Film Star (3 page)

I nodded. “Of course I do,” I said.

“Because it would be stupid to get jealous over a load of letters,” Danny said.

“I
know,
” I said. “And I'm not jealous any more.”

“Before we begin…” Miss Greenstreet stood at the front of the class in her long gypsy skirt, bouncing on the balls of her feet. That meant only one thing—Shakespeare. She only ever bounced when we read Shakespeare. She said once that she loved teaching English at the academy because at least when students read aloud in class they
sounded like they meant it. Once Menakshi and Michael read the death scene in
Romeo and Juliet
and Miss Greenstreet actually cried. I don't know why—it wasn't
that
good.

“Class!” Miss Greenstreet raised her voice a little, and the chattering settled and quietened. “Two of you will be excused from class today because Ms Lighthouse wants to see you in her office immediately.”

“It wasn't me!” Michael Henderson shouted from the back of the class. A few of the boys sniggered and laughed.

“Actually, Michael, it's not because of something someone's done wrong. It's because of something two other people have done right.” Miss Greenstreet lowered her voice a little and smiled. “I'm not supposed to say anything, but I
think
it's about the auditions for Mr Dubrovnik.” Anne-Marie and Nydia looked at each other and gripped hands tightly. “So,” Miss Greenstreet said, smiling broadly, “can Anne-Marie and Ruby go to Ms Lighthouse's office right away, please?”

Anne-Marie, who had jumped up at the sound of her name, sat down heavily again.

“It's the brush-off,” Menakshi called from behind me. “She's telling the losers first that they haven't got
through. Hey, Nydia, you might be getting a call back!”

Nydia said nothing, but looked from me to Anne-Marie. Anne-Marie stood up again, the sparkle and smile gone from her face. She knew that to be called with me meant rejection.

“Come on,” she said. “We might as well go and get it over with.”

Miss Greenstreet smiled at us as we headed for the door.

“You never know, girls, it might be good news,” she said. But neither one of us replied.

“I really thought I was good,” Anne-Marie said as we trudged towards Ms Lighthouse's office.

“You were good,” I said. “I was the terrible one.”

“Exactly,” Anne-Marie said.

Ms Lighthouse's office door was open and her assistant Mrs Moore nodded for us to go in. It was hard to tell what kind of news we were going to get from Mrs Moore's expression, as never once had anyone ever seen her smile, frown or have any kind of expression at all. She was permanently in neutral, with a face like a mask that might hide thousands of raging thoughts and emotions.

“Sit,” Sylvia Lighthouse commanded us as we walked into her office, and we obeyed promptly. She leaned
forward across her desk on her elbows and examined each one of us carefully before sitting back in her chair.

“Well, well,” she said, more to herself than to us. “Cometh the hour, cometh the girls.”

“Huh?” Anne-Marie and I said together.

“But—are you sure?” I said, quite unable to believe what Sylvia Lighthouse had just told Anne-Marie and me. “Because I was really terrible.”

“I wasn't,” Anne-Marie said. “I was great.”

Sylvia read aloud again the fax she had in her hand.

“‘Dear Ms Lighthouse,'” she read, affecting a gruff New York accent. “‘Thank you for sending your young ladies to audition for the part of Polly Harris in
The Lost Treasure of King Arthur.
There are two that interested me and whom I'd like to see again this Friday: Ruby Parker and Anne-Marie Chance. Details to follow.'” Sylvia Lighthouse put the fax down on the table and looked at us.

“He wants to see you two again,” she said. “This time it will be a longer audition. You'll read through a scene chosen by Mr Dubrovnik that you won't get to rehearse before you arrive, and I know he sometimes likes to get actors doing improvisation work, to see
who has the right ‘chemistry'. You might have to do some of that.”

Anne-Marie and I looked at each other.

