited. Where’s Dad?’

  ‘I’ve shouted for him, he’d better hurry up, she’ll be here any minute,’ Claire said, licking her hand and pawing Rosie’s chocolate-smeared face with it. ‘Who’s given you chocolate?’

  ‘I know, Claire, she’s only allowed liquidised kumquats,’ Jo said, pulling out a bag of Maltesers. ‘But these taste so good it was cruel not to, wasn’t it Rosie?’

  ‘I like Maltesers, Mummy,’ Rosie said, with a sweet smile.

  Claire looked as if she wanted to kill Jo, which made Jo smile. Paul was trying to get Jake to sit still but he was charging around the room pretending to be an aeroplane.

  ‘God, I’ll get him,’ Maria said impatiently, getting up from her seat.

  Catherine was due through the door any minute to announce whether she was through to the finals of Star Maker or not and Mick was making sure that he was still the star turn.

  ‘Dad, hurr—’ Maria shouted, opening the door.

  ‘I’m here, no need to shout in my face.’ Mick bustled into the room. He was wearing some fisherman pants that Maria had brought him back from a trip to Thailand and a T-shirt that looked older than he was, which had Jaw Jaw is Better than War War written on it.

  ‘Get changed,’ Claire demanded, without any pleasantries.

  ‘Good day to you, too,’ Mick nodded at his eldest daughter.

  ‘This isn’t about you, so go get changed!’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Jo agreed. She had been arguing with her dad all morning. In fact she’d been arguing with her dad since Catherine had left for London. It had only been two days but it felt like a lifetime. He wouldn’t talk to her about his medication or his hospital treatment, he expected his dinner on the table when he wanted it and cups of tea to be made at a moment’s notice. Jo’s patience was worn thin.

  ‘What’s wrong with these?’ he asked, looking down at his trousers.

  ‘You look like MC Hammer,’ Jo informed him.

  ‘No time, they’re here,’ the cameraman said.

  ‘Stand behind the settee,’ Claire said.

  ‘He needs to bob down behind the settee, then we’ll just see him from the neck up,’ Jo advised.

  ‘I’m staying put. This is my sofa and I’m parking my arse on it.’ Mick flopped into the chair like a truculent teen.

  The door flew open and Catherine bounded in, there was a moment as she paused and they all stared at her and then she said, ‘I’m through!’

  Everyone jumped to their feet and cheered. Jo ran over and hugged her sister, Rosie and Jake carried on cheering, giddy with excitement. Claire and Maria came over and hugged Catherine. Only Mick hu
ng back. Jo looked at him, willing him not to embarrass them all on TV again. Willing him to say something nice to Catherine.

  Finally he walked forward and hugged his daughter. ‘I’m proud of you, lass,’ he said.

  Catherine burst into tears, quickly followed by Claire. Even Jo, who prided herself on rarely crying, felt a lump rise in her throat. She knew that what her dad had just said to Catherine would mean the world to her.

  Chapter 10

  ‘IF ANOTHER TWAT asks me for my autograph I am going to scream.’ Jason P. Longford threw himself into the seat next to Andy and pushed his Ray Bans back onto his head. Andy could see the tan lines from his sun-bed goggles. Two whole people had asked Jason for his autograph. It hardly made him David Beckham. Andy fastened his seat belt and scanned the safety leaflet.

  ‘No point reading that. If this baby goes down, put your head between your knees and kiss your arse goodbye.’ Jason laughed at his own brilliant joke.

  Andy slapped a smile on his face and wanted to ask one of the cabin crew if there was any room on the wing. He was dreading the trip to New York. Yes, it would be exciting and yes, lots of people would kill to work on Star Maker, but Andy hated letting people down and he knew that was exactly what he had done to Catherine. He had decided that he was going to be pleasant to her when he saw her, but that it was best if he just avoided her. He didn’t want to jeopardise her chances in the competition by cornering her and trying to get her to like him again, anyway that just seemed desperate. Andy was going to go to New York, do his job and try to enjoy it.

