Film Star (17 page)

Mum, Pat Rivers, Sean and I sat in the back of the limo as we waited for the security check at the BBC Theatre.

All the way we had sat in awkward, difficult silence. My mum had tried to talk to Sean's dad a couple of times. She asked him how he liked Britain and did he miss California. At one point she said he must be so proud of his son, which was the only time I heard any sound at all from Sean, a sort of strangulated, muffled laugh. But although Pat Rivers answered Mum most politely and always called her “ma'am”, it was clear that he didn't really want to waste his breath on her because, after all, there was nothing that my mum could do for him.

That was pretty bad, but not quite as bad as the dress Tallulah Banks had tried to make me wear earlier that evening. I knew she had been waiting for the moment she could get revenge on me for ripping
Imogene's gold gown, and finally her moment had come.

“Don't want you in anything too adult, hey, Ruby,” she'd said as she produced the most hideous dress I have ever seen in my life and presented it to me. It was like all of your worst bridesmaid's dress nightmares rolled into one and it looked as if Tallulah had picked it based solely on how terrible it would make me look.

Firstly, it was lemon yellow, and the minute I put it on I looked like a lemon too, because the colour reflected on to my skin and made me look jaundiced. Secondly, it had a
sash:
the sort of sash you dream of when you are about four, but one you'd cheerfully hang yourself with rather than be seen in public actually wearing at the age of thirteen.
It tied in a bow at the side!

Thirdly, it had a full, frilly skirt. And fourthly, it had puff sleeves.

It was yellow-dress hell.

“Perfect,” Tallulah said with a cruel smile, as I gingerly came out of the dressing room. “Just the effect I wanted.”

I stared at myself miserably in the mirror, imagining the soap awards' eight million viewers at home and audience of celebrities—which included my exboyfriend, thank you very much—laughing themselves sick when I came on stage looking like a lemon meringue.

I wondered if I was brave enough to complain and make a fuss. But I think I used up all of my limited rebellious resources when I ran off with the diamonds, because one look at Tallulah's face told me I was not nearly brave enough.

Feeling like an exploded banana soufflé I trudged next door to where Sean had just finished getting dressed.

He was in a white suit with an ice-blue T-shirt underneath, and
he
looked utterly cool and handsome.

“No one told me it was fancy dress!” he said when he saw me. He was trying to be his usual charming self, but this dress knocked even him off balance.

“I know,” I said unhappily. “It's gruesome.”

“Then why did you put it on?” he asked me in disbelief.

“Because I haven't got a choice!” I told him. “My only consolation is that I'll only be on national TV for about fifteen seconds and will mostly be standing behind a podium.”

Sean looked sceptical.

“No,” he said.

“No what?” I said.

“No, you are not wearing that!” He took my hand and began walking. “If I
have
to be having a fake
romance with you then you at least have to look halfway decent. Follow me.”

Sean marched to Lisa's office.

Lisa was horrified to find that we were still at the studio and not on our way to the BBC Theatre. Then Sean dragged me out from behind him and made her look at the dress. She actually screamed.

“Oh, she can't wear that!” she said, shaking her head vigorously.

“Tallulah picked it for me,” I said miserably. “Because she hates me.”

Lisa shook her head.

“No, it's not you she hates, Ruby, it's me. She's done this because I asked her to find you a dress; because she knows it's my job to get you on TV looking good. She's done it to spite me.”

“Why does she hate you?” Sean asked her.

“Because,” Lisa said, “once, a long time ago, when we were both starting out, we were working on this film and there was this cameraman that we both liked the look of. Tallulah warned me to stay away from him, or else.”

“And you didn't?” I asked, marvelling at Lisa's bravery.

“Well, you could say that—I married him,” Lisa said, smiling at me. “She has never got over it. Come on, let's get this sorted.”

The three of us went to see Tallulah, who was packing up for the day.

“She can't wear that,” Lisa repeated, gesturing at the yellow confection without actually being able to bring herself to look at it. “It's awful!”

“I thought it suited her,” Tallulah said pleasantly.