“Um…” I said, not quite able to believe what I was about to say, “Ms Lighthouse, I think he's got me mixed up with someone else—Nydia maybe? Because I…threw up in my audition. In front of him.” Ms Lighthouse raised her eyebrows and wrinkled her long nose.

“Well, Ruby, he doesn't say he thought you were
good.
He says he thought you were
interesting.
He has not made a mistake. Mr Dubrovnik is not the sort of man to make mistakes.” She tapped her nails on the desk and looked at us. “Now, as I understand, there are three other girls from other ‘sources' also going to this second call-back, so the chances of you progressing further are slim. Nevertheless, shooting is due to begin within the month, so we need to assume the impossible and talk practicalities with your parents.”

“Mine are in South Africa,” Anne-Marie said, and then, after a moment, “and Canada. Dad's in Canada.”

I glanced at Anne-Marie. Usually the fact that her movie-producer dad and fashionista mum were more often abroad on business than at home didn't seem to bother her too much. But sometimes, like just at that
moment, you could see her bravado drop a little, and you got a tiny glimpse of sadness. Most of the school thought she had the best time ever, living in her big posh house with only her older brother and their housekeeper Pilar to look after her. But I knew that sometimes, just sometimes, Anne-Marie would like nothing more than to be grounded by one or preferably both of her parents, just as long as they were at home.

“Very well. I'll need contact numbers then—and, Ruby, I'll phone your mother and father separately. They will both need to consent.”

“OK,” I said. It still felt strange that they had separate home phone numbers.

“For whoever gets the part of Polly Harris it will be an intensive six-week shoot. Child working laws still apply, of course, so it does mean that if either of you two get the part, you would be taken out of school for the remainder of this term and taught on set by a specially provided tutor, who will know your curriculum and will make sure you do not fall behind with your school work.” Ms Lighthouse gave us one of her brief twitches of a smile. “You will also need an adult guardian with you at all times.”

“I don't think either of my parents will be able to do
that,” Anne-Marie said, looking a little downcast. “I don't think we've spent six weeks in one place together ever in my life.”

“Well,” Ms Lighthouse said. “If needs be, Anne-Marie, I'll chaperone you myself. I won't have you missing out on a chance like this. So don't you worry about
that.
” She gave Anne-Marie one of her brief, rare, full-length smiles.

“Now, you two must focus on Friday. Ruby, you suffered terribly from nerves the last time. I want you to harness those nerves; make them work for you. Don't let anything knock you off course again. Mr Dubrovnik must have seen something in you to make him want to see you again. Try and think what that might have been and give it a chance to really shine. Anne-Marie, you are a lovely-looking girl, but don't rely on good looks to get you through this. Mr Dubrovnik may be shooting an action film, but he wants actors in it, not mannequins. He hasn't won two Oscars just for casting pretty faces. You have talent, make sure you use it.” Anne-Marie and I nodded, and then I thought of Nydia sitting in English class still thinking that she might have got called back.

“Excuse me, Ms Lighthouse,” I asked her. “Does that mean no one else from the academy is going back?”

“I'm afraid so,” she said, looking at her watch. “I want you to go to the library for the remainder of your lesson until lunch break. I'll be seeing those other girls now.” She studied mine and Anne-Marie's faces for a moment and I could guess what she saw there. I hardly knew myself how I felt.

“Don't feel bad about it, girls,” she said, her voice unexpectedly softened. “This is what acting is about. Sometimes seeing your friends fail means that you have succeeded.”

Mrs Moore watched us as we filed out of Sylvia Lighthouse's office and turned right towards the library. Then she left her desk and began walking steadily to fetch the other girls who hadn't made it through. The other girls including Nydia.

“Poor Nydia,” I whispered to Anne-Marie as we sat over open books that we had plucked from the shelves without even reading the title. I wanted to run about and scream and laugh, but given that we had been sent to the library all of those things were impossible. So instead we had to sit and wait until we could tell everyone else—tell Nydia.

