The Butterfly Novels Box Set: Contemporary YA Series (And By The Way; And For Your Information; And Actually)

by Denise Deegan

‘Yeah, but you’d get paid for it.’

  He shoots again. ‘I’m a behind-the-scenes man, Rache.’

  ‘Come on,’ I almost beg.

  He stops shooting and comes over. ‘I’d hate it. The attention. People coming up to me all the time.’

  ‘I hate it. Especially when they act like you’re invisible. But the attention’s only a small part of the whole thing.’

  ‘I like being invisible.’

  ‘It’d just be so much easier with you there.’

  His face gets serious. ‘Why? What’s up?’

  I turn away and walk to the window. ‘I have to do a sex scene,’ I say without looking back.

  He laughs.

  I turn back. ‘It’s not funny, Mark.’

  ‘You're right. Sorry.’

  ‘I don’t want to have this other life from you. I mean, the only time I share it with you is when I embarrass you.’

  ‘You don’t embarrass me,’ he says simply.

  ‘Even if I have to get my kit off?’

  He looks worried. ‘Will you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. Emily said it will be “tastefully done” - whatever that means.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. You always are.’

  ‘Mark, I’ve never had sex.’

  ‘You’ve never had cancer either.’

  ‘I wish I’d said no.’ Though, I didn’t really have the choice.

  ‘You’ll probably end up proud of that scene.’

  ‘Eh. No!’

  ‘You might.’

  ‘So you’re not going to audition?’

  ‘No. Sorry.’

  ‘You did it for me before - took a part so we could be together.’

  ‘That was a school play. This is national television.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I don’t want my life to change. I’ll rehearse with you. I’ll be there for you. I’m your biggest fan. You know that. But, like I said, I’m a behind-the-scenes man.’

  I sigh. And can’t help feeling that he’s got me now, why should he bother?

  THIRTEEN | Batman Returns

  On my first day back at D4, I meet Maisie in the corridor. She is practically grinning.

  ‘I was just coming to look for you,’ she says.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Want to go for coffee?’

  ‘Eh, sure,’ I say, surprised, but glad.

  As we walk to the canteen, we joke about our Christmases.

  She gets tea and a scone. I get a Diet Coke.

  ‘No brekkie?’ she asks.

  ‘Had it at home.’ It’s my second lie today. I told Mum I’d have breakfast here. I’ve only two pounds to go. And I’m the most determined person I know.

  ‘Did you watch the Christmas special?’ she asks, way too enthusiastically for her.

  ‘No, I missed it. We had family over.’

  ‘Your scene was breathtaking.’

  ‘Really?’ It means so much coming from her.

  ‘I’m sure it’s what got you the IFTA nomination.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You’ve been nominated for an Irish Film and Television Award.’

  ‘Really? Are you serious?’

  She smiles. ‘Don’t sound so surprised.’

  ‘But how do you know? Was it announced?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then how …’

  She smiles like she’s enjoying this. Finally she says, ‘I was just up with Emily. I’m getting an award for my “contribution to the industry”.’

  ‘Oh, my God. That’s amazing. Congratulations. You so deserve it.’ I want to hug her but a) she’s across the table and b) I don’t know her well enough.

  ‘I’d prefer yours. Mine’s for geriatrics.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘So. Are you excited?’

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ I say. ‘I mean, I’ve only just started.’

  ‘Now, when Emily calls you up, act surprised.’

  ‘I am surprised.’

  ‘Then it won’t be hard.’

  I want to call my parents. Mark. Charley. Alex and Sarah. I want to scream and jump up and down.

  ‘It’s usually a good night,’ she says.

  I look at her blankly.

  ‘The Awards night.’

  ‘Of course. Sorry. I’m not thinking.’

  She smiles like she gets that. ‘Would you like to sit with me?’

  ‘That'd be amazing.’

  ‘Good. Then I’ll make sure of it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  I don’t know what Rebecca was talking about - Maisie is lovely. She didn’t have to tell me.

  I go outside to call everyone. Then I remember: Mark, Alex and Sarah are in class so I call Mum.

  I have to hold the phone away from my ear, she’s so excited.

