Film Star (4 page)

As we waited for Anne-Marie to come back from the audition suite, I went over and over the last half an hour again and again, just like I had with the first audition.

After about five minutes I had forgotten that Jeremy Fort was Jeremy Fort, and started to think of him as my fellow actor, just in the same way I would have thought of Nydia in the school play or Brett on the show. As we looked at the short but emotional scene, I started to feel just as I used to at work: I felt like I knew what I was doing.

I was wrong though—at least partly.

Jeremy told me that the first read-through of a scene should be to get the rhythm of the words, so as we read our lines to each other I tried my best to do what he said. But he stopped me and reminded me.

“Listen for the rhythm, Ruby; don't turn it into a musical!” I looked at him. I had no time to bluff my way through.

“I don't think I understand you,” I said, intently wanting to be able to. Jeremy thought for a moment.

“Ruby,” he said eventually. “If you want a career as an actor, you have to be the best of the best. You have to remember that whatever job you are doing, from a toothpaste commercial to a blockbuster movie, you have to treat it as if it were the role of a lifetime—a work of genius that the bard could have written himself. Remember that without your script you are literally nothing. Pay it respect and don't just read it—
listen
to it. Listening to the rhythm of the lines and—even more crucially—to your fellow actors is the single most important skill you will ever learn as an actor. Because whether you and I have read this scene once or a thousand times, when our audience sees it, it must be absolutely fresh and spontaneous. Every single time you hear me say my lines to you, you have to listen to them as if it's for the very first time.” Jeremy gave me a small tight smile. “If you can do that—you can do anything.”

And when he said that, it was as if I suddenly understood a really long and really difficult maths equation that I had been staring and staring at for hours and hours and was unable to make sense of. It was as if at last I understood this great big secret that everyone
else had been in on except for me. In the space of five minutes, Jeremy Fort had given me knowledge that would make me a better actor no matter
how
this audition turned out. And that all by itself nearly made it worth coming here today, whatever the result.

But only nearly, because suddenly—knowing the kind of actors that I would be working with and learning from—I wanted the part even more badly.

“Wow,” I said, which wasn't quite the wise and scholarly response I had been aiming for but it was all that came out.

“Good,” Jeremy said, his smile warming as he looked at his watch. “Right—well, we have twenty minutes left, so let's read again.”

The second time he told me I was being too large. I took offence initially and said that I was only thirteen and that it wasn't actually healthy to diet at my age. When he pointed out that he was not referring to my size but my acting, I was only a bit less offended.

“Large?” I asked him.

He nodded.

“Yes—look, you've done TV work, haven't you?” I nodded. “Well, imagine your face on a screen that's a thousand times bigger than a TV screen. Every tiny little twitch, every tiny little hair magnified to giant
proportions.” I thought of the spot that Mum and I had spent several minutes trying to cover up this morning.

“Ew,” I said.

“Exactly—well the same goes for your acting. In film you don't need to act large. Keep it small, but precise.” He looked at his watch again. “Well, Ruby, our time is up, I'm afraid.” I felt a wave of panic well up in my chest.

“But—I haven't done it small yet! Can't we do it quickly being small like you said?” I pleaded, my voice high and stupid again. “I'm too large!”

Jeremy smiled.

“Just remember everything we've talked about and—if you can—I
promise
you that you will do splendidly. Come on, we have to read for Art and Lisa now.”

There was something about the way he said Lisa's name that made my stomach contract, because I knew that Lisa didn't like me.

“Are assistant directors' opinions very important?” I asked him in a very small voice. Jeremy gave me a sympathetic look and squeezed my shoulder as we walked to where Art and Lisa would be waiting.

“Let's just say that this one's is,” he said.

Something had happened when Jeremy and I acted the scene for Mr Dubrovnik and Lisa Wells, something that had never happened to me before.

