‘In the last half-hour?!’
‘Doesn’t take long.’
‘They’ll forget. Everyone will forget.’
‘If that’s what you want.’
Then Jessie J came over. In real life her hair looks even better than it does on TV, super glossy and perfectly straight.
Eventually she went off to talk to Emeli Sandé, and Tony turned back to me with a sad smile.
‘Is there anything I can say? You’re a marvel, Katie. You have the world at your feet. That, there, tonight – that’s your single. The live recording. I’ve already had calls from about nine different countries. We’ll put it on the album with “Just Me”, “Cake Boyfriend”, “Autocorrect” – maybe not the one about spaghetti hoops . . . but otherwise, you can choose. We won’t interfere. And then . . . your summer holidays are coming up, aren’t they? How would you like to come with us to the States? The UK – that’s great, that’s all well and good, but we need to be thinking globally now. We’ll fly you first class; you can bring a friend, if you want. Two friends. We’ll put you up somewhere fancy, get you the best of everything. All you need to do is sing like you did tonight.’
‘I can’t. I made the decision. That was my last song.’
He sighed. ‘Look. Katie. I know I’m the villain. But just tell me this. Has anyone, anyone, heard your plan to give up music and told you that it’s a good idea?’
I didn’t want to have to shake my head.
And, as it turned out, I didn’t have to.
‘You know where to find me,’ said Tony. ‘Whether you want to stay with Top Music, sign with a new label, whatever. Like it or not, you’re a star now.’
I spent a few minutes gazing out into that crowded room, and thinking how incredibly upsetting it was that I didn’t feel like I fitted in here any more than I did at school, and really, was there not a single party in the world where a girl could have a good time?!
Then I took my phone on to the balcony to tell the one person who definitely would approve of my decision.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Katie. I am going to kill you. Honestly. The second I get my hands on you . . . I am going to . . . I’m . . . so . . . I’m so . . .’
‘Mum, are you crying?’
‘I’m so proud of you.’
‘Oh. OK.’
‘The last few days have been appalling. Then I get a message from Ade, we put the telly on, me and your father. One minute we’re in front of Coronation Street, the next, we’re watching our little girl lighting up London.’
‘Well . . .’
‘And, I don’t like it. I don’t.’
‘I know.’
‘But I see now, you’ve got to do this, haven’t you?’
Now I was crying, a bit. ‘I don’t know if I can. What you said, about not getting hurt. I’m going to get hurt, aren’t I?’
‘Yes. But . . . you’ll get hurt anyway. Whatever you do. I can’t protect you forever.’
‘I don’t think I’m strong enough.’
‘I know you are, Katie.’
‘Mum . . .’ I let the pause sit between us for a while, because it seemed to say what I wanted to better than words. Then, ‘Mum, it was Dad. He was the one who sold the story.’
‘He told me.’
‘I’ll never forgive him.’
A snort. ‘It’s hardly the worst thing he’s ever done.’
‘I kn-know. He’s been . . . he shouldn’t have . . . Ending it with you and then running off to America with Catriona and blowing all that money and then . . . I get it now. And I’m never going to speak to him again. I promise you that.’
‘Katie, your father is a total idiot. A complete and utter . . .’ She stopped herself. ‘But of course you’ll speak to him again. He’s your dad. He loves you. And . . . it’s hard for him, being the brilliant, talented idiot that he is and having to live with himself.’
‘So?’
‘So . . . when you were onstage tonight, I saw him. In you.’
‘No!’
‘He’s a part of you,’ said Mum. ‘He knows he did the wrong thing. He understands that.’
Since when did Mum stand up for Dad?
‘He’s here. Next to me. He wants to say sorry. I do think he means it. Will you speak to him, Katie?’
‘Not now,’ I said. ‘Maybe, later.’ I wiped my eyes. ‘Is Mands around?’
‘Hold on, she’s just come through the door. AMANDA? YOUR SISTER WANTS TO TALK TO YOU.’
‘How was the gig? Was the shop full? Did people come?’ I was gabbling.
‘What about you?! I’ve just been reading about everything on my phone. You are nuts, you know that? Totally nuts . . . Katie? Katie, what’s wrong?’
‘Dad,’ I said. ‘I’ve just . . . Mum said . . .’ I tried to pull myself together. ‘I can’t forgive him. Can I? I don’t think I can.’
‘I’m trying,’ said Mands.
‘He’ll go back to America soon,’ I said. ‘He’s got a job waiting for him.’
‘Maybe you’ll find it easier that way,’ said Amanda, so gently that it made my eyelids prickle.