“I know,” Anne-Marie said. “But you heard what she said, she said don't feel bad because—”

“I know,” I said. “But I don't want it to be like that, do you? I don't want to be that competitive. And friends you count on, friends like Nydia and you, are really important. I don't ever want to see a friend fail so that I can succeed.”

“But did you honestly feel like that this morning before you knew you had been called back?” Anne-Marie asked me. I shrugged, but said nothing. She was right, though. If I was really, really honest, this morning a part of me had hoped that none of us would get the part so we could all go back to being normal again. It was only now that I knew I was getting called back that I truly wished Nydia was coming too.

“Look, Ruby,” Anne-Marie whispered, “acting is one big competition. And somehow, by some amazing miracle, you—Ruby Parker—are one of the winners at the moment. And that's all you've got to think about right now. I know that's all I'm thinking about. And Nydia will be happy for us; like you said, she is a good friend.”

I stared blankly at the pages of words in front of me without reading them.

Somehow the impossible had happened. Somehow I
had
done something right, something that meant I was
going to get another chance to impress Mr Dubrovnik, to get the part of Polly Harris. I didn't know what I had done or how I had done it, but I did know one thing: I was going to give the best performance of my life.

This time, I was going to be brilliant.

The Waldorf Hotel in London was the poshest place I had ever been to in my life. OK, I haven't been to that many posh places unless you count award ceremonies, and they are usually held in a theatre or TV studio, which aren't nearly as posh as they look on TV.

“This is the life, hey, Ruby?” Dad said, winking as we waited in the foyer for Mr Dubrovnik to call us up, with my mum, Anne-Marie and Sylvia Lighthouse herself, who had decided to replace Miss Greenstreet on this occasion as it was “a matter of academy honour”.

“Totally,” I said, looking around me at the gold and the mirrors and the soft chair and posh orange ladies with big hair and big sunglasses and heavy-looking jewellery.

“Frank!” My mum looked as nervous as I felt. “Try not to look like a tourist.”

“It's a hotel,” Dad said, shrugging and grinning at me. “It's built for tourists, hey, Rube?” I laughed because
I knew he was trying to make me laugh, thinking it would take my mind off my nerves. And in a way it did, because the two of them being here together reassured me and made me feel safe again in a way that just one of them, try as they might, could not.

It was great that Mum and Dad had decided that both of them were coming with me to this important audition. And I was glad that they'd had a long phone conversation about it, a conversation during which no one had raised their voice or slammed down the receiver (or in our case pressed the “End Call” button really firmly). And I was really glad when Mum had come into the living room where I had been earwigging and said, “I suppose you heard, Dad's coming too on Friday. So that'll be nice, won't it?”

That seemed to be like a big step to me, part of the general air of friendship that had gradually begun to build between them since that horrible night when Dad left us and it had seemed as if nothing would be right in our family again. OK, they were living apart and Dad had his so-called “girlfriend”. And yes, Mum had cut her hair and started wearing make-up to go to the supermarket. Not to mention arranging sleepovers for me so she could go to salsa classes with her friends, who as it turned out she had a lot more of than I
realised. But, I decided, as strange and as uncomfortable as some of that made me feel, it didn't matter as long as they were talking to each other and not hating each other, and sometimes when it was really important I could have both of them together again looking after me. I couldn't have them back together again but I knew this was the next best thing.

Anne-Marie crossed the polished marble floor to my side and grinned at me.

“Well,” she said, “how are you feeling?” I paused to listen for any early-warning gurgle from my tummy.

“Strangely OK,” I said, sounding slightly surprised. “You?”

“I'm OK,” she said, biting her glossy lip. “It was sweet of Nydia to call us this morning and wish us good luck, wasn't it?” she said. “Good old Nydia, she's been really great about this, hasn't she?”

“Yes,” I said, although I hadn't spoken to Nydia that morning or the night before. Perhaps she had called home just after I'd left. Or maybe she'd been trying my mobile, which Sylvia had made us turn off before we came into the hotel.

