The Bex Factor (17 page)

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Authors: Simon Packham

BOOK: The Bex Factor
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‘It’s not funny,’ I say, probably overreacting a bit. ‘People with MS sometimes have problems with bladder control.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ says Twilight, squeezing my arm. ‘Look, you haven’t told Nikki, have you?’

‘Do you think I should?’

‘No,’ says Twilight, squeezing so tightly it almost hurts. ‘I mean, we talked about this, didn’t we? You said it was something you’d rather keep private, and I
respect that. Anyway, your football story is perfect.’

‘But Nikki said —’

‘Trust me, Matt. You’re doing the right thing.’

Bex

Mum makes me a hot chocolate when she gets home from work. Haribo Special Mix is on three for two, so we pig out on gummy bears and watch the results show together.

But I keep worrying about Sue. After what happened in town she was like,
I

m never leaving the house again
. Yasmin doesn’t feel guilty about it – she’s fast
asleep in her cot – but I feel terrible, like it’s all my fault. Even hot chocolate and gummy bears can’t cheer me up.

It didn’t help that the show was so depressing this week. Everyone had a sad story – apart from Matthew that is. The twins told Willow how they were picked on at school because the
other kids didn’t understand their sense of humour, Phil Carvery’s wife was sitting in the audience wearing a neck brace after her terrible car accident, and Bart Smedley admitted he
sometimes pretends to be ‘ordinary’ because people are so jealous of his talent. As for Twilight – that girl is amazing. If
my
mum was in a coma I don’t think
I’d be able to get out of bed in the morning, but even though Brenda had to come out from behind the desk to comfort her, she still managed a pitch-perfect performance of ‘Tell Me
It’s Not True’.

And maybe Sue’s right – maybe Matthew really is ashamed of her. Because when it came to his turn, he told some lame story about missing a penalty in PE. I don’t get it. Why
does he never talk about his family? Poor Sue. If she wasn’t depressed in the first place, I bet she was when she saw that.

Matthew looks pretty depressed too. The judges hated ‘Send in the Clowns’. Brenda said it was all a bit ‘end of the pier show’, and everyone laughed when Justin called
him a ‘pathetic apology for a Pierrot’. No wonder he looks so miserable when he lines up with the others for the moment of truth.

UP4IT are bottom, so they go out automatically. Yvette says she’s had the most amazing journey of her whole life and even Justin wipes away a tear when they show their ‘best
bits’.

Willow Strawberry calls for complete silence before she announces the last semi-finalist. ‘Elizabeth . . .’ she says, and then pauses for about a hundred years. ‘You could
still
have
The Tingle Factor
.’

‘I thought this might happen,’ I say. ‘Matthew’s in the bottom three.’

Even Mum starts paying attention. ‘He’s not, is he?’

So now it’s up to the judges. It’s Matthew or Bart Smedley; which one of them are they going to save?

‘I’m going to have to hurry you, Brenda,’ says Willow Strawberry.

‘This is so difficult,’ she says. ‘But just on tonight’s performance, I’m going to have to save . . .’ Brenda pauses for about a thousand years.
‘Bart.’

Jesamène saves Matthew of course, which means it’s one vote a piece. So it’s all down to Justin.

‘This is, possibly, the
worst
moment of my life,’ he says. ‘You guys have been absolutely magnificent, and I wish I could save both of you. But that’s not
possible, so I think I’m going to . . . I
think
I’m going to . . .’

‘Sorry, Justin, we’re running out of time,’ says Willow Strawberry, who’s almost crying herself.

Matthew looks like he’s given up already; almost as if he knows he’s going out.

‘OK, OK,’ says Justin, ‘I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to save . . .’ And he pauses for about fifty million years.

Matthew

‘This is serious, Matt,’ says Nikki Hardbody, who has called me up to the penthouse suite for a breakfast meeting. ‘I saved you last week, but I can’t
do it again.’

‘You can’t?’ I say, hypnotised by her t’ai chi moves.

‘It’s all on the audience vote in the semi-final,’ she says, directing traffic in slow motion. ‘The bottom two acts go out automatically.’

‘I’ve been working on a new song. Maybe I could do that.’

‘I don’t think so, luvvie.’ She grabs a towel from a palm tree. ‘If you really want to stay in the Conservatoire, you’ve got to start working with me.’

‘I thought I was.’

‘If that revolting Carvery person makes it to the final, I’ll have to top myself. And as for those evil twins . . .’

‘I’m sorry. I’ll work harder this week.’

