Devoted 2 : Where the Ivy Grows (14 page)

‘It’s not safe for you to take that part.
Not with Getty lurking around.’

‘Marc, he’s only a photographer -
’

‘
All I want is to protect you.’ Marc rocks back and forth on his shoes. ‘If you take this part, you’ll be in alien surroundings. Vulnerable. Alone.’

‘So you’re say
ing I can’t take care of myself? That unless I have you looking after me, I can’t do
anything
?’

‘Christ.’ Marc tips his head back and looks at the ceiling. ‘Sophia, don’t you understand?
Now we’re out in the open, it’s dangerous out there. I brought you here so I can protect you.’

‘So I can never leave?’

‘For the time being, it makes sense that you stay here.’

I remember
Giles Getty’s words again.

‘I’m a human being Marc, not a pet. You can’t keep me here because
you’re
scared.’

‘Sophia, you’re being a child.’

‘No. You’ve got that wrong. I’m trying to be an adult. And live a normal adult life.’ I charge past him. ‘I need to be by myself. Can you please ask Keith to give me a ride?’

‘Where are you planning on going, exactly?’

‘I don’t know. My dad’s house, maybe. I need space. I need to be somewhere where someone doesn’t try to control my life.’

‘Control your life?’ Marc frowns. ‘All I’m doing is trying to keep you safe.’ His blue eyes flicker with pain.

‘Really? Because all I see is someone who’s afraid. So afraid that he’s making decisions on my behalf.’ I put a hand to my forehead. ‘I need some space.’

‘At least let me arrange somewhere for y
ou to go. It’s not safe at your father’s house. Getty can find you there.’

I hesitate. I don’t want my family dragged into all this. ‘Okay. Well. I’ll find somewhere else then.’

Marc takes a step towards me.

I look away from him. ‘Marc, please. I can’t -’

‘Ivy College is safe. Go back to your old room. Carry on with your studies. I won’t come anywhere near you if space is what you want. It’ll be like I don’t exist.’

I feel that pain in my chest again. I don’t want him not to exist. It hurts to even think about not seeing him. But I
do need space right now. I can’t think straight while I’m here. And I know he’s right about Ivy College. I’ll be safe there.

‘Okay.’

I watch the grey road ahead as Keith drives me to Ivy College. We’re not chatting, like we usually would. Instead, I stare out of the window, watching London slide past.

It starts to rain – tiny patters at first, but then the sky turns blue
-brown, and great torrents of water slosh over the car windscreen.

‘Lovely weather,’ Keith remarks.

‘Lovely,’ I murmur. Funny how life can change. This morning, I was full of hope. Marc and I had a future. Now, I’m not sure about anything. My lips feel like they have magnets in them, pulling them down, and there’s a burning in my stomach.

I want Marc, but how can things ever work if he wants to keep me trapped, never making my own choices?

I hear tinkling classical music and distractedly notice my mobile phone is flashing. It’s Davina’s number.

I take the call. ‘Hello?’

‘Sophia? Just checking in.’

‘Oh, hi.’
I glance at Keith.

‘Have you made your decision?’

I think about Marc and how he wants to keep me safe. And then I think about a life where I never make any decisions for myself. I don’t know what Marc will do if I take the part. Maybe he’ll break up with me. Or maybe it’ll make us stronger. Either way, I need to show him that I can make decisions on my own. Good ones. Decisions that help my future. I try not to think about Getty.

‘I’ll take it,’ I say. ‘Yes. I’ll take the part.’

‘Wonderful!’ A pause. ‘You don’t sound very happy.’

‘No, it’s just ... I have things on my mind.’

‘We don’t have much time. Can you come see us first thing tomorrow?’

‘Yes, great. See you tomorrow.’

I’m about to hang up, when I hear, ‘Sophia!’

I bring the phone back to my ear. ‘Sorry. Yes?’

‘Aren’t you going to ask where to meet? And what time?’

‘Oh. Right. Yes, of course.’

‘7am at the Tottenham Theatre. We’ll have a driver collect you. Just give me your address.’

‘Ivy College,’ I say.

‘Ivy College? You’re not staying with Marc?’

‘Not right now.’

‘Oh.’ There’s a pause, and I can almost hear the cogs in her brain working.

‘Is something wrong?’ I ask.

‘No, no. Actually, Ivy College is perfect. What’s your email? I’ll send you the script and some MP3s.’

I tell her.

‘Great,’ she says. ‘See you tomorrow.’

It’s still raining when Keith drops me off in the college car park. I thank him, pull my coat over my head and run across the gravel.

There are no students in the grounds, but the meal hall is all lit up. I guess everyone must be inside having dinner.

I should eat too, but I’m so not hungry, it’s ridiculous. My stomach is like a screwed up piece of paper, and sadness has crept right into my bones.

I hurry across the grounds, seeing gravel fly up around my feet, and feeling rain on my legs and face.

When I reach the accommodation block, I feel tears coming. What a difference a day makes ... isn’t that what the song says? This morning, I left this building hand in hand with Marc. Things weren’t perfect, but we had a future.

Now, I just don’t know.

My room is cold and dark, but it suits how I’m feeling, so I leave it that way. Changing into pyjamas, I climb under my duvet and let lazy tears slide down my face.

I don’t even have the energy to cry properly. Water is just sort of leaking out, and the tears feel cold and grey, like everything right now.

When I realise sleep is impossible, I water my plants and check my phone.

Marc has called five times. And sent a text message.

‘Sophia, let me know you’re safe.’

My thumb is poised, ready to text back, but I hesitate. What should I reply? As I’m thinking it over, there’s a knock at the door.

