by Will Davis
The snake’s head is pointed downwards. Steeling myself, ever so slowly I reach out and let Gunther place my hand over the meaty centre of its body. Stars twinkle at the corners of my eyes, but I’m surprised to find the snake doesn’t feel like I expected it to. It’s not slimy, but solid and heavy. Real. Maybe I actually can do this, I think. Maybe I actually can take the snake – and if I can, then maybe I can do other things as well.
Gunther transfers the rest of the snake’s weight into my arms. Just then the snake raises its head. It’s just inches away from my face. Little black beads look right into my eyes as if it’s seeing everything there is to see inside me. Then it opens its mouth to reveal two long fangs, devilishly pointed and sharp. It gapes at me. Behind the fangs is an endless red tunnel. I can’t move. I’m hypnotised. Everything starts to glitter. Then it all goes black.
I open my eyes to see all these faces looking down at me. At first I think I’ve travelled back in time, slipped through some hole in reality and ended up back in the Tube station that first day after I auditioned when I blacked out and Jack carried me out of the train onto the platform. I wish I had gone back in time, because then Jack would still be here, reachable and touchable, and somehow I’d think of a way to make him stay. But I’m still in the present, still in the studio, and the faces looking down at me are the make-up artist’s and the guy with the bad skin.
‘She’s okay!’ I hear Bradford snapping huffily to someone in the background. ‘Just give her some water and get the next one in, would you? We’ve only got this space till five.’
The clapper helps me to sit up. A few feet away Gunther is cradling the snake in his arms, rocking it gently back and forth. ‘Aw,’ he’s cooing. ‘Did Sweetie get a nasty knock from that silly girlie when she yawned?’
‘Cor,’ breathes the guy. ‘You went down like a brick!’
He grins and gives me a pat on the back, like he’s congratulating me for fainting so successfully. I smile weakly at him and a bubble of laughter escapes me. I feel dizzy and sick, but also strangely in control. Like suddenly I understand what the score is. I don’t know what I’m doing here on this video shoot, taking part in a contest and driving myself crazy to be in some band when it’s not what I want. What I want isn’t in this competition, it’s somewhere out there, moving further and further away from me the longer I remain. Maybe I did slip through some kind of hole in reality after all, because suddenly I know what I have to do. It’s clear as day. Jack: I have to find him.
‘I can’t believe I’m still here. That I’m still in the running and I really got a chance at being the next Purrfect girl. But I tell you something – I ain’t come this far for nothing. There’s gonna be no more pussying around from this bitch cos from now on she’s in this to win.’
Basically what we want to know is if there is any truth to it, goes Emma. She’s got her arms folded and has this teachery face on like she’s disappointed in me, as if I’ve cheated in a test or something. Back when I was at school that was the only look you ever got off teachers. Ain’t no wonder most of me class all left or else got knocked up stead of hanging around to be disapproved of for another two years.
A yes or no answer, agrees Joe, giving the camera this quick look like he wants to make sure this is totally clear. Whatever you say we’ll believe you, but either way we have to know.
I’m in the special panel room again, this time cos they’ve been getting letters complaining how I shouldn’t be on the programme no more cos I set a bad example to girls across the country and stuff like that. The letters are all laid out across the table between them and me. I can read a few and they ain’t pretty. There’s this one near me elbow which says I oughta be slapped silly for what I done, which is pretty fucking ironic when you think about it. All this cos of that fucking tart going to some paper and telling it I kicked the shit out of her. She’d better take cover if she ever sees me coming, cos next time I see her I’m gonna show her what it means to have the shit kicked out of you and that’s a fact.
There ain’t no truth to any of it, I say clear as I can.
Tess is doing her thing of not saying a word, just staring at me through her flashy glasses like I’m a smelly piece of shit with arms and legs. The other two I reckon I could talk round, tell them the whole story about Shea and how she fucked Davy behind me back and get some sympathy off them about it. But not this Tess. Asking for sympathy off her would be like asking them to throw in a foot massage while they does your smear. And cos she’s here being all official and shit, the other two reckon they’ve got to take it just as serious so they don’t look like they don’t care. Those cameras make prossies out of everyone – that’s something I’ve really come to notice.
