‘Ah,’ he says. ‘I forgot you went to Auntie’s today. How did it go?’
Finally, he’s actually remembered. ‘Well, Luca and I managed to get most of the boxes out of the loft, but then she came home and tried to stop us, so we had to leg it. But I found out loads of stuff about Mum,’ I say.
‘Luca met your grandmother?’ says Fletch.
‘Er, yeah – is that a problem?’
‘I just . . . thought you didn’t like people meeting her,’ he says. ‘I had to wait in the car when I took you there.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What I really need to talk about is the letters. But somehow we’re having a conversation about Fletch feeling hurt that Luca got to meet my grandmother and he didn’t?
‘She just happened to come home while we were there,’ I say. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
We carry on talking for a couple of minutes, but it’s stilted and awkward, and I’m too cross to go into any more detail. Eventually, I hang up, promising to call him tomorrow.
I lie in bed, feeling wired, and angry that I didn’t even get to tell him about everything we found out today. Why is Fletch making this about him? What does he expect me to do – sit indoors doing nothing until he’s back from his adventure? It’s hard, being apart. Things get misconstrued, moments misread . . .
We’re just missing each other. It’s the ball in a week. Fletch is coming back, and I get to rewrite last year’s horrible memories with amazing new ones. And then there’s Christmas – we get to spend that together, too. It can’t come a moment too soon.
I sit up and reach for the bundle of Mum’s letters. Maybe Luca’s right – if we find ‘B’, it’s a start, at least. I wish I’d had a chance to talk about it with Fletch, instead of getting irritated with him. As I read through the letters for the seventieth time, the same two questions come back to me, over and over again.
Why all the secrets and lies? What did Mum have to hide?
I keep imagining angry conversations between us, where I accuse her of keeping things from me; she breaks down, and eventually tells me everything.
That’s the trouble with dead people. They take all their secrets with them.
CHAPTER 14
‘Is something wrong with that?’ I say to Kiki on Wednesday evening at the music hall. We’ve brought food from home to eat in the changing room before rehearsals. She’s left the whole of her sandwich.
‘No – I’ve eaten the filling,’ she replies.
‘Why would you just eat the filling?’
‘Leon made it for me this morning, but I thought I should lay off the bread, what with the ball this weekend. It’s not a myth, you know, that the camera adds ten pounds. Sam says it’s true.’
Well, this is new. Kiki’s been so completely anti weight-talk that hearing her speak like this again is strange. And worrying.
I choose my words carefully. ‘That’s a . . . weird thing for Sam to be talking about.’
‘She’s just doing her job.’ Kiki sounds defensive. ‘It’s better that I know these things. Sam says as little as four or five pounds will make a huge difference to how I’m perceived onscreen.’
‘I thought you weren’t buying into that bullshit any more,’ I say.
‘Isn’t it possible not to buy into it but still acknowledge that it exists?’ she says. ‘Sam agrees it’s bullshit, but as she says: like it or not, it’s how the industry works.’
Sam’s getting to her. What astounds me is how quickly she seems to have done it.
‘Babe, you shouldn’t be trying to lose weight just because Sam’s—’ I start.
‘Says the thinnest person in the room. I’m sorry, Nettie, but this has nothing to do with you. Like, I get where you’re coming from, but maybe if you were under constant pressure to stay slim, you’d be a bit more understanding. I don’t hate other people’s bodies. I don’t even hate my own body – I just need it to work for me right now, and that means making it a little smaller. You might feel differently if you weren’t already a size four.’
‘I just meant—’
‘Do you realize what it costs me to stay this size?’ Kiki continues. ‘If I ate what you ate, I’d be three stone heavier. No one would employ me. I just want to dance, Nettie. And sitting there in your Brandy Melville jeans with your enormous tub of cheesy pasta doesn’t exactly qualify you to criticize.’
As her words settle, the realization hits me. Kiki’s always been hugely affected by the fat-shaming that goes on at Duke’s. Expecting her to be suddenly cured of her insecurities just because she had one good summer is crap of me. How could she be, when the obsession with skinny runs through the very brickwork of this place, insidiously shaming, subtly whispering negativity until everyone’s bought into it? Her body is her business, not mine. I feel like a shit friend.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t think. Sorry, Kiki. I just meant that Sam shouldn’t be telling you what to do with your body.’
