My Life Starring Mum

by Chloe Rayban

  ‘Oh my God!’ I exclaim, picking it up. ‘What’s all this about?’

  ‘What do you think, Hollywood?’ says the other girl.

  Gina stares hard at me. ‘Well?’

  ‘You don’t think they’ve already decided …? No. That wouldn’t be fair.’

  (An echo of Mum’s voice comes back to me at that moment: ‘Life isn’t fair, Hollywood. If it was, we’d all be stars.’)

  I can feel tears pricking in my eyes.

  Gina notices. She says resentfully, ‘You could have told us who you were.’

  ‘I didn’t see the point. It would’ve been like showing off. But I still don’t think they’d give me the part. I’m no way good enough.’

  ‘That’s show business, Holly. You’ll get it because you’re Kandhi’s daughter. It doesn’t matter how good you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re total rubbish.’

  ‘So why are they doing all these auditions?’ I point out.

  ‘Haven’t you noticed? They’ve been filming everything. They’ll probably make it into a reality TV show. Will Holly get the part or won’t she? We’ll all be on the edge of our seats …’

  ‘I bet she’s known all along …’ a third girl butts in.

  ‘Believe me, please. I didn’t.’

  ‘You must’ve. Look at her in those pictures,’ adds a blonde girl, pointing at the newspaper.

  ‘No … Honestly. I thought all the fuss was because of Mum being at number one …’

  ‘Sure …’ says the blonde in a nasty way.

  Gina frowns at her. ‘It’s not your fault, Holly. But you can’t blame us for feeling this way …’

  A voice cuts across Gina’s.

  The woman who had been in charge the time before had appeared in the doorway with a clipboard in her hand.

  ‘Ready, girls? I’m going to take you through now. Can you get in line in the order I call out your names. Quiet, please! Thank you.’

  ‘Jessica Blandford. Juliet Crome. Sally Eames. Gina Locardi. Holly Winterman …’

  We were led up as before to wait on the row of chairs.

  While the first few girls did their singing, dancing and spoken pieces, my mind was racing. Were they right? Was the audition fixed? Had Mum known all along?

  So many things came back to me now. All those little looks and hints. Those glances between those publicists. I reckon even Vix was in on it.

  They had got to Gina by now. She was as brilliant as before. Even in her spoken part, which was a piece taken from Alice in Wonderland, in which she went on about the curiousness of it all.

  ‘Curiouser and curiouser …’ That’s how it ended.

  ‘Holly Winterman! On camera two, please?’

  ‘Holly Winterman. Are you there?’

  Through the confusion I realised my name had been called a second time. I got up from my seat.

  All of a sudden, I wasn’t nervous. Not one bit. I walked out in front and handed my music to the pianist as if sleepwalking. Then as I went to stand on the yellow cross, my mind magically cleared.

  It was so simple. No one could make me do what I didn’t want to do.

  The pianist came in with the opening bars and I just stood there NOT singing, doing nothing. The piano faltered over a few bars and then came to a halt.

  The pianist looked up and nodded to me.

  ‘From the top, dear … Shall we try again?’

  She started from the beginning once more. I still didn’t come in.

  In fact, I stood there and made a complete dick of myself.

  And I didn’t care one bit. Because I was angry. I was furious. I was making a stand for every single one of those girls who had been walked over simply because they weren’t famous enough.

  The notes of the piano faded away. The pianist got to her feet and said into the darkness, ‘I’m sorry, what do I do now?’

  A voice came from the back.

  ‘Is there a problem, Holly?’

  I held up a hand to shield my eyes from the lights. At that moment I didn’t care that I was out in front of a load of really important people. I just wanted to get back at Mum for putting me in this positiion.

  ‘Yes. There is a problem. I’m sorry, I’m not going to audition. Every single one of the other girls is ten times better than me. So there’s no point.’

  ‘Hollywood!’ Mum’s voice came from out of the darkness. ‘It’s not up to you to judge. You’ve got to audition. You can’t let me down like this.’

  ‘You can’t make me. It’s not fair on the others. I’m sorry. Can I leave now?’

