Star Struck (10 page)

The past four weeks had flown by for Andy. In preparation for the upcoming Boot Camp, Andy and the other runners had been drafted to the house and were briefed on all aspects of the show. The most important rule that was stressed to everyone working on
Star Maker
was that whatever happened in the house stayed in the house. Will, the head of production, told them that in the past there had been threesomes, drug taking and a near fatal incident in the pool, which had since been drained. He said that when you put a lot of young, more-often-than-not egotistical people in a confined space, sparks naturally fly. These things were never leaked to the papers and anything that was, the odd affair, the odd hissy fit, was carefully crafted by the
Star Maker
PR team.

Each person picked to come to Boot Camp was made to sign a number of legal documents and anyone trying to step outside the boundaries of these agreements would find themselves in serious trouble. They were also made to sign away any rights to their music; and this wasn’t just in the eventuality of them being a success on the programme and securing a recording deal. Anyone given exposure by
Star Maker
was deemed
Star Maker
property.
So
even if they were sent home at Boot Camp stage they were bound to
Star Maker
Inc. for two years from the release of their first single, meaning that they wouldn’t earn anything until their third year of success. It was a Faustian pact – most singers don’t have a shelf life of more than two years – but one that few turned down; the opportunity to hit the big time was too big a draw.

Andy felt like he was learning so much about the music and entertainment business, and not all of it he liked. But he couldn’t help thinking that as much as this sort of show chewed up and spat out people with dreams and ambitions, it did sort the wheat from the chaff. The really talented people always seemed to survive. He wondered if that really was the case behind the scenes or if it was just how things were presented on TV and he would see a different side over the coming weeks.

One thing Andy had been grateful for over the past month was the absence of Jason P. Longford. As there was no presenting to be done, Jason was sunning himself in Barbados as the personal guest of Michael Winner. That was a dinner party Andy wouldn’t want to be invited to. He could just imagine the pair of them, barking orders at the staff until everyone in a service role was a quivering wreck.

‘We’re late,’ Jesse said, sticking his head into the broom cupboard. ‘The under-twenty-five girls are arriving and there’s some fit ones.’ Andy rolled off his bed and then rolled off Jesse’s bed and fell out of the door. They had been briefed on what was happening today. The under-twenty-five boys had arrived this morning, the under-twenty-five girls were to arrive before
three
and the over-twenty-fives, both male and female, were due to arrive after five. They would all have dinner together this evening and then the judges would arrive by helicopter tomorrow and they would start. The judges didn’t stay in the manor house, they were tucked away in a bolt hole about ten miles away. They were flown in for the day and then flown out again. The show liked to portray the judges as being very hands on but Andy had been told this really did differ from judge to judge. Carrie Ward was an unknown quantity being the new kid on the block. Cherie Forster wasn’t quite so hands on, but was extremely professional and made sure that she knew everything there was to know about the people narrowed down to be in the category she represented. Lionel was also in his first year. Last year Richard Forster had staged a coup and kicked off Cassandra Barker, the ex-rock star and outspoken lynch-pin of the show and Perry White, an Australian music producer who seemed to get on everyone’s nerves but was great at spotting raw talent. No one ever thought that Richard would have the balls to get rid of Cassandra – rumours had been rife about an affair between the two and that Cherie wanted her out – but he did. And despite her many attempts to defame him since, Richard had come out of it looking poised and businesslike and she had come out of it looking like a shrieking banshee. Perry, on the other hand, whenever asked about Richard Forster was nothing but gracious. And as he was bobbing around on a yacht in Monte Carlo for the summer this year, courtesy of the
Star Maker
creator, what else would he be other than gracious? Forster drafted Lionel and Carrie
in
because of their experience and because he had a sixth sense for whom the public would enjoy as a judge.

The one recurring criticism levelled at Richard Forster was that he didn’t spend much time at all with the people in his category. He had so many other commitments that
Star Maker
was just another project in his schedule. He had made quite a few gaffs in last year’s show and had made a promise to himself and the crew to be more attentive. He kept forgetting his singers’ names to the point where he looked like he was losing interest in his own production. This year, Andy had been told, Richard’s PA was to spend half an hour before each live show, running through the names of each singer, their background, and strengths and weaknesses so that he seemed on camera to be as sharp as he was famed to be.

