The Ivy Lessons (8 page)

‘Right
.’ I take the play from my pocket, but
Marc
bounds up the stage steps and takes it from my hands.

‘No,’ he says.
‘Why do you think I gave
you
so little
time to practise?
I’d like to see you
feel the part
. To use your subconscious and your imagination to become the character.’

‘B
ut I really don’t know the character
too well.’ I can feel the heat of his body. He’s too close. It’s uncomfortable. I take a step back. ‘
Mr
Blackwell
, I don’t think I can do this.’

‘You can.’

I feel tears coming. ‘Mr
Blackwell
, I can’t,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave the college, but I’m just not good enough.’

Marc
shakes his head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

I look away, embarrassed by my tears.

‘Look at me,’ he whispers.

I do, and I see his eyes are
searching back and forth
.

‘You can do it
,’ says Marc. ‘You are what you believe you are. If you believe you’re not good enough, then you’ll fail. Here, in my college, I make sure everyone believes in themselves. You’re a good actress. I’ve seen you perform. You can do this.
I’ll start reading as Jonathan, and you jump in, okay?’

He steps back, and begins pacing around the stage.

‘Okay.’ I clear my throat again, and try to
make my body feel more like Jennifer
.
But I’m
so uptight. So rigid. Fear is holding me captive.

‘Ready?’ Marc asks.

I give a li
ttle nod, but I’m not ready at all
.

Chapter 17

‘Thank you for your time, Jennifer,’ Marc begins
, his posture and voice changing to that of an older man
. ‘I’ve seen enough for today.
I’ll let you know
.’

I swallow, thinking of the script. The words buzz around my mind, tripping over themselves and confusing me.
He wants me to adlib,
I think. I
try to
let it all go. Instead of feeling fear, I try to feel what Jennifer must be feeling, as the type of person she is. Anger. Frustration. To have worked so hard for a part, and not be given it.

‘Oh, I don’t think you’ve seen enough at all,’ I say, feeling my shoulders pull back, and my hips sway to the left. ‘I really do have so much more to show you.’

Something flashes in
Marc
’s eyes. He l
o
oks pleased.

‘No, we’re finished,’ says Marc. He’s such an amazing actor. I feel like he’s aged ten years right in front of me. His posture, his voice ... amazing. ‘I have many more dancers to see today.’

‘Really?’ I raise an eyebrow and step towards him. ‘Because I think maybe, if you can p
ostpone them, I can win you over
.’

‘
Oh
?’ Marc asks.

I know the words I want to say. The words the character should say. But they stick in my throat.

‘
Well?’
Marc
cocks his head.

I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry, Mr
Blackwell
. I can’t ... I just can’t.
I know what I want to s
ay, but I can’t say it. This is too much of a challenge for me, right now.
’

‘Okay.’ He jumps down the theatre steps,
and takes a seat
.
‘I was pushing you. That was the idea. But this is definitely an area
you need
to build on.
If you can’t play a provocative
role, you’ll always be limited in
how
open you can be with the audience
.
’

A provocative
role. I feel myself shiver a little at those words. How can
he
say them so easily, whereas I can’t even
pretend
to play a femme fatale?
I feel pathetic.

‘
I can’t honestly say you’ve impressed me today
,
’ says Marc. ‘We’ll see.
’ He folds his fingers together.
‘
Okay. Performance finished. Let the next one in, would you?’

I walk down the stage steps, past Marc and along the seating aisle. At the door, I turn back.

‘I feel like I let you down,’ I say. ‘I should have been able to play that part better.’

‘
Yes, you should have
,’ Marc says.

What does that mean?
I think.
Was my
performance good enough to pass or not?

Outside the theatre, Ryan is waiting.

‘Dropped any
more books recently?’ he says.

I ignore him.

Chapter 1
8

In the cafeteria
,
t
here are comfy looking red sofas and armchairs away from where food is served, and Tanya is curled up on a chair,
studying the
Taming of the Shrew
. She stares
intently at the pages. She’ll probably do a great job
of
her performance
.

The thought depresses me. Have
I failed? What if I’m out?
I sink
into a comfy chair beside her
, thinking I might treat myself to a cheer-up hot chocolate.

‘Hey Tanya,’ I say
.

‘Hey,’ she says, looking up and pushing her glasses up her nose. ‘How’s it shaking? How did the audition go with Mr Big?’

‘I don’t know. Not great, I guess. He didn’t care about me using lines from the play. He ... he wanted me to adlib.’

‘I’m terrible at adlibbing,’ says Tanya. ‘My worst ski
ll. Still. It’ll be good practis
e for me. You don’t look so happy.’

