Soap Star (7 page)

I looked at Naomi’s letter for a long time after it arrived this morning with the rest of the post from the studio. I couldn’t think of anything to say. How could I tell her that Angel’s mum and dad only got back together because Trudy had written it that way? Not because of anything real, not because of anything that might happen to a real girl like Naomi or a real girl like me. I should be glad, I suppose, that my mum and dad haven’t said or done the things that Naomi’s mum or dad have. But I’m not.

I read the letter again, and part of me wanted to write back and tell her I did know exactly how she felt. I did know because it was happening to me too, and it didn’t matter if it happened to one in three families or one in three billion, because when it happens to you it feels like the worst thing in the world. But somehow I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t write anything to Naomi and my usual pep talk and leaflet for ChildLine seemed pointless.

For the first time I thought about what
I
would do if someone told me to talk to a teacher, or my mum, or a stranger on the end of the phone, even a very nice one. I didn’t know if I’d be able to take that advice. To say the words, to really say out loud the things that are worrying you is hard, maybe too hard. Maybe it’s best just to try and pretend they aren’t there and get on with things. But I can’t write that to Naomi; she needs someone to tell her that everything is going to be OK one day. I don’t know if it is any more. Not for her or for me. So I folded the letter up and tucked it into my pillowcase (which is where I plan to put the love letters that Justin will write me one day). Then I pulled out my scripts for the next four shows.

Everest pushed open my bedroom door with his nose and looked at me, before lumbering up to my bed. I reached down and helped him beside me, pulling the scripts he was lying on out from under his tummy.

I looked at them lying on my lap in their pale yellow covers, with the
Kensington Heights
logo swirled across the little window that showed the episode number and title. This episode was called ‘Awakenings’. Normally, I’d take it downstairs and Mum would go through it with me, highlight my lines, and we’d give them a general read through so I knew how Angel was
supposed to be thinking and feeling, and then I’d sort of learn them. I say sort of because it’s not like a play where you always have to get it right all of the time. I mean, you
do
have to get it right, but you can improvise too, make up your own way of saying the line, as long as when we get to the end of the scene everyone is happy. Our schedule is too tight to learn them all off by heart. But when Mum brought my tea in this morning her eyes were red and her nose looked swollen and she’d probably been crying again. I didn’t want her to feel like she had to hide it from me so I thought I should stay out of her way.

Anyway, on the third script there was a bright pink Post-it note with Trudy’s handwriting crawling over it in fat blue marker pen. “Read this scene first! It’s so fab!” I picked up the script and turned to the page she’d marked. I knew exactly which scene it was before I read it, but that didn’t stop my heart pounding like a drum and my hands shaking as I read the words.

KENSINGTON HEIGHTS

SERIES NINE, EPISODE FOURTEEN

“FIRST LOVE FOREVER”

WRITTEN BY:
TRUDY SIMMONS

SCENE THIRTY-TWO

EXT. GARDEN – MOONLIGHT

ANGEL stands alone in CASPIAN’S garden having rushed out of the party. She looks up at the moon, tears brimming in her eyes. She is mortified that JULIA has told CASPIAN about her crush on him. She knows that everyone will be laughing at her. CASPIAN enters the garden.

CASPIAN

Angel?

CASPIAN rests his hand on ANGEL’S shoulder, making her jump. ANGEL turns and looks up at him.

CASPIAN

Don’t stay out here on your own. Come inside – it’s almost time for the cake.

ANGEL

Cake? That’s all you think of me, isn’t it? You think I’m some silly little girl who likes cake!

ANGEL is struggling to hold back her tears. CASPIAN brushes her hair away from her face and shakes his head.

CASPIAN

Look, Julia did tell me what you said to her – about…liking me, I mean. And wishing that it could be me who gives you your first kiss. I don’t know why you told her, you must have known she would tell. She’s probably just jealous. She’s always catty when she’s jealous.

ANGEL turns away from him and buries her head in her hands.

ANGEL

Oh, please! Just leave me alone. I know you hate me, it’s fine! You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me. Just go inside back to Julia!

CASPIAN holds ANGEL gently by the shoulder and turns her back to face him.

