Star Struck

by Jenny McLachlan

  ‘Could I come back to yours after rehearsal?’ I say. ‘I could sleep over.’

  She pulls a face. ‘Sorry. Dad’s taking me to see a Japanese film. He’s booked the tickets.’

  ‘What about tomorrow?’

  ‘We’re going up to London to visit my uncle, but we’ll be back in the evening –’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ I say, dropping my phone back in my pocket.

  ‘We’ve got the rehearsal on Sunday,’ she says. ‘I’ll see you then.’

  ‘I said it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Betty, Pearl. Up on the stage,’ calls Ms Kapoor.

  Mr Simms has joined Ms Kapoor and Jake. ‘As you know,’ he says, ‘I’m trained in t’ai chi.’ He does a couple of deep lunges. ‘I also have a qualification in dramatic combat, where I was taught to create the illusion of violence. Like this …’ He turns round and swings a punch at Ms Kapoor, who throws herself back as if she’s been hit on the shoulder.

  ‘Kick him in the balls, Miss!’ shouts Betty.

  ‘No, she won’t do that,’ says Sir, ‘because every act of violence is choreographed.’

  They show us the fight they’ve planned for us and we watch, open-mouthed, as they roll around on the floor, pinning each other down and slapping each other about. ‘Now I have seen everything,’ whispers Betty as Ms Kapoor straddles Mr Simms and puts a ruler to his throat. Sir pushes her off and she does a backwards roll, landing by our feet.

  She jumps up. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ she says with a smile.

  To begin with, it’s just Betty and me fighting.

  I pin Betty’s arm behind her back. ‘Does this remind you of when we were little?’ she asks.

  ‘Hold it and struggle,’ calls Ms Kapoor.

  ‘Do you remember when you gave me a nosebleed?’ she asks as she tries to wriggle out of my grip. ‘We were playing kiss-chase Power Rangers with Luke Miller.’

  ‘Time for your first roll, Pearl,’ says Miss.

  Betty bends down and I flip forward over her shoulder. It looks like I’m falling, but actually Betty helps me go over. I laugh. ‘You hit me on the nose because Luke was catching me more than you.’

  ‘Concentrate, girls!’

  ‘Sorry, Miss,’ I say.

  We practise our part of the fight several more times. ‘And now,’ says Ms Kapoor, ‘Jake comes in. Romeo wants to stop the fight, so he’s going to try and split you two up.’

  ‘What do I do?’ asks Jake, bouncing from foot to foot. He can’t wait to get started.

  ‘Pull Pearl off Betty.’ As Ms Kapoor speaks she demonstrates the move, grabbing me by my sleeve and yanking me back. ‘Furious, Pearl then runs at you and knocks you to the floor.’ She shoves Jake on the chest and he crumples dramatically to the ground. ‘That’s it. Then Pearl jumps on you and pins you down.’

  ‘What?’ I say.

  ‘Sit on his chest,’ she says.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘C’mon, Pearl,’ says Jake, patting his blue T-shirt. ‘Climb on board. I won’t feel a thing. I’m steel.’

  He’s lying at the front of the stage and Kat and Hoshi are sitting on the floor just behind him, eyes wide. ‘Like … wow!’ says Kat, laughing. ‘What are you waiting for Pearl?’

  Jake grins. I fold my arms and glance at Hoshi. She smiles. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘I can do this. It’s a bit weird, but I can definitely do it.’

  ‘Get up, Jake,’ says Miss. ‘I want Pearl to fly at you.’

  He stands up and I walk to the back of the stage. ‘Ready?’ I ask.

  ‘Ready.’ He spreads his arms wide like he’s in goal.

  With a roar I run towards him, aiming for the red Levi logo in the middle of his T-shirt. My hands make contact and immediately he slams down on the floor and I jump on his chest, holding his wrists above his head. He pretends to struggle – he could knock me off easily if he wanted – but I keep his hands locked in place.

  ‘Great!’ says Miss. ‘It looks perfect.’

  ‘Can I get up now?’ I ask. My face is centimetres away from Jake’s. He smiles up at me, totally relaxed, as though this is the kind of thing we do every day.

  ‘I guess we’ll finish there,’ says Miss. ‘It’s getting late.’ As I go to get off Jake, he reaches up. ‘What’s that?’ he asks, lifting my hair away from my face.

  ‘That?’ I jump up, touching the stinging edge of the bruise. ‘I fell off a horse.’

