by Jemma Forte
‘I wouldn’t quite say that,’ Matthew replies. ‘After med school I specialised in oncology because I want to help fix people, and very often we do. I still find cases such as Ray’s tough but it’s my job to make things easier for the patient. And today I’m here as a friend more than anything. He’s a cool guy, your dad.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, flashing him a watery but grateful smile. What he did every day was humbling.
‘Shall we go back?’ Matthew asks suddenly. ‘I think your boyfriend’s trying to get your attention.’
‘Boyfriend?’ I say, feeling baffled. I wasn’t aware I had one of those. I glance over at everyone, trying to ascertain who Matthew’s referring to and am horrified to see Andy waving a chubby arm at me, signalling to me that I’m missing out on Mum’s picnic, which she’s just finished spreading out. I’m furious and flap at him to try and get him to stop waving at me. Why does the fat pig have to assume everyone else has a rampant appetite like him?
‘Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,’ I protest, but it’s too late, Matthew’s already making his way back over to the group. I follow him, feeling mortified. I don’t want anyone mistaking Billy Bunter for my boyfriend but it feels especially important that he doesn’t. He’s so nice and so attractive. I can’t help but think I wish I’d met him under different circumstances.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘Do you want a little drinkie?’ asks Mum as I approach.
I shake my head.
‘How about you my angel?’ she says to Hayley. ‘Can I get you something to lubricate your throat?’
‘Oi, what do you think she’s going to be doing in there?’ quips Gary, guffawing heartily at his own wit.
Mum laughs weakly but looks grossed out. Pete frowns and my brow furrows so deeply it won’t be long before Botox becomes something to seriously consider. Martin grins inanely but checks himself when he sees Mum’s disapproving face. Andy, however, has the nerve to high five Gary.
‘Good one mate.’
‘I meant do you want a drinkie Hayls?’ tries Mum again.
‘No,’ Hayley snaps. ‘I’m not hungry and I’m not thirsty either. If I want something I’ll ask.’
‘Fair enough,’ says Mum, making a face at Martin as if to say ‘Ooh! somebody’s grumpy’.
‘To be fair, I know how Hayley feels,’ says Martin, ever the peacemaker. ‘It’s a nervy business.’
‘Do you know what?’ says Mum, taking a break for a second from opening packets of stuff no one really wants. ‘I’m actually not nervous. Can you believe that?’
‘Well yeah,’ growls Ray good-humouredly. ‘Given that you ain’t the one about to do the bleedin’ singing.’
‘Don’t be such a bastardo you,’ says Mum wryly and for a second I think she might actually be flirting. ‘No, what I mean is, that I’m not nervous because Hayls is gonna knock ‘em dead. I know she is. It’s her destiny.’
I despair.
‘Give her a chance Mum,’ I feel compelled to say. ‘Don’t you think comments like that put the pressure on?’
Hayley gives me an uncertain smile.
‘Here here,’ agrees Dad. ‘Leave the poor girl be and let her do her thing.’
I wait for Mum to rebuff him as she most certainly would if Martin had dared to say such a thing, but she doesn’t. She tuts loudly, but it’s not very convincing. I almost burst out laughing when I clock Martin’s face. He looks genuinely amazed that his wife hasn’t put her ex in his place.
‘Well,’ interjects Andy, in his Australian drawl. ‘If none of you are going to get started on Alli’s amazing picnic, I’m going to have to do the honours. Be rude not to,’ he adds, reaching out a paw for a sausage roll.
Inside I scream.
‘I’ll join you mate,’ says Gary, looking up from his iPhone for the first time since we arrived.
I look at Pete. He’s the only other person in the group – apart from myself – who obviously gets that this entire farce is madness. He’s also, and bizarrely this seems to include Ray, probably the only other person who’d rather be anywhere else right now. Afghanistan, a Turkish prison, anywhere.
We sit for hours and hours with nothing much happening. At this rate I’m starting to wonder whether I’ll be late for my date with Teresa this evening, so I text her to let her know what I’m doing. She texts back telling me to keep her posted.