CASPIAN

But I don’t hate you! I…well these last few weeks, the way you’ve dealt with being a hostage in that armed robbery and the way you’ve done your hair. It’s made me see you differently. I can see you’re growing up, Angel, into a really beautiful woman.

ANGEL

You can?

CASPIAN

Yes, I can. The thing is, Angel – well, I’m almost sixteen and you aren’t even fourteen – I just think that now isn’t the right time for you and me. I think we’ve all got a bit of growing up to do first, don’t you? You are an amazing person, but you’ve got all the time in the world. You don’t need to rush something like falling in love.

ANGEL

I didn’t rush into it, it just happened. (Pauses.) Caspian? Do you think that one day…maybe…one day…you might…like me too?

CASPIAN laughs gently and cups ANGEL’S face in his hands.

CASPIAN

I like you now, Angel – I always will. And even if I can’t give you more than that now, I don’t see why I can’t make at least one of your wishes come true.

Close up on pair. ANGEL looks up into CASPIAN’S eyes and he moves to kiss her. She closes her eyes and he gently, softly, tenderly, sweetly kisses her on the lips. He pulls back, her eyes are still closed.

CASPIAN

(Smiling at ANGEL, seeing the beautiful woman she will become.) Now, will you come inside and have some cake?

ANGEL opens her eyes and nods, too happy to speak. CASPIAN goes inside and, after a moment looking up at the stars, ANGEL follows him. She senses that this is the beginning of a new phase in her life. She is walking on air.

For a second I
was
walking on air. For one second I could smell the scent of the evening flowers, feel the silver of the moonlight of my skin and the brush of Justin’s warms lips against mine…

And then I had a panic attack. I have to admit I’d imagined over and over again what Justin’s lips might feel like. Soft (but not too soft) and warm and dry. But what did mine feel like? Maybe my lips were rubbery or maybe
my
lips were damp and cold and clammy! And did I have to sort of pucker up and purse them? Or just keep them still? Maybe I should even open my lips like they did in my mum’s books…? Panic-stricken I looked at the clock. I’d promised Nydia I would meet her outside Anne-Marie’s at ten a.m. and that I wouldn’t make her wait or go in on her own. But what with Naomi’s letter and the script, I’d lost track of time. I only had fifteen minutes to get there – and it was a bus ride away.

I leaped out of bed and pulled my jeans off the back of the chair, getting dressed as quickly as possible. I should have had a shower and brushed my hair, but I didn’t have time. I ran downstairs and past the kitchen.

“I’m just going to meet Nydia and her mum and I’m late, OK? I’ll be back by lunch.” I rushed for the front door, hoping the inevitable wouldn’t happen. Inevitably, it did.

“Hang on a minute!”

I stopped in my tracks and looked round at Mum, my hand on the latch. She had washed her face and, although she looked tired, you almost couldn’t tell that she’d been crying. She smiled at me.

“Where are you going? It’s just that I thought I’d take today off too and that we could both go shopping. We haven’t been for ages, have we? We could get you a few new bits. Nydia could come too if you like and we could all go to lunch.” I stared at her and found myself wondering if she would buy me a new phone, the way she was feeling at the moment. And then I felt terrible. Poor Mum thought she was being nice to me –
was
being really nice to me. She thought that if she took me out then maybe I’d be nice to her, and all I could think about was getting new stuff she’d never normally buy me. But it’s like I said before, I just couldn’t think about the things
Mum wanted me to think about right now. I couldn’t say them out loud and I definitely couldn’t think them. I had to get away from all of that stuff, from her crying and from Dad not being in the kitchen ironing his shirt and making his own words up to the songs on Radio 1. My chest felt hollow and empty.

“I’m sorry, Mum, I can’t today,” I said. “Nydia and I and this other girl from school, we’re rehearsing this play and I need to go…But maybe on my next day off. I’d like that.” I bit my lip and looked at my feet. Somehow I’d made it sound as if I were lying.

“That’s OK,” Mum was still smiling but I could see that she had to work really hard to keep the corners of her mouth pointing upwards. “It’s just that…well…you’re not bottling everything up are you, darling?”

