The Bex Factor (6 page)

‘Come on, Matt,’ says Justin, ‘it’s decision time. I don’t need to tell you that this is the chance of a lifetime. The question is: are you brave enough to take
it?’

I
so
don’t want to stick around to hear the answer. But Brenda is squeezing me, like a snake in expensive perfume. ‘Let go, you old witch.’ Kyle showed me this move,
before they chucked him out of karate. I step back and plant my elbow right in her stomach. Brenda groans. I kick off my high-heels and start running.

A pack of cameramen sets off behind me. When we get to the holding area I just keep running. Past my – very confused – Mum and Dad, past Kyle and the girl in the sequined hot-pants,
past a posse of rapping chickens and a gothy girl who looks like she just stepped out of a horror movie, until I come to the one place I know they can’t follow.

The ladies’ toilets. I lock myself in a cubicle, grab a handful of toilet paper and start to cry.

Three buckets of tears later, someone knocks on the door.

I don’t answer.

The knocking gets louder.

‘If that’s Brenda, go away.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s not Brenda,’ says a soothing voice. ‘It’s me, Nikki.’

‘Please. I just need some time on my own, yeah? Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.’

‘No, it’s not that,’ says Nikki. ‘We need to talk.’

‘What about?’

‘Come out here and I’ll tell you.’

Nikki Hardbody is smiling at herself. I try not to let her see how devastated I am when our eyes meet in the mirror. ‘What do you want?’

‘It’s about Matt.’

‘You don’t think I want to talk about
him
, do you? That rat ruined my life. And you know what? I bet he planned the whole thing. He knew how much I wanted it, and he pretended
to be all nice, just so he could steal it for himself.’

‘Well, no, he didn’t actually.’

‘What do you mean?’

Nikki’s frown still looks more like a smile. ‘Matt says he can’t do the show.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ says Nikki. ‘And no prizes for guessing why.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He didn’t
say
anything. But I would have thought it was obvious, even to you. He doesn’t want to upset his little girlfriend.’

‘Look, I’m not his girlfriend,’ I say, starting to feel better already. ‘Anyway, it’s none of my business.’

‘You’re not going to let him get away with it, are you?’

‘Get away with what?’

‘Throwing away his big chance out of some juvenile sense of misplaced loyalty.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s up to him, isn’t it?’

‘I didn’t think you’d be so selfish,’ says Nikki, examining her crow’s feet. ‘Just because you can’t follow your dream, you don’t want him to
either.’

‘No, it’s not —’

‘Matt could go all the way in this competition. From what I can tell, his voice is refreshingly average, he looks good behind that guitar, and when we cut together his lovely audition
sequence everyone will see what a great guy he is. All you’ve got to do is get him to see sense.’

‘What makes you think I could change his mind?’

‘Oh, please,’ says Nikki with a hollow laugh. ‘It’s what I’ve been doing for the last twenty years. Did you ever see
Kids with Cancer
?’

‘What, that documentary my mum liked?’

‘I was executive producer. You remember Rowan – God rest his soul – the little lad in the baseball cap? Well, let me tell you something. That kid was terrified of water. Do you
really
think he wanted to swim with dolphins?’

‘So what am I supposed to do?’

‘Tell Matt you’re cool about it. Tell him if
you
can’t be on the show, then the next best thing would be to see him doing it for you. Look, here’s my
number.’ She hands me a white business card. ‘Who knows, next year we might even be able to sort you out some work experience. Now get him to call me. You’ve got twenty-four
hours.’

‘I don’t know, I . . .’

‘It’s up to you,’ says Nikki, checking her face again in the mirror. ‘I mean, it would save me an awful lot of time, but we can always find another singer like Matt for
Basic Training. It’s the spectacularly deluded, tone-deaf little freaks who think they’re the next Elvis that get harder to dredge-up every year.’

‘Yeah but —’

‘If you were any kind of friend, you’d get him to call me. OK?’

Matthew

‘So what’s Justin like?’ says Emily, stacking the pasta bowls in the dishwasher.

‘Pretty much like he is on TV,’ I say, reaching for the garlic crusher.

‘How about Brenda? I bet she’s really lovely.’

‘Yeah, kind of.’

Actually, I’m doing my best to delete the whole day from my memory. The audition was bad enough, but the journey home was a total disaster. It was like being in the car with Mum and Dad
just before they split. No one said a word, apart from Bex’s sister – and that was only to tell me what a doughnut I was for not doing the show.

‘How did you get on at Sainsbury’s?’ I whisper. ‘Was Mum OK?’

‘She was fine this morning, but then after lunch she had that pain in her hand, so we went home early.’

‘But she didn’t do anything . . . weird, did she?’

‘Not really. I think she might have cried a few times.’

‘I’m not deaf, you know,’ says Mum, slamming down the business section of the newspaper on the kitchen table. ‘If you want to talk about me, you might at least have the
decency to do it behind my back.’

‘Sorry,’ I say, struggling to get the bits out of the garlic crusher. ‘Shall I get you some camomile tea?’

‘No, you’re all right,’ says Mum. ‘Tell me some more about
The Tingle Factor
. What happened to your new girlfriend?’

‘Look, she’s not my —’

‘Yes I know,’ says Mum, her sly wink to Emily almost reminding me of the old days. ‘How did it go, anyway?’

‘I told you, she didn’t get through.’

‘I thought you said she was really good.’

‘She is. They just didn’t think she was good enough.’

‘That is so unfair,’ says Mum, teetering on the brink of one of her crying fits or a furious rage. ‘Fancy getting the poor kid’s hopes up like that.’

‘Yes,’ says Emily, not knowing whether to reach for the Kleenex or full body-armour. ‘It would have been so cool to actually know someone on TV.’