It grows increasingly obvious that not everyone who has turned up today is going to be honoured with an appearance in front of the judges. There are simply too many thousands of people for that to be possible. However, after a lot of time spent scrutinising the people who do seem to be getting picked out by the researchers, I quickly figure out that they are looking for one of three things: the talented, the untalented, and the quirky – the freaks of nature. Anyone who’s simply average isn’t cutting it.
By four o’clock Mum’s snacks are running low, largely thanks to Andy and Gary, although severe boredom means we’ve all tucked in a bit. Then finally, just as I’m starting to think the whole day might have been a complete and utter waste of time, a researcher who is looking for people to film with here in the holding room spots our group and suddenly looks like all his Christmases have come at once.
‘Wow, so which one of you guys is here to audition?’
‘I am,’ says Hayley coyly, deciding it might be time to slip off the light raincoat she’s been wearing all day. The researcher’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. I don’t blame him. Her outfit is extraordinary and in an entirely reflex action I spin round to see whether Matthew’s noticed. He has. Of course he bloody has.
Underneath her mac, Hayley’s wearing a minuscule, navy, polka dot playsuit, which is very figure hugging and shows off her long legs. Often, Hayley has the tendency to look a bit tarty, but actually this outfit has quite a 1940s look about it and shows off a tantalising amount of boob as opposed to a scary amount. She looks a knockout and, now that I can see what she’s wearing, her make-up and hair suddenly make sense.
I glance at Dad, who looks like he’d like her to put her coat back on. Gary’s drooling, Andy’s jaw is dragging on the floor and Matthew is trying not to look but failing. Personally, I’m with Dad. I’d like her to cover herself up immediately. Meanwhile, Mum has her hands clasped together at her chest, looking so proud she might explode. Once again I momentarily experience something that feels a lot like jealousy. Still, I should be used to it by now. Just when you think Hayley can’t look any better she pulls something like this out of the bag.
‘And this is your family?’ asks the researcher.
‘Yeah,’ says Hayley. ‘They’re all here to support me. This is my Mum, Alison.’
‘Hello darlin’,’ she says bounding forward, her set and curled hair bouncing with her. ‘I can tell you now you’ll be glad you’ve spotted my Hayls. She’s a star in the making. In fact, you’re probably looking at the Christmas number one right now.’
‘Brilliant,’ says the researcher, looking decidedly unmoved by her proclamation and far more interested in Hayley’s cleavage. ‘So, who’s everyone else?’
‘This is my sister,’ says Hayley, turning on the charm so much I hardly recognise her. ‘This is my husband …’
The researcher looks noticeably disappointed.
‘… this is my stepdad Martin, and this is my Dad …’
‘Your Dad?’ he says and I swear his eyes light up as he detects a fantastic sob story unfolding before his eyes, which are very unsubtly taking in Dad’s wheelchair. ‘Wow, well hi guys. Listen, if you don’t mind I’d love to take Hayley off for a second and have a quick chat, and in the meantime perhaps our crew could do a bit of filming with you guys?’
‘That sounds brilliant,’ squeals Mum. ‘Ooh Martin, you ready for your close up babes? Oh my god, what is Sheena going to say about this, eh? Finally I won’t have to hear her going on about being on Deal or No Deal any more.’
‘OK …’ says the researcher.
‘She didn’t win
much anyway. Silly moo got greedy.’
‘Right … well I’m James and ah, perfect timing. This is Rick, one of our cameramen. Rick if you could film all these guys please.’
‘I don’t want to be filmed,’ I announce, suddenly feeling panicky again. If I was here with an incredible singer I might be keener, but I can feel a car crash coming on and quite frankly I want no part of it.
‘OK,’ says James, not remotely bothered that I won’t be featuring. ‘And of course anyone who is up for being filmed must sign one of these release forms.’
Mum practically wrenches them out of his hands. ‘Oh don’t listen to old misery guts there,’ she says frowning at me. ‘We’ll sign whatever you like, won’t we Mar?’
‘Absolutely,’ he agrees.
‘Totally,’ says Andy, who’s wiping clean the inside of a crisp packet with his finger. To my disgust he sucks the crumbs off his finger then starts poking around in the picnic debris, to see whether there’s anything left to demolish.
‘I’m not going on,’ states Pete.
