The Ivy Lessons (4 page)

I pick up the first DVD. It’s
Through a Stranger’s Eyes,
an arty film that never quite made it mainstream, but received plenty of critical acclaim. I turn it over, and see the handsome, teenage face of Marc Blackwell on the back. ‘He looks so young,’ I say. ‘This must have been the first film he ever starred in.’

‘Actually not the first film he starred in,’ says Jen, pouring wine into shiny crystal glasses. ‘He starred in lots as a child. Bit parts, and he was in adverts too. He had a very pushy dad who decided from a young age Marc was going to be a star.’

‘How did you find that out? He’s very private. No one knows anything about his life.’

‘I got my firm to do a little digging,’ says Jen. ‘And that’s the rumour from people who worked with him when he was younger.’

‘It’s so weird to think I’m going to be in a classroom with him.’ I sink down onto the sofa. ‘He’s so ...’

‘Beautiful,’ Jen finishes. ‘What did he look like when you met him?’

‘Different from on screen,’ I say. ‘I mean he was good looking, but not in a conventional way. It wasn’t what he looked like that meant anything. It was his eyes. He was ... sort of capti
vating. But also really cold
.’

‘But beautiful, right?’

I think about Marc, wearing a black t-shirt and holding me with his eyes. ‘I guess that’s a fair word to use.’

‘How will you learn anything? You
’ll
spend your whole time just gazing at his face.’

‘He’s a brilliant actor,’ I say. ‘I mean, he’s just amazing. He becomes the parts.’

‘From what I’ve found out, he’s pretty messed up,’ says Jen. ‘Maybe all the best actors are.’ She raises her eyebrow at me and we both laugh.

‘Messed up in what way?’ I ask.

‘Well, he’s never held down a relationship for more than a few weeks.’

I pick up the next film. ‘I love this one.
Vietnam Bride
.’

Jen hands me a glass of wine. ‘Let’s watch it.’

When me and Siobhian watch DVDs, we hardly ever really watch them. We talk the whole way through. But this time, we’re both silent as Marc Blackwell’s face comes on the screen, tanned, sweaty and dirt-marked.

‘Never held down a relationship for more than a few weeks,’ I repeat, watching Marc’s handsome face, brow furrowed over blue eyes, giving the most intense, amazing performance.

‘He’s hard to take your eyes off,’ says Jen, sipping her wine. ‘Just think, you might be looking into those eyes for real tomorrow.’

‘I doubt it
.’ I sip my wine
. ‘
Tomorrow is settling-
in day. It’s just a chance for us to move our things into our rooms. Classes start the day after.’ I put my head in my hands. ‘I can’t believe this is happening. I’m scared, you know? I mean – look at him.’ I gesture to the screen. ‘He’s such an amazing actor. He’s bound to realise I’m not good enough, sooner or later.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s seen you audition. He knows you can act.’

‘He’s seen me perform,’ I say, feeling even more anxious. ‘Marc Blackwell has seen me audition. That’s ... just so weird.’

‘And he liked what he saw.’

My hands are shaking as I put the wine back down on the table. ‘I don’t think I can handle this,’ I say.

‘Of course you can. Are you all packed?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you’re all set. I’ll
drive you down tomorrow afternoon, and help you unpack. I can’t wait to see the college. It sounds amazing.’

Chapter 9

After spending half an
hour g
etting lost around London’s one-
way system, Jen and I finally find the signs for Ivy College, and follow them until we reach the leafy grounds.

When Jen sees red bricks, curvy turrets and acres of lawn, she gives a little shriek. ‘Look at this place. It’s huge. Who’d have thought they could stuff all this into Central London? You’d have thought they’d have built a load of shops and apartments on this space by now.’

Jen drives through the open gates, and onto a gravel path that leads through beautiful manicured grounds. ‘I can’t believe it, Soph. This place is like a palace.’

‘A castle, more like,’ I say, pointing to the turrets.

