by Suzy K Quinn
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 we could catch up about 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, love,’ says Tanya, putting a hand to my forehead. ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea?’ She’s dressed in a brown leather jacket, with an autumn-red scarf and her long hair is tied up in a bun.
‘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. I’m used to mess after living with my dad, so hanging clothes wasn’t a priority, but I’d still rather they were all tidied up.
‘Wow.’ Tanya looks 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 god, 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 outside, and look over the grounds.
‘Cecile was furious after her performance,’ says Tanya.
‘She was?’ I ask, trying to feign disinterest. ‘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,’ says Tanya. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It was so confusing. I have no idea how I did. I tried to ad lib, and he just gave no expression of how well I was doing. He told me to play the part how I felt it. Then he watched me for five minutes or so, and said, Okay, that’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 feel confused, too,’ says Tanya. ‘Hey – look!’ She points across the grounds. ‘There he is.’
I look down to see Marc Blackwell striding along a gravel path. It’s hard to take my eyes off him. His nonchalant walk, his toned body under his t-shirt, the way he looks so purposeful and determined. He moves like a jungle cat – lean, elegant and strong. It’s still cold out, but he strides along in his t-shirt as though it were a summer’s day.
Watching him gives me goose bumps, and I find myself wishing he’d look up and notice me.
He heads to the car park, and I hear tarmac smack under his feet. For a moment, I think he’s heading straight for his car. Then, very slowly, he stops, turns around and looks to where I stand.
My chest turns to melted butter as our eyes meet.
I can’t read his expression. His brows pull together, then he turns away, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket, lighting it, and unlocking his car.
My heart is pounding, but he doesn’t look at me again.
I watch him jump into his car and speed through the college gates.
‘Probably off to some party in the city,’ says Tanya. ‘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 his performance, 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. But when I get back to my room, I can’t sleep.
After an hour of tossing and turning, worrying about tomorrow’s result, I decide enough is enough. The moon is huge and silver, and throwing so much light over the grounds that the woods look bright and alive. I decide I’ll go for a walk to get rid of my worries and tire myself out.
I get up, put my furry slipper boots on and head towards the woods in my pyjamas and dressing gown. I know lots of people are scared of the woods at night, but not me. I love being among the trees when it’s dark.
Everything is so still and peaceful that I almost feel the trees and I can talk to each other. There’s a little magic in the air, as there always is in dark woodlands.
I hop over gnarled tree roots in my furry slippers, enjoying the silver canopy of leaves above me and breathing in the fresh air. If I don’t sleep after this, then there’s no hope.
I find myself, as I knew I would, heading towards the lake.
I take off my slippers and sink my feet into the water, feeling the sting of ice on my bare skin. I roll up my pyjamas and push my feet in deeper, reeds and mud squelching between my toes.
I love how the lake looks – dark, but lit up by the silver moon. It’s so mysterious. There could be all sorts of fish and frogs in the water, but they’re all hidden in darkness.
It’s heavenly, being part of nature like this, and I stand and walk a few steps into the dark water.
I’m enjoying myself, singing a little, when a sharp stone throws me off balance. With a gasp, I tumble shoulder first into the water. I take a deep breath at the wrong moment, and cough as water splashes into my throat. My eyes sting as my body goes under, and I see a world of murky green and blue shapes, creeping and waving.
I flail my arms. Something warm catches my wrist and I stop failing, biting my lip in shock.
Suddenly I see moonlight, and I’m coughing – big wracking coughs that make my ribcage tremble.
I shake water from my hair and eyes, not knowing which way up I am, only knowing that I’m somehow not in the water any more.
When I open my eyes, I stare through watery eyelashes, not believing what I’m seeing. There, inches from my face, are the stormy blue eyes of Marc Blackwell.
Marc carries me from the lake. His arms are steel under my body, and I find myself clinging to him, shivering.
‘What on earth were you playing at?’ He’s angry. No, furious. His jaw is set into a hard line, and I can see the soft brown stubble along his cheeks rippling with annoyance.
‘I ... nothing. I didn’t mean to fall.’
