The Ivy Lessons (2 page)

When they got together, Genoveva moved into the cottage. It was okay for a while, but then Genoveva got pregnant, and I offered to move into the annex next door so they’d have more space.
I’d planned to go away to university in Scotland, but it was so obvious they needed my help that I took a place at a uni in the nearby town.

The annex is a bit rough and re
ady, but it means I’m close enough to help out, and Dad let me stay there rent free while I
was
studying
.

I look at the cottage. I know what Dad will say if I tell him about Ivy College. Follow your heart, follow your dreams. But I also know he and Genovev
a will struggle without my help
.

I hear a screech outside, and the crackle of gravel tells me Jen’s Mini has just skidded into our driveway. I grab the acceptance letter, then run to the front of the house, waving at her.

Chapter 4

‘Soph!’ Jen waves back
. She looks
amazing, as always. Long, blonde hair lying straight as a ruler down her back. Designer jeans. She’s short and curvy, with a huge bust – just the opposite of me, with my willowy arms and legs, wavy brown hair and just-about B-cup.

‘You’re accepting that course,’ she says, as she crunches over gravel towards me.

‘Shush!’ I wave my hands at her. My dad, Genoveva and my baby brother, Samuel, are all inside the cottage. I can see Dad and Genoveva through the living room window and I think maybe they’re arguing, because Genoveva’s hands are flying around.

Jen takes my arm and pulls me towards the annex, which sits just a few metres away from the cottage. It’s kind-of a bungalow, with just one room inside like a bedsit. Kitchen, bedroom and living area all in the same space, but it’s okay. It’s got everything I need.

We go inside, and Jen slams the door behind us.

‘How can you stand this place?’ says Jen, going to the kettle. ‘That woman has stolen your house from you.’

‘Anything for a quiet life,’ I say. ‘Anyway, I like it. It’s all mine.’

‘Is this your acceptance letter?’ Jen asks, taking the white paper from my hand.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I still haven’t read it properly. I’m too much in shock. I don’t know, Jen. I don’t know how Dad and Genoveva will cope without me. London is a long way away.’

Jen waves a hand at me as she scans the letter. ‘London is half hour by bus, then one hour by train. You can come back every weekend if you need to. Listen – you’re my best friend. I’m not going to let you pass up this chance. I’m just not.’

‘Just because some arrogant Hollywood star is taking the course?’

‘He’s not just some Hollywood star,’ says Jen. ‘You said yourself, he’s an amazing actor.’

‘With an amazingly nasty reputation,’ I say. ‘And from what I’v
e seen, that reputation is well-
founded.’

‘Okay, maybe he does come across as a little bit arrogant,’ says Jen. ‘But anyway, no. Not for that reason. You should do it because
you’re
an amazing actress, Sophia.’

I sigh. ‘Jen, you’re biased.’

‘Hello!’ Jen waves the letter. ‘Evidently Marc Blackwell and everyone else at Ivy College agree with me.’

‘They saw one audition,’ I say. ‘An audition when I wasn’t nervous because I didn’t think for a moment I’d be accepted. They don’t really know me. When they do, they’ll realise what a nervous wreck I am and see that they’ve made a mistake. Anyway. There are practical things. How am I even going to be able to afford it? Dad’s got no money right now. He’s too busy taking care of Genoveva and Samuel. He’s already renting this annex for me – I can’t ask him for anything else.’

Jen doesn’t say anything. She’s still scanning the letter. Then she puts the page down.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘Did you just say something about money?’ Jen asks.

‘Don’t you offer to lend me any. You know I won’t take it.’

‘I wasn’t going to.’

‘Good.’

‘I wasn’t going to, because your place is fully funded. Look. It says it right here. They pay for everything.’

‘What?’ I take the letter. ‘But ... how? I haven’t applied for scholarships, or anything like that.’

