Alec’s cooking an omelette when I get home.
‘Ah, Nettie, you’re just in time,’ he says, grabbing another plate from the cupboard. ‘Great party last night.’
‘I’m going to bed,’ I say, and head back out to my room.
Alec, obviously noticing the chill in my voice, follows me into the hallway. ‘He’s gone, hasn’t he?’
I don’t have the energy to make him feel OK about this. I need to be alone, to process what’s happened. Before he has a chance to say anything else, I go into my room and close the door behind me.
I know he won’t be there yet, but a text is the closest I can get to Fletch right now. I guess I’m going to have to get used to that. Taking a deep, shuddery breath, I get my phone out of my pocket.
09:55
I miss you x
He probably won’t see it for at least another hour. I lean against the door, and a desperate loneliness cascades over me. Fletch is gone, and usually Alec would be here, telling jokes to cheer me up, making me laugh, forcing me to watch Cynthia Rhodes videos with him. But I can’t get past what he did. Closing my eyes, I sink down to the floor and put my head in my knees, wondering how everything could have changed so quickly.
CHAPTER 6
It’s a good thing Duke’s is always so intense: keeping busy is what I need right now. Every spare second, my mind wanders to the feeling of Fletch’s arms around me, his hand in mine, and I find myself wondering why we wasted so much of our time together not kissing, and dreaming about the next time I’ll feel his lips against mine.
I throw myself into college, going to extra classes, practising in empty studios at the end of the day, determined to make my mark, to show everyone that I’m not the same frightened girl I was last year. Alec and I haven’t seen a lot of each other since the day after the party. I’m still angry with him for not telling me about Fletch’s placement, mainly because he hasn’t apologized, but I’m not shocked because apologizing would mean admitting he’s wrong. The only thing that is surprising is that he’s out of the flat before I am these days. And it’s not all parties either – I saw him in the practice rooms the other day. There’s this . . . intensity about him that wasn’t there last year. I know we can’t go on avoiding each other indefinitely, but at the moment I don’t know how else to deal with it.
At college, even between classes there’s more going on with Three Ring TV filming us at every opportunity. I avoid Sam as much as I can, slipping up the back staircase when I see she’s in the foyer, pretending to be on my phone when I pass her in the corridor, and spending more time than I need to over in the music hall, the other Duke’s building used mainly for music and drama, where the crew haven’t been yet. I know she wants an answer from me about being featured in the programme; I just don’t know if I have one yet. Kiki’s the opposite: going to extra classes when she knows the cameras will be there, hanging around in the foyer when Sam’s doing interviews, doing everything she can to get noticed. I’m pleased to see her going for it. Why can’t I feel the same about myself?
After my entire lunchtime alone in the music hall changing room on Friday working through some vocal exercises that my singing teacher Steph set me before the holidays, I make my way upstairs for MT hoping to catch Michael before class. He’s top of the list of people I can ask about Mum – not a difficult first choice, seeing as the rest of the list consists of Miss Duke and Millicent Moore, and I’m going to have to work up an obscene amount of courage to talk to either of those two.
But instead of Michael, I find Leon in the otherwise deserted studio, sitting in the corner, reading a book of vocal selections from Taboo like it’s nothing.
I squidge up next to him on the bench. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve changed to the MT course,’ he says casually.
‘WHAT?’ I shriek, hugging him. ‘When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?’
He smiles. ‘It was all quite last minute. Since we’ve been back, I’ve been feeling I wanted to change courses. I decided to give myself a shot at it. Michael auditioned me on Wednesday.’
So that’s what Kiki was talking about at the party when she said there were big changes coming for Leon.
‘This is huge, Leon! What made you rethink?’
Leon looks around to make sure the room is empty. ‘OK,’ he says finally, giving me such a serious look that I’m actually nervous. ‘You might as well know. But please promise me you won’t say anything.’
‘I promise.’
Leon takes a deep breath, like he’s about to take a huge gamble. ‘It’s . . . Alec.’
‘Alec?’ Oh God, what’s he done now?