  ‘It’s not official yet,’ I say. ‘So don’t go telling anyone.’

  ‘Not even Dad?’

  ‘No, you can tell Dad, just warn him not to say anything to anyone, though.’

  ‘Rachel, I’m so proud of you.’

  ‘I haven’t won it, Mum.’

  ‘I know, I know. But being nominated is such a vote of confidence.’

  I can’t stop smiling.

  Next, I call Charley.

  ‘This could open so many doors for you, Rachel,’ she says. ‘In fact, I’m going to make sure it does. I’ll come with you to the Awards ceremony. There’ll be so many people there I can introduce you to.’

  ‘Aw. Thanks, Charley.’

  ‘I’m your agent. It’s my job.’

  ‘Thanks anyway.’

  ‘This is just the beginning.’

  Walking back to the dressing room, I feel like I’m walking an inch off the ground. I keep wanting to say, ‘Yay.’

  I’m in the dressing room five minutes when the phone rings. It’s Emily’s assistant, asking if I’m free to come upstairs. My heart leaps. But I check the time.

  ‘I’ve about ten minutes till Make-Up,’ I tell him.

  ‘Perfect,’ he says. ‘Won’t take long.’

  ‘Who was that?’ Rebecca asks as soon as I hang up.

  'Emily’s PA.’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say because I’m not supposed to.

  I practically run to Emily’s office. At the top of the stairs, I take a deep breath. Check myself in the glass of a painting and flatten my hair a bit.

  I’m told to go straight in. So I knock, and do.

  Emily’s already halfway to the door, smiling widely. ‘Rachel. Great. Come on in.’ She places her hands on my shoulders and guides me to my seat and actually sits me down.

  I feel so giddy, I’m afraid I might laugh.

  ‘I have some great news. You’ve been nominated for an IFTA.’

  ‘Seriously? Oh, my God. Wow.’

  She takes her seat behind the desk. ‘It’s fantastic news. We’re so proud of you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I’m smiling again.

  ‘You’re nominated for Actress in a Supporting Role in Television.’

  I nod slowly like this is news to me. Then I think of Rebecca. ‘Is anyone else from D4 up for an award?’

  ‘Yes, actually. Maisie Morrin is going to receive the award for Outstanding Contribution to the Industry.’

  ‘She so deserves it.’

  ‘We think so. The nominations will be officially announced at noon. So say nothing till then. You can tell your family obviously. But I’d leave it at that.’

  I nod. ‘So there’s no one else up for an award?’

  ‘We’re delighted with two.’ She looks at me for a long moment. ‘I put your name forward, Rachel. I have a feeling about you.’

  Wow. ‘Thanks so much.’

  ‘Our ratings have been rising steadily since you joined the show.’

  So Mark was right. I want to hug him and tell him and kiss him and laugh. I start to hope that maybe they will keep me on longer. She stands and puts out her hand. />
  ‘Well done, Rachel. You’re surpassing all our expectations.’

  ‘Thanks so much,’ I say, shaking her hand. I could hug her. That’s how high I am.

  ‘Well?’ Rebecca asks the minute I get back.

  I can’t tell her. She’s been in the show a lot longer than me. It’s her life.

  ‘Eh, nothing really,’ I say lightly.

  ‘You were called up to her office for nothing?’ She looks doubtful.

  ‘Well, no. Emily was just saying that they’re happy with me and stuff.’

  Luckily, I’m called on set. Then we’re filming.

  I don’t get back to the dressing room till twelve-thirty.

  Rebecca’s there.

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,’ she says. ‘That’s why you were called up to the office this morning, wasn’t it?’

  I make a ‘sorry’ face. ‘They asked me not to say anything.’

  ‘Yeah, but we’re friends. We share a dressing room. I’d have told you.’

  ‘OK. I didn’t know how to tell you. Your part is so much bigger. And you’re so good.’

  ‘I know,’ she says. ‘I mean, you’re great and everything. It’s just that I’ve been on the show longer and stuff.’

  ‘I know.’ I give her that.

  ‘Have you told your parents?’

  ‘I rang my mum, yeah.’

