Kiki comes back out of the flat. She calls across the road to me, ‘I’ll message you later. Let you know how he is.’ She gives Alec a dirty look worthy of all three Heathers and heads off down to Covent Garden.
Alec seizes the opportunity to slink inside. I’m freezing, but I don’t want to spend a second longer in his company, so I linger on the steps for a moment.
I’m just about to go when Luca runs around the corner, dressed in joggers and a hoody with a set of headphones slung around his neck. ‘Hey.’
‘What are you doing here?’ I say.
‘I mean, you’re the one on the steps of Pineapple in your pyjamas . . . Anyway, I fixed your bracelet. Thought I’d combine returning it to you with a run,’ he says. ‘You OK?’ he adds, seeing my thunderous face.
‘Yeah, I – just . . . Alec.’ I try to smile. ‘We just had a huge fight.’
‘And you took it outside? Must’ve been bad.’ Seeing from my face that it’s too soon to joke, he adds, ‘You know, last night after you’d gone, he was out of control. I mean, we were all drunk, but Alec took it to another level.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me. That’s kind of what we were fighting about.’
‘Anything I can help with?’ he says.
‘Not really – but thanks.’
Neither of us speaks for a moment.
‘Did you . . . say you had my bracelet?’
‘Oh! Yes.’ He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out my bracelet. ‘Here. I mended the catch so that it won’t slip off again.’ His hand feels warm against mine as he lays the bracelet in my palm.
I turn it over in my fingers. ‘Thank you – how did you do it? It’s been dodgy for years.’
‘I just tightened it up here –’ he lifts it up by the clasp to show me – ‘so that when it’s closed, it stays closed.’
‘That’s so kind of you, Luca,’ I say, hugging him. ‘Thanks again. It means a lot.’
‘No worries,’ he says, grinning. ‘Anyway, have a good day.’ He puts his headphones on and starts running. ‘Laters,’ he calls over his shoulder before disappearing round the corner of Shelton Street.
I look down at the bracelet in my palm. It was really so sweet of him to fix it.
I turn to cross the road. Fletch is standing in the doorway.
‘Hey.’
‘Oh my God,’ I say, running over to him. ‘How long have you been there?
‘Sorry,’ he says. He seems agitated, and his eyes won’t meet mine. ‘I wondered where you were.’
‘Oh. Is everything . . . OK?’ I say.
‘Yeah, fine,’ he says. He looks at my hoody/pyjama shorts/ trainers combo. ‘You must be cold.’
‘Yeah, I am.’ I don’t move. ‘Is there . . . a problem?’
‘No – I just thought you were meeting Leon. Not Luca. Maybe I read the note wrong. It’s fine. Coffee?’
Fletch is smiling brightly, but it’s obviously not ‘fine’. He’s being careful with his words, but it’s clear what he thinks.
‘I did see Leon. I was just about to come back in when Luca dropped by to give me back my bracelet, which fell off last night when we were dancing. Which we were doing as friends because my boyfriend had told me that he was too busy at work with the grown-ups to come to a silly college ball with me.’
Neither of us speaks for a minute.
‘Can I say something?’ he says finally.
I kind of shrug-nod.
‘I’m sorry.’
I look up at him, my eyes full of hurt and disbelief. ‘You didn’t seriously think—’
‘No! I just . . .’ He rubs his face, like he’s trying to get himself together. ‘It’s lonely down in Chichester. Like, I lie awake thinking about the next time I’ll get to see you, what you’re doing, and then the next day I’m exhausted and stressed. And then I take it out on you, which is horrible. I know I’m doing it, but I can’t seem to stop myself.’
‘You’re the one who never replies to messages, or asks me how my day was, or even notices when we haven’t spoken for a whole day,’ I say, shivering in the cold air. ‘If anything, I’m the one who should be insecure.’
‘I know, I know.’ He pulls at his hair. ‘I’m sorry. I guess my brain was making up stuff about you and Luca because deep down I think that’s what I deserve. I don’t really think it. I’m truly sorry, Nettie. Please forgive me. Please.’ He reaches into his pocket. ‘Listen – I got you something. I was going to give it to you at the ball, but – well . . .’ He pulls out a small box.