‘It’s always been on my mind, whether I made the right choice auditioning for the dancers course,’ he says. ‘At school, Alec convinced me that it would be better for me –’ the posh school they both went to had a vocational ballet school attached; Leon and Alec were both dance scholars – ‘but I wonder now if I just did what was expected, or if I just did what Alec wanted me to do.’
‘Why would Alec care what course you chose?’
Leon pauses. ‘I . . . I can’t help wondering if it’s because he didn’t want me to shine at something he knew he wasn’t good at. I often performed in the school musical or sang solos in church. He knew I could sing.’
When I don’t answer, he takes a breath and continues.
‘I can’t explain it, Nettie – except to say that I always feel kind of . . . eclipsed by him. At school, I had other things I was good at – being academic and sporty, which Alec wasn’t . . . He didn’t care because he had no interest in them. But last year at Duke’s, I suddenly felt like I was living in his shadow, and I noticed that Alec liked it that way. And this year he’s been even more competitive with me. Haven’t you noticed? Like when he dropped out of commercial. He can’t bear to be bettered at anything.’
I know Alec can be a little on the arrogant side, but it’s always laced with humour, and underneath it all he’s kind – really kind. It’s hard to believe he’d be that calculating. Maybe he was just worried about getting left behind, or starting out alone when they’d always done everything together. But he does seem strangely agitated this year, like nothing’s enough for him. Like he can’t settle.
‘We came to Duke’s as a package,’ continues Leon. Students are starting to drift in now, looking over with interest at the new recruit, and he lowers his voice to avoid being overheard. ‘Alec and Leon. But it’s never Leon and Alec. I just know that all the time we’re here, he’s never going to stop chipping away at me, undermining my confidence. So, I decided it was time to show everyone I’m not just Alec’s cute little sidekick.’
‘I mean, you are cute.’
He gives a hollow laugh. ‘Nettie, cute in this business gets you doing spring-ball-change at some shitty end-of-pier summer season, while Alec’s preparing for his opening night at the Royal Opera House.’
I’ve never heard Leon talk like this before.
‘So, I’m making a new start,’ he continues. ‘Showing everyone I have other talents. I just hope I can do that.’
‘Leon, you are talented. If Michael likes you enough to admit you late on to the course, that’s a pretty solid stamp of approval. Also, I’ve heard you in the shower. You are good.’
Leon smiles. ‘Everyone’s good in the shower. Even Kiki.’
We laugh. Kiki’s not known for her vocals, by her own admission.
Michael St. John sweeps into the studio, a flurry of floral. ‘Darlings,’ he says to us all, flicking his mop of grey hair out of his eyes. ‘I have exciting news. Due to the complex and mysterious schedules of Three Ring TV, and the fact that the first episode of the documentary – which I’ve been told is called Triple Threat (hopefully not the Lina Lamont kind) – will air in the spring, we have had to adapt some of our calendar year. Which means that not only is the Freshers’ Ball now officially the Christmas Ball –’ various exclamations of outrage ripple through the room
– ‘but the Easter Musical will now be a dragged-out process taking us up to the summer term, with evening rehearsals, starting in November. You should be aware that this year, everything will be filmed. I’ve been warned it really will slow down rehearsals. We’ll be casting . . . Can I have a drumroll? Thanks, Dominic –’ Dom, conveniently seated behind the drum kit, obliges – ‘Chicago – I know, how wonderful – next week. Obviously I expect all of you to audition.’
‘I love that show,’ breathes Leon.
‘Me too,’ I whisper. But inside I feel heavy. Chicago’s so dance-y. I’ll never make it through the audition. I’ll be like that girl in the yellow leotard in A Chorus Line who the director shouts ‘Don’t dance!’ at in front of everyone.
‘Today I want to pair you up,’ continues Michael. ‘Boy-girl would make sense, for vocal range, but it’s not essential. Someone hand out these dots for me – thanks, Lily. I’m looking for connection, above all else.’
Leon looks at me. ‘So, would you . . . ?’
‘Er, definitely.’
