Dance Like No One's Watching

by Vanessa Jones

  Nick Prescott is a theatre and fashion photographer.

  Notable works include photography for the Royal Ballet, Vogue, Bazaar, Tatler and The Face magazine.

  Alec scrolls down, although too quickly for me to read over his shoulder, then clicks on ‘Images’ at the top of the page. There are loads of photos of this guy – he seems to get around. Society events, fashion evenings, gossip column photographs. Alec whizzes through them but doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for. Finally he goes back to the search bar at the top and types in ‘Nick Prescott young’ then clamps the phone to his chest before I get a chance to see.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Oh my God, Nettie . . .’ Alec looks shocked. ‘I . . . I think we know why your mum fell out with Miss Duke. I was right – this guy in the photo is Nick Prescott.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ I say.

  ‘Well, he’s a photographer,’ replies Alec. ‘But at the time the photo was taken, he was Cecile Duke’s husband.’

  CHAPTER 19

  It’s 6 March, the dreaded day. Kiki and Leon have come over to watch the first airing of Triple Threat. Luca couldn’t come – he has a big assignment due in tomorrow. I’m secretly relieved. Anand’s warning has been turning over in my mind, Sam couldn’t actually make out Luca and I were together. It would be lying . . . right?

  Alec has ceremoniously put out a velvet curtain on the floor in place of a red carpet and dressed himself in a DJ. Thankfully Kiki and Leon have turned up in joggers and sweatshirts, so I don’t feel too bad for being in my pyjamas.

  Leon took some persuading to be here. Things seem . . . OK between him and Alec since Alec apologized. I’m glad to see Alec making an effort tonight, too.

  ‘Top-up, Leon?’ he says, offering the bottle of fizz. ‘I bought your favourite.’

  Kiki and I exchange a look. These rich boys and their wine.

  ‘Er, thanks.’ Leon seems surprised, but pleased. He gives Alec a small smile, and doesn’t even protest when Alec sits next to him.

  The documentary opens with a queue, clearly staged, outside the main building. The camera follows it all the way down Frith Street, round the corner to Bateman Street and back up Greek Street to Soho Square. A narrator tells us that thousands of hopefuls audition to be at Duke’s every year.

  ‘That’s not how they run the auditions,’ says Alec indignantly. ‘Everyone has an allotted day. There’s no queue.’

  The first ten minutes show clips of class, interviews with Miss Duke and a couple of the teachers, and a general day at college. But it does it with this kind of intensity that I’ve never noticed in real life. The hunger to succeed, the competition, the need to thrive . . . Is that how Sam sees it? My first instinct is to dismiss it all as TV bullshit, but maybe it isn’t. Maybe it just doesn’t feel that way because we’re all used to it. Even though we don’t talk about it all the time, we’re all pretty driven. Kiki’s all about pushing herself to the limit. And Alec this year has gone beyond anything I’ve seen of him before, to the detriment of all of us.

  The programme looks more like a movie than a documentary, with dance numbers like pop videos, shot from all angles and highly edited (I notice Jade comes across well with this technique). Kiki, Leon and Alec all have featured moments. Leon’s interviewed about changing courses. There’s a small but beautiful clip of him singing.

  ‘Leon, you sound great,’ says Alec.

  Leon smiles but doesn’t say anything. I know they’re a long way off healing, but this at least feels like a step in the right direction.

  The next part shows Kiki and Alec dancing. Alec’s more than satisfied with his footage, but Kiki wrinkles her nose in disgust.

  ‘Oh my God, is that how I look?’ she says.

  ‘You look . . . amazing,’ Leon says.

  There’s an interview with Kiki where she discusses her collaboration with See Me Now. Then she talks about her body issues and tells Sam that she’s going on a healthy-eating kick. I almost have to put my sock in my mouth to stop myself from commenting. I know it’s her life, her choice, but the difference between her in September and her now is huge. She was so happy, so positive at the beginning of the first term back. Now she just seems anxious and stressed – well, at least during the limited time I get to see her, when she’s not with Sam or in rehearsals.