  ‘Let’s see?’ Hoshi has got on the stage and is next to Jake, peering at my face. ‘When did you go horse riding?’

  ‘Last night,’ I pull my hair back over the bruise, ‘when I got in.’

  ‘You went horse riding in the dark?’

  ‘I live at a stables, remember. There’s an indoor school.’ Jake and Hoshi both stare at me. ‘Tonto’s scared of water so Mum got me to do some work with him. Turns out he’s really scared of water.’ I know I’m babbling but I can’t stop. ‘This was caused by a puddle.’

  ‘Were you unconscious?’ asks Jake.

  ‘Shut up! It’s only a bump.’ I feel my cheeks going red, so I turn away from them and get off the stage. ‘I fell off a standing horse. It’s my own fault. I wasn’t wearing a helmet.’

  Jake laughs. ‘Well, it looks like a slice of pepperoni … As long as you know that.’

  ‘Pepperoni?’ I feel the bulging bruise again. Even though I touched it up before the rehearsal, some make-up must have come off.

  ‘See you on Sunday,’ says Jake with a wave.

  Hoshi hangs around while I put on my shoes. ‘My mum used to put white cabbage on a bruise and make me sleep with it there.’

  ‘Didn’t it fall off?’ I check my phone one last time for messages.

  ‘She made me wear a pair of tights on my head to keep it in place.’ I look up from my phone, smiling. ‘What?’ she asks.

  ‘Just a text from Mum. She’ll be home soon.’

  ‘Show her your head,’ says Hoshi.

  ‘So she can tie cabbage to it?’

  She shrugs. ‘I think you should show her. It looks bad.’

  We follow the others out of the studio as Ms Kapoor turns off the lights.

  ‘Promise you’ll show her?’ says Hoshi, putting her arm through mine.

  ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘C’mon. Let’s catch up with the others.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  I open the back door and step into the warm kitchen. Mum’s crumbling a stock cube into boiling water, pans are bubbling on the cooker and the windows are steamed up. ‘Can you feel the love tonight, Pearl?’ she half sings. Show tunes blare out of the CD player. I glance at her hand. A glass of red wine is tilted dangerously to one side. ‘Join in, Pearl! You used to be obsessed with The Lion King.’

  I was. Jon took us to see the show in London and I loved it. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask, turning her music down.

  ‘Making a roast!’ she says, leaning over and turning it straight back up again.

  ‘Really?’ I peer in the oven. There’s an enormous leg of lamb inside and a tray of roast potatoes. ‘Can we have Yorkshire puddings?’

  She goes to the freezer and pulls out a box. ‘Ta da! Top me up,’ she says, passing me her glass. I fill it up with wine from the box on the table then hand it back to her. ‘Peel the carrots, love.’

  I sit down and start to peel. It reminds me of Sundays when Gran still lived with us. I’d watch her getting all the veggies ready and she’d tell me about the stuff she’d got up to when she was young, and even madder stories about Mum. My favourite was when Mum ran away to Morocco ‘with a van full of hippies’ when she was seventeen. I used to get Gran to tell me about that again and again.

  Mum starts to sing ‘Memory’ from Cats. She’s got a good voice and it’s so cosy and warm in here that I really don’t want to say anything about my head. But then I think of tomorrow, when I might walk into an empty house, not knowing where Alfie is or what sort of mood he’s in. Over at the cooker, Mum starts to sway in time to the music. I want it to be like t
his all the time, but that’s never going to happen if I don’t tell her what Alfie did.

  I nibble the end of a carrot. ‘Mum,’ I say. She’s humming over the bubbling gravy. ‘Mum!’

  ‘Have we got mint sauce?’ she asks.

  ‘Look what Alfie did.’

  She keeps on stirring, then drops the spoon with a sigh and turns round. ‘What?’ I’m holding up my hair. She glances at my head then leans back against the worktop, arms folded. ‘What were you fighting about?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I say. She laughs. ‘Honestly. He just threw the remote at me!’

  She breathes slowly through her nose. ‘Well, this is all ruined now!’ She turns round and starts turning off switches, slamming pans to the side.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I turn the hobs back on, then try to work out which pan went where.

  ‘I’m so fed up of this, Pearl.’ She stares at me, her eyes wide. ‘You two never stop arguing and I just wanted one nice meal together … Now I’m going to have to shout at him, and you know what he’s like. He gets in my face and I can’t control him like Mum could. He’s so big now!’

  Outside, we hear the whine of Alfie’s bike. Then the engine cuts out.