Marc frowns. Silently, he carries me between the trees.
‘What the hell were you doing out here at night? You could have drowned.’
I’m shaking now, as my skin reacts to cold night air and icy water. My cotton pyjamas and towelling dressing gown cling damply to me, dripping water over the woodland floor.
‘How did you know I was out there?’ is all I can manage to say.
‘I was in the theatre building. I heard someone prowling around out here and thought it was an intruder. I never for a moment imagined it would be a pupil idiotic enough to go midnight paddling.’
‘I didn’t mean to fall in.’
Marc doesn’t answer. Instead, he carries me out of the woodlands to the car park, where his Ford Mustang is parked. He opens the passenger door.
‘In here. You’ll warm up much quicker in the car.’
‘I don’t give a damn about the seats,’ Marc snaps. ‘All I care about is stopping you from getting hypothermia. Christ, what were you thinking? If I hadn’t of been there ...’
‘I’m glad you found me,’ I whisper.
Marc lowers me onto the passenger seat, and I feel my soggy clothes squelch against the leather.
Oh no. I’m getting water all over his seat.
He leans over me and slots a key into the ignition. Then he turns the car on and winds the heater dial right up.
I watch his long arm stretch past my chest, and can’t help noticing how perfect it is. He’s wearing the short-sleeved black t-shirt from earlier, and there are water droplets on his pale skin. His arm is strong and muscular, but elegantly shaped. He doesn’t seem to be noticing the cold at all, even though there’s a big damp patch on his t-shirt from where he’s carried me.
‘Take your clothes off,’ Marc barks.
‘Wh ... what?’ I stammer.
‘Your clothes. Now. Before you catch your death. I have my running clothes in the trunk. You can put those on. Don’t worry. I won’t watch.’
He goes to the trunk, and returns with a thick grey sweatshirt and jogging bottoms.
‘Put these on.’ He slams the passenger door closed and stands outside the car with his back to me.
I look at the clothes, then at Marc’s broad back through the passenger window. The college is totally dark. No one will see me get changed, and Marc’s right – I’m freezing in my night clothes. My hands have turned blue.
I struggle out of my dressing gown and pyjama top, and pull Marc’s sweatshirt over my head, smelling a delicious mixture of cologne and woody, leafy something or other. God, it smells good. I’m lost for a moment in the smell, but then I come to my senses and struggle out of my pyjama bottoms, dumping them in the foot well next to my gown and top.
My underwear is still damp, but there’s no way I’m taking that off with Marc standing outside, so I pull the grey jogging bottoms over my wet panties.
Once I’ve got the bottoms on, I look down at myself, taking stock. My body is lost in the huge clothing, and I don’t even want to think about what a mess my face and hair must be.
I look through the passenger window at Marc, and – I guess sensing I’ve stopping wriggling around – Marc turns his head just a fraction. He must be able to see I’m dressed out of the corner of his eye, because he walks around the car and jumps in the driver’s side.
‘Better?’ he asks, tapping each heater duct to check they’re blasting out hot air.
‘Yes. Thank you.’ I’m still shivering, but my body is calming down a little now.
‘Would you like to tell me what you were doing, paddling in the lake at gone midnight?’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I say. ‘I ... was nervous about my audition result.’
My fingers are still shaking in my lap, and I see Marc watching them. He picks up my hands and holds them against the heating duct.
I flinch at his touch. It’s so unexpected.
He frowns at me. ‘I just want to warm you up. Rub your fingers together.’
I do, glancing at him as my cold fingers feel the heat.
‘You must think I’m such an idiot,’ I say.
Marc moves his hands to the steering wheel. ‘No. I don’t think you’re an idiot. I understand why you love walking in those woods. I love them too. Just don’t go to the lake on your own again. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ My fingers are turning from blue to red. ‘I’m so sorry about your car.’
‘I told you. I couldn’t care less about the car. I care about you.’ He clicks on the stereo, and the Kinks ‘Sunny Afternoon’ comes on.
‘You like the Kinks?’ I say.