‘She’s looking out for me,’ says Kiki. ‘The business is superficial and judgemental. She completely gets how I feel.’
I don’t think Sam does get how Kiki really feels, or she wouldn’t be having conversations like that with her. But I already feel bad enough about the comment I just made, and I don’t want to upset Kiki any more than I already have. I hug her tightly, hoping she knows how sorry I am, and get my things ready for the rehearsal.
‘OK, everyone. Take five.’ Lisa smiles. ‘Good work, everybody.’
Shaiann and the dancers relax, panting. They’ve just finished ‘Cell Block Tango’. Kiki’s magnificent, starting it all off with her murderous speech. She was worried about the acting, but Lisa’s made it so dance-heavy that Kiki’s been able to treat it like a piece of choreography, which has helped her to relax into the role.
We’re all heading to our various corners of the room when Michael calls us back. ‘Can I have everyone’s attention for a sec? Thank you. Just to remind you that because the third-years are needed to rehearse the little concert they’re putting on at the Christmas Ball, this is our last Chicago rehearsal until after the party.’
I’d forgotten about that. It’ll be nice to have some time off, to be honest. Four hours of rehearsals after a full day at college is exhausting, especially when Sam insists we run numbers again and again so that she can get them from a million angles. It makes for slow progress.
Kiki and Lisa go off into the corner to go through some choreography together, and Luca takes the opportunity to join me.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘What’s new?’
‘Not a lot. Bit tired.’
‘Fletch OK?’
‘Yeah, I think so,’ I say. He looks at me quizzically. ‘Haven’t spoken to him for a couple of days,’ I add. ‘They’ve had the orchestrators in, so it’s busy. We’ve messaged a couple of times, but . . .’ What I don’t add is that I’ve messaged him lots, but he only replies briefly and usually at midnight. I’ve kind of got used to the disappointment.
‘Oh – yeah, I guess that would be full on,’ says Luca. ‘Well, cheer up – it’s the ball this weekend. He’s still coming, right?’
‘Yes,’ I say, and my mood lifts instantly. The thought of the Christmas Ball and seeing Fletch is keeping me going right now. Last year at the Freshers’ Ball, Jade threw two glasses of red wine all over the yellow dress of Mum’s that I was wearing, and in what was admittedly a bit of a Cinderella move, I ran home early and spent the evening crying into a bowl of stain remover. This year, I’m going to spend the evening dancing with my friends and kissing my boyfriend. I can’t wait. So what if Fletch is a little preoccupied this week? Saturday night’s going to make up for it.
‘Hey – any joy with the letters?’ Luca says.
I look over my shoulder. Sam’s nowhere nearby. ‘No. I did check the library, but “B” isn’t much to go on. There was a Jerry who danced at the Royal Opera House – but there’s nothing to link him to Mum, and we don’t know who wrote the letter. It’s a
bit of a dead end.’
‘There must be a way,’ says Luca. ‘I’ll keep thinking about it.’
I smile at him gratefully. ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘You’re a really good friend.’
Luca goes to refill his water bottle while I head outside for a couple of minutes of fresh air. On the way I pass Leon and Taro talking at the bottom of the stairs. Taro’s leaning against the wall next to a poster for a cabaret evening with West End Star Sissy Flynn. Leon’s kind of nestled under his arm. They look pretty cosy.
‘Ooh, I love Sissy Flynn,’ I say, tapping the poster. ‘We should go to that.’
‘We were just saying it’s weird,’ says Taro, ‘not having rehearsals next week. I’ll kind of miss everyone.’
‘Can’t wait for the concert,’ I say.
‘Yeah, should be good.’ He leans in and kisses Leon smoochily. Leon joins in for a second before pulling away awkwardly – I’m not sure if it’s for my benefit or because he’s worried about lurking cameras.