Okay, says Joe, if that’s your story, then that’s what we’ll go with.
I grit me teeth. So much for just believing whatever I say.
It ain’t me story, I say, trying not to get angry cos this is obviously one of those situations where that ain’t gonna help. It’s the truth, and I ain’t gotta justify it.
Well, that’s good enough for me, declares Emma, giving me a big smile and shrugging like that’s all there is to it. But there’s this look in her eyes which says to me that really it ain’t.
Great, says Joe, not sounding like he thinks it’s great at all. Thanks for talking to us, Joni. You understand why we had to take this seriously. No matter who it’s from, an allegation is an allegation, and we can’t have somebody who uses violence in the band.
If that cunt Shea’s gone and ruined me chances of getting into Purrfect I’m gonna hunt her down like a fucking dog. Joe nods his head like that’s all he wants off me so I start to stand up. Of course now that bitch Tess clears her throat and decides to do some cross-interrogation.
Just one thing, Joni, she goes in this superior voice, like she’s so smart sometimes she just makes herself cum. Why do you think this girl made the allegation? What would be in it for her?
She’s nothing but a slag who wants attention! I say before I can stop meself. I don’t even know her hardly!
But living on a council estate you must see plenty of roughness, continues the rhino-faced bitch. You must see fights all the time. It’s a way of life, isn’t it? I bet everyone gets drawn in now and then?
Could you try just a little not to stereotype? goes Joe, making this wincing face at the camera.
I grew up on an estate, too! Tess snarls, making Joe and Emma jump almost a whole foot in the air. I know just what it’s like and that’s why I’m trying to give her the opportunity to explain herself in case there’re anymore little stories hidden away! This is one of our Purrfect potentials! If we put her in the band then we don’t want to have anymore nasty surprises, do we?
She heaves this sigh like she’s passing real bad wind through her lips, then sticks her hand over her eyes like the effort of trying to talk with all us idiots has given her a migraine. There’s a bit of silence while everyone just looks uncomfortable and don’t know what to say.
It ain’t true, I say. That Shea is just jealous of me, that’s all.
Nobody says anything for a minute, then finally Tess drops her hand and gives off another deep mouth-fart.
I hope for your sake that’s all it is, she goes.
In the corridor outside I find I’m totally shaking from what just happened. I take a minute to try and compose meself, taking a long deep breath and holding it in. I ain’t gonna let it spoil me mood, I tell meself, cos today is the day I’m getting to see Baby and I could hardly sleep last night for thinking about it. I’ve missed him so much it’s like I’ve been carrying around this bleeding wound inside. When I called up Mum and told her she could come and visit she burst into tears and started going on about how proud she was of me, and before you knew it I was in fucking fountains too. But I gotta be careful. She’s bringing him as me little brother and I got to make sure that’s what everyone thinks he is.
I let out me breath and turn to go and do some practising
of me song for this week. I’m doing ‘Confide in Me’ by Kylie, which is a good one except it goes way too high and I have to practically fucking scream to hit the last notes.
I look up and see Ella standing there, all pale and washed out, but still looking pretty as anything, of course. On Sunday I could of sworn she was going after she fucked up our duet. Couldn’t have done it worse if she’d tried, and made me look like a twat in the process. Afterwards, when we had to face the judges, I took hold of her hand and gave it a good hard squeeze, which was meant to be my way of saying goodbye. Didn’t think I’d be seeing her again. But somehow the silly bag of nerves just keeps clinging on, even when it looks like a sure thing she’s out. I’d swear it’s almost like somebody up there is watching out for her and jinxing it for the rest of us.
Hello Joni, she goes. Her voice is all high, even more than it usually is, and her eyes are bloodshot like she ain’t slept for a week. On anyone else of course this’d look freaky, but on her it just seems like the latest look from some magazine.
