The Ivy Lessons (9 page)

‘No, honestly I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Just tired after today.’

‘Can I come in?’

‘Sure.’ I open the door wider, and she steps into my room. I’m aware my rucksack is on the floor with exploded clothes all around it. I haven’t really got my room set up yet.

‘Wow.’ She take
s a look around. ‘Look at your view
.
It’s amazing.
’
She moves across
the room.
‘
And you
’ve
got a
balcony!’ She puts her face
against the glass door. ‘Oh my g
od, you can see the whole
of London from up here
.’ She turns to me. ‘Sorry. You said you were tired. Listen to me, all high octane. So I was going
to tell you about the performances
.’

‘Let’s go out
on the balcony,’ I say, opening the glass door. ‘It’s still warm enough.’

We walk out o
nto the balcony, and
look over the grounds.

‘Cecile was
furious
after her performance
,’ says Tanya.

‘She was?’ I ask, as innocently as possible. ‘Why?’

‘
I don’t think it went so well
.
Marc said she wasn’t playing the part as it was supposed to be played. He said she was just reinventing the role she played at her audition.
’

‘How do you know?’

‘Tom had the audition after her. He got there early. He opened the theatre door a little to see
what was going on
, and heard it all
.’

‘How did your performance go
?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know,’ said Tanya. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It was so confu
sing. I have no idea how I did.
I tried to adlib, and he just gave no expression of how well I was doing. He sat in
one of the audience chairs
and
told me to play the part how I felt it. Then he watched me f
or five minutes or so, and
said: okay, tha
t’s it. Thanks very much. I felt
like maybe I did something
wrong. How do you feel about your performance, now
?’

‘Confused
,’ I admit
. ‘I know I stuffed up.
So ... I don’t know. I just have no idea if I passed or failed.
’

‘I’m glad you felt confused too,’ said Tanya. ‘Hey – look!’ She points across the grounds. ‘Ther
e he is
.’

I look down to see Marc
Blackwell
str
iding along a gravel path
. He really is as captivating in real life as he is on the screen.
His nonchalant walk, his toned body under his suit, the way he looks so purposeful and determined. He heads to the car park, and we see him jump
into his car and speed through the college gates
.

‘Probably off to some party in the city,’ says Ta
nya. ‘I hear he has a town house
near here – some million pound London pad. Look – there’s nothing left to do today. Let’s you, me and
Tom hit the town, have something to eat, start spending our scholarship – what do you say? Tom knows all the best places.’

‘Okay
,’ I smile.
Anything to
take my mind off
getting my grade
tomorrow
.

Chapter 20

Our night out is fun. Tanya, Tom and I go to an
Italian restaurant that Tom says has ‘fantastic parmesan’, and does
.
Actually, all the food is fantastic.
Then
,
we
have cocktails at a bar in Soho. Tom is fairly confident about how his audition went, although he says
the same as Tanya – that
Marc
was inscrutable.
We decide on an early-ish night, and agree to meet up tomorrow over breakfast, an hour before our first lecture with Denise Crompton.

The next morning, I feel much better. It’s true what Tanya said – it is amazing I’m performing in front of Marc
Blackwell
in the first place. It’s stupid to dwell on what I couldn’t do
. Maybe I haven’t failed. It was a tough performance to do.

I get d
ressed and head to the cafeteria
, where I take a small bowl of muesli
and sit near a window. Tom and Tanya should be here soon.

I
pass Cecile and Ryan, and I
see Cecile gushing over him. I guess she needs an ego boost now she’s been rejected by Mr
Blackwell
.

Whe
n Cecile sees me, she says
. ‘Just to let you know, if we’re having a competition between who gets Mr
Blackwell
, I win.’

‘
There’s no competition,’ I say.

‘
The performance
yesterday. Let’s just say I got
pretty close
to him.’

‘That’s not what I heard.’

I take a seat,
feeling confused
by a flash of jealousy, and
wish
ing
Jen
were
here.

Tom and Tanya arrive, and I feel immediately better.

‘Hey guys,’ I call out.

‘Soph!’ shouts Tanya. They grab breakfast – an apple for Tanya, a fry-up for Tom – and join me.

‘Ready for Ms Crompton, Ms
Rose
?’ Tom asks.

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I say. ‘I’ve never seen her perform, but I’ve heard loads about her. All good.’

‘She’s absolutely wonderful,’ says Tom. ‘I’ve seen her dozens of times – I love West End musicals. Such an amazing voice. I saw her just a few years ago in
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
. She played the Lady of the Lake. Amazing. I still have a signed programme from her somewhere – when you’re wheelchair bound, you get
treated like a VIP
. All I have to do is make myself sound extra pathetic and disabled, and whoosh! I’m
wheeled backstage to meet
the cast.’

‘Didn’t she have something to do with Marc, when he was a teenager?’ Tanya asks. ‘I’m sure I read somewhere that she brought him up for a while.’

‘Really?’ I ask.