  ‘If I have a go at him,’ she hisses, glancing at the door, ‘you won’t be the only one with a bruise!’

  We stare at each other. ‘Then don’t say anything,’ I say. ‘Please, Mum.’ I grab her glass and fill it up again. I can hear Alfie’s footsteps getting closer. ‘We’ll have a nice meal. We won’t argue. I promise!’

  She stays where she is, twirling the glass round in her hands, mouth squeezed shut. Alfie slams into the kitchen. ‘Alright,’ he says, looking at us and frowning. His eyes flick over my forehead. ‘What’s going on?’

  Mum keeps twirling her glass.

  ‘We’re having a roast with Yorkshire puddings!’ I say, then I start to gather all the stuff on the table into one pile. ‘I’ll do the knives and forks.’

  After a moment, Alfie says, ‘Can’t we eat in the other room?’

  I look at Mum and she nods. I leave the magazines, letters and mugs where they are and pull out three trays instead. ‘Smells amazing, Mum,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, it does,’ says Alfie. ‘Best smell in the world.’

  Mum smiles and turns up the CD player even louder. ‘Circle of Life’ fills the kitchen.

  We eat our roast watching Coronation Street. Ozzie’s nose is pressed on Mum’s knee, her tail thumping. Every now and then she gets something to eat, which makes her tail wag even faster. ‘Wait …’ says Mum, dangling a bit of meat over her nose. Then she drops it and Ozzie snaps it up. ‘Good girl!’

  ‘Hey, Pearl,’ says Alfie when the adverts come on. ‘Remember Gran’s cauliflower cheese that she did with roast beef?’ Mum leans back on the sofa and looks at me.

  ‘It was my favourite,’ I say. ‘I loved that crunchy topping.’

  ‘Sorry I didn’t make you any cauliflower cheese,’ says Mum.

  ‘It wouldn’t go with lamb,’ I say quickly.

  ‘I’m going out tomorrow,’ she says. Coronation Street has come back on and Alfie is frowning at the screen. ‘I’m going with Heather to the races in Brighton. We’re staying the night at her sister’s.’

  ‘Win some money for me, Mum,’ says Alfie.

  ‘I might. There’s a horse running called Alfie’s Luck.’

  ‘Here’s a tenner,’ says Alfie, pulling a note out of his wallet. ‘Do what you want with it and if you win anything you can keep it.’

  ‘Thanks, sweetheart!’ He puts his feet up on her lap and she gives his legs a stroke. They’ve been sitting like this since Alfie was little. ‘Do you two promise me to be good?’ she asks. ‘No fighting?’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ I say.

  ‘No chucking stuff, Alfie,’ she says, giving his knee a squeeze.

  ‘Nope,’ he says, then he curls up on his side and pulls a pillow under his head. Mum sips her wine and goes back to watching TV. After a couple of seconds, Alfie’s eyes slide on to me.

  I stare at the TV, but I know his eyes are fixed on my face. My dinner sits heavily in my stomach. Eventually he turns back to look at the screen. ‘Enjoy the races, Mum,’ he says. ‘Me and Pearl will be fine.’

  She smiles and pats his feet.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The next day, I manage to avoid Alfie all day by going to work – Jane’s let me swap my shifts round so I can go to the big rehearsal tomorrow. I stay as late as possible at World of Water, but eventually Jane says it’s time to go and insists on dropping me at home.

  I let myself into the dark house and immediately Ozzie dashes into the kitchen, skids on the lino and jumps up at my chest, patting me with her paws. She misses Mum. I let her out and she runs up and down the garden, barking at trees and hedges. ‘Alfie?’ I shout. There’s no reply.

  I take my work sweatshirt off and dump it in the washing machine. Then I go through to the living room and stand still. Everything is quiet upstairs. I walk through the silent house to my bedroom and grab some clothes off my bedroom floor.

  Once I’ve got the washing machine going, I put on some music and check my fish. ‘Hey,’ I say. I follow them with my eyes as they dart around. ‘Hello, Oy.’ He’s right at the front of the tank. ‘You’re being brave swimming with the big fish.’ He shoots back to his pink coral like he’s heard me. I need to clean them out, but first I need to clean me. I sniff my hands. I stink of work. Even though I washed my hands, I still smell of weed and fish and the dusty food I’ve been sprinkling into tanks all day.

  I get a towel off the end of my bed and go upstairs.