I stared hard at the toe of my trainer.
Of course I’m bottling everything up,
I thought.
Why would anybody want to un-bottle what I’m feeling and pour it all over the place making a great big mess?
But I didn’t say that out loud, because the last thing I wanted was for her to
make
me talk about it – or worse, get it into her head that I needed a counsellor, like Jade Caruso’s parents did when she was caught shoplifting in New Look. (It wasn’t the shoplifting that had shocked them, it was the fact that she’d chosen New Look instead of some designer place.
At least, that’s what Nydia and I thought.) I’d overheard Jade talking about it once. She said it was the most embarrassing and humiliating moment of her life and that in the end she’d had to cry and pretend to be miserable just so they’d let her out of the house on her own again.

“I’m not bottling it up, Mum, I’m just…I’m OK. Really.” I gave her my best smile, hoping to reassure her.

“Your dad called last night,” she said. “He’s going to come over later and take you out for pizza.” My shoulders slumped.

“Pizza,” I said. “He never used to take me out for pizza on my own. I don’t want to go out for pizza with just him. Everyone will look at us and they’ll know, won’t they? They’ll know I have to go out for pizza with my dad because he doesn’t live at home any more.” My mum crossed the hallway and gave me a big hug, which is exactly what she’d wanted to do all along, I suppose.

“I know, but your dad is trying, Ruby. And he misses you.” She squeezed me hard. “Besides, the only reason people will look at you is because you’re the girl off the telly. People’s parents split up all the time. You’re not the only girl this had happened to you know.” I looked at her.

“I’m the only girl it’s happened to who’s me!” I said. I didn’t want to see Dad. Every time I thought about seeing him, the memory of me asking him to stay and him saying no almost came out again until I pushed it really tightly back inside my head. But if I didn’t go, then I knew Mum would feel even more worried and guilty than she already did.
Mum
was at least trying to be nice to me. Dad, on the other hand, well he deserved everything he got.

“OK,” I said. “OK, I’ll go for ‘pizza’.” I spat the word out like an old piece of chewing gum. Mum ruffled my hair but, as she was feeling a bit low, I didn’t complain like I usually do.

“Things are hard right now, Rube,” she said with a sad smile. “But they’ll get better, I promise. Off you go.” I hesitated for a second longer, but then thought of Nydia, who was probably already at Anne-Marie’s house fuming at me for being late.

“Bye then,” I said, kissing her quickly on the cheek.

I ran all the way to the bus stop, but I just missed one and the next took twenty minutes to come.

Nydia was going to kill me.

Anne-Marie’s house was exactly like I described. Complete with the video entrance phone and the driveway, not to mention marble pillars and a nice Spanish-sounding lady who answered the door when I (finally) got to it. It was a huge door too. About the size of four normal doors all glued together. I knew there were houses like this in Highgate, but I hadn’t actually been to one; in fact I hadn’t actually been past one because they were always behind lots of trees set far back from the road.

“Come this way, miss,” the Spanish lady said. “Your friend is already here; they are in the garden.” If Anne-Marie had come to my house it would have taken her about thirty seconds to get from my front door to the back garden. It seemed to take us for ever going through room after huge room. Eventually we came out on to a terrace and the lady pointed me in the direction of a swimming pool. Not just a paddling pool but an
actual
swimming pool. I said to Mum once a couple of years ago that I didn’t mind if we
used my money from the show to buy a bigger house, maybe even one with a pool. But Mum had just laughed and said exactly how much did I think I earned anyway and, besides, she wanted me to have a normal family life in a normal family house and grow up to be a normal well-adjusted adult etcetera etcetera. Well, so much for that plan.

I could see Anne-Marie reclining on a sunlounger in a pink bikini and matching sarong, and Nydia, perched on the edge of another, wriggling uncomfortably under the heat of the sun and the glare that Anne-Marie was probably giving her from underneath her sunglasses. Poor Nydia. I shouldn’t have let her go through this alone, she’s not good at dealing with scorn.

“Would you like a drink?” the lady asked me. “I’ll bring you one out.”

“Oh, yes please,” I said gratefully. I’d run all the way here from the bus and I was hot and sticky. “And could my friend have another one too, please?” The lady nodded.