He reaches for my hand. ‘The nerves are killing me, and that’s only because it’s the first time I’ll be singing in front of people here. I don’t know how you got through last year, with everything you were dealing with.’
I don’t, either. A whole year without a voice. But since the Summer Showcase, when I ‘accidentally’ sang in front of eleven hundred people, I’ve been fine. The fear’s gone.
We gather around the piano with everyone else as Michael note-bashes through ‘Suddenly Seymour’ from Little Shop of Horrors. Fletch was always Michael’s go-to in the absence of an accompanist. My heart sinks as I wonder what he’s doing right now. Making tea? Or helping Oliver and West work out a melody? A small pang of jealousy ripples through me. That used to be us writing songs together. I miss it. Then I feel Leon fidgeting next to me and remember where I am. I squeeze his hand.
As we sit down in our pairs, ready to get up and have a go, I whisper to Leon encouragingly, ‘You know Little Shop, right? Audrey’s damaged and into bad guys, and Seymour’s desperately in love, but he’s never believed he was good enough for her. Should be easy enough to play, do you think?’
Leon murmurs an indistinct, ‘Uh-huh.’
The pairs take it in turns to perform. It’s thrilling to see the different takes on the same song. But I can feel Leon getting more and more tense as the minutes go by.
‘We’re nearly out of time, but it’s just Nettie to go – am I right?’ says Michael St. John. ‘With our new recruit, Leon Adigwe. Leon, welcome. I’m so happy you’re here.’ He smiles at Leon, who tries to give him a thankful grin, but with nerves it comes out as more of a grimace. Poor Leon, having to wait till last. Sometimes I feel like Michael is so theatrical that he can’t help putting on a show out of everything, making the new person go last like the principal boy in a panto walk-down.
We walk up to the front. I take Leon’s hands. ‘Just do you.’
He nods and exhales. The intro starts and Leon takes a breath in to sing. Just then, there’s a little creak from the corner behind me, as if someone’s come in. Leon’s eyes flicker over my shoulder and he looks back to me, panic all over his face. Has Miss Duke come over for a look? Or the TV crew? I pretend to adjust my stance, but really it’s to take a tiny peek.
It’s not Miss Duke, or Sam.
It’s Alec.
For a second, I think he’s come to support Leon. But then I see the look on his face and I’m convinced it’s the same look he has when he’s trying to psyche out his competition. Now that Leon’s made me aware of Alec’s behaviour towards him, it seems so obvious. Am I jumping to the worst conclusion because things are still frosty between us? Or is he trying to psyche Leon out? What’s got into him this year? Half my brain silently wills Leon to know that he’s talented and wonderful and that he’s definitely got this, and the other half is screaming at Alec to get lost.
Leon takes a breath and sings the first few lines still looking at the door, and at first I think he’s lost it. But then he tears his gaze away and pours everything into me.
It works. The rest of the class goes wild, clapping and cheering. I smile at him, enjoying the surprise on his face to know his first performance has been such a success.
‘I think we can safely say you’re where you belong, Leon,’ says Michael. ‘Wonderful, you two. What a connection. This is what I’m talking about when I say, “Find the truth of the song.” It’s in there, if you only look.’
I glance back at the doorway, where Alec’s smiling at Leon, any signs of competitiveness wiped from his beaming face. As the class dissolves, he makes his way over to us, his sports bag slung over his shoulder, hair still damp from the shower. I can’t help but feel suspicious after the way he looked before we started singing, but he seems friendly. I hover in the background, gathering my things with one eye on the pair of them, secretly ready to pounce if Alec so much as puts a toe out of line.
‘Congratulations,’ Alec says to Leon, putting his arm around Leon’s shoulder and patting his back. ‘You were made for that part.’
‘Right. Underestimated and overlooked.’
‘Babe, you know what I mean,’ says Alec, smoothing the collar of Leon’s shirt. ‘I haven’t heard you sing since our Year Eleven music gala – do you remember?’
Leon nods with a smile, his eyes down.
‘So, this is it, then? Musical theatre for you now?’
