“Well, it’s obvious really—you know Sean doesn’t fancy me because he fancies you! All you have to do is tell Danny and then everything will be fine. He can be all humble and apologise to me, I can be all gracious and forgive him and we can get back to normal again.” Anne-Marie’s smile froze on her lips.
“Except that Sean doesn’t fancy me,” she said, tossing her blonde curls back over her shoulder as she said it.
“He does!” I said. “It’s obvious!”
Anne Marie shook her head.
“He doesn’t fancy me and I don’t fancy him either, actually.” I looked hard at Anne-Marie. It was obvious that she was lying, but I knew what had happened: she had told Sean she liked him and he had ever so politely and sweetly told her he wasn’t interested. He probably told her that he couldn’t have a girlfriend; he was never in one place long enough. And even though he must have let her down ever so gently judging by how well they were getting on when I came back, Anne-Marie didn’t want me to know. I suppose I couldn’t blame her.
“Oh,” I said. “OK.”
“And anyway, you shouldn’t have to prove to Danny that Sean is with someone else so that he’ll believe you,” Anne-Marie said, getting quite fiery. “He should just believe you! But then again I suppose boys do sometimes need things spelling out for them, don’t they?” She nodded decisively. “Danny needs a good talking to and I’m going to give it to him and make him see that he’s wrong.”
“Danny isn’t good at being wrong,” I said hesitantly.
“Yeah, well,” Anne-Marie said, lifting her chin a little, “I’m worse.”
“And what about Nydia?” I said. “I’m worried about her.”
“Why?” Anne-Marie asked me crossly, not knowing, I supposed, about why Nydia was acting so strangely. “She’s got nothing to be so miserable about. She’s got a part on TV—that’s more than most of us. She’s just totally overreacting to you getting this part, and if anybody should be jealous and bitter it’s me, not her! I’m really surprised by how she’s being with me as well as you. I’m a bit cross actually.” Anne-Marie drummed her forefinger on the table top to make her point.
“Still,” I said carefully, “will you talk to her gently to see how she is—just in case it’s something else that’s upsetting her? She won’t answer my calls.”
“OK, I will, I suppose,” Anne-Marie said, with a theatrical sigh. “I do quite miss the old Nydia. School is a bit boring with both of you missing. I’ve got no one to torment, and at least when I’m hanging around with you two it makes me look really good.”
“Thank you, Annie,” I said.
And I gave her a hug before she could punch me.
Chapter Twenty
In the end I saw Danny before I saw Anne-Marie.
It all came as a bit of a surprise, and it happened so quickly that I hardly had time to catch my breath, and I certainly would never have guessed that things would turn out the way that they did.
The morning after my visit with Anne-Marie, Lisa interrupted Sean and me during a tuition period with Fran Francisco, who wasn’t nearly as pleased about the distraction as we were.
“Who is Sindy Torrington, Ruby?” Lisa asked me over the top of her clipboard. I frowned at her.
“Sindy Torrington,” I said with a shrug, “is or rather was Shona Mackay, a character from Aussie soap Bush Patrol, that is until her character got eaten by a crocodile and she left the show to pursue a pop career. Why?” Lisa grinned at Sean and me.
“She’s broken her leg,” she said. “Isn’t that great?”
I looked at Sean, who looked as confused as I did.
“Well, I mean, I was never a fan but…” I said uncertainly.
“She was due to present an award at the National Soap Awards, which is being broadcast live to the nation tonight!” Lisa told us excitedly, jiggling so that her beads click-clacked. Sean and I exchanged a mystified look.
I wasn’t confused about the awards; I knew perfectly well that they were going to be on tonight, because after all I had received an invitation which I had declined due to work commitments. What I didn’t get was why Lisa was so happy about one of the presenters suffering an injury that would surely ruin her dance routines.
“And that’s good why?” Sean asked Lisa, clearly as mystified as me.
