by Will Davis
‘Well,’ says Michelle, not loosening her hold on Stina. ‘Isn’t tonight just the perfect occasion?’
She looks meaningfully over at Purrfect. Even in this situation it’s hard for me to look at them and stay calm, because no matter how terrified they are they still all manage to look sexy, glamorous and self-assured, as if they’d just stepped out of the stylist’s when in actual fact they’ve been sitting there in a hot auditorium watching the show all evening. They shoot each other lightning-fast looks, and I can tell they’re transmitting messages with these looks, like a special language that only girls who have bonded over and over and gone through trial after trial and triumphed again and again can share.
There’s a long silence, during which no one dares to say anything. Amazingly the entire audience sits watching, like they think this is just another performance. It’s not though. That look on Michelle’s face, it’s not the look of a performer. It’s the look of a crazy person.
As ever, it’s Monique who speaks. She leans forward, her expression fierce and brave. She looks like a warrior princess, ready to defend her girls to the death, as she takes a deep breath and says: ‘Look, miss, don’t hurt anyone. Just tell us what you want.’
Michelle licks her lips, really slowly, as if savouring the fear in Monique’s voice. It’s only as she does so that I put two and two together and realise it must have been her who sent the threats and chopped up the pigeon and ripped up our costumes, not that punk with the spray paint. All along it was misery-guts Michelle. The realisation that all this time we’ve been herded back and forth from the house to the studio and looked after by a psychopath sends a shiver down my spine. I’m glad I’m safely over here out of the light in the darkened wing, where there’s no way she’s going to take a shot at me.
Is she going to shoot at Purrfect?
I notice that the camera guy on the crane has been drifting closer and closer to her since she’s been standing there. He’s almost as close as Riana is. Michelle suddenly turns to face him for a second and the guy stops moving abruptly. But he doesn’t stop filming. I suppose so long as she doesn’t shoot him this must be great for his career. Then, to my surprise, Michelle nods at him, jerking Stina up and down with the movement. Then she turns back to Purrfect.
‘I’m not interested in you,’ she says abruptly. Monique jumps backwards in her seat like she’s just been bitten. ‘My issue is with the dog at the top.’
At first I don’t know what she’s talking about, but then I figure it out. Everyone in the place is turning to look at one person. On either side of Tess Joe and Emma draw back, like they’re trying to disassociate themselves from her. You can’t blame them, really. But incredibly Tess doesn’t even seem surprised. Instead she calmly returns Michelle’s gaze and pushes her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose.
‘Okay,’ she says. ‘In that case let me repeat: what is this about, Michelle?’
She sounds completely unfazed, as if this kind of thing happens to her all the time. No matter how much I hate her, I can’t help but admire the woman. She’s got nerves of steel.
‘It’s about you,’ replies Michelle, in a voice just as calm. ‘It’s about the sins you’ve committed. The lives you’ve damaged. The dreams you’ve killed. It’s about ridding the world of evil in order to make it a better place. Does that answer your question?’
A murmur ripples out across the audience and the first flicker of alarm shows on Tess’s face, only for an instant but I spy it because I’m practically an expert at interpreting her looks by now. Her furry caterpillar monobrow twitches and one side of her mouth droops slightly, like she’s just tasted something sour.
‘Well, Christ,’ she says, taking His name in vain just like people always do in high-pressure situations. ‘But I’m very sorry because I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You must have the wrong person, darling. I’m not evil. Tasteless, I’ve certainly been accused of that – but evil!’
A couple of people in the audience titter. At her use of the word ‘darling’ I half expect Michelle to simply blow her away. The words ‘Too podgy’ race through my head and I realise that somewhere beyond the pounding of my heart I might actually want her to do it a tiny little bit.
But she doesn’t. She just nods very slowly.
‘You don’t remember ruining my life, do you?’
At this everyone in the entire auditorium lets out a gasp, myself included. Even Tess is thrown. Her bug eyes widen to circles and her lips move dramatically up and down with no sound coming out as she repeats what Michelle just said to herself.