‘Good job you don’t have many bags with you,’ says Jen. ‘Because it looks like there are a lot of stairs.’

We follow a sign that says, ‘accommodation block’, and I see a gangly young man with bright blonde hair carrying suitcases out of a green Jaguar.

Jen pulls into a parking space, and we get out of the car.

‘This must be where my room is,’ I say, taking my rucksack out of the boot.

‘I can’t believe that’s all you have,’ says Jen, looking at my bag. ‘No hair dryer. No iron. Lucky you’re pretty enough to carry off the crumpled look.’

I smile at her, but inside my stomach is turning somersaults. The building is beautiful. All the windows are arched, like castle windows, and they’re mounted in handsome red brick.

The gangly man comes past us, but he doesn’t look at us or say hello. He just takes another suitcase from his car and goes back into the building.

‘I guess he must be another student,’ I say.

‘Nice he’s so friendly,’ says Jen.

‘He’s probably nervous,’ I whisper. ‘I am too.’

We walk into the building, and there’s a reception area manned by a short, plump lady with grey hair and a few teeth missing, but a very friendly smile.

‘Can I help you ladies?’ she asks, her voice full of warmth.

‘I’m a new student,’ I say. ‘Sophia. Really nice to meet you.’

‘Wendy.’ The woman reaches out and shakes my hand. ‘I’ve got you down right here. You’re on the very top floor. The turret room. It’s the nicest, I think. Certainly the biggest.’ She hands me a big, silver key with a black fob.

She turns to Jen. ‘I’m so sorry, but your friend can’t stay. It’s one of the rules. Marc thinks it helps everyone get to know each other quicker.’

I turn to Jen and we give each other the longest hug.

‘Take care, Soph. Ring me as soon as you’re unpacked.’

‘I will. Ring me to let me know you’re home safe.’

I watch her drive away.

‘You can take the lift, if you like,’ says Wendy, pointing down a long corridor that smells of new carpet and looks light and warm.

‘Thanks,’ I say, ‘but I’ve only got the one bag. I’ll let the students with lots of luggage use it. Anyway, I’ve been in the car for hours. I could do with the exercise.’

I head towards a stone archway, and follow a spiral staircase up to the first floor. I see the tall, blonde student heading back out of his room, towards the lift.

‘Hi.’ I wave. He ducks his head and hits the lift button. I walk towards him. ‘I’m Sophia,’ I say.

‘Ryan,’ says the student, and up close I can see he really is nervous. He can’t quite make eye contact with me, but I give him a big smile anyway. I can understand him being nervous. It looks like he might have been the first one here.

‘Good to meet you Ryan.’

‘You too,’ he says. Then he scurries into the lift.

I head back towards the stairs, up, up to the fourth floor. By the time I reach it, I’m out of breath.

No more donuts for you, Soph.

The door is arched oak, and studded with wrought iron. I put my key in the lock and open up my new room.

I can’t believe it.

The room is amazing. Huge, beautiful and amazing. There must have been a mistake. It looks like a hotel suite.

The room is round, with a huge double bed against one of the walls, and a brand new wet room ensuite built into one of the curves. There’s a balcony with French windows opening out onto it, and a fireplace that looks like it might be fully functioning. 

The view from the French windows is stunning. I’m looking out over the gorgeous green grounds, and I can see the historic buildings of London in the distance.

Wow.

I put my rucksack in the big walk-in wardrobe, and it looks lost. There’s a small, neat kitchen area with a kettle and fridge, but no cooker. I’ll guess I’ll be eating in the dining hall from now on, and other people will cook my food for me. Which is a weird thought.

On the dressing table is a huge bunch of red and white roses, with a card beside them. The card has a picture of the Old Vic on the front, and when I turn it over I blink in surprise.

The card is from Marc Blackwell.

It reads:

‘Dear Sophia, you’re an extremely talented actress and I’m looking forward to working with you in the coming months.’