‘Yes,’ Leon says definitively.
‘I’m so proud of you. Come here, friend.’ Alec pulls Leon in.
Leon, who’s much shorter, doesn’t quite get his face over Alec’s shoulder. He turns it to the side, leans it on Alec’s chest and closes his eyes. Maybe Alec did come just to cheer him on – I shouldn’t have doubted him. That was a really nice gesture.
‘You coming, Nettie?’ says Leon.
The studio’s empty apart from us and Michael. I promised myself I’d talk to him about Mum today. ‘No, you go on ahead,’ I say. I see Alec’s disappointment as they head off together. Maybe I’m being too harsh on him about Fletch too – I know he wants to talk. And I will. But not now.
Michael’s tidying up some sheet music. He looks up as I approach the piano. ‘Nettie! Did you forget something?’
‘Er, no, actually. I wanted to talk to you. About my mother.’
I’m sure Michael’s jaw clenches, but it’s gone in an instant, so quickly that I’m not even convinced it was there to begin with. He smiles. ‘Sure.’
‘I just – someone sent me a video of Mum falling off the stage,’ I say as quickly as possible, in case he stops me. ‘I just wondered if you knew anything about that.’
‘I’m sorry, Nettie. I don’t.’ His answer comes immediately, almost as if he was going to say that whatever I asked him.
‘Oh. Yeah. I thought you probably wouldn’t,’ I say. ‘It was a long shot. But I wondered what other shows she was in – what other ballets? It would be nice to know.’
‘It was such a long time ago, Nettie,’ he says, back to shuffling his papers now. ‘I’d be hard pushed to remember.’
I don’t relent. ‘I don’t know much about her life before I was born. What was she like?’
Michael’s hands go still on his music. He exhales quietly through his nose. ‘She was lovely, Nettie. A beautiful dancer, a beautiful soul.’
I hesitate before asking the question I need the answer to. ‘Why did she stop dancing?’
Michael looks startled, like I’ve prompted a painful memory. His eyes look suddenly glassy. ‘I’m so sorry, angel – it’s complicated. Look, I’ve got to rush over to the other side for a class. I hope you can make peace with what you know about your mother from your lives together – something tells me that’s what she’d want you to remember.’ He picks up his briefcase and heads out, leaving me more confused than ever.
If I wasn’t sure before, Michael’s reaction confirms my suspicion: something happened to Mum, something that she was a
shamed of. Something bad.
And now that I know that, I can’t leave it alone, or make peace with the little I knew, as Michael said. I have to find out what it was. Even if that means uncovering something painful about her. Even if it’s not what I want to hear. Even if . . .
Even if it makes me hate her.
CHAPTER 7
13:10 Fletch:
Hey beautiful
Hey! How’s Chich today?
Amazing. Still loving it. Oliver and West are the best. I’m learning so much.
It’s been a long two weeks without you, though. How’s college today?
Intense! Always a shock after the weekend, lol. I want to audition for Chicago but I’m scared
Of what?
THE DANCING
I’ve been watching Ann Reinking videos. Trying to channel the spirit of Fosse.
You’ll smash it. Keep focused.
Gotta go
I love you
I love you too x
By now, I’ve stopped looking out for Fletch in the corridors and instead spend my time dodging the seemingly endless cameras. When I head down to ballet with Kiki on Wednesday, dreading seeing the teacher, Millicent Moore (the last time we were in a room together, I told her to go fuck herself, which isn’t ideal), Sam’s there with two camera operators, a boom and several assistants. Just what I need.
‘Nettie!’ she says warmly, like we’ve known each other years and haven’t just had one awkward meeting after a dance class. ‘This is John – I think you met before – and Dave. And this is my assistant, Anand.’ Anand, a shortish guy only just in his twenties with smooth brown skin and slightly scruffy black hair, smiles and gives me a friendly wave. Sam smiles. ‘We’re going to be getting some footage of this lesson. I had no idea you’d be in it!’
‘Bullshit,’ coughs Kiki into my ear.
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