‘That’s right,’ says Michelle, this time with a dark smile, as if she’s deeply gratified by everybody’s reaction. ‘I was once one of these pathetic deluded girls, too.’
Jerking poor Stina up and down again, she gestures to Riana standing beside her.
‘Once upon a time I wanted to be in that band myself!’
Purrfect all give each other another one of their special looks, and you can’t help but get the feeling they’re imagining what it would be like to have her in the band. They’ve bunched up now and have taken each other’s hands. Tess glances at them and then looks back at Michelle.
‘And do you really think this is going to make you a star?’
You’ve got to hand it to her. The old bee is quick off the mark. I suppose that’s how she got to where she is now, by being able to think on her feet. It’s a gift, probably God’s way of making it up to her for making her so unattractive.
‘Shut up!’ snaps Michelle. ‘This isn’t about me anymore! I’ve watched you for so long, Tess. You think you’re so clever for the way you use people to get what you want, but I’ve got news for you, Tess – the world uses you! You’re just the weapon it employs, in order to strike down the innocent for its own pleasure! It’s hilarious, because you’re more exploited than anyone and you don’t even know it! You know what you are, Tess? Do you?!’
She pauses and looks around and then at the camera. You can’t help noticing what a great pause it is. She’s got everyone’s undivided attention and she’s milking it better than even a professional could. Every single one of us is holding our breath to find out what she’s going to say next – and to see what she’s going to do.
‘You’re a piece of equipment!’
She spits it out like bile. You can almost hear everyone’s heart skipping a beat. Still not one of us dares to breathe as we wait for Tess to respond. This time anyone can see the panic on her face. Two little bulges of muscle have appeared on either side of her jaw and her eyes are more bug-like than ever, as if they’re going to jump out and make a break for it any second without her. She’s beginning to crack. In a weird way I find myself wondering if she’s thinking that any second now she’s going to die and that these are her last moments of being alive. I wonder if she regrets being such a mean and awful person.
‘Michelle,’ Tess quavers, practically hyperventilating from the effort. ‘You’ve got problems, everyone can see that! But it’s no use trying to pin the blame on me! It’s a competition – that’s all! So you got stung because you didn’t get in. We’ve all been stung! You have to get over it!’
‘You can’t talk your way out of this, Tess!’ snarls Michelle. ‘All those souls you’ve destroyed and all you can say is “get over it!” What if they can’t? What if they just fucking can’t?’
‘If only I could blame someone for all the times I’ve been put down!’ exclaims Tess as if the whole thing was one big joke. She’s trying to sound calm and ironic about it but instead she sounds desperate and scared. ‘I’d have a list as long as my arm! But life doesn’t work like that! You have to pick yourself up and move on – that’s just how it works!’
Michelle stares at her so hard it’s almost as if she’s looking through her. The whites of her eyes are massive. It’s chilling, almost as though she’s been possessed by an evil spirit, maybe even the Devil himself.
‘Look,’ says Tess loudly
– too loudly. ‘I’m sure you don’t really want to hurt anybody. You’re obviously suffering from a terrible amount of stress. You need to talk to someone . . . Put the gun down and let Stina go, then we’ll go somewhere quiet and have a long chat. Just you and me.’
It sounds a bit hopeful. Even Tess knows it. Michelle turns back to the camera, producing yet another moan from Stina.
‘This woman is responsible for so much pain!’ she cries, looking directly into the lens. ‘So much hurt and so much hatred. She shouldn’t be alive. She needs to be freed from her own self! Everyone needs to be freed from her!’
She squeezes her eyes shut suddenly, as if she’s been overcome with pain. There’s another long period of silence in which you could hear a pin drop. Tess is really trembling now. The cellulite bunched up under her armpits wobbles back and forth like jelly. From the corners of Michelle’s eyelids tears leak and run their way down her cheeks in snail trails of silver.
‘Michelle,’ yells Tess suddenly. ‘Don’t try to make yourself out as some victim! The only person responsible for you is you! Not me! You!’