‘Fine,’ says the researcher and I feel an unusual pang of empathy for my brother. Good for him.
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll step out too,’ says Matthew.
‘Right, stop mucking about you lot and let’s get on with it,’ says Mum.
I can’t watch, so as Rick and a soundman prepare to film Mum, Martin, Andy, Dad and Gary’s televisual debuts, I wander off to find a bathroom.
By the time I come back it’s all over – I took my time – and Hayley, who has rejoined us, isn’t looking nervous any more but dangerously puffed up and cocky.
‘Oh my god Marianne, James said he’s never heard a voice like it and that I’m definitely going to be seen by the judges. He slipped me his phone number as well,’ she adds in a whisper, so Gary can’t hear. ‘Not that I’d ever do anything obviously, but if he fancies me it might be useful, don’t you reckon?’
‘Er … yeah. Brilliant,’ I say lightly. Have I been naïve all this time? Maybe Hayley will get through purely on the strength of how outstandingly gorgeous she looks. I do want her to do well, I’m not that mean, but musically speaking it’s enough to trigger depression, it really is.
Still, I meant what I said. I want my sister to do well, so when a few minutes later they come to fetch us to take us through to yet another holding area I find myself crossing my fingers.
Mum’s beside herself. ‘Oh my god I might wet myself.’
‘Nice,’ remarks Ray and she actually giggles.
‘Shut up Raymondo.’
I exchange gobsmacked looks, first with Hayley and then with Martin, who clears his throat loudly in order to get his wife’s attention and to make it clear he doesn’t approve of her flirting.
‘Oh stop it you, love of my life,’ she says dismissively. ‘I just don’t see why we shouldn’t all try and get on that’s all. Make an effort for the girls.’
‘S’pose you’re right,’ says Martin bravely, refusing to look in Ray’s direction.
‘Thanks Alli,’ says Ray before giving her a cheeky wink.
Mum’s face immediately drops into a frown of pointed disapproval but as she looks away I can see that she’s blushing madly. It’s bizarre and makes for uncomfortable viewing and yet in that moment I know that things between my parents will be amicable enough from now on. For that I’m pleased.
Glad to be out of the grim holding area we troop down the passages of the arena, Hayley marching ahead, a woman on a mission, Gary beside her like a bouncer. Mum and Martin are scuttling along behind them, then Matthew’s pushing Ray along and finally bringing up the rear is Andy, then me and then Pete. At one point, Andy, who’s panting from the exertion of walking, turns and grins, but I just look back at him as if to say ‘What do you want? Who are you? Why are you here?’ He gets the hint and looks away again, his face a bit shifty.
‘OK, here we are then,’ says James the researcher, fiddling around with his headset. By now we’ve reached another room, not dissimilar to the first one and yet our excitement levels go up a notch because this is clearly where stuff is actually happening. The people in here are definitely going to be seen by the judges and there’s a large telly showing us exactly what’s going on in that inner sanctum. More interestingly than that, standing by the screen being filmed is the presenter of the show, Sy Lovejoy.
I look at Hayley, trying to catch her eye, but she’s retreated into a world of her own. I don’t blame her. What she’s about to do is simply terrifying and the reality far removed from the experience of watching it all unfold from your living room. Still, I have to hand it to her, she looks impressively focused and poised.
Unlike Mum.
‘Bloody hell Martin, we’re only here lovey,’ she shrieks, looking demented and gripping his arm so tight it makes his eyes water. ‘I can’t believe it. It’s like a dream come true. I’m so excited I could do a little whoopsie truth be known. Oh get me, what am I like, eh? AaaaEEh!’
This last noise is precisely that, just a noise. Proper reasoning has deserted her. She seriously needs to calm down.
‘Right,’ says James, smiling faintly at my strange mother. ‘So, Hayley’s going to go on next if that’s all right, and what we’ll do is have you guys round here, watching on a monitor. Ah, here’s someone I’d like to introduce you to who I think you might be familiar with. This is Sy Lovejoy, our presenter.’
‘Aaaaah,’ screams Mum again, like a teenage groupie. ‘Oh my days. It’s Sy. Hello my darling, I’m Alli. Oh aren’t you handsome,’ she says clutching her chest. ‘And tiny too, like a little diddy man. Honestly, I could gobble you up.’