‘You don’t need to,’ says Jen. ‘Take a look at that.’ She points
to a paragraph
. ‘Your place is fully funded, which means accommodation and food are paid for, and they’ll give you a living allowance and preparatory budget.’

‘I don’t believe it.’ I read the paragraph over and over again. I feel like I’m going to faint. ‘Fully funded?’

‘Now tell me a good reason why you can’t accept.’ Jen takes the letter again, and carries on reading. She turns the page over and reads right to the end, her eyes rushing back and forth. ‘Soph, where’s the envelope?’

I shrug. ‘In the garden I think. Why?’

‘We’d better go get it.’ She hurries outside, and I follow her past the crumbling walls of the cottage, to the lawn, flowers, trees and vegetables of Dad’s garden. I say Dad’s garden, but truth be told, I’m the one who takes care of it. I love growing things.

Jen picks up the brown envelope from the garden table. ‘You’re not going to believe this. Stop twiddling your hair. There’s nothing to be nervous about.’

I drop my hand. My hair is straight at the top, but goes wavy at the bottom, so I’m always twiddling the ends to try and straighten them – especially when I feel nervous. My hair makes me look ridiculously young, like a little girl with ringlets, but Jen always says she’s jealous of my Kate Moss waves. I’d prefer her straight, blonde hair any day.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘A fully funded place means your accommodation, food and living expenses are all paid for,’ said Jen. ‘And they’ll buy all your books for you, too. But that’s not all. They’re giv
ing you a one-
off payment. For clothing and university supplies.’ She picks up the envelope and feels inside. Triumphantly, she pulls out a cheque.

‘Oh my goodness.’ I take the cheque and look at the amount. It’s more money than I’ve ever owned in my life. I put my hand over my mouth.

‘Do you know what this means?’ Jen asks.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘It means,’ says Jen, ‘we’re going shopping.’

Chapter 5

Usually, going shopping with Jen is a mixed blessing. She’s great fun, always making me try on things I’d never dare to on my own, and she has endless patience. But she also has an endless credit card, whereas I’ve always had to survive on minimum wage earnings from one of my many part-time jobs.

Usually, I can only ever afford practical things, like jumpers and jeans, and only one item a month if I’m lucky. But today, I can buy whatever I want. No checking price tags. No heading for the cheapest shops. It feels great and scary at the same time.

I feel pretty faint at the thought of having all that money to spend. And a little bit sick. But luckily I’ve got Jen to help me.

We pu
ll into the shopping centre car
park, and Jen
sticks a parking ticket
behind the car windscreen, then links arms with me.

‘This is going to be so fantastic,’ she says. ‘I’ve seen so many things that would suit you for autumn.’

We take the lift up to the first floor – a floor I usually avoid, since it has all the shops with clothes I can’t afford.

‘Look, there’s a sale on in that shop,’ I say, pointing. I have a good eye for sales.

‘Forget the sales today,’ says Jen. ‘They’ll be selling off summer stock. You need the new season stuff. Clothes that’ll keep you warm in autumn. And make you look hot enough for Marc Blackwell to fall madly in love with you.’

‘I’ll pass on that one,’ I say. ‘Honestly, Jen. If you’d met him
,
you wouldn’t be saying that. He’s
really
arrogant.’

‘Come on,’ says Jen. ‘I know exactly where we should go.’

She takes me into Brickworks, a beautiful boutique store that smells of essential oils and has just a few rails of clothes dotted around a huge
,
white floor space.

I see a forty
-somethi
ng woman with cropped, platinum-
blonde hair and black sunglasses leading around a beautiful, long-thin girl who I assume is her daughter. They both have armfuls of clothes, and I wonder what it must feel like to be so rich you can buy whole wardrobes in stores like this. I guess I’m about to find out.

Jen is already loading jumpers and dresses into my arms. ‘This one is over-sized, off-the-shoulder. Look at that green. It’ll go perfectly with your eyes. I’d
love
to have brown eyes. This is your season, you know. Autumn.’