  Will boarded the plane and looked around to see who else from production was on board. Thank God, thought Andy, Will could talk to Jason and maybe Andy would get a bit of peace.

  ‘Will!’ Jason shouted.

  Three girls were next to board the aircraft. One of them did a double take when she saw Jason. She whispered something to her friends. Andy couldn’t make out what was being said but Jason arched his eyebrow at Andy as if to say, do you see what I have to put up with? Andy slid down in his seat and could hear the girls whispering, ‘You ask him.’ ‘No you ask him.’ This was just going to make Jason’s head swell to the size of a giant watermelon.

  One of the girls approached. She was pretty and young, something that would please Jason as he was so vain that he liked it when good-looking people paid him attention. ‘Excuse me?’ the girl said nervously.

  ‘Yes,’ Jason said, without removing his glasses.

  ‘My friends and I were just wondering if we could have your autograph?’

  Jason sighed and then looked at the girl. ‘Have you got a pen?’ he asked, as if the attention bored him. Will looked at Andy through the gap in the seats and shook his head.

  ‘I’ll just get one.’ The girl scurried off.

  ‘I thought you didn’t want to sign anymore autographs,’ Andy commented.

  ‘No, I said that if I was asked for another autograph I’d scream. But look, I just need to remember that something as small as an autograph from Jason P. Longford can make a person’s day, week, or maybe even month.’

  ‘It could make their year,’ Will said from the seat in front, turning and catching Andy’s eye. Andy forced himself not to laugh.

  ‘It could …’ Jason agreed seriously. ‘It really could.’

  The girl came back holding a pen and a piece of scrap paper. ‘I’m sorry, it’s the only paper we had.’

  ‘Right,’ Jason said, regarding it with disdain.

  ‘Could you put something like, “To Jane and Lucy, Supermarket Sweep’s biggest fans, love Dale.”’

  Andy thought he was going to swallow his own tongue, he was trying so hard not to laugh. He could see the seat in front shaking where Will was laughing.

  ‘Dale?’ Jason screeched, ‘Supermarket Sweep?’ His voice went higher still. ‘Do you think I’m Dale Bloody Winton?’ His voice was by now so shrill that Andy was sure that if there were any dogs in the hold they would be covering their ears with their paws.

  ‘Well, yes. Aren’t you?’ the girl asked, bewildered.

  ‘Am I friggery. I’m twenty years younger than him for a start!’

  ‘All right, keep your wig on.’ The girl snatched the pen from Jason and walked back down the aisle. ‘It’s not him; he’s just some nobody with an attitude problem,’ the girl said loudly to her mates.

  Andy couldn’t believe what happened next, it was so embarrassing that it made him wish that Boeing 767s were fitted with ejector seats. Jason got to his feet and took his glasses off and shouted down the plane to the girls, ‘I’m Jason P. Longford you …’ he was so angry he struggled to find the words ‘… set of tits!’

  A mocking cheer went up from the other passengers on the plane as Jason thumped down into his seat in an absolute strop.

  ‘Who, mate?’ the autograph hunter shouted back. ‘Never heard of you!’

  ‘Get me to New York now!’ Jason shouted at Andy, as if he was flying the plane.

  ‘All right, Jason, we’ll be setting off in a minute,’ he replied, trying to be reassuring as a chant of ‘Who are you? Who are you?’ began to grow until it sounded like everyone on the plane was chanting at Jason. Andy buried his head in his hands. This was going to be the longest seven hours of his life.

  Catherine was sitting in the passenger seat of Claire’s car, driving towards Manchester airport. She was meeting Kim at departures and they were flying together to join the other contestants at Heathrow, where they would all depart for New York.

  Jo was singing ‘New York, New York’, for what must have been the twentieth time that day. She accompanied it by kicking her legs through the space between the front seats in the car.

