Star Struck (13 page)

‘You still don’t believe me about the cameras, do you?’ Star asked. Catherine kept her eyes jammed shut, hoping she was talking to someone else. ‘They were watching us last night. That’s how it works, they want people who are going to make great TV and I’m going to make great TV. I know because a friend of my old voice coach told me.’ Star said assuredly.

Catherine quickly opened one eye to see if she was talking to someone else. ‘See, I knew you were awake.’

‘Oh, hi!’ Catherine said, embarking on a particularly bad fake yawn.

‘You don’t have to pretend to have just woken up.’

Bloody hell, Catherine thought, what was wrong with this girl? Didn’t she understand social constructs? I pretend to have woken up, you pretend to not have noticed that I was awake and ignoring you – everyone’s happy. Star evidently hadn’t grown up in a house like Catherine’s where everything was swept under the carpet and nobody talked about anything, ever. Other than Jo, of course. ‘I haven’t,’ Catherine lied, ‘I always yawn for ages in the morning.’

‘Right,’ Star said, clearly not believing a word. She jumped out of bed and quickly threw on a silver spandex all in one that was a cross between a futuristic leotard and
Kylie’s
hot pants. Catherine looked at her. ‘What?’ Star asked.

‘Are you wearing that to breakfast?’

Star looked at Catherine as if she had just found her on the sole of her shoe. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she paused, ‘I’m going for a run.’

Of course, thought Catherine. Silly me.

Andy was standing with Will, waiting for the three hundred and eighty-four hopefuls to flood into the main hall and be divided up into their prospective groups. The previous day’s events were still very much fresh in his mind. He had a list of people that he now knew would be going home even if they came into the room and sang like Whitney Houston. Last night Richard Forster told Andy that he was taking no chances this year, because this would be the biggest show ever. Whoever made it down to the final twelve had to cope with live finals in New York up against the best twelve singers that the US had to offer and he wasn’t going to leave it to chance and a good rendition of ‘Rehab’.

Jesse came sprinting over. Andy hadn’t seen him that morning; Jesse had been up with the lark, going for a long run in the grounds. Andy hadn’t bothered to join him. He didn’t want to look like Crazy Legs Crane going for a run with Usain Bolt. ‘Wait while I tell you, she was only out running this morning in the skimpiest outfit ever. You could hang coats on her …’

‘Who?’ Andy interjected. One thing he was learning quickly about his new friend was that he was a fan of imparting far too much information.

‘Star. She is well fit.’

Andy looked at him. Life wasn’t fair. People like Jesse thought every woman in the world was ‘well fit’ and it seemed that every woman in the world thought that he was ‘well fit’ in return.

‘She’s also well mad,’ Andy commented.

‘Yeah, but them well mad girls are always good in the sack,’ Jesse said with a knowing wink. ‘Anyway, she’ll be out of here tonight, she’s too harsh with the others for them to keep her in. You know what they like – loads of people hugging and kissing each other and being best mates.’

No, she won’t, Andy thought. She’s on the list. In fact Star was top of the list to stay. Richard had put a few other names on as they had sat secretly observing the contestants the previous night. But this morning he would decide who was going through.

‘Here come the girls …’ Jesse began to sing.

Andy looked up to see Kim, Catherine, Marissa, Heidi and Jill heading towards them. They were all dressed in similar outfits of jeans, flat pumps, long T-shirts and scarves. Andy didn’t really understand the new trend for girls wearing scarves in the middle of summer. But then again, Andy didn’t understand much about girls full stop. The girls filed past them and smiled in turn at Jesse. Catherine bowed her head, gave Jesse an awkward smile and then looked up at Andy and said, ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’

‘How’s it going?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, good. You?’

‘Fine. Nervous about this though.’

‘’Course. I bet you are.’ Andy stood frozen, wanting to
say
something funny or cool, but coming up with nothing witty he said, ‘Best of British.’

‘Thanks.’ Catherine half smiled and walked off. Was that a half smile of friendship or a half smile of sympathy? Andy wondered.

Jesse helped him quickly arrive at a conclusion. ‘Best of British? What are you? A spitfire pilot?’ He laughed, putting his arm around Andy as if he really needed some guidance.

‘Did that sound bad?’

‘You like her, don’t you?’ Jesse said, peering at Andy, an impish smile flickering on his lips.

