Flashing bulbs catch my eye to the left, and I turn to see two men with long-lens cameras taking photos of Kiki.
‘Hey, gorgeous – what’s your name? Fancy posing for us?’
Alec takes over. ‘What’s this in aid of?’
‘Hello, OK!, Heat mag . . . Raising the profile of the college. Got a tip-off from someone at Three Ring TV.’ He checks his phone quickly, before stuffing it in his shirt pocket.
‘OK, let’s do it,’ says Alec. He gestures to us to line up with him on the red carpet. ‘Smile!’
The two guys snap away furiously.
‘So you’ve got Alec Van Damm, Leon Adigwe, Nettie Delaney-Richardson and Kiki Steadman,’ says Alec smoothly. ‘We’re all starring in the Three Ring doc, so it’d be in your interest to use us.’
‘Alec—’ I begin.
He shushes me.
‘Nettie?’ says the pap. His eyes light up.
‘Er, yeah,’ I say, confused.
‘Amazing. Got told to look out for you. Can I get a couple of you on your own?’
Before I have a chance to reply, I hear someone yelling behind us in a high-pitched screech to the other photographer.
‘What do you mean, “No, you’re all right”?’
It’s Jade Upton, dressed in what looks like a ballroom dance costume, half orange, half white, feathers everywhere. ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘No one knows who you are, love,’ says the photographer, who has lit up a cigarette and couldn’t look less interested.
‘Shit, who does that?’ whispers Kiki in horror, looking down at Jade’s feet. She’s wearing one white shoe and one orange shoe.
‘Someone who’s been told to by Sam, I imagine,’ says Alec. ‘Seriously, there can be no other reason for that aesthetic.’
My phone rings. ‘Gotta get this, sorry,’ I say. Glad to escape the circus, I cross the road over to the square.
‘Hi,’ says Fletch. It sounds like he’s trying not to be overheard. ‘Listen, I’m really sorry, but I’m not going to make it tonight.’
‘What?’ My heart almost stops. The one thing I’ve been looking forward to for weeks, and now it’s not even going to happen.
‘I’m so sorry, Nettie.’
He doesn’t sound sorry, more like he’s in a rush to get off the phone to me.
I take a breath before I reply. ‘Why not?’
‘David wants a recording of the show as it stands so far, and there have been lots of changes that we haven’t been able to get down as we go. We’ve got to record the new songs.’
‘Who’s David?’
‘He’s the director.’
‘Oh. Do you have to do it now?’
‘Yes,’ he says shortly. ‘Nettie, you don’t say no to people like David Hirst. Anyway, they’ve got the entire cast and band here – do you think I can just waltz on over and say, “Hey, guys, I know I’m just an intern, but my girlfriend wants me at a party. Can I shoot off”?’
He’s never spoken to me like this before.
‘OK,’ I say, stung. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic.’
He blows out air like he’s trying to exhale stress. ‘Nettie . . . it’s hard to explain the kind of pressure we’re under here.’ Before I can reply, he’s talking to someone else. ‘Yes, of course – I’ll get the strings in now.’ He lowers his voice again. ‘I’m sorry, Nettie. I’ve got to go.’ He hangs up without waiting for me to answer.
The wind picks up through the square, whistling through the iron railings. Reeling from his words, I make my way back across the road, shivering in my dress, angry and embarrassed. He made me feel clingy and immature. It’s like, I get it, Fletch? You’re working out there working with professionals, and I’m just a silly second-year at college. I’ve got no idea what it’s like in the real world. I’m too busy worrying about parties.
I go into Duke’s, ignoring the fairy lights that ten minutes ago probably would have looked magical and romantic but now just seem tacky and shit, to find Sam beside an enormous Christmas tree, talking to Alec, Leon and Kiki. Seeing my thunderous face, Alec raises a concerned eyebrow, but I quickly shake my head.
‘Gorgeous dress,’ Sam says as I approach.
‘Oh. Thanks.’
‘Actually, now that you’re here, Nettie, would you four be able to come and chat to us quickly? It’ll only take a moment.’
Before I can reply, she’s leading us through the entrance hall. My eyes start to blur with tears. I can’t do this. I peel off and head upstairs to the changing room.