I smile at her. ‘You and your seasons.’

Jen is obsessed with colours, and matching different colours to different people. Apparently I’m an autumn, which means I can wear oranges, soft greens and yellows. Jen wears cool colours, like silver and very pale pink.

‘And these jeans – wow. You’ll look so hot in these.’ Jen throws a pair of skinny jeans, all tastefully ripped, and the most beautiful grey colour, over my arm. ‘And jewellery! I love the jewellery here. This necklace will go perfectly.’ She loops gold hoops of crinkled, beaten metal around my neck.

Jen hurries me towards the fitting room, where an attendant opens a door for us and hangs the clothes on artfully twisted metal hooks.

‘May I suggest a draped t-shirt that would go great with those jeans,’ she says. ‘You’re a size eight, right?’

‘She is, the lucky thing,’ says Jen. ‘And she still thinks she’s fat.’

The assistant brings us a hanger of smooth, draped fabric in a buttery, fawn colour.

‘That is just
perfect
for your skin tone,’ says Jen.

‘But what about the green jumper?’ I say. ‘I like that too.’

‘Soph, my love. You’re forgetting. Today you don’t have to decide between things. You can buy both of these.’

‘Right.’ I nod and smile, realising it’s true.

‘Did you notice our autumn boot collection?’ the assistant says.

‘No, I ...’

‘She’ll try on whatever boots will go with skinny jeans,’ says Jen, ‘and some high heels for this dress.’

‘But I never wear heels ...’

‘Soph, you don’t have to be totally practical today. You can buy some things that are a bit silly. Things you might only ever wear once in a blue moon.’

‘But I have nothing to wear high heels to.’

‘My mot
her always says, buy the outfit
and the event will come up.’

‘Okay, fine.’ I give in.

I try everything on, and as usual Jen has a perfect eye. The soft, blue dress she’s picked out sparkles under the store lighting, and clings to my waist in a way that’s both classy and sexy. The high heels make my legs look terrific. I feel like I’m someone else – someone who
won’t look out-of-place at Ivy College
.

‘It all looks great,’ I breathe, putting everything carefully back on hangers. I check the price tags. ‘Yikes. Jen, I don’t know ...’

‘Oh yes,’ says Jen. ‘You’re taking the whole lot. New wardrobe, new life. If you don’t buy it, then I’m buying it for you.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Jen is always threatening to buy things for me. She knows I’d never let her, but she still tries. ‘Fine. I’ll buy it.’

‘All of it?’ Jen asks. ‘Jewellery too?’

I notice the sales assistant leaning in keenly.

I sigh. ‘Yes. Everything. Belts, boots and jewellery.’

Jen and the sales assistant both clap their hands.

‘Great!’ they say in unison.

Chapter 6

Seven stores later, and I’m
weighed down with paper
bags. I’ve watched countless beautiful pieces of clothing being lovingly folded and packaged in tissue paper. One store even sprayed the paper with lavender oil, and offered to carry the bags to our car. I’m used to clothing with red sale stickers on, scrunched into polythene bags.

‘There’s something else you need before I take us for coffee,’ says Jen.

‘I’m taking
you
for coffee,’ I say. ‘It’s the least I can do. You’ve bought nothing on this trip. It’s all been about me.’

‘Soph, all the times you’ve traipsed after me while I’ve tried things on, and gone home with nothing yourself. This is a treat for me. I love seeing you getting new stuff. You deserve it more than anyone. You work so hard.’

‘You’re such a good friend,’ I say, taking her arm. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do wi
thout you
when I’m in London. I’m going to miss you so much.’

‘I’ll come down and see you all the time,’ says Jen. ‘I’m only ever a phone call away. Anyway, I recon you’ll have a whole set of new friends within minutes, and forget all about me.’

‘Never,’ I say.

She steers me towards the end of the shopping mall, where all the men’s shops are.