by Chloe Rayban
The lady interviewer makes some comforting murmuring noises and Mum, with difficulty, regains her composure.
‘Hollywood’s just so cute, you know. And she’s so-oo talented.’
I’m all ears. I creep nearer the TV. What is Mum going to say next?
‘I guess a performing career is a natural for her, with you for a mother,’ says the male interviewer.
(OH, NO. You don’t know me, Mr Interviewer. Oh, SO NOT.)
But Mum continues, warming to the subject: ‘Yes, it looks like it. Of course, I’d hate to dictate to her. But singing and dancing just come naturally to Hollywood. I’m trying really hard to keep her focused on her studies though.’
‘The big question.’ The interviewer leans forward. ‘Is Hollywood going to follow in your footsteps?’
‘Oh yes, I’d say so for sure. She’s really committed.’
I practically fall off the chair. Me committed!
The interview is cut short by a commercial break.
What is Mum up to? What is going on? I’m puzzling over this when there is a smart rap on the interconnecting door with suite 6003.
‘This is your cue, Miss Hollywood Bliss …’ It’s Jasper.
‘Hi. What are you doing here?’
‘I’m your music tutor, remember?’
‘But you must be far too important to teach music now.’
Yet it seems that in spite of the fact that ‘Home is Where Your Heart is’ is at number one, Jasper is still going to continue with my music lessons.
Jasper starts playing the piano. ‘Number one … strum … Thanks to … Hollywood … strum … Bliss … strum … Winterman … strum-tee-tum,’ he goes.
‘Yeah well, and Mum too. Hey, you know what! She was on TV this morning and she said there might be a chance of the musical going on stage for real!’
‘Fingers and toes crossed. Harold Schwarz thinks he’s got backers.’
‘He does?’
‘Sev-e-ral!’
‘If he thinks so. He’s got backers. Mr Schwarz knows everyone.’
‘I sure hope so. But I’m not giving up my day job.’
‘Good. Because I missed you when you were working with Mum.’
‘Hey! I’m flattered. And I missed you too, Holly. But, hey, sob, enough of all this emotion. We have gotta get down to work.’
Wednesday 19th March
Suite 6003, The Royal Trocadero
My school work has been put on hold while Vix tries to find me a fill-in tutor. I’m trying to think of ways to sabotage her search so that they have to forgive Rupert and let him come back and teach me.
Meanwhile, Jasper has started me on two new songs and Stella’s back too. It seems it was only a sprain after all.
10.45 am., mid-music lesson
There have been rumours from the penthouse floor and I know that emails have been flying back and forth between New York and London.
Jasper is so tense, his hands shake so he can barely drink his coffee. He’s on tenterhooks waiting for news from Mr Schwarz.
So later that day when Mum herself rings down and asks him to come up and see her, we both totally freak.
Jasper looks at me with a raised eyebrow. ‘Uh-oh, I sense news.’
I swallow. ‘Surely it’s too early to hear anything?’
But as he goes out the door, I shout, ‘Good luck’ after him.
‘Thanks. I’ll need it.’
Jasper was gone for ages. I’d even taken to picking out on the piano some of the backing line from one of the songs he was teaching me by the time he came back.
He flung open the door with a really sad look on his face. My heart sank.
Then he flung open his arms and said, ‘Guess what!’
‘What?’
‘They’re pulling that new musical Blondes off the West End. It’s bombed.’
‘So?’
‘They want to stage Metropolis in its place, as soon as. Schwarz has got the backing. It’s all go. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. Look, I’m gonna have to sit down.’
‘But that’s brilliant!’
‘I can’t believe it. Look, sorry. Look, I’m gonna cry.’ He took out his hanky and started blowing his nose.
‘Cry? But you must be so happy!’
‘Hollywood, babes – I am crying because I’m so happy.’
I was nearly crying too. ‘Oh wow, Mum must be over the moon.’