  I could hear Mum saying to the others, ‘She’s just nervous, that’s all. It’s stage fright.’

  ‘I have never been less nervous in my life. It’s no good, Mum. I’m going now.’

  As I left the set everyone seemed to be talking at once. Except for the girls who were behind me, who were stunned into silence. One of them squeezed my arm as I went by.

  That really gave me a lump in my throat. I found I was shaking when I got back to the changing room. The people who had been on before me were sitting in a little huddle. They must’ve heard what was going on.

  I went silently to my pile of clothes and started to change my shoes. I’d hardly got my dance shoes off before Mum stormed into the changing room. Her eyes were blazing.

  ‘Hollywood. You go back in there, do you hear me? They’ve agreed to give you another chance …’

  ‘But I don’t want another chance, Mum.’

  ‘Oh yes, you do.’

  ‘No. I don’t.’

  That’s when Gina got up from her seat and came over and stood beside me.

  ‘It’s not her fault, Mrs Winterman,’ said Gina. ‘Holly doesn’t want to audition because of us. Because of what we said.’

  ‘So? What did you say?’ snapped Mum.

  Mum’s not very big but she looked ten times bigger than Gina at that point. But Gina stood her ground.

  ‘We said that we didn’t think the audition was fair. None of us stand a chance of getting the part. We think Hollywood’s already been chosen, because she’s your daughter.’

  Mum stood there seething. You could see from her face that she couldn’t come up with an answer to this. She turned on her heel and said, ‘I’m going to get them to stop the audition. Right now.’

  I watched helplessly while Mum went back inside. They couldn’t drag me back on to the set. But nonetheless, I wasn’t going to hang around. Who knew what Mum would do next. The limo was standing outside waiting. There was no time to lose. I flung on my coat and dashed outside.

  Abdul took one look at my face and turned on the ignition.

  ‘Can you take me back to the hotel? And go back for Mum later?’

  All the way back Abdul was making comforting noises about how the audition was no big deal. But I was still shaking from the tension. My brain had gone into a flat spin, trying to judge whether what I had done was right or wrong. I tried to remember exactly what I had said out there.

  I mean, I know what I did was right. Or at least 95% right because what I’d done was both fair and honest.

  But it was that niggly little 5% that I couldn’t rid my mind of.

  It was that niggly little 5% that said I should have stood by Mum. I’d made her look a total failure as a mother. A daughter who stood up to her in front of everyone and practically called her a cheat. How could I have done that?

  It was that tiny little 5% that made me go cold inside. How could I face Mum ever again? She was going to be so mad at me. This was going to be like the seafood-platter-and-the-Blahniks-and-wanting-to-be-a-vet-and-talking-to-the-press-and-going-to-the-Globe-without-permission all rolled-into-one.

  Later: the steps of The Royal Trocadero

  As I got out of the limo outside the Trocadero I was practically blinded by camera flashes.

  ‘No, look, guys. It’s only me …’ I protested.

  ‘Hollywood, over here!’

  ‘Holly, give us a smile.’

/>   ‘Hey! Can I come to your première?’

  ‘How does it feel to be playing your mum?’

  Shielding my eyes from the glare, I stumbled up the hotel steps, pushing my way through the circular doors into reception. I paused for a moment in the hushed haven of the lobby as the terrible truth sank in. It wasn’t Mum they were after, it was me.

  I shot into the elevator and slammed my hand down on the button, my mind racing. So is this how it starts? From a tiny beginning … the ball of fame starts rolling and rolling … and getting bigger and bigger … and gathering speed … carrying you with it, until there’s nothing in the world you can do to stop it?

  As soon as I reached my floor I ran down the corridor and unlocked my door with a shaking hand.

  I slammed the door behind me and gazed around the now familiar surroundings of my suite. The bed turned back ready for the night. The lights on low. My few possessions tidied with military precision. What was I doing here? Was this what life was going to be like from now on? A prisoner to fame with the press clamouring at the door? Mum was going to be in her seventh heaven with all this publicity. And she’d want more. Dragging me ever deeper in with her. How could she do this to me? A shudder ran down my back. I had to escape while there was still time.