“Because,” Lisa said, “it means they need a replacement, or should I say replacements, for her urgently and—they want you two!” Lisa gave us a mini round of applause, and Fran Francisco checked her watch. “Both of you have been asked, begged, to step in to replace this Sindy woman and give the award she was going to present. You two are all the rage since your little escapade in the papers. And it will be great pre-publicity for the film; there’s nothing like an on-set romance to get the press interested.”
“And this is nothing like an on-set romance,” Sean said a little crossly.
“I know that and you guys know that,” Lisa said. “But they don’t have to know that.”
“Actually,” I began, “I’d prefer it…” but Lisa was already in full flow, talking over me. And if there was one thing I had learned recently it was not to interrupt her when she was in full flow. It was a bit like waking up a sleepwalker in the middle of a dream—who knew what damage it could do?
“Now, Sean, your dad’s OK’d it in principle, but he’s negotiating on the appearance fee and, Ruby, your mum and your agent are very happy with the terms, so all you have to do is say yes. It will be so sweet…”
“Bleugh,” Sean said, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes at me.
“…and perfect!” Lisa said, ignoring him. “Because you two are emerging talent…”
“Hey,” Sean said, raising his hand. I was sure that he knew just as I did that Lisa did not like to be interrupted, but unlike me he was not afraid of annoying her. Sean was not afraid of anything—except his father. “I am not sweet, and I have emerged, thank you very much.”
“Well, maybe,” Lisa said. “But anyway, it’s appropriate because the award you’ll be presenting is for the Best Newcomer in a British Soap.”
“Oh?” I said, getting a funny feeling in my tummy. The sort of feeling you sometimes get when you know exactly what the person you are talking to is about to say next, even if you don’t want to hear it.
“Who’s nominated?” I asked her. In theory, if Danny had been nominated I would have known about it, but if I remembered correctly, nominations for these awards were only announced a week before the actual ceremony. And I had barely spoken to Danny except to argue with him. And it would be typical of him to keep something like this to himself. I held my breath and crossed my fingers.
“Let me see,” Lisa scanned her clipboard. “There’s Alison Higgins, never heard of her, Jamie Jameson, never heard of him, Tatiana Khan—oh, now, she’s quite good actually—and Danny Harvey. Hey, he’s from Kensington Heights, your old show! Moody good-looking kid—do you know him?”
I looked at Sean, who gave me a conciliatory pat on the back.
“You could say that,” I said, happy for Danny and upset for me all at once.
“Cool, let’s hope he wins, hey?” Lisa said, checking her clipboard again. “Now you have to be at the BBC Theatre by six for transmission at eight. You both have scenes this afternoon so we’ll get you dressed and made up here before you go, OK? Our good friend Tallulah is sourcing you something to wear. Are you all set?”
“Yes,” Sean and I chorused unenthusiastically.
“Great, now get back to your school work; your life depends on knowing how to do fractions. Oh, and one other thing, Ruby.”
“What’s that?” I asked Lisa.
“This time, you’ll be wearing fake diamonds, OK?”
Chapter Twenty-one
Mum, Pat Rivers, Sean and I sat in the back of the limo as we waited for the security check at the BBC Theatre.
All the way we had sat in awkward, difficult silence. My mum had tried to talk to Sean’s dad a couple of t
imes. She asked him how he liked Britain and did he miss California. At one point she said he must be so proud of his son, which was the only time I heard any sound at all from Sean, a sort of strangulated, muffled laugh. But although Pat Rivers answered Mum most politely and always called her “ma’am”, it was clear that he didn’t really want to waste his breath on her because, after all, there was nothing that my mum could do for him.
That was pretty bad, but not quite as bad as the dress Tallulah Banks had tried to make me wear earlier that evening. I knew she had been waiting for the moment she could get revenge on me for ripping Imogene’s gold gown, and finally her moment had come.
“Don’t want you in anything too adult, hey, Ruby,” she’d said as she produced the most hideous dress I have ever seen in my life and presented it to me. It was like all of your worst bridesmaid’s dress nightmares rolled into one and it looked as if Tallulah had picked it based solely on how terrible it would make me look.
