The Ivy Lessons (5 page)

Chapter 10

We tread a gravel path through manicured lawns, and find an oak door facing our student accommodation. When we push it open, there’s a cosy pub set up inside, with a bar serving real ales, whisky and brandies. All the stools are made out of beer barrels, and there’s thick rope nailed along the bar. I feel like we’re inside a ship.

‘How did you know this was the bar?’ I ask Tanya.

She taps her nose. ‘Let’s just say I have a talent for more than just acting.’ She blushes. ‘Oh shit, that came out w
rong. I don’t mean to sound big-
headed or anything. I don’t mean ... I mean, I’m not saying I’m not a good actress but -’

‘There, there my dear.’ Tom puts an arm around her shoulder. ‘No need for this ridiculous modesty. We’ve all been awarded a place in one of the most prestigious colleges in the country. Of course we have a talent for acting. Which is not to say we don’t have a lot to learn. Now. What can I get you?’

‘Pint of Old Peculiar,’ says Tanya.

‘And you my love?’ Tom turns to me.

‘Um. White wine please?’

‘Certainly.’ Tom rings the bell, and to our surprise Wendy appears from some mysterious place at the back of the bar.

‘My word, a woman of many talents,’ says Tom. ‘Receptionist and landlord too. How marvellous.’

Wendy gives him her toothy grin. ‘I run everything around here. You’ll soon learn. Well? What can I get you?’

Tom gives her the order, and we all take seats on the stools.

‘I’m nervous about meeting him, aren’t you?’ says Tanya, holding her pint.

‘Meeting who?’ says Tom.

‘Who do you think? Marc Blackwell of course.’

Out of the window, we see more pupils arriving. There’s a girl with icy blonde hair, and a tall, well-built boy who looks sporty.

‘Of course,’ says Tom. ‘The handsome and famous Mr Blackwell. Aren’t we a lucky bunch?’

‘You don’t sound all that convinced,’ Tanya points out.

‘Let’s just say that to me, he has less of an allure than to you two girls. I like people who are warm and friendly, not cold and aloof. But ... he is certainly one of the finest actors alive today. And I was very impressed by him in
The Windows of Your Mind
. He’d clearly done his research. So, I’m looking forward to being taught by him, although I can’t see myself getting on with him well as a human being.’

‘He may be on the cold side, but he’s just so ... charismatic,’ says Tanya. ‘In my audition, I nearly fainted when I saw him. It’s those eyes. You see the whole world in them.’

‘Maybe,’ says Tom. ‘But I’m just saying that, since he has no sexual allure for me, perhaps I see him a little more clearly than you do.’

‘He’s not for me, either,’ says Tanya. ‘Too up himself. But I bet there aren’t many
girls on the course who don’t fancy him
. How about you, Soph?’

I feel myself go red. Silly. After all, who doesn’t have crushes on actors? ‘I did used to have a crush on him in some of his movies,’ I say. ‘When he was a teen actor. But he just seems so arrogant now. And when I met him in person he was really rude. Whenever you see newspaper pictures of him, he’s always glaring at the camera. No – I don’t fancy him. Snooty, arrogant men aren’t for me.’

‘He gives one million a year to charity,’ says Tanya. ‘Maybe he’s not as bad as he seems.’

‘Maybe you’re right,’ I say, taking a sip of wine. ‘He’s sent us all welcome presents. They’re in our rooms. Have you seen yet?’

‘No,’ says Tanya. ‘I haven’t seen my room yet. Look – more new students.’ She points to three people coming into the bar – the two students we saw arriving earlier, and Ryan.

Up close, the icy blonde girl has very pointy features, and although she’s pretty, her expression isn’t friendly. She’s very tall, and glides to the bar besides the well-built boy and Ryan.

‘It’s nice to meet you all,’ says Tanya, smiling her brilliant smile. ‘Soph here says we’ve all got welcome gifts from Marc Blackwell. Isn’t that amazing?’