‘Anyway,’ says Taro. ‘Gotta go over something with Michael.’ Another smooch. This time I rummage in my bag for something very important and also non-existent so that Leon doesn’t feel awkward. ‘See ya.’ Grinning, Taro goes back upstairs.
‘Are you and Taro doing a ball-thing together?’ I say. Leon raises a quizzical brow. ‘You know . . . going as a couple—’
‘Er, no.’ He pinches my arm. ‘He just said he’d catch up with me there.’
‘You’re spending more time together these days . . . and you seem happy.’
Leon thinks about this for a moment. ‘We are. I might have a chat with him at the ball . . . that we could be exclusive? Do you think it’s too soon?’
‘Leon, you’ve been seeing him for nearly three months. It’s perfectly reasonable.’
‘What if Taro doesn’t want that? I’ve always been very careful to keep it casual so far. What if that’s how he likes it? What if that’s how I like it?’
I laugh. ‘You might want to work that part out before you talk to him.’
Leon sighs. ‘Ugh. This whole relationship thing is so complicated. No wonder Alec never goes on more than two dates with anyone. Much less hassle.’
‘I thought we were talking about Taro.’
He pauses. ‘We are. I just meant that maybe my life would be simpler if I was more like Alec.’ The thought visibly brings him down. I can’t help noticing with Leon how every conversation eventually comes back to Alec. He’s so happy with Taro, and really making his mark in MT and the college musical, but it’s like he can’t enjoy any of it because there’s this whole Alec thing hanging over him. I wish they’d just sort it out. Hugging him, I grab my coat from the changing room and head outside.
I check my phone to see, unsurprisingly, zero messages from my boyfriend, but weirdly a load from Alec.
19:10
Alec:
How are rehearsals?
I miss youuuuu
When are you home?
I start tapping in an answer.
20:11
Not sure. Going to the pub with everyone after rehearsals x
The rest of the rehearsal is actually pretty fun. Luca and I get to do our first scene together, which wasn’t at all awkward, as Alec had been suggesting it would be. In my head I do a smug little ‘ha ha, told you so’ at him. Sam turns up with a camera just as Luca’s saying his line about how he’ll manipulate Roxie’s story for the press, show them what they want to see, which seems . . . well timed.
We have to do the scene over and over because it’s underscored. When we finally nail it, Michael cheers. ‘By Jove, I think they’ve got it.’
I throw myself on Luca in mock relief, and everyone laughs. It’s so good to end on a high after the slog of this morning.
When we come out into the cold street later, Alec’s waiting across the road.
‘Alec! What are you doing here? It’s freezing.’
‘I just wanted to see you,’ he says through chattering teeth. He’s obviously been there a while. ‘Thought I’d come along to the pub.’
I go to check Leon’s response, but he’s gone ahead with Taro. ‘Come on, then,’ I say. ‘We need to get you warm.’
It goes surprisingly well, actually. Alec makes an effort to be really supportive of Leon, asking him how it’s going, wanting to hear all about the show, not taking over the conversation. Leon’s at ease for once. It’s good to see them getting on at last. We don’t see much of Kiki because she’s over at the bar with Sam and Anand for most of the evening, but she looks over and smiles at me a couple of times, and I know she’s glad I came.
When Alec and I are leaving, I go over to say goodbye to Kiki, who’s just with Anand now. Sam’s further down the bar with her back to us, but I notice she’s replaying a file of what she’s captured this evening. I have a peek while Alec and Kiki are saying their goodbyes. The camera’s focused entirely on me during that last dance number we did. It’s a little . . . intense. I’m also surprised to see the hug I just gave Luca at such a close angle on the little screen – just our faces and nothing else. It sort of looks cinematic, like she’s slowed it down?
As soon as I’m outside, I quiz Alec. ‘Did you see it? On Sam’s screen?’
‘Yes, I saw it,’ he says grimly.
‘What do you think?’
He takes a second to collect his thoughts, like he’s working out how to phrase it. ‘I think,’ he says, ‘that you’re going to be more of a star than you realize.’