“It's awful,” Lisa repeated.

“Well,” Tallulah shrugged and glanced at the clock on the wall. “It's past six-thirty already. I haven't got anything else here for her to wear and nowhere else is open now.” She smiled happily. “It's too late to change it.”

“What about a costume?” Lisa said, her voice hardening slightly and tapping one of her long nails against her clipboard.

“Sure,” Tallulah replied archly. “Which one of her ripped and dirty school uniforms do you want her to wear?”

“How about this?” Sean emerged from behind the costume rack. He was holding the lovely gold dress I had ripped.

“Perfect,” Lisa said. “Get it on quick, Ruby, and I'll call and tell them you're on your way. Don't want them replacing you with a stand-by, do we?”

“It won't fit her,” Tallulah said crossly. “She's too short for it and too wide.”

“Then let it out and pin it up,” Lisa said crossly. “I'm not asking you, Tallulah, I'm telling you. You have ten minutes.” The two women looked each other in the eye for a moment until Tallulah finally realised she was beaten. She could bully a thirteen-year-old, but not the real Lisa Wells, who right at that moment looked just as scary and as formidable as the fake one.

“Fine,” she told Lisa, even though it was clearly and obviously not.

Ten minutes later, having suffered minor blood loss through several vicious pin pricks, I walked out to the car in the gold dress. I might have been wider and shorter than Imogene, but after that yellow dress I felt fabulous in the gold gown, with its waterfall neckline and zig-zaggy hem. Tallulah even found me the gold shoes that went with it, which were ever so high and slightly too big, so that wearing them meant that I walked like a baby giraffe just finding its feet—but I didn't care because I wasn't a lemon any more.

“That's more like it,” Sean said as he opened the car door for me.

“Lovely,” my mum said with a little smile. “If a little bit old for you and I'm not too keen on those shoes.”

Which, in my opinion, pretty much made it the perfect outfit.

There was no red carpet for this ceremony, which frankly I thought was a blessing. Afterwards there would be a photo call on the way to the after-show party, which Sean and I were allowed to walk into for publicity purposes but then had to leave with our parents immediately afterwards. I was glad really; it meant I wouldn't have to spend an evening trying not to look at Danny across a crowded room.

In the rush and tear up until this moment I hadn't had a chance to think about what it would be like to see him, let alone to perhaps even hand him the award for best newcomer. At the thought of it my stomach knotted and my mouth went dry.

I was still cross with him—really, really cross—but I missed him too. Before all of this happened he used to really make me laugh, make me feel happy and light. We could talk for hours about films and books and all the things we wanted to do with our careers. And sometimes we'd just hang out and say nothing, and it wouldn't matter because he was so easy to be with. And when he kissed me goodnight under the streetlamp outside my house? Well, it made me feel as if I were floating a little bit.

I hadn't really had a chance to miss him being my boyfriend yet, but I knew I would, and I knew it would be quite a long time before I stopped.

Sean and I left our parents who went to sit in the audience, and followed a highly stressed researcher called Carrie through a maze of corridors, where at last she showed us into the green room (which was actually orange) where the rest of the presenters waited.

It was like an A-Z of British soap actors, all of the most famous people in TV in one room together. But when Sean and I walked in for a second, for just one single breath, they all stopped talking and looked at him.

And that, I decided, was the difference between a real star, with his starriness built into his blood and bones, and all the rest of us plain old actors. Sean had a sort of magic all around him, which made you want to look at him and never stop.

“Sean,” I said as he handed me a glass of orange juice.

“Yes, oh love of my life?” he replied, in a stupid soppy voice.

At that moment Carrie came in and called the first six presenters to go on set; the show had begun.

“Don't hate acting because of your dad,” I told him,
as the first set of celebrity presenters filed out of the green room.

He took a quick step back from me, raising the palms of his hands.

“Whoa, I wasn't expecting that,” he said, surprised. He ran his fingers through his spiky hair. “Look, I don't hate acting, Ruby. It's just that it's not fun any more. What I hate is all this: this endless life under a microscope where everybody thinks they know me, but nobody really does.”