I literally don’t know what to think about anything. He’s giving me presents when things literally couldn’t be weirder between us? Confused, I take the box and open it. Inside is a heart-shaped silver locket with a moonstone in the middle, surrounded by flowers. It’s gorgeous. But why has he picked now to give it to me, seconds after a fight?
‘It’s vintage,’ he says eagerly. ‘French – they think it’s Victorian. Or like, the French version of Victorian.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ I mean, literally. Like, how am I supposed to respond to this after what he just said to me?
‘Look inside.’ He opens the clasp for me and the locket clicks open. There’s no picture inside, but he’s had it engraved. It’s the first song we ever sang together.
You Matter to Me
As the song lyrics come back to me, my mind floats back to that moment. I remember how special it was, how those words just seemed to ‘fit’ us. How much I loved him, even then.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
He taps my heart. ‘Just so I’m here, even if I’m not actually here.’
Something doesn’t quite sit.
‘What do you mean?’ I say, pulling away.
He seems surprised at my reaction. ‘Nothing – I just wanted you to know that I’m committed to you and that . . . I’m always thinking about you. Is that . . . wrong?’
‘It’s just that . . . two minutes ago you were pretty much accusing me of cheating on you with your best friend, and now you’re presenting me with a necklace and saying that it’s to represent how you’re always here –’ I tap my chest harshly – ‘and I can’t help feeling you’re . . .’
‘What?’
‘Claiming ownership of me or something?’
He looks shocked. ‘Nettie, that’s not what this is.’
‘What is it, then?’
‘It was just something to let you know how much I love you! I had it all planned – I was going to give it to you before the ball. It’s got nothing to do with Luca.’
‘Or the fact that you don’t trust me.’ My voice breaks; I put my head in my hands.
‘I do trust you, Nettie.’ There’s a slightly panicky note to his voice, an urgency. He tries to pull my hand down from my face, but I resist. ‘Listen, don’t wear it if you feel like that – although that wasn’t my intention at all. But I’d still like you to have it.’
I look up. ‘So now I shouldn’t wear it?’ What is he even saying?
He hits his forehead with frustration. ‘Oh God, I’m doing this all wrong! This isn’t how it was meant to go. Please believe me. I’ve been planning it for ages. Alec was helping me.’
I want so badly to believe him. But he’s not doing himself any favours.
‘I told him I wanted to get you a locket, and from then on, he kind of asked to be involved in the process. When I say “asked”, I mean “demanded”.’ Fletch half smiles hopefully. ‘He tried to convince me to get “Netch” engraved in it, but I decided against it.’
I manage a small smile at his little joke in spite of myself. ‘That does sound like him, even if he’s currently the worst person in the world.’
Fletch takes my hands. ‘Listen, Nettie, I’m going to do better from now on. Stop letting things get to me. Stop being short with you on the phone and not replying to your messages. Stop being jealous. Will you give me another chance?’
I think back to last night and how happy I was to see him, how perfect the rest of o
ur evening was. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. ‘OK, Fletch. But you have to try.’
‘I will – I promise.’ He takes my hand and kisses it several times. I can feel him shaking with relief. ‘And we’re going to have the best Christmas ever. I can’t wait to be with you. Nettie, I love you so much.’
A small crowd of early morning dancers has gathered inside the front window of Pineapple across the road. They’re watching with interest. As Fletch puts his arms around me, one of them applauds. I think they’re enthralled by the Moulin Rouge levels of drama unfolding in the street.
‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Let’s go inside.’
Fletch leaves just after 6 p.m. I’m on the sofa watching Alex Newell videos on YouTube when Alec returns home with numerous shopping bags, having been out most of the day. Typical. Devastates his best friend, gets called on it, and then does a spot of retail therapy to cheer himself up. Job done. He takes his shoes off and comes and sits next to me. I turn away pointedly.
‘I’ve messaged Leon,’ he says. ‘Said sorry.’
I’m not sure what that means – like, a quick soz mate text isn’t going to cut it. I fold my arms and move further away from him.