  ‘And Charley?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Alex? Sarah? Mark?’

  It’s freaky the way she says everyone’s names, like they’re part of her world too.

  ‘They’re in class,’ I say, ‘so no, not yet.’

  She forces a smile. And when she says, ‘Congratulations,’ I know she doesn’t mean it. And I kind of understand that.

  ‘OK. We’re going to have to get you a dress,’ Sarah says after she’s squeezed me to death. ‘A totally fuck-off dress.’

  I laugh.

  ‘Marsha!’ Alex says. Alex’s dad’s partner is a fashion designer. She’s amazing.

  ‘Oh, my God. Yes!’ Sarah says.

  ‘Anything else just wouldn’t be lucky,’ Alex adds.

  ‘What if she’s busy?’ I ask.

  ‘Are you kidding? This will be great for her profile. Red carpet publicity.’

  I get a bit freaked at the thought of red carpet.

  ‘Will I need a tux?’ Mark asks when I tell him (and he’s stopped bouncing me up and down).

  Oh God, I think. Can I bring someone? And if Charley’s coming, is that my someone used up?

  ‘Let me check.’

  ‘It’s black tie, right?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Then it’s a tux.’

  ‘Mark? I have to check about bringing someone. Like, if we can. I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

  He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds then he smiles. ‘Sure, no worries.’

  ‘Charley wants to come to introduce me to people.’

  ‘Charley’s going? Well then, there probably won’t be room for me.’

  ‘I’d love you to come, though. Let me ask, OK? Maybe I can bring two people.’ What about my mum, though? I owe her so much. And she was so excited on the phone.

  ‘It’s OK. Don’t worry.’

  If he came, he’d be invisible again. ‘Would you prefer not to come?’

  ‘No, I’d like to. But it’s work for you. You should make contacts and stuff.’

  ‘Let me see, OK?’

  ‘It’s OK. Honestly. Work the room - that’s more important. I’ll watch it on TV.’

  ‘I’m still going to check.’

  As soon as I get home, I google the IFTAs. I’m up against three other actors, three seriously good actors who’ve been around a lot longer than me.

  ‘I haven’t a hope,’ I say to Mum.

  ‘Rachel, it’s great just to be nominated.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I have to remind myself of that. I still can’t believe it.

  ‘When is the ceremony?’

  ‘February.’

  ‘Can you bring someone?’

  ‘I don’t know. They didn’t say and it’s not on the IFTA site. Charley said she wanted to come, though.’

  She looks kind of disappointed. I want to bring her. And Mark. I don’t want to let anyone down.

  ‘I’ll ask Maisie.’

  ‘Who’s Maisie?’

  ‘Maisie Morrin.’

  ‘You’re friends with Maisie Morrin?’

  ‘Not friends. But she told me about the award. She’s nice.’

  I go on Google to check out Maisie’s career. I knew she’d acted in Hollywood, but I’d no idea about all the films she’d been in, all the leading roles she’d played. She was so beautiful. I go on YouTube to watch some clips. She so deserves this award. After, I go on moan.ie to see if they’re talking about the nominations.

  It’s like a punch in the stomach. I sit, stunned, staring at the screen. Then, reach for my phone.

  ‘Have you seen moan.ie?’ I ask Mark.

  ‘I thought you weren’t going on that.’

  ‘But did you see it?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘There’s this comment that’s so not fair. It’s like personal.’

  ‘What is it?’ He sounds concerned.

  ‘There’s this guy who posts and he’s popular? He’s never said anything bad about me before. Now he’s saying I don’t deserve the nomination. He says I’m a crap actress. And I’ve a fat ass.’

  He laughs.

  ‘Jesus, Mark. People are reading that.’

  ‘People on moan.ie.’

  ‘They’re still people.’

  ‘Bored, angry, vengeful people—’

  ‘Who are being angry and vengeful to me.’

  ‘Rachel, why go on that site if it’s just going to upset you? It’s not like you can do anything about it.’

  ‘It’s just that everyone likes this guy. He’s cool and funny and so right - usually. You want to agree with him, you know?’

  ‘Is that the guy you mentioned before?’