I nod. ‘It was so hard. I just crumpled under the pressure.’ I put my head in my hands. ‘I don’t deserve to be here.
And I think maybe Mr
Blackwell
thinks that too.
’

Tanya comes and puts her arms around me. ‘He’s
being
t
ough on us
,’ she says. ‘Think how amazing it is that you got to perform in front of
an Oscar-
winning actor. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s only the first performance.’
Tanya checks her watch. ‘Yikes. I’d better go. Wish me luck.’

‘Break a leg,’ I say, managing a smile.

Now I’m alone in the cafeteria. All the other students must be in their rooms, practising. I decide to phone
Jen
. She’ll
make me feel better.

I order
a frothy hot chocolate
with whipped cream and marshmallows
, and dial
Jen
’s number on my iP
hone – the latest model, thanks to my scholarship.

‘BABE!’
Jen
screeches down the phone. ‘I was waiting for your ca
ll. I didn’t want to bother you
while you were settling in, but I’m DYING to know how it all is. What’s he like?’

I don’t need to ask who
he
is. ‘He’s ... strict
.’

‘Oh?’

I tell
Jen
everything – the class, the performance
and
Marc
saying he
hasn’t seen the best of me
.

‘
Wow
,’ she says, when I’m finis
hed. ‘
D
ifficult first day. Trial by fire, and all of that. But it sounds like he’s a good teacher. I mean, that’s what he’s supposed to do, isn’t it? Stretch you and challenge you?’

‘I suppose.’

‘And he’s right. You do
usually play nicey nicey parts. So. Is he as arrogant as you remember?’

‘In some ways,’ I say.
‘
But I think, deep down, there’s more to him than just arrogance. I just feel it somewhere.’

I expect
Jen
to come up with some rational reason
why and how I’ve
got it all wrong. To talk some sense into me.
But instead she says: ‘
Well, you never know
.
Mayb
e you’re right
.
’

‘
I feel so
scared right now,’ I say. ‘
I
won’t find out if I passed until tomorrow afternoon at the soonest. That’s when we have a lecture with him again. What if I’m off the course?’

‘
You won’t be
,’ says
Jen
. ‘
I know how good an actress you are. Wow.
On
e-on-
one with
Marc
Blackwell
.’

Suddenly, the grainy black and white photo spins through my mind. ‘
Jen
, did you see the paper this morning?’

‘I didn’t get around to it yet. But wait, I have a whole pile of them here. Which one?’

‘Any of the tabloids,’ I say.

There’s a rustling, then silence.
Then
she laughs loudly. ‘So he’s in
to the kinky stuff. Surprise
,
surprise.’

‘We don’t know that,’ I say. ‘You know how newspapers are.’

‘It makes sense to me,’ says
Jen
.
‘Cold-hearted in more ways than one.’

Suddenly, I hear something. I turn around to see C
ecile by the coffee counter
.

‘
Jen
, I’ll call you back later, okay?’ I whisper, and hang up the phone.
I don’t want her to overhear our call.

‘Hi Cecile,’ I say
.

‘How was your performance?’ Cecile asks. ‘Was it as
intimate
as
you wanted it to be?’

‘No, not a
t all,’ I say. ‘Really. I didn’t want it to be ... intimate
.
I just want to learn how to be better.
’
I try to change the subject, and say th
e first thing that comes to
mind.
‘Did you see the newspapers this morning?’

‘
Of course I did.
’ She
takes a black coffee from the counter and stirs in sweetener
.

‘I don’t know if it’s true,’ I say. ‘Tabloids make up all sorts of stuff.’

‘Maybe, but he can spank me any day,’ says Cecile. ‘And I intend to tell him so
during my performance
. I can’t
wait to be alone with him. One-on-
one.
Only half hour to go now.
’

She lets the words hang in th
e air, a
nd I realise I really don’t
like the idea
of
Marc
alone with Cecile.
But I have no idea why.

Chapter 19

When Cecile leaves for her performance
, I wa
nt nothing more than to be by myself
.

I head up to my room, and sit on the balcony with a cup of tea.
The warmness of summer still lingers
, and I
stay out there, thinking about Marc and my performance
, until dusk falls.

I k
now I should go to the cafeteria
and have something to eat, but the truth is I feel t
oo
anxious
. If I’m off the course, I don’t know how I’ll handle it. I have nothing to go back to really, except
Jen
. This means everything to me.

I crawl under my duvet and try to take a nap.

‘Soph?’ It’s Tanya’s voice
, outside my bedroom door
. ‘Are you in there?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I’m not feeling too good.’

‘Really? I was hoping w
e could catch up over our performances
. I just talked to Cecile and ... well, I just wondered if we could talk.’

Talk?
About Cecile’s audition?

I climb out from under the duvet and open the door.

‘You look
pale
, sweetheart
,’ says Tanya, putting a hand to my forehead. ‘Shall I m
ake you a cup of tea
?’ She’s dressed in a brown leather jacket, with a
n
autumn-red scarf and her long, brown hair is tied up in a bun.