I switch the lights on and flump down on a bench. Hot tears form on the inside corner of my eye, and I grab a tissue to blot them. Sitting on a bench alone in the changing room angry-crying was not how I envisioned tonight would go. I know the job’s stressful, that Fletch is up against it, that a lot’s expected of him. I know all those things. But just then he acted like I was an annoying kid sister. What did he think I was going to say? ‘Oh well, never mind, Fletch. I couldn’t really care less whether you’re here or not. I’m too grown-up and cool. Have a lovely time and see you soon.’
It’s not just tonight. Over the last couple of weeks, it really feels as if he’s pulled back. He’s so wrapped up in this new exciting world that he hasn’t got the head space for me. For us. I feel like he’s leaving me behind.
Alec pops his head around the door. ‘Everyone decent?’
‘You’re good.’
He comes and sits next to me, puts both his arms around my neck and nestles his face in my hair. ‘He’s not coming, is he?’ he says quietly. I shake my head miserably. Alec strokes my hair. ‘This was always going to be hard. Long distance isn’t easy. Even Meghan and Harry have the “two-week rule”.’
‘I really miss him, Alec.’
‘I know,’ he says. He stands up. ‘But this is helping no one. Come on. There’s a party downstairs waiting for that beautiful dress to arrive.’
I can’t help but smile.
Alec wipes a tear from my cheek, takes my hand and leads me downstairs into the blindingly lit Studio Three. Sam’s crew is set up in one corner, the camera and lighting operators ready to go. She smiles warmly at us.
‘Hi, guys. Just stand there. I’ll do you all together. Rolling.’
I drop Alec’s hand. For a moment, I think about turning around and walking straight back out again, how good it would feel to be that dramatic, but then I remember how my boyfriend thinks I’m a huge baby who can’t cope with grown-up matters, and it gives me a new energy – a sort of fighting spirit. He’s let me down, but I’m not going to let anyone know I’m hurt. Least of all him. When Fletch watches the programme, he’ll see me having an amazing time. Without him. I take a breath and go to join Alec, Kiki and Leon against a backdrop covered in the Duke’s logo and various sponsors, like the kind they have at award ceremonies.
Sam’s removing an earpiece. ‘So, your second ball,’ she says, off camera. ‘What are you hoping to achieve this year at Duke’s?’
Alec looks like he’s about to launch into a soliloquy, but Leon beats him to it. ‘Well, I’ve just transferred from the dancers course to the musical theatre course,’ he says, ‘so this year’s a whole new adventure for me.’
‘How are you finding that?’ says Sam.
‘Actually, it’s incredible,’ he says, smiling. ‘I got one of the leads in the college musical.’
This is fantastic – I’ve never heard him big himself up before. I watch Alec shift his weight impatiently, and I know he’s thinking of a way to steer the conversation back to where he’s centre stage.
‘And what about you, Nettie?’ she says. ‘How are you looking forward to this year?’
‘I guess . . .’ I don’t know what to say. Something that sounds exciting and independent and grown-up but also carefree and breezy. ‘I’m . . .’ It’s no good. My mind’s still outside in the square. Tears of frustration form and I blink angrily.
Kiki comes to the rescue. ‘You were saying you were looking
to build on last year?’ She flashes me a look.
‘Oh! Er, yeah. Like, study hard, raise my standards. Just like everyone else.’ It’s not the answer I was hoping for, but to be honest, I’m doing well not to be crying. I smile at her gratefully.
‘Tonight you’re at a ball,’ says Sam. ‘Will you be able to let your hair down?’
‘We all love a party,’ says Kiki, speaking over my ‘erm’. Oddly, Sam ignores her. Kiki notices too, and glances at her nervously.
‘Duke’s looks like a fairy-tale castle tonight,’ says Sam, directing her comment more pointedly to me. ‘Are you looking for the perfect fairy-tale evening? Romance?’
‘I—’
‘It must be hard, with your boyfriend away. Are things still good between you?’
Oh God, why did she have to ask? How am I going to talk about this without dissolving into a pile of tears on the floor? I swallow and try to smile. ‘Of course.’
‘Where is he tonight?’
I glance at Alec, who does the minutest shake of his head.