The icy blonde girl gives a curt nod. ‘He wrote us cards, too.
Mine
said he was looking forward to working with me.’

Ryan leans towards the girl. ‘Cecile, that one over there thinks her card said what a talented actress she was, would you believe.’

Cecile gives a screech of laughter. ‘You’re kidding?’ She throws her hair from one shoulder to the other. ‘Why would he say that to you? He doesn’t even know who you are.’

‘But he saw our audition,’ I hear myself say.

‘No, no, sweetheart,’ Cecile says. ‘
He
was only there as head of the college. Denise was the one who picked us. I have a brother
who
works with Denise Crompton’s husband and he gave me the inside scoop. So none of us are all that special to darling Marc. Although I’m hoping
one
of us will be special to him by the end of the course.’ She winks at Ryan.

‘It’s still a nice gesture, though,’ I say, thinking back to the card and wondering if I misread the handwriting.

Cecile shook her head. ‘He probably got his secretary to do it. Although I’m hoping for a rather more personal card by the end of term.’

‘Marc Blackwell saw Soph’s audition,’ says Tanya, waving her pint so she spills it. ‘And if his card said Soph here is a great actor, I’m sure he meant it.’

Cecile looks me up and down. ‘Why would he?’ she says, without a hint of teasing in her voice. ‘I’ve never seen or heard of you before, and I know anyone who’s any good.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ says Tanya.

‘Children, children.’ Tom wheels between the two girls. ‘We should be celebrating our fabulousness. We’ve all been accepted at this amazing college. Which means we’re all terrific people. So. Let’s have a drink to terrific people.’

He raises his glass.

‘To terrific people,’ Tanya and I say.

‘And are we all excited about meeting the man himself tomorrow?’ Tom asks.

‘Tomorrow?’ says Tanya.

‘Why, yes indeed,’ says Tom. ‘He’ll be hosting our introductory seminar tomorrow.’

‘Will he?’ Tanya says. ‘What time?’

‘It was in our introductory paperwork,’ says Tom. ‘Nine o’clock in King’s lecture theatre.’

I remember the piles of paper the college sent me when I accepted my place. I didn’t get to read all of them. I had so much to do before I left – making sure Dad and Genoveva had enough food in, and Samuel had nappies and giving the house a last thorough clean to last them until I could come back.

‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ says Tom. ‘First thing tomorrow, we’ll be meeting the infamous Marc Blackwell.’

Chapter 11

When I wake up the next morning, I think maybe I dreamt Ivy College and Marc’s card and flowers. But here I am, and there the flowers are – beautiful roses, on a highly polished table near the window that overlooks the greenest of green grounds.

I feel excited and refreshed. I did the sensible thing last night and went to bed early, even though I was having fun with Tanya and Tom.

Before I went to bed, I checked the card again and sure enough – it was exactly as I remembered it.
A very talented actress.
Handwritten, and signed Marc Blackwell.

Mr Blackwell,
I reminded myself.
You don’t know him. Just because you’ve seen him on the big screen, it doesn’t make you friends.

I get up and read the card again, and as I bring it closer to my face I smell something good. Cologne, I think. I bring the card right to my nose and inhale. I catch sight of myself reflected in the French windows, and rest the card back on the flowers.

What on earth are you doing, Sophia?
I twiddle my hair and look out at the college grounds.
Don’t be a silly student with a crush. He sent gifts and cards to everyone.

I take a quick shower, smoothing serum into my hair to make it extra shiny, and deciding to let it hang loose and dry naturally. Then I dress in my new skinny jeans and high leather boots, and choose the bright green slouchy jumper that Jen said made me look beautiful. Nothing too fancy for my first day. I love performing, but off stage I don’t like to draw too much attention to myself.

I’m too nervous for breakfast, so I take a walk around the grounds instead. It’s nerve-wracking waiting to meet Marc Blackwell again, and I know the worse thing I can do is hang around my room on my own, working myself into an anxious frenzy.