“You can come up now.” Lisa Wells appeared as if from nowhere and spoke so loudly that the posh orange people stopped to look at her from over the tops of their
morning papers. At the sound of her voice I felt my stomach tighten and gurgle.

“You can do this, love,” Dad said. “You're the best, remember that!” I nodded as our little group headed for the lift.

“We have two suites reserved—one for waiting in, the other for a brief rehearsal with a member of the cast and then the screen test. Ruby, you're going in first, so less chance for you to inflate the hotel's extra cleaning charges, and Anne-Marie, you'll be waiting in the second suite. There will be refreshments while you wait. It won't take long—a little over half an hour, I think. Then you'll go in, Anne-Marie, and Ruby can wait. Is that OK, girls?”

“That will be perfectly fine,” Ms Lighthouse said before either of us could open our mouths.

At first I sort of wished I had been in a suite at the Waldorf Hotel for some reason other than auditioning for a part in the new film of world-famous movie director Art Dubrovnik. Then I could have enjoyed it even more.

The waiting suite was amazing: the biggest bedroom I have ever seen in my life. In fact, you couldn't really
call it a bedroom, it was more like an apartment, with a huge living room, bathroom and even an
upstairs.
Of course, Anne-Marie swanked around like she spent her whole life in hotel rooms like this one, and given that her mum and dad were in the top fifty richest people in the country, she probably had. I on the other hand was awestruck and so were my parents, although my mum didn't look around the room open-mouthed with awe like my dad did, she sat still on the edge of the blue silk sofa and looked afraid to touch anything.

“I'll be right back,” Lisa said, her eye raking over Anne-Marie and me again. “There's tea and fresh coffee over there, or take what you like from the minibar as long as it's legal.” As Sylvia Lighthouse busied herself pouring coffee and tea for my parents, Anne-Marie crossed straight to a part of the wall that I had thought was just white-painted wooden panelling and opened it to reveal a tiny but well-stocked fridge.

She handed me a Coke and took one for herself.

“How did you know that was there?” I asked her, impressed.

“It was obvious,” she said. “Minibars are always in the same place, aren't they?” I said nothing and went and sat next to my mum and sipped my drink. Sylvia Lighthouse was talking but I wasn't listening. All I could
think about was that it was me who would be going to audition first. I knew that it was going to happen, but I couldn't quite believe it. Somehow it didn't seem real. It felt like I was already playing a part in a film.

“OK.” Lisa Wells opened the door. “Ruby, come this way, please.”

I looked at my mum, who smiled at me and nodded, and then at my dad, who pumped his fist in the air in a way that would have ordinarily mortified me if I hadn't been so nervous, and then finally at Sylvia Lighthouse, who was standing straight-backed against the window.

“Remember everything I've taught you and you will excel,” she told me with quiet dignity.

“I will, Ms Lighthouse,” I said solemnly, though to be perfectly honest at that point I couldn't remember a single word she had ever said about anything ever. I could hardly even remember my name.

“We are working to a schedule here, you know,” Lisa Wells said, rolling her eyes. I stood up and I followed her into the second suite.

Mr Dubrovnik was sitting on a fat, cream sort of half-sofa half-chair, leaning forward with his elbows resting
on his knees as if at any moment he might want to suddenly get up and leave. He watched me as I walked in through the door and pointed at the chair opposite him.

“Hello, Ruby,” he said. His voice was soft and low and quite friendly really.

“Hello,” I said. My voice was high and squeaky and sounded quite a lot like a strangulated mouse.

“Well, I'm glad to see you again,” Mr Dubrovnik said. “I bet you didn't think you'd be asked back, did you?” I shook my head. It seemed like a better alternative than squeaky-voiced talking. Mr Dubrovnik smiled. He had a very nice fatherly sort of smile that wrinkled his face up around his eyes and made him look about a hundred times less scary.