‘They’re good story tellers.’ Marc stares out of the windscreen.
Even with the music on, I feel the weight of the silence between us. I scrabble around my brain for something to say – anything to ease the discomfort.
‘Lucky you were working late,’ I say.
‘Very lucky.’
‘You must care a lot about teaching. To work so hard.’
‘I care a lot about my pupils. Not teaching.’
Suddenly a wave of tiredness washes over me. I yawn, and quickly put a hand to my mouth.
‘Tired?’
I nod.
‘I’ll take you back to the accommodation block.’ Marc looks down at my soggy clothes in the foot well. ‘I’ll have those taken care of and brought back to you. But you might want to take your accommodation key, if it’s in one of the pockets.’
‘Yes.’ I stoop down and fish my key and card from my dressing gown.
‘Wait there,’ says Marc. He opens the driver’s door and climbs out. I watch him walk around the car, his lean, agile body so relaxed and purposeful.
Then he opens the passenger side and lifts me into his arms.
‘I’ll carry you,’ Marc says. ‘There’s too much cold gravel around here for you to walk on in bare feet.’ He kicks the car door closed and carries me towards the college.
I watch the moon sway back and forth above me, trying not to notice Marc’s perfect skin and cheekbones, or the warmth of his arms under my body.
When we reach the main door to the accommodation block, Marc takes a card from his pocket and scans open the door. Then he shoulders it open, and lets me down onto the carpet inside.
‘So,’ he says, scratching his ear. ‘Sleep tight.’ He hesitates for a moment, then turns to leave.
‘Mr Blackwell?’ I say, the words blurting out of my mouth before I can stop them.
He turns to me. ‘Yes?’
‘I ... thank you. For saving me.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
‘And ...’ I look up at his face and our eyes meet. His gaze is so intense that I feel I might be knocked over.
‘Yes?’ he says again.
‘I saw a lot of light in your just now.’
He gives a cynical smile and looks away. ‘Then I guess I’m having an off day.’ He turns and marches away.
The next morning, I wake up in bed wearing Marc’s grey joggers. I look down at myself, stunned.
Oh my god. Last night really did happen. I really did fall into the lake, and I really did sit with Marc in his car.
Embarrassment sets in.
I saw a lot of light in you just now.
What a stupid thing to say. And ... on no. I got water all over Marc’s car. What must he think of me?
Okay, okay. No point dwelling.
I dress and try to push aside memories of last night. Both kinds of memories – the embarrassing memories of me being an idiot, and the nice memories of Marc’s arms, and his hands holding my fingers. There’s no point dwelling on either. And anyway, there are more important things to think about – namely our audition result.
Once I’m dressed, I head to the cafeteria. I take a small bowl of muesli and sit near a window, staring out at the grounds. Tom and Tanya should be here soon, and I wonder if I should tell them about last night.
I see Cecile and Ryan at a nearby table, and she’s gushing over him. I guess she needs an ego boost now she’s been rejected by Mr Blackwell.
When Cecile notices me, she says. ‘Just to let you know, if we’re having a competition over who gets Mr Blackwell, I win.’
‘There’s no competition,’ I say, although the words catch a little in my throat.
‘The performance yesterday. Let’s just say I got pretty close to him.’
‘That’s not what I heard.’
I take a seat, and wishing 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. An
ything to put off seeing Marc again. ‘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.’
‘I guess so.’
Chapter 21
Denise’s lecture is in a small classroom in the east wing – nothing like the big lecture theatre Marc used.
When we turn up outside the classroom, most of the students are already there.
‘I guess Marc’s lecture about lateness paid off,’ Tanya whispers.
I clutch my books.
‘You won’t be needing those for this class,’ says Tanya, glancing at my books. ‘Denise Crompton is all about feelings.’
The class shuffles forwards, and I see the classroom door opened by the large, cuddly lady I met at the audition. She’s wearing flowing, flowery robes and has blonde-grey hair. Her tiny blue eyes radiate warmth.
‘Come in, 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 anything about Tanya’s audition, or Tom’s. I wonder what plays they performed. I soon find out.