“You’re a very nice girl, nice manners, unlike most of her friends. Right little madams, most of them.” She threw a look at Anne-Marie. “Although, with my little Annie, her bark is much worse than her bite, trust me! I love your show, never miss it,” she said before turning back into the house. I took a deep breath and walked down the steps of the terrace to Anne-Marie and Nydia.

“Hi!” I said, sitting next to Nydia.

“I waited for you for ages,” she said sulkily under her breath. “And then I thought I’d better go in otherwise she’d think we weren’t coming and go shopping or something.” She looked glumly at Anne-Marie and I tried to imagine the torture she’d been going through waiting for me.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said to Anne-Marie. “It’s just that my scripts came and—”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Anne-Marie interrupted me flapping her hands like two ducks’ beaks. “I’m so important, yak, yak, yak, who cares about anybody else, blah, blah, blah.” She rolled her eyes. “You can’t pull your prima-donna stunts here, OK? If you want my help, you turn up when you say you’re going to turn up.” She sipped her drink through a straw. “I have plans later, you know. I do actually have a life. Now, tell me what this scene is you’re too stupid to be able to act and let’s get on with it.”

I tried to smile, but suddenly the thought of going through with this plan seemed more ridiculous than ever. All I could think was that I needed to escape somehow. I needed to get Nydia and me out of there before Nydia told her the whole story.

“Your house is amazing,” I said, hoping to stall her
with some small talk while I thought of a way of leaving. “Where are your parents?” Anne-Marie looked bored.

“Dad’s in LA. Again. Mum’s in Milan until next week, and then she’s going to Tokyo. My brother, Chris, is in Ladbroke Grove staying at his girlfriend’s place – as usual.” I frowned.

“So you’re living here in this enormous house on your own?” I said, not sure if that was really great or really terrible. “Is that even legal at your age?”

“No, idiot, not on my own. Pilar, the housekeeper, lives here too. And the man that does the garden comes in every day. Chris is supposed to be here but he never is. It’s no big deal,” she said breezily, her eyes masked by her shades.

“But…aren’t you lonely?” I asked her. She pushed her sunglasses up her nose and shook her head. For a moment, she looked sort of smaller and younger. More like an average thirteen-year-old girl instead of a hard-as-nails vixen. Then she opened her mouth.

“Of course I’m not
lonely
, I’ve got hundreds of friends, and a boyfriend who’s coming over later. You and sad-sack here are the lonely ones. Anyway, I don’t mind, it means I can do what I like.” She sat up and looked directly at me. “It means I can have people like you over with no one having to know about it. Now, stop trying to
stall and tell me what it is you want. Otherwise I’ll be so bored you’ll have to leave before I slip into a coma.”

And I knew then I was too late; I wasn’t getting out of this plan.

We told her. Well, actually, Nydia told her. First of all Anne-Marie looked horrified, then delighted, and then she just laughed and laughed and laughed until she went perfectly pink from her ears down. Either that or she hadn’t got sun block on.

“Oh my God!” she shrieked as she reached for her phone. “Just wait until Jade hears about this!” Nydia reached out her hand in a stopping motion.

“Hang on, remember what we agreed,” she said, sounding quite cross for her. But not cross enough to stop Anne-Marie.

“That was before I knew what you wanted me to do. You want
me
to teach
her
how to kiss. Me? You must think I’m crazy; I always thought you two were weird. You’re probably lesbians.” She keyed in Jade’s number and held the phone to her ear. “This is brilliant,” she said as she waited for Jade to pick up. I looked at Nydia, wide-eyed with panic, waiting for her to come up with one of her plans. She didn’t. She just sat there as if she were frozen solid, even under the heat of the sun.

“OK,” I said, desperately trying to act as if I didn’t
care. “OK, fine. I’ll just cancel the meeting I made for you next week with our producer Liz Hornby then.”

Anne-Marie’s laugh froze on her face.

“Oh, hi, Jade. Yeah, yeah, I do, but listen I’ll call you back, OK? Something’s just come up.” She put her phone down. “You’ve already set up a meeting? With Liz Hornby?” she said looking at me.

I am an actress, so really I should be very good at lying. After all, everything I do on screen is basically me trying to convince people I’m someone I’m not. But when it comes to actual lying, off set and in the real world, I’m terrible at it. I can’t look at the person I’m lying to and my voice goes all silly and small.