‘No,’ Andy said, feeling his face burn. Andy hated the fact that he blushed. He had always blushed, it had been an affliction from childhood that he had never quite grown out of. Never mind the eyes being the window to the soul, in his case it was his cheeks. If you wanted to know if he liked someone or was embarrassed or if he was uncomfortable in a situation, all you had to do was look at his face and then you had your answer.

‘Yeah, you do,’ Jesse said, nodding his head like a wise old sage.

‘No, I don’t!’ Andy shouted.

‘Easy. Bloody hell You’ll burst a vessel, mate. So what if you do?’ Jesse said with a shrug. ‘She’s nice.’

Great, Andy thought. Jesse likes Catherine, too.

Evidently, Jesse sensed Andy’s obvious unease. ‘Go for it, if you like her, say something to her. She might be out of here by tonight.’

‘But … I thought you liked her.’ As soon as he said it Andy knew that he sounded like a child in a playground.

Jesse squeezed Andy’s shoulder. ‘Sort it out, Andy. I like everyone. Doesn’t mean I’m going to piss on another man’s rhubarb.’

Andy smiled gratefully.

‘Anyway,’ Jesse gestured in the direction of Star, who had just rounded the corner wearing a pink leather catsuit, ‘I’ve got madder fish to fry.’

Catherine nervously went over both songs she would sing that day in her head all morning, unlike Star who, once she had returned from her early morning run had proceeded to curl in a ball inside of a sleeping bag and then frantically wriggle her way out. When Kim asked what the hell she thought she was doing, Star snottily explained that every morning she ‘re-birthed’ herself. Catherine had hidden in the toilets until her fit of giggles subsided.

As they gathered in the hall and Star joined them, tugging at her ill-advised leather catsuit, Kim dug an elbow in Catherine’s ribs. ‘What the bloody hell is she wearing?’

‘It’s interesting,’ Catherine admitted.

‘Interesting is right. It’s riding up at the back
and
the front.’

Kim was right. Star’s catsuit was cutting into her in the most unflattering way.

‘Camel hoof alert,’ Marissa leaned forward and whispered to Kim and Catherine. Kim sniggered. Catherine shifted uncomfortably. Star was a div, there was no doubt about it, but she didn’t want to start ganging up on the girl.

‘I should tell her,’ Catherine said, making a move towards Star.

Kim caught her shoulder. ‘She’ll bite your head off, you know what she’s like.’

Catherine shrugged, ‘Yeah but …’ She relented, Kim was probably right.

‘She’s probably done it on purpose, I mean Britney Spears is always being photographed with her bits out, a tight catsuit’s probably really conservative nowadays and we just haven’t been reading enough
Heat
magazine.’

Catherine laughed. Kim was right, she was judging Star by her own standards.

The room had filled up with all of the contestants from the previous evening. There were a few sore heads and a number of shifty looks being exchanged between different boys and girls. The two girls who had put on the lesbian floor show the previous evening were standing as far apart as it was possible to stand with their eyes cast to the floor.

Will the producer took to the stage. ‘Right, everyone. This is where things get serious. Firstly, can I just point out that this isn’t a youth club and that the requests for the morning after pill that we’ve had from a few of you isn’t something we can sort out. That’s something you’ll have to arrange yourselves when you leave. The latest you’ll be here is tomorrow night so it’s up to you to make that decision yourselves.’

Catherine took a deep breath. There was something so flippant and harsh about what Will had just said that it jolted her. She suddenly realised that they weren’t there for a cosy few days; this was business and anyone who thought otherwise was kidding themselves.

‘Right. Let me introduce you to your judges.’

Carrie Ward came out from behind the screen. Everyone cheered. ‘Oh I love her,’ Kim said. Catherine agreed. Everyone loved Carrie Ward. This was her first year in the UK working on
Star Maker: Transatlantic
. She had previously been one of the judges on the US
Star Maker
show but now the two were being brought together she had been brought over to work with the British contestants. She was always kind to her contestants in the US show, but always seemed to know what she was doing, gave them good song choices and stood by them.

‘I hope we get her.’ Catherine smiled at Kim’s assumption; Kim blushed and corrected herself. ‘You know, if we get through. What am I on about? I’ll probably be packing my bag in two hours.’

