The Ivy Lessons (7 page)

We head to the college cafeteria, where I see trays of eggs and bacon laid out, left over from this morning’s breakfast.

‘I’m starving,’ I tell Tanya, picking up a plate. ‘I was too nervous to eat anything this morning.’

‘Me and Tom were too hung over,’ says Tanya.

‘Do you guys want any breakfast?’ I ask, picking up a tray.

‘Not for me, darling,’ says Tom. ‘Delicate goods today.’

‘Just coffee for me,’ says Tanya.

I pile up the plate with eggs, bacon, tomato, hash brown and toast. We all get coffees and take a table by the window. There’s a fir tree outside with a few magpies hoping between its branches.

‘So,’ I say, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. ‘What’s the news?’

Tom pulls the Daily Mail from his khaki rucksack. ‘Check out page four.’

I flick pages, and see a headline:
Blackwell Spanks Starlet

The pictures are all grainy and black and white, but I see the outline of two silhouettes and the gleam of bare skin. The female silhouette is bent over a bed, and the male has his hand raised over her.

‘Oh my god,’ I say. ‘Is that ... Mr Blackwell?’

‘Looks like it, doesn’t it?’ says Tanya. ‘The article says the woman is Pen Harding. You know – the porn actress.’

‘What he does in his private life is his own business,’ says Tom. ‘So what if he likes to play it a bit rough? Don’t we all have our sexual preferences?’

I nod, glued to the image of the tall, broad silhouette with his hand raised.

Tom picks up the paper. ‘I mean, this article makes out like he’s som
e sort of pervert or
something. It’s not exactly hard core, a little bit of spanking.’ He wiggles his eyebrows. ‘I’m sure you two girls have done much worse.’

‘Not me,’ I say. ‘I’m twenty two and haven’t done anything more than a double bed with the lights off.’

‘No!’ Tom laughs. ‘A lovely thing like you? It doesn’t seem right. You need to get out more.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘But there was so much to do at home. Cleaning, looking after my dad and my little brother. And working. I didn’t have time for anything much.’

‘Hopefully you’ll meet some handsome young man here who shows you a great many variations,’ says Tom. ‘And if you can’t find a handsome one, I’m always willing to step in.’

‘You are handsome,’ I tell Tom. And I mean it. Okay, he’s a little overweight, but he has lovely green eyes, dark black hair and tanned skin, and his personality is as large as the cafeteria.

Looking at the newspaper pictures makes me fe
el strange. ‘It might not be Marc
,’ I say.

‘Maybe not,’ says Tanya. ‘But newspapers don’t often get it wrong. People sue.’

It’s not that I have a problem with the picture exactly, it’s just ... I don’t know. It’s way out of my comfort zone. It’s none of my business, anyway. Why do I feel so ... unsettled?

‘So is she his girlfriend or something?’ I ask, feeling like a stupid, jealous schoolgirl.

‘He doesn’t have girlfriends, does he?’ says Tanya. ‘Isn’t that what Heat magazine and all that always say? Never for more than a few days or weeks. He’s photographed with a different woman every month, practically. All beautiful, sexy Hollywood types. But he never dates anyone for long.’

‘He’s only young,’ says Tom. ‘Too young
to be a lecturer, really
. I didn’t like all that discipline nonsense. I have a hard time following rules.’

‘What about you Soph?’ Tanya asks. ‘How did you feel about how strict he was? And having a performance so soon?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what to make of any of it.’

Chapter 15

When the paper goes up
on
the notice board, it’s immediately surrounded by jostling students looking to see their names.

I wait at the back
, feeling nervous
.
Will my performance
be today or tomorrow? It almost doesn’t matter. Whether it’s sooner or later, I just don’t know if I can perform this part, especially in such close proximity to such an amazing actor.

Tom waits with me, but Tanya manages to squeeze through.

I hear
Cecile say, ‘Oh
great
,’ and push through the crowds in a huff. When she reaches me she hisses, ‘
I have my own books to drop, you know. Don’t think you’ve won.’

‘I’m not trying to win anything,’ I say. ‘I really did drop my books by accident.’

‘Well,
I’m
going to be spending time alone with Marc in the theatre this afternoon, and I intend to make every second count.’ She storms off.

I move closer to the board. ‘Oh shit, shit
,
shit.’
My name is
right at the top of the
list.
I’m
first. I’m
performing at one o’clock today.

Tanya appears beside me. ‘I was trying to find you,’ she said. ‘Sorry for the bad news. But at least you get it over with. Me and Tom are today too. Not long after you.
What did Cecile just say?’

‘
Oh,
she
thinks I dropped my books on purpose this morning. I dropped my books and Marc, I mean, Mr
Blackwell
picked them up. But it was an accident.’

‘
She’s an i
diot,’
Tanya snorts.

‘
I’m
first
,
’ I murmur to myself, blinking in disbelief. I look again, just in case I’ve misread it, but there I am. Sophia
Rose
. Right at the top. I’m seeing
Marc
in less than two
hour
s
.
‘Oh
shit
. I’d better start practising. See you later.’

I hurry back to my room, where the roses are perky and beautiful by the windo
w. The card is still propped
beside t
hem.