‘Mum,’ snaps Hayley incredulously.
Gary sniggers at the word gobble.
Thankfully Sy Lovejoy, who’s more handsome in the flesh than he is on TV, takes Mum’s hysteria completely in his stride. ‘Thanks for that, Alli was it? It’s lovely to meet you all. Is this all your family then?’
‘Yes, they’re all my little chickens,’ she says ludicrously. ‘Well except him,’ she says, gesturing behind her towards Ray, rolling her eyes to the heavens. ‘He’s my ex. Oh, and that lovely young man with him is his nurse. And this is Andy, who isn’t mine either, but is like part of the family really, aren’t you babes?’
‘Oh yeah,’ confirms Andy confidently.
‘And this,’ says Mum, sweeping her arms out as if announcing royalty, ‘Is my Hayley, who, between you and me Sy, is probably going to win.’
‘Oh wow,’ says Sy cheerfully. ‘Well let me be the first to congratulate you then.’
‘She’s my wife,’ states Gary territorially, apropos of nothing. It’s a strange thing to suddenly come out with and doesn’t exactly invite any more chit-chat.
There follows an awkward silence during which I look around at my family wondering what the hell Sy must be thinking. As it is, luckily for us all, someone’s started talking to him in his earpiece anyway. He puts a polite hand up in order to excuse himself so he can listen to his instructions from whoever’s talking to him.
‘Well that was embarrassing,’ I say to Mum.
‘Why? Because you didn’t say anything?’ she replies in all seriousness.
The next thing I know, whoever’s on before Hayley is about to start. We watch on the screen as the man introduces himself to the judges. It’s really odd seeing them all on the screen as we have done hundreds of times before, yet knowing they’re only metres away.
The contestant is a man in his mid-forties called John, who turns out to be a pretty amazing singer. He works in telesales but sings in clubs at the weekend. He’s got a deep, soulful baritone and the judges’ only real criticism is that he sounds like a club singer – funny that. Still, everyone with the exception of Julian Hayes gives him a yes, which is enough to put him through to the next round. As John leaves the room he punches the air, and the next thing I know he’s walking past us and being leapt on by his proud waiting family.
‘Why did they put him thro
ugh? He was rubbish,’ Mum keeps mouthing at us all, which isn’t true and is also very rude. I glare at her and at one point catch Matthew’s eye. I roll my eyes at him, trying to convey ‘I honestly don’t know how I came to be related to such a nutbag’ but he remains politely diplomatic. I’m terribly conscious of what he must think of us all but realise I should probably stop staring at him every five seconds or he might decide I’m the oddest one of the bunch.
And so it is that I drag my eyes away and glance over towards Dad and the others instead. It’s weird. I keep fully expecting Dad to be irritated by Mum, but instead he seems to view her antics as highly entertaining, and even now is quietly chuckling away to himself while she leaps about in front of him. In a moment of clarity I realise Mum amuses him, probably always did.
James, the researcher, approaches us again. ‘OK, if anyone who hasn’t signed a release form wouldn’t mind waiting somewhere else because Hayley’s on next and we’re going to film you guys and your reactions while you watch her performance.’
‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god …’ Mum squeals ad infinitum as Pete, Matthew and I are shunted out of shot. Fortunately, we’re allowed to remain only feet away. I’m relieved. I would hate to miss the action.
‘He seemed pretty nice,’ says Matthew as the three of us wait nervously for Hayley’s turn.
‘Who? Sy?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yeah he did,’ I agree. ‘Sorry about Mum by the way. She can be a bit much sometimes but she means well.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he grins. ‘She’s cool.’
‘Mm, cool,’ I muse drily. ‘If you say so, although I’m not necessarily sure that’s the first adjective that springs to mind. Not that I have the right to say absolutely anything obviously, given that from time to time I dress as a clown.’
‘But that really is cool,’ says Matthew. ‘It’s brilliant, and I bet you’re fantastic at entertaining the kids.’
He’s so nice. Even if his definition of what’s ‘cool’ and ‘brilliant’ are a bit warped.