Andy followed Jesse along the dark, imposing, wood-lined corridors. Jesse and Andy were getting on well. Jesse was twenty-three, short but good-looking and totally at ease with his height and his name. Andy had asked him if he was named after Jesse James. ‘Everyone asks me that. My mum just liked the name,’ he said with a shrug. They had quickly grown to like one another and it didn’t take long before they were both sharing jokes about the mad world that they had stumbled into. Jesse was from a similar working-class background to Andy, albeit in East London, and he had come through a Lottery-funded TV mentoring scheme to get his job as a runner. Jesse hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Jason P. Longford but Andy had told him all about him. Andy was hoping that he wouldn’t be assigned to work with Jason on his return. He was sure that there was something he could make himself seem
indispensable
at before Jason’s return, which was rumoured to be tomorrow.

Jesse and Andy walked down the sweeping staircase that led to the main entrance of the manor house. It was like a cross between Hogwarts and Brideshead. There were moose heads on the walls and various coats of arms. There were pictures of landed gentry from bygone eras and what could only be described as road-kill sitting stuffed on the large oak dresser by the door leading to the main dining area. ‘That thing gives me the evils,’ Jesse said.

Andy shuddered, it did seem to be staring at them. ‘What is it?’

‘A ferret?’

Andy laughed. ‘A ferret? Where do you live where you think that’s a ferret?’

‘Dunno, mate. Somewhere where we don’t have ’em for pets.’

‘We don’t have a ferret for a pet. Or a whippet for that matter.’

‘Never been down t’pit?’ Jesse asked in a purposefully bad northern accent.

‘Never. But I know that that thing there is not a ferret. It’s a fox, isn’t it?’

Jesse studied it for a moment, ‘Nah, that’s no fox.’

He looked at Andy and they both cracked up laughing. ‘We should have our own nature programme.’

‘David Attenborough, me,’ Jesse agreed.

The large wooden entrance door swung open and Will walked in. ‘Got another Boot Camper,’ he said to Andy. ‘Can you take her to room ten, please.’

‘Yep. Follow me,’ Andy said and then realised that the girl standing behind him was Catherine.

‘Hi!’ Andy said, happy to see a familiar face.

‘Oh, hi. How are you?’ Catherine asked.

‘Good. Great. Yeah. Oh sorry, this is Jesse.’

Jesse stuck out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘You too.’ Catherine took his hand.

‘Let me get your bags,’ Jesse offered.

‘Oh yeah, your bags,’ Andy said, but Jesse had already made a grab for them.

Andy felt awkward. It had been a month since he had seen Catherine and he didn’t really know what to say. ‘So, how’ve you been?’

‘Good, yeah. You?’

‘Yeah, good. Just living here in a broom cupboard with Jesse.’

‘Oh, is your room small?’

‘No. Not small,’ Jesse stopped and put Catherine’s bags down to give his hand gestures maximum effect. ‘It is tiny. Like this,’ he said, making the shape of a small box. ‘And me and Andy like each other but we didn’t expect to end up having a little cuddle every night, did we, And?’

Andy laughed. ‘No.’

‘So, Catherine, what are you going to sing for us?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Don’t look so surprised. You’ve got to sing for us when you get to your room, it’s a
Star Maker
initiation. Everyone does it.’

Catherine looked wide-eyed at Andy. ‘Is he serious?’

Jesse nodded behind her back.

‘Er, yes.’

‘He’s not. I can tell by your face,’ Catherine said smiling.

‘OK, he’s winding you up,’ Andy admitted.

‘You are rubbish, mate!’ Jesse said.

Yes, Andy thought, I am. This happened every time they showed anyone female to their room – even old ladies who had got through on the strength of a bad Gracie Fields impression – Jesse went into full flirt mode and Andy ended up standing there like his lanky, less impressive sidekick.

Jesse bantered his way up to the room and Catherine seemed to relax into her surroundings.

‘How’s the family?’ Andy asked.

‘What, you know each other from home?’ Jesse said, confused.

‘No.’