  They show Jade auditioning for a dancer’s role in Chicago and talk to her about last year. She doesn’t hold back, going into full detail about how she blackmailed me to sing for her and how she liked Fletch, but he was interested in me all along and broke her heart. They then show the footage of the Summer Showcase while Jade tells viewers that we’re basically sworn enemies. My eyes are rooted to the screen, but I can sense everyone looking at me to gauge my reaction, and I can feel it’s making me go the reddest I’ve ever gone in my life – my cheeks feel even more flushed than that time last year when Miss Duke singled me out in a group of third-years to sing.

  ‘Ugh, I just seem so . . . basic,’ I say. ‘Was I really that pathetic?’

  ‘Babe, you were grieving, you’d been living with a woman who mentally abused you, you’d lost your voice, and the college bitch was making your life hell,’ says Alec, putting his arm around my shoulder. ‘You’re literally made of steel to have come through all of that.’

  I lean into him. Even if the world thinks I’m a nervous wreck, at least my friends know the real me.

  The documentary then shows my audition for Chicago and runs the interview where Sam asks me about Fletch. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, there are clips of all my friends talking about how wonderful I am (I had no idea they were even asked about me) and some random shots of Luca watching me sing . . . I’m starting to understand what Anand was warning me about as I watch more footage of Luca and me laughing in a corner. My stomach starts to squirm uncomfortably when I realize that Fletch could be watching. I’ve been angry with him for his reaction to our friendship, but after watching this, I wouldn’t blame him.

  Then the documentary gets to the part at the Christmas Ball. Anxious, I get up to go, but Alec pulls me down.

  ‘Nettie, there’s like one minute left. You’re not going anywhere.’

  So I sit through the interviews, the awful Jade-and-Natasha scene, and finally the reel. There’s a moment where Luca looks like he wants to tell me something but is interrupted by Fletch cutting in. I watch through my fingers as we kiss. Omigod, this is excruciating.

  The camera zooms in on Luca. I watch incredulously as the camera closes in on his face, which looks completely gutted as he sees us kissing. Then he rushes out of the room, head down, eyes on the floor.

  The credits start rolling.

  Everyone looks at me.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  ‘An evening with Antoinette Delaney-Richardson,’ says Alec. ‘She’s here all week.’

  I bury my face in my hands. ‘What am I going to do?’ I say. My cheeks flush hot again, and I can feel a stress rash appearing on my neck.

  ‘I think the first thing you should do is stay calm,’ says Leon. ‘Everyone knows it’s been heavily edited. We were all there, remember?’

  ‘There’s nothing going on between Luca and me,’ I say.

  ‘They made it look more like Luca has a crush on you,’ says Kiki, ‘which . . . seems fair.’

  ‘See – even you’re buying into it!’ I say. ‘They could have used footage from literally any moment. Surely you can see that?’

  ‘You can’t deny he’s always been a tiny bit into you,’ says Kiki tentatively.

  ‘There’s no way Luca would go after Nettie,’ Leon says to Kiki. ‘Fletch is like a brother to him.’ He holds my hand; I squeeze it gratefully. ‘Right, Alec?’

  Alec’s not listening. He’s staring at the credits like he’s seen a ghost.

  ‘Are you OK?’ says Kiki, waving in front of his face.

  He comes out of his trance. ‘Sorry. Just looking for our names. Leon’s right,’ he says, snappin
g back into action. ‘If we can all see that the footage has been put together, then I’m sure Fletch can.’

  I’m momentarily distracted by what he said about the credits, but it’s just a load of line producers and the financial department and people we don’t know. ‘Fletch already has a thing about Luca and me. We had a fight about it on Sunday. I should never have agreed to be part of it. Sam’s gone too far.’

  ‘She’s not exactly going to be like, “The students have breakfast, do some classes, and go home,” is she?’ says Kiki. ‘She’s looking for the drama, and whether you like it or not, Nettie, you are the drama. It’s not like she’s making you look bad, exactly . . .’

  Leon puts his arm around me. ‘At least Jade’s not making up rumours about you like she was last year.’