For those ten minutes I forgot myself entirely. I forgot I was acting, forgot that I was reading lines, because for those few minutes I was Polly Harris, just discovering the truth about the father she loved. On the brink of understanding that in fact he was an evil historian who had kidnapped her at birth and was planning to sacrifice her at the precise moment the nine planets aligned, in an insane bid to bring about the end of the world. I felt Polly's pain and confusion, her shock and fear, all mixed up with the feelings I had and could still remember from the night that Dad left us. Polly's feelings and my feelings ran together likes two colours of paint mixing until we were one new shade and until I believed in her, I really believed in her. And whatever happened, I knew I had done my very best; I knew I could be proud of myself.

There had been a few moments' silence as Jeremy and I had finished the scene and I saw Art Dubrovnik and Lisa Wells exchange looks.

“Well, thank you, Ruby,” Mr Dubrovnik said. “As you probably know our schedule for casting the part of Polly is very tight. We start filming really soon, so we'll make a decision by the end of the day.”

I nodded, feeling a little dreamy as the hotel suite came back into focus around me. I was still half in Polly's world.

“OK,” I managed to say. I looked at Jeremy. “Thank you for today,” I said. “It was amazing to have the chance to meet you and learn from you. Maybe if one day you didn't have anything on you could come and do a masterclass at the academy. I'm sure Ms Lighthouse would love it. We've had a few famous actors—we had Brett Summers last year, who used to play my mum in
Kensington Heights,
although that
was
before the rehab. But I bet you'd be much better than her, all she talked about was herself and her new revised biography.”

Jeremy smiled and shook my hand.

“Well, if I happen to find myself one day with ‘nothing on', I'll pop by,” he said. “And well done—you really listened.”

That was an hour ago. I looked at my watch. Anne-Marie had been in there for nearly fifteen minutes longer than I had. They had been so strict about time in my audition, why were they letting hers run over the allocated slot? Perhaps they loved her so much they had offered her the part on the spot and were talking contracts.

I thought about how I would feel if Anne-Marie came out of there with the part already hers. I rehearsed it like
Oscar nominees practise their loser's face just as much as they practise their acceptance speeches. Gracious, happy and excited for her. Dignified. No, not bothered. That's how I would be or at least that's how I would
act.

Suddenly the door opened and Mr Dubrovnik, Lisa Wells and Jeremy Fort followed a beaming and rosy-cheeked Anne-Marie into the room. With her skin glowing and her eyes sparkling, Anne-Marie looked really lovely, and I thought that that was it; they'd given her the part just because she was so beautiful.

“Ooooh!” A little stifled scream came from over my left shoulder, and I realised it was because Mum had spotted Jeremy Fort, who she fancied in an embarrassingly immature way.

“
Mum!
” I growled at her through my teeth.

“
Janice!
” Dad growled too, simultaneously, and both Mum and I looked sharply at him.

“Sorry. Force of habit,” he muttered, and Mum rolled her eyes.

“Well, Sylvia,” Art Dubrovnik said, “you certainly have brought me two very fine students today. You can be proud of them—and your academy.”

“Of course,” Sylvia Lighthouse said, as if she had expected the world's leading film director to compliment her exactly as he had.

“I have two other girls to see after lunch,” Mr Dubrovnik told all of us, “and then I'll call Ms Lighthouse at the academy to let you know either way. But I want you to know that you were both great, really great. If you don't get this part it's not because you're not brilliant young actresses.”

Anne-Marie and I smiled, and she reached out her fingers and caught my hand and squeezed it.

“Good luck,” Mr Dubrovnik said.

And that was it.

It was over.

The afternoon felt sort of like walking through clear jelly: I could see everything and hear everything that was going on around me, but I felt separated from the real world as if I were floating alongside it rather than being part of it.

We discussed it at length over lunch, all of us—Anne-Marie, Danny, Nydia and I, and even Menakshi, Jade and Michael Henderson, about how we might find out the news.

“If it's bad news,” Anne-Marie said, “she'll call us into her office. She'll give us a speech on taking rejection on the chin and keeping our chins up. A lot of her speeches are about chins—have you noticed?”