‘No.’ Catherine and Andy spoke at the same time and then both laughed, embarrassed.

‘My family came into my audition and made a show of themselves.’

Andy was about to put her mind at ease and say that it happens all the time when Jesse piped up, ‘Are you the one with the mad dad?’

Catherine seemed to think about it for a moment. ‘Erm, yes. That would be me.’

‘Good effort,’ Jesse said, impressed.

They arrived outside the room that Catherine would be staying in for the week. There was a huge bed in the middle of the room, that had obviously been there for years and then there were five other temporary beds dotted around.

‘Sorry, everyone has to share.’

‘No problem. I totally expected that to be the case,’ Catherine said, throwing her bag down on one of the makeshift beds. The toilet flushed in the en-suite bathroom, the door swung open and a statuesque, finely featured redhead stormed into the room.

‘You were expecting to share? I wasn’t.’ She clicked her fingers at Catherine. ‘And don’t even think about the big bed, it’s taken.’

Catherine spun round and pulled a
What the hell?
face at Andy and Jesse.

‘This is Star,’ Andy said, with a knowing nod to Catherine.

‘Star?’

‘Changed her name by deed poll,’ Jesse whispered in Catherine’s ear.

Star clearly overheard. ‘Yes, I did change my name, so what?’

Jesse shrugged, ‘Yeah, so what, who cares? Right?’ ‘Right.’

Jesse winked at Andy and then asked, ‘What was your name before it was Star?’

‘It’s a secret.’

‘Was it Beryl?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You look like a Beryl.’

‘And you look like a twat.’

Jesse creased over laughing and then put his hand out for Andy to high-five. Andy did, but he always felt a bit limp when he high-fived anyone. It wasn’t really in his nature; he much preferred a good old-fashioned British handshake. You know where you are with a handshake,
he
thought. ‘You’re going to have a great time in here with Beryl. Enjoy.’

‘Thanks,’ Catherine said, looking as if she really didn’t want to be left alone with Star.

‘Dinner’s at six this evening in the main room. You can meet everyone else in your category. Is there anything else you need while we’re here?’ He could tell what she was thinking –
Don’t leave me here
– but they had to go. They were charged with ferrying all newcomers to their rooms throughout the day.

‘No, I’ll be fine.’

‘See you later,’ Andy said, smiling at Catherine.

‘See you, thanks.’

‘No problem,’ Jesse said. Catherine smiled shyly. Why the bloody hell did every female seem to immediately fancy Jesse? Andy thought but then remembered it was because he was funny, smart, good-looking and knew how to talk to the opposite sex. Andy didn’t think he could lay claim to any of these qualities; he had to face up to the fact that he was one of life’s wing-men.

Catherine had envisaged getting to her room, having a bath and relaxing on her bed until it was time to meet the other contestants. She hadn’t bargained on having to spend the afternoon with Star, who had all the charm of Rudolph Hess. Star was now stretched out on the one and only double bed, wearing a silk nightgown with her hair in a knotted towel and slices of cucumbers placed on her eyelids. Where had the cucumber come from? Catherine wondered. She must have brought it from home. That was dedication to the beauty cause, Catherine thought. She opened the
door
to the en-suite. She wasn’t getting much conversation out of Star so she though she might have a soak in the bath anyway and then get ready for the evening ahead.

‘Is my bath ready?’ Star enquired as if Catherine was one of her members of staff.

‘Er, oh yes. It’s overflowing.’

‘Can you turn it off for me?’

Catherine did. She couldn’t believe she did, but she did. There was something about Star’s tone that made Catherine immediately obedient. She wondered how Jo would fare in this situation; she’d probably be pulling Star around the room in a headlock by now.

‘Where are you from?’ Catherine asked, trying to see if being amiable might have an effect on Star’s frosty demeanour.

‘New York, London, Paris, Beijing, Bangkok, Ljubljana. I’ve lived everywhere. I’m a citizen of the world.’

‘Oh right.’ Catherine said. She didn’t really know what else to say. It would be interesting to talk about these different places with somebody normal but Star, it was becoming quickly clear, took every conversation as an opportunity to be objectionable.

‘And you?’