‘Yes,’ says Tanya. ‘He had a difficult childhood, and he lived with her, I think. And now he’s hired her as a lecturer here. So I guess that’s his way of thanking her.’

Chapter 21

Denise’s lecture is being held in a small classroom in the east wing – nothing like the big lecture theatre Marc used.

When we
turn up outside the
class
room
,
most of the students are already there.

‘I guess Marc’s lecture about lateness paid off,’ Tanya whispers.

I clutch my books
in my arms.

‘You won’t be needing those for this class,’ says Tanya, glancing at my books
. ‘Denise Crompton
is all about feelings.’

T
he class begins to shuffle forwards and
I see the classroom door
opened by the
large, cuddly lady
I sa
w at the audition. She’
s wearing
flowing
, flowery robes and has blonde-grey hair. Her tiny blue eyes
radiate warmth.

‘Come i
n, come in,’ she calls. ‘
I promise my classes are great fun. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you better.’

As students pass her, she welcomes them by name.

‘Cecile! I loved your audition. Very clean and poetic. Welcome. Ryan. A very powerful actor. I see great things in you.’

As we draw near, I realise I don’t know anyt
hing about Tanya’s audition
, or Tom’s. I wonder what
plays they performed
. I soon find out.

‘Tanya!’ Denise calls out. ‘A very determined young lady.
You really made the Vagina Monologues come to life.
I can see the passion when you perform. You make everything so real.’

Tanya grins from ear to ear.

‘Tom Davenport
.’ Denise bends down to shake Tom’s hand. ‘Such an elegant voice and manner.
The perfect King Lear.
You command attention. I could watch you all day.’

‘And Sophia.’ Denise smiles warmly at me. ‘So humble. So charming. You
draw us all in and make us
love you.’

I’m dumbfounded. I give a half smile, and mutter thanks, then walk into the room, where there’s a hor
seshoe of chairs facing a
whiteboard.
Tanya and I take seats at the end, and Tom wheels himself beside us
.

‘I can’t believe
she remembered all our performances
,’ says Tanya, watching eagerly as Denise comes to the front of the class.

‘Command attention,’ says Tom, banging a fist to his chest. ‘I am de
eply in love with this woman
.’

Denise clears her throat and holds up her hands for silence. ‘A very big welcome to you, class. And congratulations on being the chosen few. The UK’s finest
new talent. We expect big thing
s from all of you.’

Cecile and Ryan exchange smug glances.

‘Feel free to call me by my first name,’ says Denise. ‘I know Mr
Blackwell
likes to retain authority, but I can’t pretend I have any. I’m a push over, which is why I teach university students, not school kids. They’d eat me up and chew me out.’

Suddenly, she blurts out a set of scales: ‘La, la, la, la, la, la laaa.’

Then she walks around the horseshoe, her fingers on her chin.
‘Mmm. Who will I pick on first?
’

Everyone shuffles in their seats.

To my horror, Denise stops right in front of me.

‘Sophia. You go first.
They say singing reveals
the soul, don’t they? Let’s see what your soul sounds like.’

‘
Singing isn’t a talent of mine
,’ I insist. ‘I was hoping you’d be able to teach me -’

‘Nonsense!’ says Denise. ‘Everybody can sing. Just give me a few short notes. La la la la la la laaa.’

I know I’ve gone bright red, but Tanya and Tom are looking at me encouragingly.

I clear my throat. ‘La la la la la la laaaa,’ I croak. I know I sound terrible. Out of tune. Weak.

Cecile and Ryan snigger to each other.

‘What a lovely soul you have,’ s
ays Denise, smiling
.

‘But I sounded awful.’

‘You sounded beautiful. We just have to work on the technical parts – volume, pitch, and most of all, confidence, if you can call that technical. You need
to feel more comfortable
, exercise your vocal chords and you’ll be there.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

I love the rest of the singing class. Denise shows us old movie footage of her favourite singers, and we sing along to the Sound of Music and Mary Poppins. She gives us vocal exercises to practise on our own.

‘You can practise in your rooms,’ she says. ‘In the shower. Anywhere private really, to build up your confidence.’

I realise, as we leave the classroom, that it’s not long until Marc’s lecture. My body goes
tense at the thought.
Grade time.

Chapter 22

I’m early, of course.
Crazy early. The door to the lecture theatre is open, so I go in.
I know I should sit at the back. I should sit as far away from
Marc
as possible, b
ut I find myself sliding into the front row, in the same seat I took last class.

I flick through books, and doodle on my notepad, and a few more students arrive. After drawing little flowers over my reading list, I look up.

There, three
feet away from me, is
Marc
. He has a laptop case
under his arm, and strides to the podium. I watch him take out papers and sort through them.

Over the next few
minutes, more students filter
in. Tanya and Tom sit next to me – on time today – and Cecile sits a few
seats down, as close to Marc
’s podium as possible.

As
my watch flicks to 3pm
,
Marc
snaps his laptop case
closed.