“Er, yes,” I said, trying to sound normal. “It’s all arranged, but it can easily be unarranged. There’s a new part coming up, but…” Just at that moment Pilar arrived with two drinks, and Nydia and I both took ours and drank them down in one.

“But it’s ridiculous! How can I teach you to kiss?” Anne-Marie said. “It’s not something you teach, it’s something you sort of just learn.”

I sighed. “I can’t just learn it, Anne-Marie. I haven’t got time to learn it
or
anyone to learn it with. It’s supposed to be my first kiss: I want it to be my first kiss with Justin. It’s got to be perfect.” Anne-Marie grinned
like the Cheshire Cat from
Alice in Wonderland.
“You fancy Justin de Souza, don’t you? Justin, the star of the show, the teen hunk! You fancy him and you seriously think that he might like you! You! Poor guy, has he read the script yet? He’ll probably resign when he does and you won’t have to worry any more.”

I stood up and looked at Nydia.

“This is pointless,” I said. “Let’s just go.” Nydia was about to stand up too when Anne-Marie waved for her to sit back down again. She did with a plonk.

“Hang on,” Anne-Marie said. “Kissing scenes are easy, really. You don’t even have to worry about tongues. You just need to get the mood right, get your nose in the right place and you’ll be fine. And as you’ve
so
got the hots for Justin, you’ll have no problems. You just need someone to practise on. I’ll arrange it, OK? If you stick to your side of the agreement.” I looked uncertainly at Nydia.

“OK, but when? I’m on set tomorrow and I got the new scripts today with the kiss scene in them. The read through will be on Monday and we’ll start shooting it Thursday.”

Anne-Marie thought for a moment.

“Tomorrow evening. Here. No one will be here anyway.”

“OK,” Nydia and I said together.

Nydia picked up her bag. “Listen, Anne-Marie – thanks a lot for doing this…” she began.

“Don’t
thank me
, retard. You know why I’m doing it. I must be the only movie producer’s daughter in the world whose father won’t pull any strings to get her parts. He says if I want respect in the business I have to make my own way. Well, I’m making my own way. I’m pulling your strings and that’s all, so don’t start getting all excited and thinking we’ll be friends. We won’t. Ever.” She picked up a magazine from under her chair and opened it. “You can go now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We walked through the house and down the long drive at the front, back to the real world of traffic fumes and noise.

“Well that was…hideous,” I said. “I’m so sorry I was late.” Nydia scowled at me. “I’m sorry, Nydia! I wouldn’t have been, honest, but Mum wanted to ‘talk’ to me and I couldn’t just go, could I? Not with her and Dad…you know.”

Nydia sighed. “I know,” she said. “But she’s so horrible to me, Ruby. She’s even more horrible to me than she is to you. I just don’t get why, I really don’t. What have I ever done to make her hate me so much? She makes me feel like I’m not even…a person. Like I don’t
even have feelings that count.” I put an arm around Nydia’s shoulder and we bump-walked together along the road.

“She treats you like that because that’s how she feels about herself,” I said, using a line I’d thought of for one of my problem-letter replies. “Nydia, you’re not only a person, you’re the best person in the whole world ever. A million times better than Anne-Marie. You’re always there for me and I know how horrible it was for you sucking up to her today. But you know I’d always do the same for you, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Nydia said. “Although so far the worst thing I’ve got myself into was double detention for two weeks.” She grinned at me. “Poor Anne-Marie, it must be so hard being all thin and blonde with those big blue eyes and all those millions of pounds. Poor old her.” Nydia giggled.

“Yes, poor her,” I said. “Poor little Anne-Marie.” I remembered what I promised her. “She’s going to be really,
really
angry and mad Anne-Marie pretty soon,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Nydia asked me.

“When she finds out I haven’t arranged any meeting for her with Liz. That never in millions of years could I arrange any meetings for anyone. I’m only a kid! She must think I’m miles more important than I am. That’s really going to hack her off when she finds out.”

Nydia giggled even more.

“There’s always a bright side,” she said, and we both laughed our way to the bus stop until I remembered something else Anne-Marie had said.

“Hang on a minute – what did she mean when she said she would get someone for me to practise on…?”