For a second I actually think her words have hit home. Michelle stops crying. It even looks like she’s stopped breathing. The hand with the gun seems to relax and I almost expect her to drop it. The security guards start to edge towards her. But then her eyes ping open again, and now she’s grinning like she’s just won some kind of award. Without warning she unhooks her arm from Stina’s neck and shoves her roughly away. Stina stumbles and trips over her heels before flopping down onto the stage, where she lies face up, slowly moving her arms and legs and feeling for the floor around her like an upturned beetle.
‘A victim!’ screams Michelle into the mic, blasting all our eardrums. ‘I’ll show you who’s the victim!’
She raises the gun, and points it at Tess.
Do it, I think. Do it.
‘You think you got rejected because I’m evil?’ cries Tess. ‘If I rejected you it was for one reason – because you didn’t have the talent! Deal with it, Michelle! Just deal with it!’
She’s actually crying herself. Big podgy tears slip down her big podgy cheeks. It’s one of the strangest sights I’ve ever seen, because not so long ago I didn’t believe she was able to cry. But there she goes, sobbing away like a massive fat baby. A massive fat baby about to die. I wait for the bang, for the shocked silence and the sight of her body slumping forward and blood spewing out of a hole in her chest.
Then Michelle suddenly turns the gun towards her own head.
‘Don’t!’ cries Riana. The idiotic bitch is obviously so desperate for attention she doesn’t even have the sense to stay out of it. Why can’t she just shut up like everyone else? ‘Don’t do it, Michelle!’
It’s too much. I pray to God to make her pull the trigger, even though I know it will be horrible and gory, because at least then it will be over.
Nothing. Riana’s shouting at her, telling her to ignore Tess because she’s stupid and obese and just not worth it. She’s saying all these awful things about Purrfect too, about how rubbish and pointless and fake they are, completely ruining her chances of ever being one of them. And yet the crazy effing bee stands completely motionless pointing the gun at her head, not saying or doing anything. She’s just staring at Tess with her mouth wide open. She looks like an absolute dork.
Then Riana is on her, grabbing at the hand with the gun and trying to prise it away. Michelle lets out a scream and starts to fight her. They fall to the stage right next to Stina, who moans and pathetically starts to crawl away. Riana’s almost twice the size of Michelle, but it seems like Michelle really has been possessed because she’s got the strength of ten men. As they struggle the gun turns away from Michelle’s head and towards Riana’s face.
Then I’m running up the steps and onto the stage myself. I’m only half aware of what I’m doing because it’s as if everything has slipped into slow motion. The security guards are running up the steps on either side too and so is a guy with a headset from the other wing. We’re all racing towards Riana and Michelle, but even as we do I know that none of us is going to make it in time. Riana is trying to turn her head out of the way of the gun but she can’t move it far enough because Michelle has rolled on top of her. Her face is strained in a way I’ve never seen it before, as if she knows what’s coming and that she can’t do anything about it. She looks frightened and suddenly I know, like I’ve had a proper epiphany, that the only thing I care about in the whole world is her.
Save her, God. If you’re truly up there then save her. Do this one thing for me and I promise I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.
There’s a great, terrible, awful bang. It deafens me. As it goes off I trip right over Stina, who I’d completely forgotten about and who was halfway across the stage and directly in my way. I stumble over her body, hearing her cry out behind me as my shoe connects with one of her beach-ball breasts. I land hard on my knees, but the pain doesn’t even register. I crawl forward into the puddle of red that’s already spreading out around Riana’s head and across the floor with sickening speed. It’s warm and sticky under my palms.
A security guard has got to them before me. He ignores Riana and focuses instead on Michelle, who’s now rolled to the side and is lying on her back facing the ceiling, completely still. He kicks the gun away from her through Riana’s blood, creating a disgusting splash. Then he grabs hold of her and she starts screaming as he yanks her up and pulls her arms behind her back.
I finally reach Riana. ‘Don’t move her,’ says the other security guard from behind me. He pulls off his jacket and folds it roughly up, pushing it against the side of her head. But it’s no good because her face is unnaturally still and expressionless. Her eyes are shut and her mouth is slack and I know she’s never going to smile again. And I know, too, that there is no God and never was.