  ‘Yet,’ I say. And to be honest, it feels like a crap consolation prize. ‘Well, you guys all looked amazing anyway.’

  We talk into the night, and I try to distract myself by focusing on my friends’ brilliant performances. But when I eventually head to bed for the evening, there’s only one thing on my mind.

  What on earth am I going to say to Fletch?

  I can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now – I just hope he’ll understand. I’ll have to make myself as boring as possible from now on and stay away from Luca. There’s nothing else I can do; I’ve got no say in how they portray me, no control over my own story. It sucks, actually.

  I can’t help remembering the close-up of Luca’s face as he watched Fletch and me kissing. Desperately, I wrack my brains trying to think of what happened at the reel. Was he standing up against that wall at any other point? I can’t remember. Could Sam have taken random footage of him deep in thought and made it look as if he was watching us? Or was Fletch right to be concerned? Does Luca have feelings for me?

  Maybe Fletch didn’t even see it. He’s so mega busy, he probably forgot.

  I message him.

  23:39

  Hey x

  Fletch:

  Hey, you

  How’s it going?

  Good, thanks. Steph’s amazing, isn’t she?

  The BEST

  What have you been up to tonight?

  Working?

  Or like at home chilling with TV or whatever

  Working!

  I don’t really remember what chilling is.

  You’ll be home soon. Three more weeks ♥

  Yeah. About that . . .

  Nettie, I’m so sorry but they’ve asked me to extend my internship.

  Oh no! How long for?

  Another two months.

  What about your degree?

  I’ve got an extension on my dissertation. And I can use a lot of the work I’m doing here, so it won’t be too bad. I’m sorry – I know this is going to make things hard for us.

  We can make it work. I’m just glad you told me.

  Thanks for being so understanding.

  I’m missing you so much, Nettie.

  Thanks for being honest about it. We’ll get through this. x

  But what if we don’t get through it? Another two months? I don’t think we’ll survive it. Not after the trash I’ve just watched on telly tonight. This is completely gutting – we were on the home straight. Now the finish line’s been moved and a shit load of emotional hurdles put up. I don’t know how to deal with this.

  One thing I’m certain of, though. He hasn’t seen it. Yet.

  ‘Nettie!’

  Luca’s calling me from the other end of the foyer at lunchtime the next day. I’ve managed to avoid him so far, but we still have hours and hours of rehearsals together – staying completely clear of him will be impossible. We’ll have to face it at some point.

  Everyone turns to look at him, including two members of the crew. Great.

  I pretend not to hear, but he calls me again.

  ‘Nettie, I just wanted a word!’

  I turn around. ‘OK, but can we do it outside?’ I mouth, beckoning him as I push open the front doors.

  He seems to cotton on and follows me outside. ‘Oh, right. Sure. Listen . . .’ He looks around to check we’re alone. ‘Did you watch Triple Threat?’

  ‘Um, yeah.’

  ‘You know it’s all bollocks, don’t you?’ he says.

  ‘Yeah, kind of what I thought.’ I hope he can’t see the relief on my face.

  ‘I mean it, Nettie. I don’t want it to be weird between us. So I went to Michael, and he suggested I talked to Sam if I’m not happy.’

  ‘Don’t be surprised if she goes back on her word,’ I say. ‘She’s completely untrustworthy.’

  ‘What about Fletch?’ says Luca uncertainly.

  ‘Fletch won’t care. He knows how it is with these TV programmes.’ I try to sound confident, but my stomach squirms nastily. When did everything get so complicated?

  CHAPTER 20

  ‘Well done. I think we’re getting there,’ Lisa says, as we finish cooling down after Wednesday night’s session. We are now into early April, and this whole process has been less ‘college musical’ and more ‘intensive training’, but I can see the improvement in my dancing. It’s been amazing to learn from Lisa; I totally get why Michael introduced her as a ‘Fosse veteran’. She’s an actual legend. And if I thought Kiki was amazing before, since she’s been working with Lisa, she’s reached new heights of incredible. She’s going to be tremendous in the show.