The grounds are peaceful, and the lawns are covered in dew. It’s still sunny, but the slight coolness of autumn is already beginning to take hold, and I’m glad I wore a jumper.

I take a walk through the woodlands, loving the bird song and the stillness. The soil is fresh and clean, and I think maybe I could ask the college for a vegetable patch out here. There’s plenty of space between the trees, and I could give what I grow to the kitchen.  I don’t feel like myself unless I’m growing things.

The screech of a car sends a squirrel scampering back up a fir tree, and I peer through the woodlands to see a black Ford Mustang drive into the college car park.

I brush aside a sapling branch, and watch the convertible slide into a parking space reserved for college staff. It takes a moment to realise I’m not breathing. The shadow in the car is tall and broad, and as I hear the door click I dart behind a tree trunk.

Marc Blackwell emerges from the car, and stands with his elbow on the soft bonnet, looking over the college buildings. He’s wearing a tailored black suit, and takes a cigarette from his jacket pocket, lighting it with an effortless flick of his palm.

I’m momentarily mesmerised. The way he inhales the cigarette and blows it towards the woodlands. The way he stands, so upright, but with a sort of relaxed slouch at the same time.

I must have stood there for a long time, barely breathing, watching him smoke and look around. Then suddenly, his cigarette is finished, and he stubs it somewhere inside the car and slams the car door.

He strides towards the college, but before he reaches it he throws a glance towards the woodlands. He looks right at where I’m standing. He’s so far away, I can’t see clearly, but I swear he gives the hint of a smile.

I step back, hearing leaves crunch, and pray he didn’t see me. I’d be so embarrassed. What would he think of me, sneaking around in the woods and watching him? But he’s gone now, and after a few moments, I creep out of the woods and towards King’s lecture theatre.

I’m an actress, so I should be beautiful – right? Wrong. I’m skinny and awkward looking, with wavy hair that just won’t behave. Jen may say I’m beautiful, but she doesn’t do drama. Standing in line outside the lecture theatre reminds me that acting attracts some of the most stunning people on the planet. Compared to most people who take acting tuition
, I’m
incredibly plain.

I remind myself that I was chosen to be at this college. They must think I have talent at least, if not beauty. But I’m so nervous at the thought of seeing Marc Blackwell again. I feel like he’ll see right through me this time. That he’ll decide – no, we’ve made a mistake. This girl isn’t ready to be taught by someone as amazing as me.

Did Marc see me in the woodlands? I try not to think about it. And I try not to think of the way I felt, watching him, as he stared at the college with those intense eyes.

I check my watch. It’s five minutes to nine, but I’ve been waiting outside the lecture theatre for half an hour now. I stopped back at my room to pick up my course books, and now I’ve been clutching them for so long, they’re feeling extremely heavy.

I can’t see Tom or Tany
a anywhere – I guess maybe they
’re nursing hangovers and will turn up as late as possible. But I see Cecile and Ryan. I smile and wave at them. Neither of them seem to notice me. By the sounds of things they’re too busy gossiping about Marc, parts they’ve seen him play and newspaper articles they’ve read about him.

I hear clipped, measured footsteps.

Chapter 12

Someone whispers:
Shush!

I clutch my books closer to my chest and turn to see the man I saw in the car park – the tall, dark, blue-eyed actor who makes thousands of women weak at the knees. He
looks even better
up close, if that’s possible. He’s tall – taller than he look
ed in the audition
, and well-groomed with a smooth jaw. His
light-
brown hair is a little long on top, so it falls slightly over his eyes.

Those eyes. They’re a light bluey green, like sea water and I remember Tanya’s words:
You can see the whole world in the
m
.

But he’s cold
. I can tell by the way he
doesn’t look any of us in the face, instead looking over
our heads.

I imagine h
e’s used to getting his own way, and having people bow and scrape to him. He walks like a man on a mission, and his shoes smack the hard floor like gunshots.