All right? I go. Shouldn’t you be rehearsing your song?
No, she says simply. There’s no more rehearsing for me.
She gives me this smile and I tell you it’s like the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, the sort of smile Jesus on the cross probably gave them Romans right before they stuck a spear in his scrotum.
I’ve decided to drop out. I was on my way to tell them.
What’re you talking about? I say, though something inside clicks and I get this sudden suspicion I might know.
I’ve got to find him, Joni, she goes, suddenly sounding all desperate. I’ve got to find Jack and talk to him. I only entered this competition so he’d be able to see me. But now he’s left and no one knows where he is!
Okay, let’s just think about this, I say slowly, trying to buy some time while I figure out a way to talk her out of it. I might of known it would be about that fucking perv of a step-dad. I’m about to start on about how this is a chance of a lifetime and it don’t come knocking twice, but then I take another look at her face and I think, Why bother? This girl is a fruit loop. Since day one I been doing me best to take care of her, like she was me little sister or something, but at the end of the day what she is really is competition – just competition all trussed up like a blonde Bambi who faints a lot. But we’re getting closer and closer to the finish line and even though it don’t seem like she should have a shot in hell of getting it, the way things have been going you can’t never be too sure. So why not let the dappy bitch go right ahead and dig her own grave if that’s what she wants to do? It ain’t like I ain’t tried with her.
There’s nothing to think about, she goes, still smiling like a fucking saint. I’ve made up my mind. I’m not meant to be in Purrfect, Joni. Someone like you is. Someone stronger and better. I should just be happy that I got this far.
Well, I go, if that’s really how you feel . . .
Suddenly Ella lurches at me. For a second I think she’s attacking me, like maybe she’s flipped out and gone psycho. But then she spreads out her arms and wraps them round me in this choke hold of a hug. I put me arms around her too and wait for a big wet patch to spread down me back. But she don’t start bawling. Instead she pulls away and gives me a last nod, like she’s blessing me, then turns and knocks on the door to the panel’s room. There’s a pause and then Tess’s voice goes Yes? like the voice of death, and Ella pushes it open and goes inside.
I feel sort of weird about it, but it’s too late to do anything now so I go to the studio to practise. I don’t see Ella again all morning and I feel bad about not trying to talk her out of it. But I can’t dwell on that, not when I’m almost ready to pop a blood vessel at the prospect of seeing Mum and Baby again. I can’t believe it’s been nearly three weeks since I left home. Feels like a fucking lifetime. I keep going to the front door to check and see if any cars have pulled up, but all there ever is out there is that stupid security blockhead, marching around with his massive fat tummy. Finally I give up and decide to stay in the studio and either get the song down or else die till they get here.
I’m in the middle of screeching ‘Confide in Me’ at the top of me lungs when I hear a voice say me name all quietly from behind. I turn round and see Mum standing at the door with Baby in a pushchair. She’s wearing her smart jeans and a new lacy pink top with ribbon over the cleavage, and Baby’s in his blue dungarees and has got a red balloon in his little hand with Good Luck written in a heart on it. I stop singing and stare at them. It’s funny how people look different when you don’t see them for a bit. You suddenly notice all these little things about them that make up what they look like. I notice Mum’s long neck and her cheekbones, which she’s always been so proud of cos she reckons they’re why stars pay to have silicone implants in their faces, but which sure as hell don’t look so pretty first thing in the morning after a night on the razz. I notice her brown eyes, which I’ve always thought would suit her better if they was blue like mine, only now I’m glad they’re brown and I can’t believe I ever wished they was anything different. And as for Baby, I look at him and it’s like the first time I saw him after they snipped the cord and asked me if I wanted to hold him. I was practically half-dead from all the pushing and said did I look like I was in the mood for holding a fucking baby? But of course when they put him in your arms that all goes out of your head and it seems like it was worth it after all. I look at him now with his tiny little fist all wrapped round the string to the balloon and I suddenly get this flash that what I’m doing is for him. It’s funny though, cos I’d almost forgot.