“And so, Ruby, why do you think I've asked you to come to this second audition today?” he asked. I thought about it for a moment and realised that this time I'd have to speak, so I concentrated on making my voice come out as normal as possible.

“Well,” I said, and this time I still sounded like a mouse but not one who had been breathing the helium from party balloons, “I thought you might have got me mixed up with another Ruby.” It was a terrible answer, but the only one I had, and I was rewarded with another
one of Mr Dubrovnik's friendly smiles. He laughed and shook his head.

“So you thought you did pretty badly, right?” he said, twinkling at me. I found myself smiling back at him as I nodded.

“Well, I'll tell you,” he said. “You did. You
were
terrible. You let the situation rule you, and an actor can never,
never
allow that to happen. You have to rule the situation at all times. No matter how difficult it is. You have to
own
it. You'll learn that if you ever work in live theatre.” I nodded.

“I have done live theatre,” I said quickly. “School plays.” Mr Dubrovnik laughed again and this time so did I. I had no idea that I was so hilarious. His face settled into a smile again and he leaned even further forward in his chair as if he were about to tell me a secret.

“I'll tell you why you're here, Ruby, and I won't lie,” he told me. “You've got something none of the other girls going for this part have got.” I held my breath, hoping he was about to say something like “real talent”, but instead he said, “You've got history and years of experience. I've seen the show you were in,
Kensington Lofts,
or whatever.” I nodded. “I asked Sylvia to send me over some tapes after your first audition because I couldn't believe that the performance you gave was
really your best.” I shook my head with emphasis. “Thought not, so I watched about four episodes and—you were really good in it.
Really
good considering those scripts.” He smiled again; it was a smile that seemed to reach right up to his forehead. “Also, you might like to know that Miss Grant liked your audition. She said she thought you had something about you that might be right for the part.” I thought how nice that this Miss Grant, whoever she might be, liked me, and then I realised who he was talking about! Not just
a
Miss Grant, but
the
Miss Grant—Imogene Grant!

“Imogene Grant thought that from seeing the tape of my audition?” I said, sounding incredulous. “Did she see that last bit?” I asked him, mortified. He smiled.

“Afraid so,” he said. I clapped my hands over my eyes and he laughed again.

“Yeah, I know,” Art Dubrovnik said. “But even with the last bit, she wanted me to see you again and I'm not in the habit of saying no to my leading lady. So are you all set?”

I took a deep breath.

“As I'll ever be,” I said.

Mr Dubrovnik nodded.

“Jeremy!” he called out to another room most politely. “Would you mind coming through now,
please?” And my jaw dropped as Britain's leading thespian and one of the world's top film actors walked into the room. It was Jeremy Fort.

“Hello,” he said to me, giving me a little bow.

“My mum so
loves
you,” I said to him without thinking, and then they were both laughing. I felt myself flush red to the roots of my hair, which may have been a blessing in disguise because at least then they couldn't see the blotches I was coming out in.

“I can see you know who Jeremy is,” Art Dubrovnik said. “He will be playing Polly's ‘father'—the evil scientist who kidnaps her.” He handed me a script bound in a dark blue cover. “Here's a short scene for you to learn. I want you to spend a few minutes learning your lines with Jeremy and then I'll come back into the room and you give me your best shot, OK?”

I couldn't speak; I was too busy praying my breakfast wouldn't want to make another cameo appearance.

“Ruby,” Mr Dubrovnik said, gently but firmly, his smile settling in the bottom half of his face only. “If you want to act, you can't be star-struck. You have to act like you're just as important as anyone else in this room; you have to
own
this room, OK?” I nodded, and tried not to think about the fact that I barely had enough pocket
money to own a box of complimentary matches, let alone anything else in this room.