‘Nettie, please don’t be angry with me,’ he says, trying to unfold them by taking my hand out of the crook of my elbow and holding on to it.
I jerk my arm out of reach. ‘I don’t know what the fuck’s got into you lately. All this with Taro – it’s just another way of competing.’
‘I’m not competing—’
‘Lay off Leon!’ I shout, turning back to him with fury coursing through my veins. ‘If you value his friendship at all, you’ll stay away from Taro. And if you value mine, you’ll start being less of a complete twat to Leon.’
I get up, storm to my room and slam the door, leaving Alec speechless for once in his life.
I can’t compute it all. This time yesterday, I was the happiest I’ve been in a long time: I was hanging out with my best mates; Leon and Alec were back on track; Fletch was taking me to a ball; and I felt excited about the future. Now suddenly I feel like the rug’s been pulled from under me.
It’s not just the fight that’s bothering me, or Alec’s behaviour. Something has shifted. Between Fletch and me, and my friends, too. Kiki spends most of her free time with Sam, Leon’s rightly been avoiding Alec because of the way he always treats everything as a competition, and Alec’s out of control. I wish we could go back to how it was before the summer, when Fletch and I had just got together and everyone was happy to be finishing first year. When we’d all stay up in the common room talking and listening to music together until the sun came up. When I was ridiculously happy to get my voice back and I’d thought second year was going to be easy. When I thought I’d be able to find out what happened to Mum.
Things haven’t panned out as I’d hoped. My boyfriend is away, the group is drifting apart, and I feel like I’m never going to fully know what happened to Mum. It sounds dramatic, but right now, I just feel kind of . . . alone.
CHAPTER 17
10:41
Luca:
Hey. How’s it going?
You know, the usual. Missing Fletch a bit.
At least you get to see him in three days!
I CAN’T WAIT
You OK?
Yeah, good, thanks. Can you spare twenty minutes after rehearsals tonight?
Aren’t we meant to be going for end-of-term drinks with the cast?
Got something I need to show you.
I promise it won’t take long.
OK. See you later x
Lisa schedules an intensive Fosse workshop with Luca and me for an hour before everyone else is called. God, she must think we’re really bad. I arrive early to discover her and Sam arguing in the corner. Taking care not to be seen, I hover outside the studio entrance to listen.
‘I don’t understand why you made me cast a musician in this role and then want to force all this dancing on to him,’ Lisa’s saying. ‘There were plenty of people who could’ve played Billy.’
‘I saw potential in Luca and needed him at the heart of the story,’ says Sam. ‘Lisa, you’re amazing. If anyone can get this out of him, it’s you.’
Lisa replies, but I don’t hear what she says. It sounds like Luca’s suspicion was right – Sam was the one who got him cast. But why? I wait a few more seconds before going in, which is just as well because Sam comes marching out of the room and nearly knocks me over. I duck my head down and go into the studio to join Lisa, who’s keen to start.
‘Nettie, your dancing’s improving,’ Lisa says after fifteen minutes of isolation technique. ‘I’m getting some great work from you. I know from talking to Michael that dance isn’t really your thing?’
‘Um, no. Not really.’ I glance at Kiki, who’s there to assist Lisa. She smiles encouragingly at me.
‘Well, Fosse is definitely your thing,’ says Lisa. My insides melt with delirious happiness at her words. ‘And all the small stuff, the style, you’re really there. But I want to add a pas de deux between Roxie and Billy Flynn, and if we’re gonna do that, we have to nail your technique. Let’s just jam for a while. Follow me.’
She starts moving, very little at first. I copy her in the mirror.
She smiles at my reflection. ‘That’s it, honey – now just loosen it up.’
The movements become easier as I familiarize my body with them, until I feel a sense of freedom I’ve never felt before. Something releases, and I suddenly feel closer to Mum, like I’ve started to understand some of who she was, how she must have felt when she was dancing. It’s not a sad feeling – quite the opposite – I feel connected to her in a way I never have before, like she’s here with me. This is amazing. If I never find out a single thing more about her, then I have this. Forever.