‘He’s . . . on his way,’ I say, beaming excitedly, when what I really want to do is push the cameras over and storm out like a diva. ‘Can’t wait to see him.’ I’ll just have to make sure I’m away from Sam later when he clearly hasn’t turned up. When I’m quietly weeping into my drink in the corner. ‘Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me a second.’
I head back out into the foyer and leave the others to wrap things up with Sam. At least I’m away from the cameras – but, honestly? Being at a glitzy party on my own isn’t exactly ideal right now, either.
‘Nettie!’ I’m relieved to hear Anand calling me over from the Christmas tree. He’s talking to a couple of people I don’t recognize. Two of them head off to get drinks as I approach.
‘Hey, Anand. How’s it going?’
‘Great. Nettie, this is Benjamin Wells, of Wells Brignall. You must have heard of them – big talent agency in Covent Garden. Benjamin, Nettie.’
Benjamin smiles cordially. ‘Hello, Nettie. I was just telling Anand that we’re very interested in representing you when you leave Duke’s. You must come and see us nearer the time.’
‘Oh,’ I say, surprised. ‘I will. Thanks. But don’t you need to see me in a showcase or something?’
‘No need. We may do an interview as a formality, but the offer’s there. And from what I hear, you’ll be performing at the Duke’s Awards finals? Excuse me – I must catch Sam before the show.’ He offers his hand for me to shake (which I do) and makes his way up the marble staircase.
‘That was weird,’ I say to Anand. ‘How would he know if I’m performing at the finals? I don’t even know that.’ My stomach lurches at the thought of the college-wide competition that’s seen by almost the entire industry.
‘He was determined to speak to you,’ says Anand, shrugging. ‘Nettie, this is amazing! Wells Brignall are one of the biggest agencies around. My flatmate Jay works in the literary department, and he says that mega-famous people are in and out of there all day.’
‘I know they’re big, but why are they interested in me?’
‘Sam’s agent is with them. Jay thinks he’s probably seen some of the Triple Threat rushes.’
‘Oh.’ Not for my talent, then. ‘They want me because I’m going to be on TV.’
Anand kind of shrugs. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Er, kind of?’
He sighs. ‘Nettie, as someone who had no connections, no family in the TV industry, no “in” to get this job, let me give you some advice. If I’d had a chance like you’ve just been given, I wouldn’t be complaining. You’d be crazy not to go for a meeting with them.’ He looks at his watch. ‘Got to run.’
He jogs off into Studio Four. The message that I keep getting from everyone – not just Anand – is that I’m lucky to have all these opportunities and I should be taking them. Maybe he’s right. But on the other hand, wouldn’t that just be propping up a corrupted system? I’m so confused right now. I wish Fletch was here.
‘Hey.’
Luca’s behind me, looking smart in his DJ. I smile in spite of myself.
‘Hey, Luca.’
‘Has Fletch arrived yet?’ he says, bending down to kiss my cheek.
He’s shaved off his stubble and his face feels smooth against mine. It must jog a memory because without permission, my brain flashes back to our drunken spin-the-bottle kiss last year. Agh. Why am I doing that? Behind Luca, I see John and Sam coming out of Studio Three, still rolling, the camera pointing directly at us. I shut down the memory immediately and focus on answering the question Luca’s just asked me. About my boyfriend.
‘He can’t make it now,’ I say. ‘He’s got to work.’
‘Oh,’ he says. ‘That’s a shame. Sorry, Nettie.’ He goes to put his arm around my shoulders, but because I feel weird about what just happened in my head, I sort of subtly shrink away towards the tree, getting a bauble stuck in my hair.
‘Hey – I was thinking about the, erm . . . letters.’ Luca helps me untangle myself while checking to see if anyone’s listening. ‘I thought “B” might have trained at Duke’s with your mum. So I went to the office to ask if they had a list of alumni. I went through every year from the late Eighties to early Nineties, and I found her. She graduated in 1989. There were thirty students in her year, but only one had a name beginning with B.’
‘Who was it?’
‘A boy called Brahms Jones-Carter. Anyway, I looked him up. He’s been living in the States since 1992. So it’s . . . unlikely. Our best bet is her career, I think. Find out who she danced with.’