Firstly, it was lemon yellow, and the minute I put it on I looked like a lemon too, because the colour reflected on to my skin and made me look jaundiced. Secondly, it had a sash: the sort of sash you dream of when you are about four, but one you’d cheerfully hang yourself with rather than be seen in public actually wearing at the age of thirteen. It tied in a bow at the side!
Thirdly, it had a full, frilly skirt. And fourthly, it had puff sleeves.
It was yellow-dress hell.
“Perfect,” Tallulah said with a cruel smile, as I gingerly came out of the dressing room. “Just the effect I wanted.”
I stared at myself miserably in the mirror, imagining the soap awards’ eight million viewers at home and audience of celebrities—which included my exboyfriend, thank you very much—laughing themselves sick when I came on stage looking like a lemon meringue.
I wondered if I was brave enough to complain and make a fuss. But I think I used up all of my limited rebellious resources when I ran off with the diamonds, because one look at Tallulah’s face told me I was not nearly brave enough.
Feeling like an exploded banana soufflé I trudged next door to where Sean had just finished getting dressed.
He was in a white suit with an ice-blue T-shirt underneath, and he looked utterly cool and handsome.
“No one told me it was fancy dress!” he said when he saw me. He was trying to be his usual charming self, but this dress knocked even him off balance.
“I know,” I said unhappily. “It’s gruesome.”
“Then why did you put it on?” he asked me in disbelief.
“Because I haven’t got a choice!” I told him. “My only consolation is that I’ll only be on national TV for about fifteen seconds and will mostly be standing behind a podium.”
Sean looked sceptical.
“No,” he said.
“No what?” I said.
“No, you are not wearing that!” He took my hand and began walking. “If I have to be having a fake romance with you then you at least have to look halfway decent. Follow me.”
Sean marched to Lisa’s office.
Lisa was horrified to find that we were still at the studio and not on our way to the BBC Theatre. Then Sean dragged me out from behind him and made her look at the dress. She actually screamed.
“Oh, she can’t wear that!” she said, shaking her head vigorously.
“Tallulah picked it for me,” I said miserably. “Because she hates me.”
Lisa shook her head.
“No, it’s not you she hates, Ruby, it’s me. She’s done this because I asked her to find you a dress; because she knows it’s my job to get you on TV looking good. She’s done it to spite me.”
“Why does she hate you?” Sean asked her.
“Because,” Lisa said, “once, a long time ago, when we were both starting out, we were working on this film and there was this cameraman that we both liked the look of. Tallulah warned me to stay away from him, or else.”
“And you didn’t?” I asked, marvelling at Lisa’s bravery.
“Well, you could say that—I married him,” Lisa said, smiling at me. “She has never got over it. Come on, let’s get this sorted.”
The three of us went to see Tallulah, who was packing up for the day.
“She can’t wear that,” Lisa repeated, gesturing at the yellow confection without actually being able to bring herself to look at it. “It’s awful!”
“I thought it suited her,” Tallulah said pleasantly.
“It’s awful,” Lisa repeated.
“Well,” Tallulah shrugged and glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s past six-thirty already. I haven’t got anything else here for her to wear and nowhere else is open now.” She smiled happily. “It’s too late to change it.”
“What about a costume?” Lisa said, her voice hardening slightly and tapping one of her long nails against her clipboard.
“Sure,” Tallulah replied archly. “Which one of her ripped and dirty school uniforms do you want her to wear?”
“How about this?” Sean emerged from behind the costume rack. He was holding the lovely gold dress I had ripped.
“Perfect,” Lisa said. “Get it on quick, Ruby, and I’ll call and tell them you’re on your way. Don’t want them replacing you with a stand-by, do we?”
“It won’t fit her,” Tallulah said crossly. “She’s too short for it and too wide.”