  ‘Stop it! I can’t see when you kick your foot up,’ Claire grumbled, as she pulled the car into the airport.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re going to New York! And not just going to New York, you’re like going to New York!’

  ‘What on earth does that mean?’ Claire spun around to face her sister who was sitting in the middle of the back seat.

  Catherine knew exactly what she meant. She had even begun writing about her experiences in her songs. Catherine usually wrote about longing, or loss or hope, not actual concrete experiences. This was different and she found that, rather than scaring her away from song writing because of the enormity of what was happening to her, it was making her creative juices flow.

  ‘I mean she’s doing it in style, duh! Will you go to the Marc Jacobs store and genuflect in front of it for me please?’ Jo begged.

  ‘We’re all really proud of you,’ Claire said, squeezing Catherine’s knee.

  ‘Dad’s not,’ Catherine said sadly.

  Mick had made an excuse not to come to the airport. Said that his stomach was playing up and he needed to stay in bed.

  ‘He’s just acting up.’

  ‘When is he going to the hospital? Is someone going with him?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘Tomorrow, I think, but he won’t say exactly when. He’s being a martyr, saying he wants to go on his own.’ Claire shrugged in a what-can-you-do way.

  ‘Right.’ Catherine hung her head guiltily.

  ‘When he decides he’s going to accept our help then we’ll help him, won’t we, Jo?’

  ‘He’s got an appointment tomorrow then?’ Jo asked, suddenly serious.

  ‘Yes, at Christie’s. He said it yesterday. Was I the only one there?’

  ‘Right …’ Jo said, not really listening to Claire.

  Catherine studied Jo; she looked as if she was hatching a plan.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘Nothing.’ Jo snapped out of it. ‘Not thinking anything.’

  ‘Right, go and don’t come back until you’re rich and famous.’ Claire said as she found a parking space.

  The three sisters climbed out of the car. ‘And I’ve set Sky Plus for the weekend …’ Jo said impishly, ‘And I’ll call you and tell you if we’re on.’

  Catherine�
�s stomach performed its now familiar churn. ‘Oh God,’ she groaned. Saturday saw the first airing of Star Maker this year. Now that she was down to the final six, her audition was bound to be aired.

  ‘Next time you come back through those doors, you’ll be recognised by everyone. How mad is that?’ Jo asked.

  Catherine closed her eyes. ‘I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.’

  ‘Ha!’ Jo laughed. ‘Bit late now.’

  She was right, it was.

  ‘Anyway, sis, break a leg, Scottish play and all that, as Dad would say, because he’s so into the theatre.’

  Catherine thought about her dad for a moment. ‘Tell him I’ll be back soon and that if he needs anything then he can always ring me.’

  ‘Right, yeah, we’ll tell him.’ Jo said, throwing a look at Claire that suggested this piece of information wouldn’t go any further.

  ‘Come here,’ Jo gave Catherine a huge warm hug. Claire joined in.

  ‘Good luck, sis.’ Jo pulled Catherine’s case out of the boot and handed it to her.

  ‘Oh, and if you see Maria in there sweeping the floors then let us know. I’ve always thought this air hostess thing was all in her head.’

  Catherine laughed and waved to her sisters and walked towards the automatic doors with trepidation at what the weeks ahead held for her and her fellow competitors.

  Just as the doors were opening two photographers ran up to Catherine and began snapping away. A reporter thrust a Dictaphone into her face. ‘You’re in the final, Catherine, how does it feel?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Catherine said panicking, craning her neck to see if Jo and Claire might come to her rescue, but they had gone, she was on her own. Catherine made her way to the check-in desk, the reporter and photographers followed, drawing stares from the holiday makers queuing up for their flights. Catherine wondered what to do, it was embarrassing enough being hounded by people firing questions at her and being photographed, but ignoring them while they did so wasn’t something she could keep up for long. ‘I’m just going to London for the weekend with a friend.’

  ‘Right, pull the other one,’ the reporter said harshly.