  I wait until the shower is boiling hot then tread carefully into the bath, standing on tiptoe to keep my feet away from the scuzzy crust of dried shampoo and shower gel. I shut my eyes and let the water run through my thick hair and thunder on my shoulders. I lift my face to the spray and wash off all my make-up, then I use handfuls of shower gel until I finally get rid of the fishy smell. Soon I’m padding downstairs wrapped up in a towel and smelling of pink grapefruit.

  Then I see football playing on the TV.

  ‘Alright?’ says Alfie, glancing up from the sofa. Water drips from my hair on the carpet. Ozzie’s stares at me and her tail thumps on the floor. ‘Mum’s left us money to get pizza.’

  ‘OK.’ I tap the banister with my nails. ‘Are you going out?’

  ‘I can’t be bothered,’ he says. ‘Too cold.’

  I stand on the stairs. I’ve got to find something to do. I could text Tiann, but she’ll be round at Max’s. Kat’s got family over. I wonder if Hoshi’s back from London yet.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ says Alfie.

  I look up. ‘What?’

  ‘Tea.’ He speaks slowly like I’m an idiot. ‘Do you want one?’

  I’d love a cup of tea. I’ve been working for eight hours straight and Jane kept being called into the garden centre so I didn’t get my breaks. ‘Yes, please,’ I say.

  He gets up, pushing Ozzie out of the way with his foot. ‘Two sugars?’

  I nod. ‘Thanks.’

  He laughs. ‘It’s just a cup of tea.’

  I pull my towel closer to me and go to my room. I get dressed, throwing on tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie. Maybe I don’t need to go out tonight. I could sort my room out. I turn up my music and start to chuck all the dirty clothes in one pile. I put the plates and bowls by the door, trying not to look too closely at the furry mould that’s growing on some rock-hard Cheerios.

  There’s a knock at the door and Alfie pops his head in, holding out a steaming mug of tea. ‘Thanks,’ I say, taking it. He grunts then disappears down the dark corridor. The mug’s burning my fingers, so I put it down while I collect up all Mum’s old Chat magazines. Headlines jump out at me: ‘Potty Pets’, ‘Evil Scumbag’, ‘Mummy’s Last Kiss’ … I sit on my bed and arrange them into a stack. Somehow I find myself reading ‘My Dentures Are Haunted’. Betty would love it.

  I rip out the articl
e then sip my tea. It’s just right.

  I wrap my hands round the mug and look out of the window. It’s already dark and through the trees I can see the flickering lights of the stables. I take another sip of the sweet tea. Suddenly, something bumps against my lip. I pull the mug back, brown tea dripping over the magazine. I go to hook out the teabag, but it’s not a teabag. It’s something feathery and fringed with black.

  I stare as an orange and white shape bobs to the surface of the hot tea. For a second my brain can’t make sense of what I’m looking at, then I gasp and throw the mug on the floor and Oy bounces on to the carpet.

  Immediately I’m down on my knees picking him up, one hand clutched to my mouth, and I know what Alfie has done. I left my door unlocked – just for five minutes – but it was all he needed. Sick rises into my throat as I stroke my finger along Oy’s beautiful white stripes. I can’t breathe properly. Hands shaking, I find a sock and put Oy on it. His mouth is gaping and his eyes are dull black dots.

  Then I scream and I’m running down the corridor. Alfie’s lying on the sofa laughing so hard his eyes are shut. I fly at him. ‘I hate you,’ I shout, thumping his chest. ‘I hate you!’

  I try so hard to hurt him, but he just holds my arms and pushes me away. ‘What?’ he says, still laughing. ‘It’s just a fish, Pearl!’ So I go for him again, thrashing my head around, trying to get at him any way I can.

  Then it’s like a switch has flicked. Alfie’s smile disappears and he throws me off him and bangs me down on the carpet, pinning my arms to my sides. He puts his face close to mine. ‘I told you not to tell Mum,’ he says slowly, his eyes wide. ‘But you did!’ The skin on my wrists is starting to burn, but he doesn’t let go. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

  He’s breathing wildly, eyes not blinking. ‘You killed him,’ I say. He loosens his grip, so I try to pull my wrists free but he squeezes his fingers shut again.

  ‘Don’t mess with me, Pearl,’ he says and he stares at me until I stop struggling. Finally he lets go of my wrists. ‘You’re blocking the TV,’ he says, swinging his legs on to the coffee table. Ozzie has been pressed against the wall, but now she brushes past me and jumps up by Alfie.