Which I wanted to believe. I really did.
He’s so proud of you, Catriona had said. He loves you so much.
Then, I knew.
That if I let him go, I’d be letting go of a part of myself. Someone who, yes, was totally and completely selfish. Then again, I hadn’t been much better lately.
And to forgive people, to love people, you have to be there.
Oh, Dad.
As I made the decision, then and there, Lacey appeared on one side of me, and Jaz on the other.
‘Lacey was worrying about you,’ said Jaz. ‘I said she’s probably off doing shots with someone from the telly.’
‘Which would be very worrying,’ said Lacey. She peered at me. ‘Have you been doing shots? You look awful. Talk to me, Katie. Talk to me!’
What I wanted to say was that I’d never really meant to bring the world back together.
But then, I’d not especially meant to tear it apart.
‘Urgh! That is revolting.’
We looked down to see Savannah and Kolin kissing underneath a whole bunch of fairy lights. Savannah had her phone out, and was simultaneously taking a selfie.
‘So, is Kurt going to be your boyfriend?’ said Lacey.
‘Er, no. I am not the sort of person who goes out with someone in a boy band, thank you very much.’
‘Aren’t you? Because when you two were onstage . . . it looked like . . . you might . . .’
‘No way!’ I caught myself. ‘Well, I dunno. He’d have to ditch the fake tan and all those hairstyles. But, he’s a decent enough guitarist.’
‘Not to mention incredibly good-looking and an amazing singer and, um, the most desirable boy on the planet.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, going very red indeed. ‘Even so, though, I’m not exactly going to take him to the school disco, am I?’
‘Probably not,’ said Lacey. ‘Given that it was tonight. I guess if we got in the car right now . . . we’d catch the bit where everyone leaves and goes home.’
‘What?’ This was not good. ‘You missed it? For this? Lacey, I owe you. Big time.’
‘S’OK. Wouldn’t have been much fun without you, anyway.’
‘You’re a good friend, Lacey Daniels.’
‘And you, Katie Cox, are a rubbish one. It’s lucky you can get me into such cool parties, really.’
‘The best friend ever,’ I said.
‘Ahem.’
‘And so are you, Jasmine James. Although I don’t remember giving you permission to go broadcasting the contents of my phone to the whole of Wembley Arena.’
‘Like I need your permission,’ murmured Jaz.
We stood there, the three of us, and watched the party.
‘So . . . are you doing anything good this summer?’
‘Mum was talking about us going to Tenerife but she hasn’t booked yet as she says the best deals
are always last minute. But she said that last year and then she couldn’t get one, so we ended up in Monmouth.’
Jaz said, ‘Why?’
‘I was thinking,’ I said. ‘How would you like to come with me to America?’
Lacey began to scream so loudly that I didn’t hear Jaz’s reply.
And she carried on screaming, and maybe I did too, down the stairs, and back into the car, with Adrian and (a reluctant) Savannah, all the way back to Harltree.
The lights whizzed past on the motorway, Beyoncé came through loud on the stereo, and Adrian rolled down the windows so that the warm night could flow over us.
Lacey was teaching Jaz this special dance you can do sitting down, Beyoncé was Beyoncé, her voice flying like rockets, while Savannah was compiling a complicated order of beauty products that apparently you can only get stateside.
And all while this was happening, a bit of me was thinking about Dad, and whether he’d have time to hang out between doing whatever work Tony was finding for him. Another bit of me was googling my name, and then having to stop because it seemed like the rest of the internet had been pretty much put on hold to make way for stuff about Katie Cox.
Most of me, though, was laughing and singing and doing fancy footwork in the back of that car.
I didn’t know whether I was making the right decision.
Maybe no one ever does.
But I wasn’t saying goodbye to music. Not now, not any time soon.
Whatever it meant, wherever it led.
And that, at least, felt right.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marianne Levy spent her twenties as an actor. She was in various TV shows, did some comedy on Radio 4 and made a brief appearance in the film Ali G Indahouse, where she managed to forget both her lines. She then worked as a continuity announcer for Living TV, introducing, and getting obsessed with, America’s Next Top Model. She’s been the voice of a leading brand of make-up, a shopping centre and a yogurt. Marianne has written for the Independent, the Independent on Sunday, How to Spend It, the Guardian and the i. She lives in London with her husband, daughter and a bad-tempered cat.
www.mariannelevy.com
First published 2017 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2017 by Macmillan Children’s Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
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ISBN 978-1-5098-0545-7
Copyright © Marianne Levy 2017
The right of Marianne Levy to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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Face the Music Page 20