‘Next time you see her, Matthew, you tell her bad luck from me,’ says Mum.

‘I doubt she ever wants to see me again.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s hardly your fault she didn’t get in.’

I’m staring guiltily into the onion marmalade when the doorbell rings.

‘Oh God,’ says Mum. ‘Not that lot again. I told them this morning I wasn’t interested. If the end of the world really is coming, I’d rather spend my last Saturday
night in peace. Ignore them and they’ll go away.’

But they don’t. The door knocker joins in with the bell, and I can’t ignore them any longer. ‘It’s all right, Mum. I’ll go.’

‘And tell them where to get off,’ calls Mum. ‘If they think life is so bloody precious, they should try being me for a day.’

I hurry out to the hall, shivering as I hit a wall of cold air. I’ll let you into a little secret. Mum doesn’t realise I’ve noticed, and I’m certainly not going to tell
her, but if you look behind that bowl of potpourri on the hall table, you’ll see the only picture of Dad in the whole house. Two days after he’d gone, Mum swept all his stuff –
including his beloved World Cup coins – into a black bin-liner and dumped it in the garage. It’s a miracle that a Japanese tourist’s photograph, of the whole family outside the
Houses of Parliament, survived the cull.

Anyway, if that knocking is anything to go by, the end of the world is coming sooner than we think. ‘Hang on a minute!’

Mum changed the locks too. No wonder they’re getting impatient. It’s like Dracula’s castle in here. Once I’ve untangled the security chain, there’s a huge bolt to
contend with. But I finally manage to heave open the front door. And I can hardly believe it when I see the black-hooded figure standing in front of me.

‘What are
you
doing here?’

Bex

‘Can I come in, please?’

Matthew almost slams the door in my face. ‘It’s a bit difficult right now.’

‘Come on,’ I say, pushing past him, still wishing Mum hadn’t made me wear the anorak that makes me look like a black marshmallow. ‘It’ll only take a
minute.’

‘I thought you weren’t talking to me.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m not. But this is important.’

‘You’d better be quick,’ says Matthew, rushing round closing doors. ‘We’ve . . . we’ve got visitors.’

‘What’s the matter?’ I say, starting to have second thoughts. ‘Don’t want your posh friends to see me or something?’

‘Just trying to keep the heat in, that’s all. Now what do you want?’

After I’d stopped crying, after I’d stopped wanting to rip his head off and after Mum had made me hot chocolate and a bacon sandwich, I started thinking Nikki Hardbody might be
right. Maybe I
was
being selfish.

‘It’s about the audition,’ I say, wondering what’s going on behind the closed doors.

Matthew looks down at the shiny wooden floor. ‘Yeah. I . . . I really thought you deserved to go through.’

‘Come off it. They said I looked like a pig and my singing sucked.’

‘No, they didn’t.’

‘They might as well have done.’ And now for the hard part. ‘You were the only one they were interested in, Matthew. That’s why they wanted to put you straight through to
Basic Training.’

‘And I told them I couldn’t do it.’

‘Yes,’ I say, hoping my smile doesn’t come out too fake, ‘and I know why.’

‘Do you?’ says Matthew anxiously.

‘Of course, it’s obvious.’

‘Is it?’ he says, checking the doors again.

‘It’s because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings.’

‘Oh . . . yeah . . .
that
’
s right
,’ says Matthew, looking well relieved that it’s all out in the open. ‘I could see how upset you were.’

‘Thanks, it was really nice of you. I just wanted to let you know that I’m completely over it.’

‘That’s great,’ says Matthew, almost sprinting over to the front door. ‘Might see you at school sometime.’

‘Hang on a minute, I haven’t finished yet.’

‘Well, could you hurry up, please? I’m needed back there.’

And now for the
really
hard part. ‘I want you to do it, Matthew.’

‘What?’

‘I want you to go on
The Tingle Factor
.’

‘Too late. I’ve already turned them down.’

‘It’s OK,’ I say, feeling like the smug fairy godmother who’s just scored tickets for the ball. ‘Nikki Hardbody gave me her number. If you call her before tomorrow,
she says she’ll save you a place at Basic Training.’

I’d expected him to be a bit more excited. ‘I still can’t do it.’

‘Of course you can. Look, I mean it, Matthew. I’m over it, OK?’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Oh yes it is!’

‘Shhhh, someone might hear you.’

‘I don’t give a monkey’s. Why can’t you get it into your stupid thick skull that I really want you to do it?’

‘I can’t,’ whispers Matthew.

‘Why not?’

‘Because.’

‘Some people would give their right arm for a chance like this. What’s the matter with you? I just don’t see —’

It’s not the sound of the handle turning that stops me, it’s the look on Matthew’s face as the door slowly opens and a voice asks, ‘What’s going on out
here?’

‘Thanks a lot,’ says Matthew, turning on me like that supply teacher who lost his marbles. ‘You couldn’t just leave it, could you? You had to poke your nose in. Well, I
hope you’re happy now. You wanted to know why I couldn’t go on
The Tingle Factor
. See for yourself.’

The lady leaning on the crutches looks about Mum’s age, but with a better haircut. ‘What was that, Matthew?’ she says, slowly turning on him, like that supply teacher after
he’d popped a couple of happy pills. ‘Talking about me again, are we?’

‘No, Mum.’

‘And who’s this? I didn’t know we had visitors.’

‘Bex is just leaving,’ says Matthew.

‘Sorry about my son,’ says the lady on the crutches. ‘He has the manners of a donkey. I’m Sue, by the way, Sue Layton.’ When she smiles, her eyes set off in
different directions. ‘And you are?’