‘Oh. Well, it’s kind of you to look. Thanks, Luca.’
Michael’s beckoning Luca over from the studio theatre.
‘I’d better scoot – I’m on percussion.’
He leaves me by the Christmas tree. Another dead end with Mum – God, this is all so disappointing, almost like there’s someone out there actively stopping me from finding anything out.
I catch up with Kiki, Leon and Alec a little later back in Studio Three, where the raised seating is already filling up. The front four rows are packed with casting directors, agents and creatives, with a conspicuous space left in the middle of the front row reserved for Miss Duke. I’m surprised there isn’t a spotlight shining on it.
We squeeze on to the end of a row next to some excited first-years – it’s a tight fit.
‘Mind the frock,’ I say, pulling my skirt out from under Alec’s bum.
‘Well, you should’ve saved me a better space!’
‘Move up.’ Leon nudges Alec fiercely.
‘Ow!’
‘Yeah, Alec, stop manspreading,’ hisses Kiki. She still seems upset.
‘Hey, Kiki, are you OK?’ I whisper.
‘Sam was angry that I’d cut you off,’ she says. ‘I thought I was helping you out.’
‘You were! I really appreciated it.’
‘Well, Sam didn’t. Sometimes I think she’s only friends with me to get closer to you.’
‘Kiki—’
I’m cut off by Cecile Duke making her entrance, but take Kiki’s hand and give it a squeeze. A hush falls over the audience like a spell as Miss Duke takes her seat. She’s wearing a long-sleeved cream satin dress, high heels and a mask of warmth and kindness. What’s behind it, I wonder? Mum knew.
The third-years come on to the stage, led by a girl called Landi, who’s on the stick. She smiles at the audience, who applaud while she takes her place in front of the band. This time last year, I was watching Fletch conduct the show, trying to hide my racing heart from Alec. Now he’s my boyfriend. Which would be lovely if he was actually here.
Luca takes his place with the rest of the band upstage. His eyes scan the crowd and settle on me with a wink. I smile back. Fletch has always admired how Luca can pick up any instrument and be a total genius on it, and he’s right – Luca kills the percussion (and randomly plays a really high trumpet part at one point) as the third-years perform several
numbers from My Fair Lady and Camelot, followed by the finale from Candide.
At the end of the show, Miss Duke rises from her seat and turns to face the audience, smiling until the applause dies down. ‘Welcome, industry friends,’ she says into a mic that Michael St. John has just produced from nowhere. ‘Thank you for joining us at what is transpiring to be one of the most prestigious evenings in the entertainment industry’s calendar.’
Alec leans in. ‘She’s going to tell people that until it’s true.’
I glance at him sideways. ‘What?’
‘It’s always been a big evening for us,’ he breathes, ‘but Miss Duke is turning it into something bigger than the BAFTAs. Film crews, paps . . .’
Yes. Miss Duke’s doing exactly that. Or maybe Sam is.
‘I’d like to extend a special thank-you to the team at Three Ring TV for joining the Duke’s family,’ she continues. ‘I know I speak on the students’ behalf when I say that it has been exhilarating to welcome you into our daily lives here at Duke’s. Your presence gives us fresh life, renewed ambition. With you at our side, we go forward into the world stronger. Thank you.’ She smiles as the room breaks into applause.
‘To our new students, I would like to take the opportunity to congratulate you. It is no mean feat, securing a place at Duke’s. Across all our courses this year, we had to process around ninety-six thousand hopefuls applying for a place. Ninety-six thousand. Ninety-six thousand.’
‘If she says it again, I reckon Lin-Manuel Miranda’s going to pop up and offer her a part in In the Heights,’ whispers Alec.
‘I’m sure our industry friends will agree that there is no training ground like it –’ Miss Duke scans the front three rows of the audience, daring anyone to disagree – ‘a place to find the best talent, the greatest work ethic, the biggest drive.
‘Students, enjoy tonight. Be sure to introduce yourselves to these wonderful industry people – they will be the next to nurture your talent, to see you along your way in the entertainment business. Have fun, everyone, make friends and Merry Christmas.’ She hands to mic to Michael, who kisses her on both cheeks.
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