“But if it's good,” Menakshi said, “she might make an announcement to the whole school in a special assembly, like when Wade Jackson two years above us got that record contract.” Menakshi looked thoughtful. “Whatever happened to Wade Jackson?”

“The fickle finger of fame moved on,” Danny said,
doing a passable impersonation of Sylvia Lighthouse delivering the catchphrase that seemed to be closest to her heart.

Anne-Marie and I looked at each other.

“But if it's bad news for both of us, it will definitely be in her office,” I said.

“What if it's only good news for
one
of you?” Nydia, who had been quiet until that moment, asked me. “What then?”

“She'll call us into her office and tell us together,” Anne-Marie said before I could answer. “And there won't be any hard feelings, will there, Ruby? I'll be as happy if Ruby gets the part as if I do.”

There were a few muttered “Yeah, rights”, groans and giggles at that.

“I will!” Anne-Marie protested.

“Well it might be neither of us,” I said simply. “Those other girls they saw this afternoon might be exactly what they were looking for.”

I thought about what it would mean to get the part of Polly Harris in
The Lost Treasure of King Arthur
and my insides did a series of complicated Olympic-gold-medal-winning gymnastics. I took a breath and steadied my voice.

“And anyway, if one of us does get it, it means really big changes. Going away from school and home for
ages. Getting an on-set tutor! It will all be really different. Maybe it would be better not to get it,” I said, feeling suddenly anxious.

Nydia looked at me sharply.

“You don't mean that,” she said darkly. I half-smiled.

“I don't suppose I do,” I said, “but it is a scary thought!” Normally Nydia would have caught my half-smile and stretched it into a full-sized one as she returned it to me. But this time she didn't smile back at me.

As everyone else filed back to class, I had fallen into step with Nydia, letting Anne-Marie and the others walk ahead.

“Nydia,” I said. “You're cross with me.”

“I'm not.” Nydia was terrible at lying.

“You so are,” I said reproachfully. “You didn't call me to wish me good luck like you did Anne-Marie.”

Nydia rolled her eyes.

“Because I know that you don't need any luck,” she said sharply.

I stopped walking.

“What do you
mean
I don't need any luck?” I asked her. Nydia stopped too and turned round to look at me.

“Well,” she said, “you got called back. You got called back when you did the worst audition in the history of
the world! Why? Because you are Ruby Parker. I don't think you even had to audition really; I think they would have given you the part whatever. This whole thing was probably just one big publicity stunt for the film.”

I stared at her and thought about what Art Dubrovnik had said to me that morning, and my heart sank.
You've got history, Ruby, you've worked in TV.
But then I remembered what else he had said.

“I got called back because Imogene Grant liked my audition,” I said. “She said I had something about me that might be right for the part.
That's
why I got called back. Because what the star says goes.” Nydia raised an eyebrow.

“So not because you were any good then?” she asked me, turning on her heel and walking off down the corridor.

“Nydia!” I called after her. “I can't believe you are being like this!”

“I was better than you,” she said as I caught up with her. “I was better than you, but I didn't get called back because I'm big and ugly and nobody in the world would believe that a big fat girl was Imogene Grant's sister!”

“Nydia, I…” I didn't know what to say. I remembered how I felt when I looked at Anne-Marie, so tall and pretty and blonde, sparkling like a diamond when she came out of the audition. I felt like the ugly duckling
then, and I suppose Nydia must have felt the same since the moment she didn't get called back.

“Nydia,” I said, “maybe you're right. Maybe it isn't fair. You probably were better than me. And it probably does have something to do with
Kensington Heights.
But—what could I have done about that? Not gone to the audition? Said, ‘No thanks very much, I'll pass'?”

Nydia shook her head and looked at her feet, sighing heavily.

“I've got an audition,” she said in a quiet voice. “Ms Lighthouse put me forward for it. It's for three episodes of
Holby City.
It's a proper part, with lines and everything. A lot of lines actually.”