“OK, I'll try,” I managed to say, and then as I looked at Mr Dubrovnik's encouraging smile spreading back past his eyebrows, I remembered what I had forgotten the first time. That this was my chance, my one chance to get it right and to at least do the best I could do, so that this afternoon and tomorrow and next week I wouldn't be kicking myself, wishing again and again that I'd done things differently. This was my moment. I had to give it everything I could.

“I'll give it my best shot, Mr Dubrovnik,” I said, my voice sounding clear and even again. Mr Dubrovnik looked pleased.

“I look forward to it,” he said.

When he had left the room Jeremy Fort looked at me and said, “Now then, Ruby, shall we begin?”

INT. DAYTIME—PROFESSOR DARKLY'S
OFFICE AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM

The office is lined with shelves of very old-looking books. There is a huge ancient-looking round table covered in scrolls and manuscripts. There is a mummified head on the table. It looks like it died in terrible agony. PROFESSOR DARKLY HARRIS stands with his back to
camera, looking out of the window. POLLY HARRIS runs into the room to tell him what CATCHER SMITH has just told her. She is anxious and out of breath.

POLLY

Daddy! Daddy! Oh, thank goodness, there you are. You have to come quickly. There's this American boy downstairs saying terrible things about you, Daddy! Terrible lies. He must be quite mad!

Professor Darkly turns around slowly and smiles at his “daughter”. It's the dark, deadly smile of a monster who is preparing to finish off his prey.

PROFESSOR DARKLY

Now, now, Polly dear. Do calm down. I'm sure it's
just another tourist playing some kind of joke. You know what these Americans are like. They have no appreciation of any real history. Just sit down and tell me calmly what he said to you.

POLLY sits reluctantly at the table on the only free chair. She looks unhappily at the mummified head. It seems to be staring right at her.

POLLY

Well, this one knew a lot about Arthurian legend, Daddy. He said…he said that—that you weren't my father at all! That you had kidnapped me because I was a child born on the seventh hour of the seventh day of the seventh month, which made me perfect for your
evil purposes. He said that you were an evil scientist and worse still the direct descendant of the evil sorcerer Mordred. And that you were planning to resurrect the sleeping body of King Arthur and enslave him with a powerful spell, so that he would show you where the sword Excalibur was hidden, thus giving you the power to conquer the world and bring about an apocalypse!

PROFESSOR DARKLY laughs. It is a dark and menacing laugh, one that POLLY has never heard before from her beloved and kindly father. She starts to feel afraid of him but is still disbelieving. Professor Darkly leans menacingly over the table.

PROFESSOR DARKLY

And was there anybody else with this boy, my dear?

POLLY leans back in her chair.

POLLY

He said…he said he had come with my sister. My real sister who had been looking for me since the day you took me. He said her name was Flame Buchanen.

PROFESSOR DARKLY howls in rage and sweeps the papers off the round table. The mummified head falls into POLLY'S lap. She jumps up and screams.

PROFESSOR DARKLY

That cursed woman will ruin everything!

Polly creeps gradually further away from her father back towards the open door. She is very afraid and confused.

POLLY

Daddy? What do you mean it will ruin everything? What do you mean?

PROFESSOR DARKLY narrows his eyes and looks at his retreating daughter. Slowly, slowly he begins to stalk towards her, a terrible smile on his face.

PROFESSOR DARKLY

My dear, I had hoped to keep all this from you until the last moment. But I suppose it
is
almost the last moment. Everything that boy told you is true. I have raised you and pretended to love you. But our entire life has been a lie—a lie
waiting for this day, this very night! For tonight is the night when the ancient prophecy shall come true at last and King Arthur will walk this earth again, but not as a hero to save the world from destruction. Oh, no, he will be my slave. And to make him my slave I need to make a sacrifice to my forefather Mordred. A
human
sacrifice, my dear. A child born on the seventh hour of the seventh day of the seventh month. A girl descended from Guinevere herself. I think you'll find that's you!

In tears of disbelief and fear POLLY runs towards the open door, but PROFESSOR DARKLY gets there first and slams it shut in her face.