‘Yeah, she is. Oh, yeah.’
‘But is she going to have time? I mean, what about the Heatwave Tour …?’
‘What about it? What do you mean?’ asked Jasper, having a really big nose blow.
‘Well, if Metropolis is staged for real, Mum will play the lead, won’t she?’
Jasper shook his head. ‘Oh no. Not on. She’s too old. The way we sold it to Schwarz was for it to have a child cast – apart from the five character parts, that is. Kind of like Bugsy Malone but with adult voices too – to give it more oomph.’
‘Oh. I see. So Mum wouldn’t be in it at all?’
‘Your mum’s got a lot of mileage to make up. She may be back up at number one in the UK but that’s not going to keep her happy, is it? She’s going to have to follow it up. You know Kandhi – today she conquers Britain, tomorrow the world.’
Later that day: the bar, The Royal Trocadero
There wasn’t much point in trying to continue with my singing class that day. Jasper was just out of it. Instead, he took me down to the hotel bar and bought me a ‘Pussyfoot Cocktail’ and then he bought drinks for everyone in the bar.
After that he started calling people up and Vix and Daffyd and June and Sid and Abdul and even Sit joined us. So it turned into a kind of party.
And just when we were getting really rowdy Mum came down and she gave Jasper a way big kiss and he picked her up and sat her on the piano.
‘So OK, folks. What shall I sing?’ said Mum.
So that afternoon, a group of six Japanese businessmen, two ladies from Bognor who’d dropped by for a cup of tea after shopping and the barman of the Royal Trocadero had their own private Kandhi concert.
After the ‘concert’ Mum took me and Jasper to the Royal Trocadero restaurant, which is plush. She said I could order what I liked from the menu and she’d turn a blind eye.
When I went off to bed she gave me a big kiss and a hug as if she really meant it.
‘You mean a lot to me, Hollywood,’ she said with a funny look.
‘Thanks Mum, sure. You mean a lot to me too.’
Later still, Suite 6002
I couldn’t sleep that night. Mum’s being so nice to me. I wonder what she’s up to? I lie there fantasising that Mum’s really like this all the time. That we’ve even got a proper house to live in. And that Thumper and Gi-Gi and Karl have come to live with us.
Thumper and I have the top floor all to ourselves and we’ve put that false grass stuff down instead of carpet and we’ve got proper plants in boxes like flowerbeds and maybe even an indoor pond with real frogs in it and goldfish and …
I guess I must’ve fallen asleep then.
Thursday 20th March, 11.00 a.m.
The Penthouse Suite
I’m just about to go up for my dance lesson when there’s a ringing on my door buzzer.
Sounds as if someone is leaning on it. It’s probably the chambermaid trying to get in to fix my room.
‘OK. OK. Coming.’
I fling the door open.
It is not the chambermaid. It’s Shug.
‘So what do you want?’ I demand. I know I sound rude. I mean to.
‘Can you stop your mother like fooling around with my dad?’
(Hang on a minute. Isn’t it him who’s fooling around with her?)
‘What do you mean, fooling around?’ I demand.
‘She should leave him alone.’
‘He should leave her alone.’
‘She like picks him up when she needs an accessory to hang on her arm. And then she drops him.’
> ‘Drops him?’
‘Yeah. They were flying to Vegas this morning and she didn’t show.’
‘To Vegas? She didn’t tell me. What for?’
‘What do you think people fly to Vegas for?’
‘Gambling?’
‘Oh, pl-ease.’
‘What, then?’
Shug glances over his shoulder. I follow his gaze down the corridor. A chambermaid wheeling a trolley has come within earshot.
‘You better come in,’ I say, standing aside.
Shug comes into the suite and stands in the middle of the room looking uncomfortable.
‘V-e-g-a-s,’ says Shug patiently, spelling it out letter by letter as if I was a moron or something, ‘Vegas is where you can get a special licence, without any fuss, to get hitched.’