“Nydia! Your first ever speaking part. I bet you're excited!” I hugged her impulsively, but she didn't hug me back. “That's wonderful,” I said, a little less enthusiastically.

“It's for a morbidly obese teenager with early onset diabetes,” Nydia said miserably. “That's all I ever get—fat roles, funny roles, idiot roles. I'll never be like you or Anne-Marie.”

“Nobody will ever be like Anne-Marie!” I said, trying to make a joke and failing.

As Nydia looked up at me her eyes were shining with tears. “Nothing ever happens to me, Ruby,” she said.
“Things always happen to you. I just wish, I just wish that
sometimes
things would happen to me.” I picked up her hands.

“I bet you get this part in
Holby City,
” I said.

“Maybe,” she said. “But I don't want
that
part! I want to be an action hero, a romantic lead. But no, I'm stuck inside this stupid fat ugly body and I can't get out! And I'm jealous of you. I'm jealous and angry that no matter how good I am, even when I'm better than you I'll never beat you. I'll never get a part we both go for. Unless it's the part of a fat ugly person.”

We stood, both of us, in the empty corridor, the bell calling us to class ringing in our ears.

“I don't know what to say,” I said at last as the chimes died away and we were both officially late. “I didn't know how unhappy you were. I thought you were happy with how you looked. Always joking about it.”

“Before anybody else does,” Nydia said.

“Well, Nydia, if you are unhappy then things don't have to stay the same, they can change—you can change. And I'll help you.”

“How will you help me?” Nydia asked me.

“Well, you could talk to the school nurse for starters. Ask her about a healthy-eating plan. And maybe she could talk to your mum for you.”

“Mum will kill me if she thinks I've been talking about her cooking to anyone,” Nydia said.

“But does your mum know how unhappy you are?” I asked. She shook her head. “I think your mum would kill you if she knew that you had been hiding it from her.”

“You must think I'm a greedy fat pig,” Nydia said quietly.

“Nydia!” I said. “Of course I don't. I think that you and me eat almost the same thing every day, and I'm not a stick insect. And actually, I think you are beautiful just as you are. But if you're this unhappy, it's worth finding out about, right? I'll come with you, if you like, to see the nurse.” Finally, Nydia gave me a half-smile.

“Really?” she said.

“Of course,” I said.

“What—even if you're off shooting your first movie?”

“Even if,” I said, and then I laughed. “Not that I'm going to get that part in a million years. Anne-Marie is miles prettier than me.”

“I'm sorry I got jealous,” Nydia said.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I got so caught up in all of this I wasn't a very good friend. Anne-Marie says friendship comes second when you're an actor, but I don't think so. I think that no matter what happens, friendship should always come first.”

When we got to class it didn't matter that we were late. The entire class was out of their desks and gathered around two large windows, including Mr Barlow the maths teacher.

“Sorry we're—What's going on?” Nydia asked, and Mr Barlow turned round.

“There you are, Ruby!” he exclaimed. “Come and see! I think that the field has just narrowed rather considerably. I don't suppose they came out here to issue rejections.”

I rushed to the window and elbowed my way past Menakshi to Anne-Marie's side. Just pulling up to the main entrance of the school was a red convertible Rolls Royce carrying two passengers—Art Dubrovnik and Lisa Wells.

“It's one of us,” Anne-Marie said, her voice as high and as taught as a tightrope. Her hand darted out and gripped my wrist hard.

“Ouch,” I said.

“Sorry,” Anne-Marie said, but she didn't let go.

“It might not be one of us,” I started cautiously. “Maybe they were just in the area and—”

“Oh, shut up, idiot,” Anne-Marie said. So I did.

We watched as the pair walked up the steps to the
entrance, greeted halfway by Ms Lighthouse. They spoke for a few moments and then Ms Lighthouse nodded emphatically and led them inside.