I look over my copy of
Call of the Night
, and flick to my scene
.
We checked over our scenes while we were having coffee, and I was relieved to find mine isn’
t too
bad. It’s the scene where Jennifer talks to her theatre director about giving her the role. Just talking. It didn’t escape my attention that I’ll be talking to Marc, but as Tanya said, it’s still easier than doing a monologue.

I power up my laptop, and look up
a
plot
precise
for
Call of the Night
on
line. I’m familiar with the story, but not that familiar. I haven’t looked at th
is particular play since school
.

I find a website t
hat summarises the play
.

Call of the Night

Jennifer Jones
, a
young ballerina, is desperate to succeed at any cost. To win
the lead in
the Nutcracker, she seduces her elderly
theatre director and wins the role. However, the public don’t warm to her, and when she is booed off stage, she commits suicide.
The play
investigates issues of age gaps in relationships and female empowerment.

For some reason, the grainy black and white picture of
Marc
and Pen
springs to mind. I can’t help thinking about it. I G
oogle Pen Hardy, and see various images of a tanned, blonde beach babe with huge fake breasts and lips twice the size they should be.

I look at myself in the mirror. My lips are big – true. And my eyes are okay. A nice brown colour, with really long eyelashes. But I’m nothing like Pen who, for all her enhancements, is clearly a beautiful woman.

I know I should go back to studying the play, but
m
y fingers stray to t
he keyboard, and I find myself G
oogling:
Marc
Blackwell
girlfriend.

More images come up, all of beautiful women. Some look like Pen – painted and fake, but beautiful none
the less. Others just look
beautiful. Straight
,
white teeth, glowing skin, shiny hair and gorgeous clothes.

I read the articles, and they all talk about
Marc
being seen ‘partying all night’ with someone, or ‘leaving a hotel’. But none talk about a girlfriend. There’s an article about a woman th
rowing a drink in his face
.

He doesn’t sound like a nice guy,
I think
.
And yet ...
there’s something about him that tells me he’s complicated. There’s more to him than meets the eye
.

I check my watch
and realise, with a stomach flip, that it’s
nearly
time for my audition.

Chapter 16

The Queen’s
theatre
at Ivy College
was built in honour of Dame Gabriela
Knight. I know this beca
use when I reach the red-brick
building, there’s a gold plaque on the door that te
lls me about the esteemed actress
who made the theatre possible.

It tells me something else too. The theatre was commissioned last year and finished just three months ago. Which means we’ll be the first students to use it. In fact, it’s
entirely possible I will be
the
first student to use it. Which does nothing for my nerves.

I think about the old man I met on my audition day, and what he said about Marc turning the whole building to glass and concrete. This theatre has been built to look exactly like the other buildings. Which suggests that maybe Marc isn’t out to ruin the look and history of Ivy College after all.

I
push open the double doors, which
are arched like everything else around here, and find the theatre in darkness and silence.

To my left, I find a white panel of light switches and flick them all on.

Rows of plush
, red-
velvet seats
appear, lined up in front of a curved stage made from highly polished wood. The stage itself is bright now, and seeing it makes my heart leap. I love stages. I love being on stage. I love looking out at the darkened faces of the audience, hearing their reactions to my performance.

Hanging from the ceiling are dozens of
lights
that I’m guessing cost thousands each.

Everything is in place, but there’s no
Marc
. I suck in my breath and venture further inside.

As I reach the stage, I hear the door slam and clipped footsteps. I spin around.

Marc
Blackwell
walks towards the stage
. He sees me, but doesn’t say a word
at first
. Instead, he walks right to the front row and takes a seat.

‘Hel-lo.’ I stammer.

‘
Are you ready
to entertain me this afternoon, Miss
Rose
?
’
His voice is so deep, I feel it all the way to my feet
.

I swallow. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I guess I am.’
I stand awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

He stares at me intently, a devilish smile pulling at the corners of his lips. ‘Well?’ he says eventually.

‘Well what?’ I ask.

‘What are you waiting for? Get up on the stage.’

‘Oh. Right. Sorry,’ I murmur, finding the three wooden steps up to the stage. I stumble on the first one, and catch myself on smooth wood.

‘Nervous?’
Marc
gets to his feet.

‘Yes,’ I admit.

‘Don’t be.’ He takes my arm
and steadies me so I can get up. I feel his warmth against my s
kin
and smell his cologne
.
It’s the same scent I smelt on the card.

I climb up on stage and Marc steps back.

‘Let’s see what you can do,’ he says,
pacing back and forth
.
‘You are ...’ He opens a laptop case and pulls out a script. ‘
Call of the Night
. Our femme fatale, Jennifer. Persuading Jonathan to give her the part.’

I clear my throat and head to the centre of the stage.
‘I don’t think I’ll be very good,’ I say. ‘It’s so different from the parts I usually play.’

‘I know,’ says Marc. ‘That’s why I selected i
t. I looked over your CV, and the notes I made at
your audition. Wonderful a
cting, but nothing too provocative
. All very nicey nicey parts, and usually naive young girls. I want to see
your
sultry side. Jennifer knows what she wants. She uses her body and her brain to succeed. Let’s see what you make of her.’