  Without really thinking what I was doing, I went to the closet and took out my backpack. I crammed in my teddy and my pyjamas and my toothbrush. I tried to fit in the shoebox with My Personal Private Collection of Very Precious Objects. But it was too big, so I took out the little pink chocolate heart that Rupert had given me and packed that instead. Then I grabbed my mobile and raked through my purse.

  I hadn’t any money.

  But in the little pocket at the back of my purse I found the Gold Card Mum had given me for ‘emergencies’. Yep, this certainly was an emergency.

  I stared at the Gold Card. It was one of the best cards you could have. Since it was on Mum’s card, the money you could take out was virtually limitless. I could go anywhere on this.

  I considered the options:

  a) Gi-Gi’s (nope. That was the first place Mum would look for me)

  b) School (that was the second place she’d look)

  c) Dad’s…

  Could this card pay for a ticket to New York? ’Course it could, that’s what it did all the time.

  I had to be quick before Mum got back. She could arrive at any moment. I opened the door of my suite and peered out.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Winterman,’ said a voice.

  Just my luck, one of the security guards must’ve popped up to do a routine check. Curses. What did I do now?

  With sudden inspiration I slipped my towelling robe over my clothes and hung a towel over my backpack. Then I sauntered out into the corridor.

  ‘Just going for a swim,’ I said.

  ‘Have a nice one, Miss Winterman.’

  ‘Thank you. I will.’

  Don’t arouse suspicion. Keep a clear head. Nice and slowly into the elevator … Right! I pressed the button for the lower ground. My heart was doing double somersaults as we passed the ground. ‘Please, please don’t stop,’ I prayed.

  It didn’t. We arrived at the lower ground and I headed out past the kitchens to the secret back exit by the swimming pool controls. Nobody around. Not a soul had seen me.

  There were the emergency doors marked ‘Press Bar to Open’. I pressed. They opened. I was out in the back alley. I shoved my robe and towel into a trash bin and started running as fast as I could.

  Once in the street I realised it was late. Very late. I glanced at my watch. It was eleven o’clock. I wondered how late the tube trains ran. And whether planes flew that late. Sure they flew that late, they had headlights, didn’t they?

  Within minutes I was across the street and racing down the steps into the station. Once inside the tube station, I found the place almost deserted. Just a few stragglers hanging around and a drunk guy who was singing.

  I went to the machine where I’d seen Rupert buy tickets. There was a slot for credit cards and it accepted Mum’s card from my shaking hand. It delivered a single ticket to Heathrow Airport!

  I waited in an agony of impatience for a train to come along, thinking irrationally that Mum might at any minute appear on the platform like a ball of fury to drag me back.

  At last a train rumbled in and I slid gratefully into a seat. The rest of the journey to Heathrow was easy. The airport was at the end of the line. I didn’t even have to change trains.

  11.30 p.m., Terminal Four, Heathrow Airport

  Airports are no problem. I know them inside out. I know that for long-haul flights you have to go to Terminal Four. I even know exactly which desk you go to for last-minute tickets. So that’s where I went.

  ‘A first class single to New York, please.’

  The woman at the desk leaned over the top and asked in a surprised way, ‘Hi there. You travelling alone?’

  ‘My dad’s meeting me the other end.’ This wasn’t technically a lie, since I was going to call Dad the minute I was safely on the plane.

  ‘I see. Right. Your passport, please.’

  ‘Passport?’ My heart sank. I hadn’t thought. Vix looks after all the passports while Mum and I get kind of wafted through.

  ‘Do I really have to have a passport? I’m like half-American.’

  The woman looked at me pityingly.

  ‘Yes. You really do have to have a passport.’

  ‘I could have it sent on after.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Sixteen,’ I lied. I did lie this time. Reverend Mother, please forgive me. I could feel myself blushing scarlet.

  ‘Do your parents know you’re here?’