“I know you a bit, I think,” I said. “And I know you hate being dragged around the world working non-stop and not having any kind of normal life. But, Sean, you can't let your dad make you hate acting. You were born to do it.” Sean shrugged and looked at his feet.

“I really don't want to talk about this,” he said uneasily.

“Look,” I persisted, “I know everyone tells you this—but you are good, better than good—you're amazing! And you've got that special something that sets you apart from the crowd.” I nodded at the few run-of-the-mill celebrities left in the room to make my point. “I don't want you to waste your talent, or use it up or lose it, because of what your dad is doing to you.”

Sean took my hand and smiled into my eyes, and for
about five seconds I actually was in love with him.

“You really care about me, don't you, Ruby?” he asked me.

I nodded. Sean looked at me, his expression full of regret.

“I just can't see how things are ever going to change with Dad. Until I'm legally old enough to be free of him, I'll have to put up with it; right now I have nowhere else to go.” We looked at each other intently. “I've met some great people here,” he said sadly. “And I'm really going to miss you when I go. It would be great to stay friends with you, Ruby Parker.”

I smiled up at Sean.

“But maybe we can.” As I spoke Sean glanced over my shoulder and dropped my hand suddenly.

“Oh—hey, man,” he said awkwardly.

I turned around and saw Danny staring at us.

“I spoke to Anne-Marie last night,” he said coldly. “She told me I'd got everything wrong about you and him. I didn't believe her at first but she spent so long bending my ear I thought it had to be true. So, idiot that I am, I came backstage to find you and try and tell you how sorry I am.” He looked from me to Sean, his face a mask of ice. “Looks like I've got nothing to apologise for.”

“Hey, man…!” Sean began, but Danny had turned on his heel and gone.

“I'm sorry,” Sean said. I sipped my juice without tasting it and shrugged.

“Don't be,” I said, forcing myself to be brave. “It's not your fault.”

Sean looked uncomfortable.

“Actually, Ruby…” Just at that moment Sean's mobile phone beeped and he took it out of his pocket.

“Mmm,” he said thoughtfully. He glanced up at me. “Look, I have to do something, but when I come back I've got something to tell you and Danny, something that will put things right. Tell Carrie I'll be back in a few seconds.”

“But the show's already started,” I said anxiously. “Carrie will have an aneurism if you aren't here when she comes to get you. I will!”

“We're not on for ages,” Sean told me with his easy smile. “We're the grand finale. I'll be back in time, I promise.”

The minutes ticked by and one by one the celebrity presenters filed out of the green room to go on stage, until there was just a handful of us left. And Sean was not back.

“Hey,” Carrie stopped short as she ran into the room. “Where's Sean?”

“Um…in the loo,” I said unconvincingly.

“What?” Carrie looked worried. “Where is he really? You're on next, Ruby. I'll get killed if you don't both go on; it's Sean they want really.” She bit her lip when she realised what she'd said and smiled at me apologetically.

“I'm sorry, but you know what I mean,” she said. I nodded. I wasn't offended. It was after all the truth.

“I do,” I said. “Don't worry, I'll find him.”

I fished out my mobile that Mum insisted I took with me in case I went missing again and dialled Sean's number, planning to ask him where he was and to tell him to get back here now. But as I rang his number, I discovered I didn't have to. I knew exactly where Sean was because I could hear his phone ringing.

Holding my phone in front of me I followed the tone until I could hear it quite loudly.

There was a series of three doors in the corridor and the ring was coming from one of those.

The first one I tried was locked.

The second was empty.

In the third one I found Sean.

And Anne-Marie.

Kissing.

Each other.

“Oh, good! You found him.” Carrie appeared right behind me and barged past me to get to Sean. She elbowed Anne-Marie out of the way and grabbed Sean by the arm with total disregard for his star status, and propelled him as fast she could towards the stage. “Come on, Ruby,” she yelled over her shoulder. “We've got two minutes.”