The phone slides from my hand, falling with a clatter to the floor. I pull the duvet around me, jump to my feet and skid in my socks towards the door.

I
told
him to give me space. Doesn’t he get it?

‘What do you want?’ I snap, pulling open the door.

I see Tanya, the smile sliding from her pretty, pale face. There’s rain all over her cheeks and glasses. She’s wearing waterproof trousers, a V-necked beige sweatshirt and an anorak.

‘Sorry
, Soph, I just –’

I shake my head. ‘No, no. Sorry, Tanya. I thought you were ... someone else.’

‘I saw you on the balcony,’ says Tanya. ‘Have you been hiding in here all day?’

‘No. I was with Marc before.’

‘I saw the newspapers. Pretty heavy, huh?’

I nod. ‘You can say that again.’

‘I haven’t seen Cecile yet, but when I do ...’ Tanya pounds a dainty little fist into her palm.

‘I s
aw her today,’ I say. ‘At the GMQ newspaper offices. Selling another story.’

Tanya rolls her eyes. ‘The poor little rich girl didn’t get Marc. And you did. So now she’s bitter. Are you going to let me in, or leave me standing on the doorstep like a Jehovah’s Witness?’

The tiniest of smiles tugs at my mouth. ‘Come in.’

‘Great.’ Tanya barges
forward and flicks on the light. ‘It’s dark in here. And freezing.’

I shield my eyes.

‘Let me get a fire going.’ Tanya stoops by the grate and makes a little fire with a magazine and a few logs. ‘What are you doing here, freezing cold and in the dark? Are you okay? You look awful.’

‘Thanks a lot,’ I say, trying for a smile.

The firelight glows on Tanya’s pale cheeks, casting a shadow from her glasses over her forehead. There’s something so lovely about the way her cheeks bunch up under her eyes. So friendly. It’s good to see her.

‘You know me, I say it how I see it. What’s happened? Has that bastard done something
to you?’ She shakes her glasses and wipes them on my duvet.

I bite my lip. ‘No.’

‘Are you upset about the newspapers?’ She moves a strand of red hair from her wet face. ‘Because none of us believed that crap. You do know that, don’t you? There’s no need for you to be hiding up here.’

‘It’s not that,’ I say, slumping onto the bed. ‘Sorry I didn’t return your calls. There was a lot going on today.’

‘We guessed as much. Don’t worry. It would take more than that to offend us. So? You’re
not
upset about the newspapers?’

‘I didn’t like what they wrote, but ... it’s fine.’

‘So what’s wrong?’ She pushes her glasses up her nose ‘You look like your whole family just died.’

I put my head
in my hands. ‘Marc and I had a fight.’ I feel tears against my fingers.

‘What happened?’

‘I got offered a part in a musical.
Beauty and the Beast
.’

‘
Beauty and the Beast
?’ Tanya sits on my duvet and crosses her legs. ‘You’re kidding me. How come? Oh wait ... I get it. Because of lover boy.’ Her eyes drift towards the window.

‘Yes
,’ I admit. ‘But Marc thinks it’s not safe for me to take the part. Because of all the journalists. He turned it down.’

‘
He
turned it down?
Your
part?’

‘I know. That’s what the fight was about.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘I took the part. The director phoned me herself.’

‘Did you take it to show Marc who’s boss?’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘That’s not why. I ... guess I want to test him. Us. To test us. And to show Marc I can make decis
ions without him.’

‘You think this is a good decision?’

‘I ... hope so. It’s done now. I’ll just have to
make
it a good decision.’

‘So you’ll be starring in
Beauty and the Beast
.’ Tanya sounds distant, and her eyes are back on the window again.

I hear my phone
and feel my pillow vibrating.

‘That has to be your phone,’ says Tanya. ‘
Vivaldi’s Spring
. That ringtone suits you down to the ground.’

‘Is that what this music is called?’ I say, watching the pillow. ‘I just picked it because I liked it.’

Tanya pulls my phone from under the pillow. ‘It’s him. Marc.’

I feel sick.

‘Do you want me to answer it?’ Tanya asks. ‘Tell him to get lost?’

‘No.
But I’m too upset to talk to him right now. Just make it go to answer phone.’

She does.

‘Will you still go to his classes?’

‘He’s not teaching me,’ I say. ‘We agreed
to that way before.’

‘That sounds smart.
So. When do you start rehearsing
Beauty and the Beast
?’

‘Tomorrow,’ I say, catching my reflection in the French doors. ‘And I look awful.’

‘Well, if anyone can carry off the red-eyed, crumpled look, it’s you.’

‘Thanks.’ Tiredness overcomes me, and I let out a long yawn.

‘Shall I leave you to sleep?’ Tanya asks.

‘I guess I should try.’

‘You look so sad. Is all this just over one argument?’

‘Yes. Pathetic isn’t it? But that one argument was a big one.’

‘It’ll all come out in the wash.’ She pats my back decisively. ‘You’ll be fine. Will I see you tomorrow?’

‘I might make Denise’s class in the afternoon. But I’m not sure yet.’

‘Okay.’ Tanya shuffles off the bed. ‘Look, I’m right downstairs. If you need anything, anything at all, just give me a call. Or Tom.’ There’s a pause, and I sense she wants to tell me something. But instead, she takes a roll of toffees from her pocket and offers me one.

‘Toffee?’

‘Thanks,’ I say, ‘but I’m feeling a bit sick.’

She takes one herself and begins to chew. ‘We’re here for you, Soph. Don’t forget that.’

‘I won’t.’

When Tanya leaves, I check my emails. There’s nothing from Marc, but
Davina has sent over the script and some music files. She wants me to learn half the play by tomorrow. Whoa. That’s a lot of lines.

I’d better get started.