The Ivy Lessons (Devoted, Book 1)

by J Lerman

  ‘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 skill. Still. It’ll be good practise 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 tough 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 iPhone – the latest model, thanks to my scholarship.

  ‘BABE!’ Jen screeches down the phone. ‘I was waiting for your call. 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 finished. ‘Difficult 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. Maybe 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. One-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 into 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 Cecile 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 at 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 the 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 the air, and 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 want 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 know I should go to the cafeteria and have something to eat, but the truth is I feel too 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 we 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 make you a cup of tea?’ She’s dressed in a brown leather jacket, with an autumn-red scarf and her long, brown 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 it. I haven’t really got my room set up yet.

  ‘Wow.’ She takes 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 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 out onto 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 confusing. 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 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 felt confused too,’ said Tanya. ‘Hey – look!’ She points across the grounds. ‘There he is.’

  I look down to see Marc Blackwell striding 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 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 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 dressed 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.

  When 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 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. ‘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 classroom, 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.’

  The class begins to shuffle forwards and I see the classroom door opened by the large, cuddly lady I saw 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.

  ‘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 horseshoe 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 deeply 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 things 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,’ says 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, but 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 h
is laptop case closed.

  ‘Good morning class,’ he says. ‘Some interesting performances yesterday and this morning.’ He doesn’t look at me. ‘I’m feeling comfortable that I picked the right people for this course.’

  The right people ... I feel my whole body sag in relief. Oh thank goodness. I didn’t mess it up too badly. It’s okay. It’s okay.

  ‘However, you all have things you need to work on. I want to bring out your hidden talents. The things you’ve kept secret, even from yourselves. You need to work on your discipline, too. As actors, we control our emotions. Hence my insistence that you follow my rules and arrive on time. If you can’t be disciplined, you have no future as an actor.’

  He strolls back to his podium. ‘If I teach you anything, it’s that discipline and craft go together. Without discipline, learning the part, researching the role, getting into a character’s mindset, we have nothing. But if there is only discipline alone – if we don’t let go, and let our own instincts and feelings work with the character, we have nothing either.’

  At the end of the class, Marc announces we’ll be performing again in a few weeks’ time.

  Just when I thought we’d got past the stress of the first performance, already we have another one to think about.

  All the other pupils filter out, but I stay behind. I can see some of the pupils giving me odd looks and nudging each other.

  I wait until the last pupil leaves the room, and then I walk around to where Marc is putting papers in his laptop case.

  He doesn’t look up, but he glances sideways at me. ‘Can I help you, Miss Rose?’

  ‘I hope so,’ I say, as confidently as I can manage.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I ... I think I need some extra help. I feel so nervous at the thought of performing again. I don’t think ... I mean, I know you think I can do this. But I just feel ... without help, my next performance will be the same as the first.’

  Marc snaps his laptop case closed and looks up. ‘Extra help? Sophia, listen. You’re a promising actress. Very promising. But ... I’m being totally honest with you here. I’ve been thinking about your performance. I had high hopes for you, but maybe I gave you a challenge too far. Let’s just stick to the nice young lady parts for now, and see where they take us.’