I put the card down. He seemed so arrogant at the audition, but this is such a thoughtful gesture. So considerate. Maybe he’s not as snooty as I thought.

I suddenly feel a rush of excitement at the thought he’ll be teaching me. I hadn’t really given myself a chance to think it through before, but Jen is right – I’ll be sitting inches away from one of the best, most creative actors I’ve ever seen on screen.

I see more cars pulling in to the car park below, and decide to head down and meet my fellow students.

As I run down the stairs, I bump into Ryan again,
who’s
carrying yet another suitcase.

‘Did Marc leave a gift in your room?’ Ryan asks.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Flowers. And a card. Really thoughtful. I thought he was sort of arrogant in the audition, but maybe I got it wrong.’

‘I got aftershave,’ says Ryan.

‘How’s your back after carrying all those suitcases?’ I joke. But Ryan doesn’t laugh.

‘What did your card say?’ Ryan’s forehead crinkles.

‘Um. Something nice about my acting. I think.’

‘You think?’ He sounds angry.

‘I just read the card quickly.’

‘Are you sure?’ He throws his suitcase with a bang onto a step. ‘Why would he say that about someone like you?’

‘Someone like me?’

‘Forget it. Never mind.’

I look at him for a long time, daring him to expand on whatever he meant. But his face clouds over, and I can see I’m getting nowhere.

‘Yes, let’s forget it,’ I say, hurrying down the stairs. I hope the rest of the students aren’t as snappy and unfriendly.

At the bottom of the steps I see a girl with glorious, long red hair, and squa
re, black glasses on her
white nose. She’s standing by a man in a wheelchair who is wearing a black Robin-Hood-style hat with yellow feathers in it. The man is a litt
le chubby, and his bright
pink shirt stretches around his middle. On the back of his wheelchair is a sticker that says: ‘At least I always get a seat’.

They’re both talking to Wendy at the reception desk.

‘I’ll get your keys,’ Wendy says.

‘Oh. Thank you.’ The red-headed girl smiles. ‘My name is Tanya Holmes.’ Her accent is Yorkshire, and when she smiles dimples appear. ‘It’s terrific here, isn’t it? I had no idea there was anything like this in London. Actually, I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.’

Wendy hands her a key, and turns to the man in the wheelchair. ‘And you are?’

‘Tom Davenport.’ Tom takes her hand and kisses it. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance.’ His accent is clipped and perfect, and exactly what I expected an Ivy College student to sound like. In short, nothing like me.

Tom takes the key, and turns to me. ‘Hello there. Are you a new student too?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I’m Sophia. Call me Soph.’

‘A pleasure to meet you too,
Soph
,’
says Tom, clearly fighting
his conscience over the abbreviation. ‘My, you’re extremely beautiful, aren’t you?’ He takes my hand and kisses it too. ‘Just so you know, if you’re after any sexua
l experiences here at the college
, my door is always open.’ He winks at me. ‘I’ve already extended the invitation to Tanya here, so you’ll be in good company.’

Tanya shrieks with laughter, then smiles at me. ‘I’m Tanya. Good to meet you Soph. Have you been here long?’

‘Just got here,’ I say. ‘I’ve only met one other student.’

‘Oh?’

‘He’s called Ryan.’

‘Well let’s go grab him,’ say Tanya, ‘and head over to the student bar. It’s gone five. That’s beer o’clock, isn’t it?’

Tom frowns. ‘Shouldn’t we unpack first, dearest?’

‘There’s plenty of time for that later,’ says Tanya, waving a dismissive hand. ‘Leave the bags in the boot and come for a pint.’

‘I don’t want to destroy your notions of me as an alpha male,’ says Tom, ‘but a gin and tonic is more up my street.’

‘Double?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Then that’s fine.’

Tanya runs up the stairs to find Ryan, but comes back alone. ‘He says he wants to carry on getting his room in order,’ she says, putting an arm around both of our shoulders. ‘Never mind. He’ll catch us up.’