‘Of course I can oil the way for you. There are one or two back-stories out there that the public really should know about. And Ugly Betty might think she’s unstoppable, but even
she’s going to struggle with ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?’.

‘Supposing the judges really like her again?’

‘The judges will like who I tell them to like.’

‘You mean, you actually —?’

‘Shhhh,’ says Nikki, putting her index finger up to my lips. ‘We haven’t got time for survivor guilt. Now come on. What have you got for me? A little snippet about the
real Matt – and I’m not talking about a disastrous woodwork lesson.’

‘Well . . . it’s my fifteenth birthday on Sunday.’

‘That’s sweet,’ says Nikki, patting me on the head, like a poodle. ‘We’ll have a little party. I’m sure a few C-listers will be available at such short
notice. Now think carefully. Have you got a girlfriend somewhere that you’re not telling me about? Most men have.’

I don’t have to think long. ‘No . . . sorry.’

‘Fifteen and never been kissed,’ says Nikki. ‘I think I feel a heart-warming romance coming on. Leave it with me; I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Is that it, then?’

‘Now listen carefully, Matt. This adolescent secrecy has got to stop. We need to meet someone from your family or you haven’t got an earthly. All the others have got their pathetic
little possés with them – apart from Twilight, of course – now it’s up to you. How much do you want this?’

‘A
lot
,’ I say, surprised at how much I mean it. At first, it was all about Twilight, but just lately, I’ve been dreaming about winning the show too.

‘Good. So you’ll have something sorted by Wednesday’s production meeting?’

I’m so confused. Things have been going great with Twilight since we decided to make Mum’s MS ‘our little secret’. I mean, Mum would hate being on the show, anyway.
I’d be doing her a favour really.

But supposing that’s what it takes?

And then I remember the horrible school concert where Mum hobbled in late on her crutches.

This is impossible. What in the name of John Lennon and Yoko Ono am I going to do? One thing’s for certain: sooner or later, I’m going to have to pick up that phone.

‘Don’t worry,’ I say, still wishing I could find another way. ‘I won’t let you down.’

Bex

Sue Layton is watching the six o’clock news. ‘That’s what
I
want,’ she says, sounding even more depressed than yesterday. ‘A bit of
dignity.’

I haven’t really been following, but it looks like the lady in the wheelchair is posing for the press. ‘What’s
she
so happy about?’

‘She’s got MS. The High Court has ruled that if her husband takes her over to Switzerland for an assisted suicide, they won’t prosecute him.’

‘And that’s something to be happy about?’ I say.

‘Well, yes, it is actually,’ says Mrs Layton. ‘If I end up totally incapacitated, I want to know I can end it all without someone going to prison just for helping
me.’

‘But it’ll probably never happen,’ I say, wondering if Emily’s too busy playing the Sims on the NetBook to take any notice. ‘You’ll probably die of old
age.’

‘Who am I kidding anyway,’ says Mrs Layton. ‘As if anyone cares. I mean, look at Matthew: he’s never once mentioned us on that bloody TV show. And you know why,
don’t you?’

‘No, I —’

‘It’s because he’s ashamed of me.’

‘No, he’s not,’ I say. ‘He asks about you all the time.’

‘Do me a favour, Bex. Surely even you can see I’m his guilty little secret.’

‘What, so you want him to talk about you on
The Tingle Factor
, yeah?’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ she says. ‘But it’s his birthday on Sunday. It would be nice to know he’s still thinking of me.’

‘He will be, I’m sure,’ I say, already racking my brains for the perfect present. ‘You told me yourself he’s a “real boy” when it comes to showing his
feelings. I could talk to him if you like.’

And that’s exactly what I do as soon as I get home. But Matthew doesn’t sound that pleased to hear from me.

Matthew
: I’m busy, OK. We’re shooting the video for the charity single tomorrow. What do you want?

Bex
: I need to ask you a favour.

Matthew
: I told you, Bex. If that friend of yours wants another autograph she can get it from publicity like everyone else.

Bex
: It’s not that. I want you to promise me something, yeah?

Matthew
: What?

Bex
: Promise me you’ll mention your family in the show on Saturday.

Matthew
: Why would you want me to do that?

Bex
: It doesn’t matter. Just promise me, OK.

Matthew
(
bitterly
): Oh yes. I promise all right.

Bex
: That’s brilliant, thanks. Your mum’ll be —

Matthew
: Look, I’ve got to go. They don’t want Phil Carvery on the charity single, so I’ve got to learn all his lines.

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