It seemed like years before we heard Mrs Moore's footsteps in the corridor. She knocked on the open door and waited for Mr Barlow to invite her in before she entered.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mr Barlow,” Mrs Moore said. Mrs Moore was always terribly polite, which was usually quite funny, but right at that moment seemed like a dreadful waste of time.

“Nothing much to interrupt here at the moment, Mrs Moore,” Mr Barlow said cheerfully. He nodded at Anne-Marie and me. “I think we'll have to put these two out of their misery before I get this lot back to equations. I take it you want to take Ruby and Anne-Marie out of class?”

Mrs Moore nodded. “Yes, please, Mr Barlow. Thank you very much.” She glanced at the two of us impassively. “Come along, girls,” she said. And clutching each other's hands, Anne-Marie and I followed her.

“Hey, girls,” Nydia called out. I turned and looked at her. “Break a leg,” she said with a smile. But I was almost certain it was an actor's smile—a fake one.

Mr Dubrovnik and Lisa Wells were sitting opposite Ms Lighthouse's desk when we came in, drinking tea out of Ms Lighthouse's flowery china cups. Art Dubrovnik smiled at us, and Lisa Wells looked us up and down with an air of decided disappointment.

“Take a seat, girls,” Ms Lighthouse said. We saw that two classroom chairs had been brought in for us to sit on, so we sat down. Every second ticked by as if an hour had been inserted in between.

“Well,” Sylvia Lighthouse said, leaning forward on her desk and pressing her fingers together. “I am delighted that Mr Dubrovnik and…his associate have come out to see us today. Delighted because as I am sure you have worked out by now it means that one of you two girls has got the part of Polly Harris. And I am proud but not surprised to hear that both of you were excellent, beating all the other candidates hands down. We thought it would be a good idea for Mr Dubrovnik and Ms Wells to talk to you together so that you can both hear from the horse's mouth, as it were, exactly how proud you can be of what you have achieved.” Sylvia gestured to Art Dubrovnik that she was handing the conversation over to him. I glanced at Anne-Marie and wondered if she was thinking the same thing that I was which was mainly: JUST TELL US NOW!

“Ruby, Anne-Marie,” Art said. “I've got to tell you
that you were both wonderful today. You both brought different qualities to the reading, you each played the role differently but brilliantly, and in the end we weren't deciding on who was the better actor but on whose interpretation of Polly Harris most fitted the film.” Art Dubrovnik paused—one of the long excruciating pauses that are scripted on TV talent shows to keep viewers hooked and contestants guessing, but which in real life, my life especially, are just plain cruel.

“In the end,” Mr Dubrovnik pulled down the corners of his mouth in a kind of upside-down smile, “I didn't make the final decision. I let my leading lady make the final choice because I knew it was vital that she picked the girl she would most get on with and who fitted her vision of Flame and Ember's relationship.

“Imogene Grant?” Anne-Marie said, quickly looking out of the window to where the Rolls Royce was still parked, empty except for the chauffeur. “But how did she choose? On the Internet or a webcam or something?”

I stared at Anne-Marie. I didn't care if Imogene Grant saw us through a trans-global crystal ball, I just wanted to know WHO HAD THE PART. But nobody else seemed to notice that.

“No,” Art Dubrovnik said, smiling. “Actually, she saw your audition in the flesh. Both times.” Mr Dubrovnik looked at Lisa Wells.

“Imogene—do you want to tell them yourself?” Lisa Wells nodded and Anne-Marie and I looked at each other, confused.

Lisa Wells took off her thick black glasses and set them on Ms Lighthouse's desk. And then slowly and incredibly she peeled
off
her long sharp pointy nose to reveal a much prettier and very familiar one underneath. She followed that by removing with some difficulty the thick orange eyebrows one by one, wincing as if she were removing a very sticky plaster. Then, cupping her hand under each eye, she pinched out the fishy blue contact lenses, and when she'd blinked a few times you could see they were now a soft amber-brown colour.