Two medics arrive and I’m pushed away while they start doing chest compressions on Riana. It seems pointless but I stay to watch anyway. I’m suddenly aware of all this noise like I’ve never heard before, like every kind of sound is coming from every direction. It’s the audience, shouting and screaming, calls being made and explanations being demanded. I shiver. A strange hollow feeling descends over me, as if all the colour has been sucked out of the world, leaving it empty, grey and lifeless.
‘It’s okay, Louise.’
Someone is pulling me up, turning me away from Riana’s horribly still face and pressing me into their shoulder. I don’t resist. ‘That’s my daughter!’ another voice is yelling, and I know it’s Dad, trying to get through security and onto the stage – ‘Louise!’ he’s shouting, ‘I’m over here!’ but they won’t let him past, and I’m glad. I bury my head in the person’s shoulder and try to blot out his voice.
Then I look up, and that’s when I discover whose shoulder it is. Ella. Ella, the snivelling whiny cry baby who left the competition because she couldn’t hack it anymore. I pull back. After what’s just happened you’d think nothing could affect me ever again, but what I see still makes me gasp. Her cheeks are spotted with red and there’s lipstick spread across her mouth as if it had been applied by a five-year-old. Her hair is wild and tangled around her face, and tiny black hair clips are caught up in it willynilly. She’s wearing one of the costumes, only it’s half falling off her and doesn’t look like it’s been zipped up at the back. But it’s not her appearance that makes me gasp, it’s the look on her face. There’s something so unexpectedly tender about her expression that it’s almost angelic. I stare at her and as I do I feel tears spilling out down my own cheeks – tears I didn’t summon and have no control over at all.
Epilogue
The second the bell goes I ignore everyone else and race down the stairs to the common room. The window here has a pretty good view of the drive and you can follow it virtually all the way up to the fence. I can hardly keep still with excitement. All day long I couldn’t concentrate and Jackie, who I was helping with lunch becau
se it’s my turn, lost patience with me when I let the sausages burn and had a huge go at me about it.
My last visit was three weeks ago. Rita came down from London with Mimi, which was pretty nice of her since it meant taking time out of her schedule right in the middle of putting together Fascinate!’s five-year anniversary edition. I was touched, even if she did spend most of the time on the phone. The only problem was Mimi who kept asking me in a really loud voice every time we passed someone in the corridor if that person was crazy. But then to my surprise Rita snapped at her to shut up and stop being so bloody tactless, and then, to my further amazement, she apologised and said they were both looking forward to when I was coming home. She even smiled and pretended to be interested in my artwork. I decided things must be getting a bit strained now that it’s just the two of them on their own. Unfortunately this niceness didn’t last very long, because a minute later Carrie, who really is crazy, burst into the common room not wearing any skirt or panties and shrieking for Jackie because she’d gone and pissed herself again, at which point Rita suddenly remembered she had an urgent meeting back in London and whisked Mimi away. Since then she’s sent me several short, blunt emails, which all say the same thing: that she and Mimi miss me, that she’s snowed under, and that she hopes I feel better soon.
When I first got here I thought my life was over. Despite what Rita said about how wonderful it was supposed to be and what great success they have with their ‘special students’, I could tell she was thinking it too. It didn’t come as a surprise to me that I was being shut up with a bunch of loons, or that everyone thought I was one, it just made me feel sad, that’s all. I couldn’t help wondering how Daddy would feel if he knew this was where I’d ended up. But then I settled in and got to know some of the others, and I started to see that it wasn’t the end at all. In fact it’s the complete opposite. Obviously everyone here has their problems, like Carrie and her incontinence, or Susan and her hysterical outbreaks, or Naomi and her urges to set fire to things. But essentially everyone here is normal underneath, they’ve just got stuff going on that they need to sort out before they’re ready to be with the rest of the world. It’s like Holly, my counsellor, keeps telling me: this is about rehabilitation and not giving up on people.