  ‘A reminder that you’re to be at the Prince Edward Theatre on Sunday for the publicity shoot,’ Lisa continues, ‘and also that you may be asked to be photographed in your own clothes as well as your costume.’

  Michael and Leon come down from upstairs, where they’ve been working on ‘Mr Cellophane’ together. Not that Leon needs any more work on it – he’s got a real flare for comedy that no one could have predicted; his characterization of Amos is both hilarious and moving.

  As we leave, Sam stops him. ‘A quick word, Leon?’

  Luca and Kiki and I leave them to it. Looking back, I raise my eyebrows at him to check he’s OK. He nods quickly in response. I hope it’s not something awful, but you never know where Triple Threat’s concerned. Maybe it’s an interview about tonight’s rehearsal. He was on fire just now.

  Since the programme aired, everything’s been really strange. People come up to us on the street, or they take photos on their phones from a distance. Magazines want to interview us. And now we’re doing a huge photoshoot. I’ve tried not to watch the show, but at the same time I need to keep tabs on what Sam’s saying about me, so I dip in and out and leave the room when it gets too cringey. As expected, Sam hasn’t kept her word about not making a story of me and Luca and is still making it look as if we’re in love with each other. Luca’s outraged but I’m not at all surprised. I still don’t know if Fletch has watched it; it’s like this big elephant in the room between us.

  Luca and Alec have been going through all Mum’s stuff again with me, combing it for anything we might have missed the first time around. I’ve checked pockets of her old clothes, anywhere she might have left something, but so far we’ve come up with nothing. Luca’s been trying to contact Peter Russell’s old agent, but it seems he was already old school in the Nineties and is now ancient (I think Luca had to post a letter in the end because he’s got no online presence). It’s really kind of them both to help. Alec’s definitely making an effort to be a better friend to all of us, which I can see in the fact that Leon’s cautiously letting him in a little more.

  Three Ring TV have deemed the music hall too shabby for their shoot, so we’re decamping to the Prince Edward Theatre on Sunday. They’re photographing all the featured students on Triple Threat – actors, dancers, MT students and stage managers, as well as the cast of Chicago. Alec’s beside himself that he gets to come – he’s made it abundantly clear that he feels out of the loop because he’s not in the college musical. Maybe if he wasn’t such an arse, we’d loop him in a bit more.

  My phone rings on Sunday morning. I’m
kind of awake, but I was lounging around in my bed, putting off getting up. It’s Fletch.

  ‘Hey, you,’ I say.

  ‘Hey, beautiful. Where are you?’

  It’s good to hear his voice. ‘Er, just watching TV.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Get out of bed and come to the living-room window.’

  I do as he says, shivering.

  Fletch is outside, on his bike, his helmet dangling in one hand, smiling up at me. I scream and bolt out of the front door, down the stairs and out into the street in my shorts and vest. He laughs at me as I tiptoe over the cobbles with bare feet. When I reach the kerb, I fling my arms around his neck and he lifts me on to his lap.

  ‘I didn’t know you were coming back this weekend,’ I say. I put my hands on his face; it’s pink and cold from the ride.

  ‘You’ll freeze out here,’ he says. ‘Get in and put the kettle on. I’ll go and park in the square.’

  Kissing him, I hop off the bike and run back up to the flat. Then I peg it to the shower, wash my hair, shave my legs and get out again in one minute and thirty seconds. I blast my hair with the hairdryer, bung some lip balm and mascara on, and quickly fasten the locket he gave me around my neck. Then I scramble out to the kitchen and clear the mound of plates that I’ve let pile up, knowing that Alec wasn’t going to surface until later.

  Fletch comes in through the open door, just as I put my feet up on the sofa and grab one of Alec’s magazines. So tidy, so nonchalant, me.

  ‘Loverboy?’ says Fletch.

  I turn the magazine round to look at the front.

  ‘It’s very interesting reading,’ I say.

  ‘You were panic tidying.’

  ‘Me? Never.’

  He comes and lies next to me on the sofa. I drape his arm around me and lay my head on his chest. My whole back aches with missing him, or being with him – I’m not sure which.