  ‘BatmanReturns, yeah.’

  ‘Rache, you’ve just achieved something amazing and you’re worrying about some anonymous computer geek called BatmanReturns who’s moaning on some stupid site for moaners. If that guy was any good, he’d be out acting himself.’

  ‘I guess.’ I like that he’s angry for me.

  ‘Haters gonna hate, Rache.’ And though he says it in a jokey voice, I know he means it.

  ‘You’re right,’ I say, relieved.

  But then the minute I hang up, I look at my ass in the mirror. I am not eating till dinner tomorrow. Then I’ll have an apple.

  FOURTEEN | Eyebrows

  On Saturday, Sarah and Rebecca spend the day in a spa. I’m over at Alex’s, where Louis has just finished feeding Maggie. He takes a small cellophane bag from his pocket. From it he pulls out a piece of raw carrot. He starts to gnaw at it.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Alex asks.

  ‘Oh sorry. Want one?’ He offers the bag around.

  No takers.

  ‘What’s with the carrots?’ Alex asks.

  He shrugs. ‘Just having a carrot instead of a smoke.’

  ‘Oh, my God, you’re quitting?’ she says.

  ‘No. Substituting.’

  ‘But ultimately quitting, right?’

  ‘Only if I end up quitting.’

  She looks confused and I don’t blame her.

  He shrugs. ‘I’m just taking it one smoke at a time. I like them way too much to quit.’

  Alex’s face softens. ‘You’re doing this for Maggie, aren’t you?’

  ‘Alex, you know I’d never smoke around Maggie,’ he says, suddenly serious, borderline offended.

  ‘I know you wouldn’t.’

  ‘But. I do want to be around for her. Someone has to fight off all those potential boyfriends,’ he says, getting up and grabbing his jacket. He bends over the Moses basket and smiles. ‘Bye, bye, sweetie pie.’

  Alex l
ooks like she’s going to melt.

  As soon as I hear the front door close, I turn to her. ‘You fancy him, don’t you?’

  ‘No, I don’t. OK I do.’

  I laugh. ‘Didn’t take long to get that confession out of you.’

  She groans. ‘I’m kind of mad about him.’

  ‘I noticed.’ I smile.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘It’s kind of obvious.’

  ‘Even to him?’ she asks, eyes suddenly wide.

  ‘No. You’re fine.’

  ‘Good because Louis doesn’t do relationships. And I don’t want to fool around with anyone. Not any more. Not after Maggie.’

  ‘Pretend you’re related to him or something.’

  ‘Ugh, gross.’

  I laugh. ‘OK maybe not.’

  She looks at Maggie. ‘Maggie, your dad is way too caliente.’

  Maggie gurgles. Proving, once again, she’s one of us.

  Saturday night, I go out with Mark. Afterwards, we go back to my place because my parents are out.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asks, holding up an eye pencil he’s just accidentally sat on.

  ‘Eye pencil.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Oh, just darkening around the eyes or the eyebrows.’

  ‘The eyebrows? Aren’t yours dark enough?’

  ‘You can never get dark enough.’

  ‘Can I try?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Darkening your eyebrows.’

  I shrug. ‘If you want.’

  ‘I want. OK, go lie on the bed, so I can get at you.’

  I smile. And do as instructed.

  He starts running the pencil over my eyebrows. I close my eyes. It’s relaxing.

  ‘Now I’m just going to extend your eyebrows.’

  ‘What?’ I laugh.

  ‘Humour me.’

  I’m too tired to do anything else.

  I feel all these little strokes, firstly on my eyebrows, then coming out into my temples, then right down the sides of my face as far as my jaw. I open my eyes. He’s frowning in concentration, like he’s Michelangelo or something. I smile.

  ‘Can you sit up for a sec?’ he asks.

  ‘No. Too tired.’

  ‘Come on. I’ve done all this work.’

  I groan and sit up.

  He holds my chin and turns my face from side to side, examining his work. Then he takes a step back and cracks up. ‘You’re beautiful.’

  I get up, look in the mirror and burst out laughing. I look like I’ve half a handlebar moustache over each eye.