Mum, I say, feeling weak all of a sudden.
With a little scream we rush towards each other, and I hug her and then reach down to lift Baby up. He does a gurgle and these little bubbles of spit appear out his mouth. Mum tries to say something but ends up starting to cry instead.
Oh Mum, I say, you wouldn’t believe how good it is to see you!
You make me so proud! Mum manages through her fountains. Watching you on TV with all the girls round at ours and knowing you’re me daughter . . .
I give her a kiss on the cheek and start dancing about with Baby, doing the aeroplane with him, making him giggle. It’s always been one of his favourite games. I sweep him around holding on to just one leg and arm. Mum’s always telling me off for doing it cos she says it’ll make him longer on one side than the other when he grows up, but Baby fucking loves it. Sure enough he starts to giggle away, and it’s the cutest thing ever.
How’s my little one been? I go. How’s my Baby waby—
Suddenly I stop dead, cos I’ve just remembered about the camera. It’s there, of course, in the doorway, always pointed at you, always recording. Can’t have anyone twig Baby’s me own kid, not after what the panel said to me cos of that fucking Shea. Ain’t gonna ruin this, not now I’m so close.
Yuck! I go, letting out a little scream. He just drooled on me!
I shove Baby into Mum’s arms with a disgusted face and start patting meself down. Mum looks a bit surprised but she takes him. I try not to look at Baby’s face, cos I know if I do them big brown eyes of his’ll break me heart. This is for you, Baby, I try to tell him in me head. One day you’ll understand.
We have a seat over in the corner and while she bounces Baby up and down on her knees Mum fills me in on the gossip back home. People’ve been making lots of bets about me getting into Purrfect down at the local, she says. The highest one is five hundred pounds, if you can believe it. No pressure there! Meanwhile Fat Carol’s been told she’s morbidly obese, which is hardly newsworthy, only they’ve said that if she don’t shift some of that lard her heart could be in danger. I ask about Wend and about Davy, but Mum says she ain’t seen them and changes the subject real quick, telling me about this Italian fella she’s got her eye on who just started working at Domino’s. I tell her not to bother with him cos he’s sure to be a bastard, since all the men Mum ever fancies are. Mum laughs and says it’s true, which a
in’t like her since she’s usually right touchy when it comes to the subject of men. I get the feeling she’s keeping something back. In between bouncing Baby she keeps glancing at the camera and doing this flickering thing with her left eye. At first I thought it was just nicotine cravings, since if Mum goes for more than twenty minutes without a fag she starts twitching away like a weirdo. But then I remember it’s also what she does when she’s nervous cos of something.
Here, I go after a bit, looks like Baby needs changing!
Mum holds Baby up all confused and sniffs him, but before she can say something I grab her arm and start guiding her over to the door.
I’ll show you where the loo is, I say, and drag her out into the corridor. I pull her up the stairs, trailed all the way by the camera. When we get to the bathroom I close the door on it, going in this jokey way, Oi you can’t come in here, this is ladies only! Then I turn round to face Mum with me arms folded.
Well? I go.
He don’t need changing, she says.
Never mind that, I hiss. What the fuck is going on?
I dunno what you’re talking about, she goes, all innocent. But the thing about Mum is that when she tries to lie she just makes it more obvious than ever she ain’t telling the truth. She’d make a rubbish crim. I cock me head to one side and give her this look. She gets it.
Oh Joni . . . I wasn’t gonna tell you. There ain’t nothing you can do about it in here, and I’ve been going round telling everyone it’s a pack of lies so you shouldn’t worry!
What is it? I practically roar at her.
It’s that Wend, goes Mum, holding Baby out in front of her like a shield as if she reckons I’m gonna run at her. She’s been spreading some awful nasty gossip about you.
What gossip? I say, all dumbfounded. Wend wouldn’t do that!
Stuff like how you ripped her dress at the auditions so they’d pick you instead of her. And that you’ve always been a bully. It was her who first started saying you smacked that Shea round when she was doing your Davy.