Lisa looks over to the door. ‘Oh hey, Luca . . . Come join. Those hips need work – am I right?’
Luca walks in, grinning sheepishly.
‘You look strong, so that’s good,’ continues Lisa. ‘We’re practising lifts today. I’ve got a couple from “Take Off with Us” – google it –’ (don’t need to; already watched it a gazillion times, plus Alec’s many incarnations of it) – ‘and “Bye Bye Blackbird”.’
We work hard to nail the lifts. Lisa throws in some schmoozing for Luca to practise his hips. It’s a way of travelling with a lot of wrist circling, shoulder rolling and hip fluidity – unset, but very specific in style. Lisa describes it as ‘oil on water’. She gets us to schmooze together, which looks very sexy but is in fact a huge slog. I’m learning that it takes a lot of internal effort to make something look so easy – that what people see is never the full picture.
Lisa puts it into words perfectly. ‘Your outer body, the moving image we’re seeing, is the swan gliding on water. It’s beautiful, it’s fluid, it’s serene. Inside should be a struggle. You’re conflicted, you’re working hard, you’re tense. Inside you’re the swan’s legs fighting the current.’
‘I think my outer body and inner body have been switched,’ says Luca.
I giggle.
‘You’re getting there.’ Lisa laughs. ‘Baby steps.’
We work for an hour. Towards the end of the session, I notice Sam has slid in with a handheld and is filming us dancing. Lately my anxiety’s been sky high about how she’s going to portray me. The first episode airs soon, and at the moment, we’re all just getting on as best we can, living our lives. Soon everyone will be living them with us. But which version will they see?
Sam collars me as Lisa breaks us. ‘Nettie. Great footage today.’ She taps her camera with a knowing wink. ‘This documentary is going to make you a star.’
‘I’m not sure I want to be a st—’ I begin.
‘No? Then why are you at Duke’s?’
The reply stops in my mouth. Why am I at Duke’s? To sing, to act, to do musical theatre . . . But Sam’s right – it’s kind of hard to do that anonymously. I’ve never really thought about the other side
of it. There are West End performers out there at the moment, instagramming their every move, updating their stories in order to increase their followers, get the bigger parts, further their careers . . . Will I get left behind?
But trading invasion of privacy for – what, exactly? Fame? Success? – isn’t what I wanted.
‘I’m here to train, Sam,’ I say. ‘Not to be famous. I didn’t ask for any of this.’
‘I totally get it.’ Sam lowers her voice. ‘It’s just a shame you didn’t read that little piece of paper you signed at the beginning of the year more carefully. You can’t go back on that now – well, not unless you want to be sued, right?’ Her lips play in a little smile. ‘And when Three Ring TV decides to sue? Well – you can imagine.’ She gives a knowing little laugh, but there’s something menacing behind it.
Kiki comes into the studio. ‘Hey, Nettie! Guess what?’ She sees my nonplussed face and Sam’s smiling one. ‘Everything . . . OK?’ she says tentatively.
‘Yep! I’ll talk to you later, Nettie,’ says Sam, calmly taking the door from Kiki and stepping through it. She turns back. ‘Nice top, Kiki.’
‘I tie-dyed it myself,’ says Kiki, staring at us.
‘You should wear it more often. It’s really flattering.’
Flattering? Ugh, she’s just the worst.
Kiki waits until the door closes behind Sam before she speaks. ‘What was that all about?’
‘I honestly don’t know,’ I say. ‘But I think she just threatened to sue me if I backed out.’
‘Well, to be fair, you did sign a consent form,’ says Kiki.
I suppress a surge of anger. Why does she always take Sam’s side? ‘What was it you were going to tell me?’ I say, changing the subject.
‘Oh, yeah!’ says Kiki, oblivious. ‘I got an email from someone at See Me Now – you know, the online fashion company – saying they’d seen my photo in Grazia and looked me up on Instagram. They’re interested in doing a clothing collaboration! Apparently there’s loads of buzz around Triple Threat and they want to get in on it. Nettie, I can’t believe it – I’ve always dreamed of my own dancewear line!’
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