‘Married!’
‘Except they’re not. ’Cos this little wedding ceremony is lacking one essential. The bride.’
‘Oh my God, why didn’t Mum tell me?’
‘Probably’ cos she was planning to blow him out all along.’
‘She wouldn’t do that.’
‘Wouldn’t she?’
Then I have this horrible sinking feeling. Oliver stood Mum up, didn’t he? And knowing her she’d have to get her own back. Only she’d have to go one better. In order to prove who was the bigger star.
But I say to Shug, ‘Oh, come on, you mean to say that poor little Oliver Bream isn’t able to look after himself?’
‘If she goes on like this, he’ll have to go see a shrink.’
It’s news to me that someone as cold and distant as Oliver can actually have feelings. I’m about to say something cutting but I pause for a moment. Shug seems genuinely upset.
Instead I find myself saying, ‘You mean, you think your dad is genuinely keen on my mum?’
Shrug turns, sticks his hands in his pockets and swivels round on his heel.
‘Amazing as it is. Yeah, I reckon.’
‘But they’re always fighting.’
‘You don’t fight with someone you don’t care about. Do you?’
‘But do you think my mum cares about your dad?’
‘I dunno. She’s your mum. You should be able to tell.’
‘I can’t. Mum has loads of boyfriends. You can only tell if she really likes them if she marries them.’
‘That’s what I mean. I don’t want my dad getting messed up in all the shit.’
‘Well, I don’t want my mum getting married to your dad, thank you very much.’
‘So we’re agreed on one thing. We don’t want them to be together.’
‘No way. They’re totally wrong for each other.’
‘OK,’ says Shug.
‘Right then.’
‘Umm.’
He leaves after that. I shut the door on him and lean against it, my mind reeling. What’s Mum up to now?
Then I shoot up to the penthouse suite to check if Mum’s still there.
Immediately after – the Penthouse Suite
Phew, she was.
I found her in bed. Her face was all pale against the pillows. She didn’t have any make-up on. I’m always shocked to see Mum without make-up. She doesn’t look like herself at all. When I got closer, I could see her face was all blotchy. She must have been crying.
I went and sat on the edge of the bed and said gently, ‘Mum, what’s all this about you going to Las Vegas with Oliver?’
Mum sniffed and then blew her nose. ‘How did you know about it?’
‘Shug told me. He dropped by this morning. He said you stood up Oliver. You two were going to Vegas to get married. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure. And then I decided he wasn’t really right for me anyway.’
‘It’s marriage you’re talking about, Mum. Not some new outfit.’
‘No need to start moralising, Hollywood. I feel bad enough about it as it is.’
‘That’ll be a first.’
‘No, you don’t understand. I thought going out with Oliver would change me somehow. You know, be good for my image.’
‘Mu-um!’
‘No, don’t stop me, Hollywood. So when he proposed, I thought, great. You know. New image – me the homemaker and all that. New family. It’s just what I need. But then, I realised I couldn’t do that to Oliver. He’s just too nice a person.’
‘You mean, you didn’t marry him because you really like him?’
‘Yes …’ said Mum and she started crying again. What a pair, I thought. Jeez, those two were mixed up.
Later
I spend the day pampering Mum. Believe me, this is a tall order when you consider she has everything she could possibly want. But I fill her suite with her favourite flowers – gardenias. I get Thierry to track down a crate of fresh raspberries which are her favourite food and I put on her favourite DVD.
I’ve got to swear you to absolute secrecy here – promise you won’t tell a soul? Because it’s The Sound of Music. Sad but true. It was the first musical Mum ever saw and it was then she decided to become a star.
Friday 21st March
The Penthouse Suite
I wake up as usual thinking about RUPERT and wondering what he’s doing right now. But I don’t have peace to really ponder over this as Vix has called down to say that there will be no classes today because Mum’s got some people due in at ten who want to meet me.