“Then let it out and pin it up,” Lisa said crossly. “I’m not asking you, Tallulah, I’m telling you. You have ten minutes.” The two women looked each other in the eye for a moment until Tallulah finally realised she was beaten. She could bully a thirteen-year-old, but not the real Lisa Wells, who right at that moment looked just as scary and as formidable as the fake one.
“Fine,” she told Lisa, even though it was clearly and obviously not.
Ten minutes later, having suffered minor blood loss through several vicious pin pricks, I walked out to the car in the gold dress. I might have been wider and shorter than Imogene, but after that yellow dress I felt fabulous in the gold gown, with its waterfall neckline and zig-zaggy hem. Tallulah even found me the gold shoes that went with it, which were ever so high and slightly too big, so that wearing them meant that I walked like a baby giraffe just finding its feet—but I didn’t care because I wasn’t a lemon any more.
“That’s more like it,” Sean said as he opened the car door for me.
“Lovely,” my mum said with a little smile. “If a little bit old for you and I’m not too keen on those shoes.”
Which, in my opinion, pretty much made it the perfect outfit.
There was no red carpet for this ceremony, which frankly I thought was a blessing. Afterwards there would be a photo call on the way to the after-show party, which Sean and I were allowed to walk into for publicity purposes but then had to leave with our parents immediately afterwards. I was glad really; it meant I wouldn’t have to spend an evening trying not to look at Danny across a crowded room.
In the rush and tear up until this moment I hadn’t had a chance to think about what it would be like to see him, let alone to perhaps even hand him the award for best newcomer. At the thought of it my stomach knotted and my mouth went dry.
I was still cross with him—really, really cross—but I missed him too. Before all of this happened he used to really make me laugh, make me feel happy and light. We could talk for hours about films and books and all the things we wanted to do with our careers. And sometimes we’d just hang out and say nothing, and it wouldn’t matter because he was so easy to be with. And when he kissed me goodnight under the streetlamp outside my house? Well, it made me feel as if I were floating a little bit.
I hadn’t really had a chance to miss him being my boyfriend yet, but I knew I would, and I knew it would be quite a long time before I stopped.
Sean and I left our parents who went to sit in the audience, and followed a highly stressed researcher called Carrie through a maze of corridors, where at last she showed us into the green room (which wa
s actually orange) where the rest of the presenters waited.
It was like an A-Z of British soap actors, all of the most famous people in TV in one room together. But when Sean and I walked in for a second, for just one single breath, they all stopped talking and looked at him.
And that, I decided, was the difference between a real star, with his starriness built into his blood and bones, and all the rest of us plain old actors. Sean had a sort of magic all around him, which made you want to look at him and never stop.
“Sean,” I said as he handed me a glass of orange juice.
“Yes, oh love of my life?” he replied, in a stupid soppy voice.
At that moment Carrie came in and called the first six presenters to go on set; the show had begun.
“Don’t hate acting because of your dad,” I told him, as the first set of celebrity presenters filed out of the green room.
He took a quick step back from me, raising the palms of his hands.
“Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that,” he said, surprised. He ran his fingers through his spiky hair. “Look, I don’t hate acting, Ruby. It’s just that it’s not fun any more. What I hate is all this: this endless life under a microscope where everybody thinks they know me, but nobody really does.”
“I know you a bit, I think,” I said. “And I know you hate being dragged around the world working non-stop and not having any kind of normal life. But, Sean, you can’t let your dad make you hate acting. You were born to do it.” Sean shrugged and looked at his feet.
“I really don’t want to talk about this,” he said uneasily.
“Look,” I persisted, “I know everyone tells you this—but you are good, better than good—you’re amazing! And you’ve got that special something that sets you apart from the crowd.” I nodded at the few run-of-the-mill celebrities left in the room to make my point. “I don’t want you to waste your talent, or use it up or lose it, because of what your dad is doing to you.”
Sean took my hand and smiled into my eyes, and for about five seconds I actually was in love with him.
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