‘Hi, everyone,’ Carrie said in her lilting Deep South accent. ‘I’m really pleased to be here with you guys and it was so nice to meet so many of you last night. Good luck with the auditions and my advice is just to go for it.’

Lionel Peters stepped out onto the stage. Everyone cheered again but not quite as enthusiastically as they had done for Carrie. ‘So, I’m not as popular then, I see?’ Lionel said with a smile. ‘Fine, I don’t mind. Right, I want to hear good, tight auditions from everyone. No one is born entitled to success and fame, you have to work for it.’

There was more applause, then Cherie Forster stepped out onto the stage. Suddenly the crowd erupted, this was beginning to feel real now: the Forsters were here.

‘Hello, everyone,’ Cherie said in her sweet girly voice that could turn in an instant into a bitchy growl. ‘I just want you all to do you best, I can’t ask for any more. And relax and enjoy your performances.’

Cherie stood alongside Carrie and Lionel. The atmosphere in the room had reached fever pitch as everyone excitedly waited for Richard Forster to make an appearance. He stepped onto the stage and there was cheering, screaming and floor stomping. A couple of guys at the side of Catherine began whooping and shouting, ‘Whoops, there he is, Whoops, there he is.’ Catherine cringed slightly. She didn’t like huge public displays of emotion, which was why she could never bring herself to enjoy going to a football match when her dad tried to drag her to see Manchester United whenever he was well enough and had managed to get tickets. Grown men shouting put Catherine on edge for some reason. She realised she should get used to all this, and fast, if she was going to stick around in this competition; there would be far more whooping and hollering to come.

‘Right, guys!’ Richard shouted over the crowd. ‘You’ve made it this far, just give it your best shot. First up are the under-twenty-five girls. Could you all come forward, please?’

Catherine felt suddenly sick. This was it. The people from the other categories filed into the chairs that had been arranged facing the stage and one by one each girl was called to the stage. Catherine could feel sweat pricking her brow. She needed to get her nerves under control; she had quite a wait as they were going up alphabetically. The first few girls shook with performance anxiety and crashed out of their songs as a result. They were given a second chance but Catherine felt that they had blown it. As each girl was called they seemed to grow in confidence, if not in talent. Catherine began to think that being near the end of the alphabet wasn’t such a bad thing.

‘Kim Nevin,’ Will shouted.

Catherine looked over at Kim and winked. She felt nervous for her new friend as she walked up onto the stage. And then she realised that she didn’t have a clue whether Kim could sing or not. What if she opened her mouth and was tone deaf? Catherine sat for a moment clutching her stomach, hoping that Kim was good. She didn’t have to wait or worry for too long – as soon as Kim began to sing ‘Somebody Else’s Guy’ by Jocelyn Brown, it became clear that she wasn’t just good, she was great. Her voice sounded like it should belong to a soul diva, not someone who was five foot nothing from Bradford. Richard Forster, who had been sitting slumped in his chair, suddenly sat up and looked around at the seated hopefuls to gather their reaction. Everyone was fixated on the tiny northerner with the huge voice. Kim finished the last bar and everyone cheered. Catherine got to her feet clapping, she was so proud of her new friend. She looked around to see the only person not clapping was Star, sitting with a scowl on her face. Catherine shook her head, the girl was proving impossible to like.

‘If you keep that up, you’ll be heading for the final,’ Carrie said.

‘Brilliant. Thank you …’ Lionel looked at his notes. ‘Kim. I must remember that name.’

‘You’ve just blown the cobwebs off this competition,’ Cherie said with a smile.

‘Well done, Kim, can’t wait to see what more you’ve got,’ Richard said looking genuinely pleased.

Kim clutched her hands to her chest and ran excitedly from the stage. ‘Oh my God!’ she whispered as
she
sat down next to Catherine, ‘I can’t believe their comments.’

‘I can’t believe your voice!’ Catherine said honestly, ‘you were amazing.’

‘Thanks,’ Kim said shyly. Everyone was looking at her. She sunk down in her chair. Catherine thought that she was really going to have to pull something out of the bag with her performance now. Her friend was great, she didn’t want to look like the loser sidekick.

The next few girls called to the stage were all good, but no one impressed the judges like Kim had.

‘Star Prichard,’ Will shouted.

‘It’s just Star, I don’t use my surname.’ Star said, flouncing up to the stage, as much as a person could flounce wearing a squeaky leather catsuit.