CHAPTER 15
On the Saturday morning of the ball, we all go to Alec’s posh beauty salon, where he’s generously paid for us all to have treatments, and now we’re having lunch in Covent Garden (his treat again). It’s really kind of him, and with the huge effort he’s been making with Leon ever since we all went through Mum’s letters together, it sort of feels like things are starting to be normal again – the four of us all together, hanging out. Tonight’s going to be amazing. The boy I was secretly in love with last year is now my boyfriend, and we’re going to the ball together. And to top things off, an enormous burger’s just arrived with my name on it.
Alec steals a chip.
‘Oi!’
‘What? Your dress’ll be uncomfortable if you eat all those. It’s boned, remember.’
‘I’m not putting it on for another six hours. I think I’m good.’
‘If I ate a burger like that, I wouldn’t get into my dress for about three days,’ says Kiki. She scrapes some of the dressing off her tiny salad irritably. ‘For fuck’s sake. What part of “on the side” do they not understand?’
My heart hurts for her, but I keep quiet. She’s been on a diet all week. I know that because on Monday I saw a piece of paper sticking out of her bag with an eating plan printed on it. Sam’s email address was at the top of the page.
Leon moves his drink to accommodate the enormous plate of calamari being set down in front of him. ‘I’ve heard they’re filming tonight.’
‘There’s no way I’m drinking until they’ve left,’ says Alec. ‘Miss Duke’s normally long gone before all the debauchery starts. Can you imagine her face, when it’s broadcast? All the shenanigans?’
‘It’d almost be worth it, just for that,’ says Leon, his eyes gleaming. ‘Alec Van Damm: dishevelled, shamed, ruined . . .’
‘It’ll never happen,’ says Alec. ‘I’m too fabulous, and you don’t even know it.’
Ordinarily this would have provoked an eye-roll, but today, Leon laughs. I wonder if he’s happy because he’s going to have ‘the talk’ with Taro later.
‘Remember that thing you said you were going to do tonight?’ I say to Leon, hoping he’ll know what I’m talking about. ‘Are you going to do it?’
Leon looks at Kiki and me with a smile. ‘Yes.’
‘What thing?’ demands Alec.
‘Leon said he’d help me with something,’ I say vaguely. ‘For . . . Chicago.’
Alec looks at me suspiciously but settles for pin
ching another of my chips. He ducks out of the way as I go to swat him. ‘What? I’m still hungry.’
‘You’re another one,’ says Kiki. ‘Huge bowl of curry, half Nettie’s chips and still thin as a rake. It’s not fair.’
‘I just want to say for the record,’ says Alec, ‘that we all think you’re completely gorgeous, Kiki.’
‘Yeah, and we love you,’ I say.
‘You’re beautiful, friend,’ says Leon.
‘Thanks, guys,’ she says, laughing. ‘I mean, I am hot.’
If she’d said that to me two months ago, I’d have believed her. I’m just not sure if she believes it any more.
We head back to ours to get ready for the ball, and by seven, we’re all ready. It’s got to be said: the boys scrub up well. I’m so used to them in tights and trackies that it’s a shock to see them in DJs. I’m wearing a vintage emerald-green beaded dress, strapless and kind of flowing – another of Mum’s – that suits my pale skin nicely (Alec’s finally stopped trying to get me to have spray tans). Kiki’s is the complete opposite – peach bodycon with cleavage and cut-outs. She looks beautiful.
‘Omigod, Kiki – why are you so stunning?’ I say, tripping over my gown to run and give her a hug. ‘Oops.’
The four of us head up to Soho together. People watch us curiously. One guy even gets his phone out and starts filming.
‘They think we’re going to a premiere,’ says Alec. He turns around to the guy with the phone and waves.
This is hilarious. They’ve put a red carpet down Frith Street and halfway round Soho Square. Lights sparkle from within. I imagine dancing with Fletch, his arms around my waist, my hands on the nape of his neck, looking into each other’s eyes like nothing else exists (except the conveniently placed string quartet in the corner and the thousands of glittering fairy lights above us, of course). Tonight is going to be literally something out of a movie. We’re going to have a perfect evening, and then tomorrow I’m going to tell Fletch all the stuff I’ve discovered about Mum. We’re going to get back to how we were in the summer, before everything got so complicated.
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