  ‘Yes, sure they do.’ After one lie the others are easy. They just kind of tag along.

  The woman picked up the phone on her desk and said something I couldn’t hear.

  This was it. At any moment some creepy lurking member of airport security was going to take me off and interrogate me. So I shoved my backpack over my shoulder and said, ‘Going to get my passport. Goodbye.’

  And fled down the concourse.

  I went back down into the tube station. The late, late tube was waiting there. I climbed in, trying desperately to think things through. There was no way I could get my passport without Vix knowing. She kept them in the hotel safe.

  The train set off and I sat staring blankly at the window. It was dark outside so I couldn’t see out. All I could see was my own reflection staring miserably back at me. All I could think of was how I’d messed up. What on earth was I going to do now? I knew if I stayed on this train I would get relentlessly closer and closer to the Royal Trocadero. I couldn’t go back there. I couldn’t face Mum.

  So on to Plan b): School. That’s where I’d go. I’d get Becky to hide me in her room and I could cut off all my hair and pretend to be a new girl. Not a brilliant idea. But the best I could come up with.

  I knew the train for school left from a station called Paddington. So I switched trains and made my way there.

  1.00 a.m., Paddington station

  Paddington station was horribly empty. I could see from the departures board that there weren’t going to be any trains leaving until 6.00 a.m. the next morning.

  The station was cold and gloomy, lit by a dim icy light.

  I suddenly found I was dead tired. I slumped down on a railing that was only big enough to perch on. There wasn’t even a bench to curl up on.

  And suddenly Jasper’s words came back to me:

  ‘… it’s night and it’s creepy and there’s this girl all alone centrestage and she’s homeless – she’s got nowhere to go. There’s a single eerie spotlight on her. She starts singing …’

  And then I thought of Mum singing that song at the Heatwave and how brilliant she was. And I couldn’t help feeling a bit proud of her. I could picture her now, a tiny figure in the centre of that vast arena. Every eye on her, every breath held … and then her voice, so pure, so stro
ng, so beautiful all alone out there before the backing thundered in.

  I huddled myself down further into my coat and leaned against the railing and I guess I must’ve drifted off …

  The next thing I know, someone is shaking me. It’s Mum. This must be a dream. But the shaking continues. This is no dream. It is Mum!

  ‘Mum! What are you doing here?’

  Mum turns round and signals violently to someone to keep back. In the distance, I can see a load of policemen with tracker dogs.

  ‘Give us a minute alone, OK?’ she calls out.

  Mum’s crying. She’s scrabbling for a tissue. I find a crumpled one in my pocket and hand it to her.

  ‘Hollywood. Oh, Hollywood …’

  ‘Mum, will you stop saying my name and tell me what you’re doing here?’

  ‘I was so worried about you. I thought I’d lost my baby.’

  ‘I’m not a baby, Mum,’ I protest as I struggle to get properly awake.

  ‘No, but you are and always will be my baby. Oh, how could you go off like that?’

  ‘Mum, there were all these photographers and it was me they were after. How could you do this to me?’

  ‘Oh, Holly … have I been such a terrible mother to you?’

  ‘You could just listen to what I say now and again …’

  ‘I am listening now, Holly …’

  ‘But you didn’t listen when I said I didn’t want that part …’

  ‘Oh, that doesn’t matter any more …’

  ‘It doesn’t?’

  ‘No. It’s not important.’

  ‘Not important? But I thought you’d be so mad at me.’

  ‘I was proud of you, baby. You stood up there and you said it from the heart.’

  ‘I did?’

  ‘For once I could see a little bit of me in you.’

  ‘Now look, Mum …’

  ‘No, it’s OK, Holly. I’m not going to force you into doing anything you don’t want. That’s all going to change. When I found you weren’t there I just felt so …’ Mum pauses for a beat. ‘So alone.’

  ‘You, alone, Mum! But you’re always surrounded by people.’

  ‘People I pay. People who are fans. People who want Kandhi the singer. I don’t have a single person who would pass the time of day with me if I wasn’t who I am. Holly, if you don’t care about me, nobody does.’