‘Meet me? Why?’
Vix is vague. ‘Oh, I don’t know, she didn’t say.’
I go up wondering if Mum’s still in the state she was in yesterday. But not a bit of it. True to form she’s totally recovered.
I find her talking earnestly with two people who are introduced as Fiona from ‘Inspiration’ PR Agency and Jeremy who is a casting director.
Fiona is wearing a neat little black linen skirt suit and has perfect streaked blonde hair and shiny tanned legs. Jeremy is lounging on Mum’s couch as if he owns it.
‘Oh, hi,’ says Fiona, coming over all gushy-gushy. ‘So you’re Hollywood? I’ve been so dying to meet you.’
I sit down on the seat Mum pats beside her and cast a searching What-is-this-all about? look in her direction.
‘Oh, yes,’ says Jeremy to Mum. ‘Oh, yes indeed.’
The room feels heavy with some meaningful conversation that has taken place in my absence.
Fiona continues to Mum, ‘I can just see the story. Now this would totally change your image. Gone the old sexkitten, she-devil Kandhi – that’s so yesterday. In with the new caring Kandhi. It’s that mother/daughter thing. It’s one of the great Universals.’
‘Fiona’s right,’ chips in Jeremy. ‘Absolutely perfect.’
‘What’s perfect?’ I ask.
‘You are, babes.’
‘Perfect for what?’
‘Perfect for playing me at your age in this biopic we’re planning.’
‘Me? Playing you?’ I’m starting to get panic-vibes here.
‘Hollywood, babes, you’re the obvious choice. I mean, you are my daughter.’
‘But I don’t look anything like you.’
‘There are ways and means,’ butts in Jeremy. ‘Make-up, camera angles, digital enhancing –’
‘But, Mum. I can’t sing like you. I can’t dance like you. No way!’
Fiona interrupts. ‘Look, Hollywood. Or would you rather I called you Holly?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘We only want you to audition. OK?’
‘What’s the point in auditioning if I don’t want to play the part?’
I notice an eye-flick between Fiona and Jeremy.
‘It’s just for the story. It’s a mother and daughter thing.’
Jeremy agrees over my head. ‘It’s got legs, Kandhi. It’s like Liza and Judy all over again.’
‘Listen, Holly, this is going to be really big. We’re calling it Supernova. It’s all about your mum’s life.’
‘I don’t see why it has to involve me,’ I say
, staring down at my hands.
Fiona leans forward and looks me straight in the eyes. ‘The film company know what they’re doing. They’re not going to simply give you the part. There are loads of stage school kids who’ll come to the castings. If someone’s better than you, then that’s it.’
This is reassuring. Stage school kids are bound to be better than me.
Mum adds, ‘Listen, babes. Won’t you do the audition, for me? It would mean a lot.’
‘It would?’
Mum nods. ‘We don’t have a chance to do much for each other. Do we?’
‘I guess not.’
I think guiltily about all the things I haven’t done. Like not apologising to Oliver … And worse. The things I have done. Like auctioning the Blahniks and talking to the press and going to the Globe …
Suddenly I have this vision, as if I’m looking at myself from the outside. Seeing me from Mum’s point of view – I am SO NOT a daughter she can be totally proud of. No, I’m sitting here like some sulky teenager. When what she’d really love is a daughter who’s really successful. I mean, even Becky is up for Young Musician of the Year. While I’m totally nothing.
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘You do that,’ says Mum, giving me a big showy hug.
‘You can trust us.’ Jeremy is leaning back and smiling indulgently at me.
‘Thanks, Holly,’ says Fiona earnestly.
Saturday 22nd March, 8.00 a.m.
Suite 6002, The Royal Trocadero
First thing in the morning, I get a text from Becky:
Guess what?
young musician violin trials
I came
a) first?
b) third?
c) nowhere?
Bx
No exclamation marks. This doesn’t look like good news. I text her back.
?????