The Understudy

by Sophie Hannah

  Just then, there’s a bloodcurdling scream from backstage.

  I know that voice. I’m running, and Imogen is matching me step for step. It’s like she was waiting for it, she’s so quick off the block. But she’s been next to me for the past fifteen minutes. She’s in the clear.

  I’m backstage before any of the other parents from the audience since I was in the front row. I push through the throngs of girls so that I can get to Ruby, who’s shaking all over.

  Bronnie’s already there, appearing distraught, but she hasn’t approached Ruby. Everyone’s formed a circle, a boundary, as if my little girl is some sort of leper.

  I take Ruby in my arms, murmuring that it’ll be okay, I’m here for her, always. No matter what.

  I look back at all the parents who’ve pushed through, and I light on Carolyn and Elise. Carolyn’s as cold as I’ve ever seen her. Elise is somewhere between mildly curious and bemused.

  Bronnie asks, almost in a daze, ‘Who would do something like that?’

  Carolyn says, ‘Just some psycho,’ and I notice that her eyes are on Ruby and me.

  But Imogen—she’s right next to us. She’s inside the circle, and she strokes Ruby’s back. There are tears in Imogen’s eyes, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think she really was full of compassion.

  I don’t know anything anymore.

  Then I see it, what must have prompted Ruby to scream like that. Along the wall, there’s a row of hooks where the costumes hang, pre-performance. They’re all empty now, save for Ruby’s. Suspended from her assigned hook like a deadly necklace—a threat and a suggestion—is a noose.

  5

  Truth Crash

  Sophie Hannah

  SNAPCHAT: MINGES & WHINGES

  Sadie: Ruby bubba you ok? WTF??

  Bel: That thing was so fuckin creepy. Whys everyone calling it a noos?

  Jess: Noose: with an e. That’s what it was.

  Bel: What even is that?

  Ruby: Am okay thanks Sadie

  Imogen: Are you rly Ruby? Ngl, I so wouldnt be ok if someone had put noose round neck of my costume. Its such a hateful thing to do Jess: Srsly Bel you don’t know what a noose is? It’s what was hanging round Ruby’s costume. It’s what you hang someone with or use to hang yourself.

  Imogen: Lol rip

  Ruby: Sorry guys can we not talk about it

  Sadie: ‘Lol rip’? Srsly, Imogen?

  Jess: Sensitive much (Bel do you know what that means?) Imogen: Trying to cheer Ruby up and lighten the mood!

  Bel: F off lol not my fault I never heard of noose before. Sadie u okay?

  Imogen: Why wouldnt Sadie be okay?

  Sadie: Fine bel thanks.

  Jess: Sadie WTF? Whys she asking that? You got a secret you two?

  Sadie: No secret

  Ruby: It had a long blond hair kinda wound round it Jess: The noose?

  Ruby: Yeah Jess: What kinda blond? Like my kind or your kind?

  Bel: Lol Jess your hairs not blond its brown Jess: It’s fucking golden blond, and fuck off

  Bel: Lol just messing with you i wish I had your hair honest to god Im the one with boring brown hair Ruby: It was same blond as Imogens Bel: maybe it was meant for Imogen Imogen: Stop it your creeping me out!!

  Jess: or Imo put it there Imogen: What just cos Ruby said a strand of hair was same colour as mine? No one even saw this hair or can prove it was there.

  Ruby: I saw it Imogen: Ruby jesus christ are you saying you think I did the noose?

  Sadie: Guys can we all think before we say shit. No one knows who did it and Ruby’s had a horrible experience lets not make it worse.

  Imogen: Whoever did noose messed up your song Jess. Big drama, right in the middle of your song. Why would I wanna do that?

  Ruby: Aaand . . . you’re saying I would. Nice try, pin the blame on the victim Jess: I don’t think you did it Rubes, or music box. Ngl, my mum does tho. Imogen, STFU.

  Imogen: We only have Ruby’s word for it that hair was there and was my colour [Notification: Ruby has left the chat]

  Sadie: She’s gone.

  Jess: Fucks sake, Imogen Imogen: OMG i do not understand why is it okay for her to accuse me but I get shit for saying it wasnt me? Jess you know what she put you through last year Jess: Yeh and you don’t so back the f off. You been at OFA like 3 minutes WTF do you know Imogen: music box made you think she was starting trouble again right?

  Jess: She. Did. Not. Do. That.

  Imogen: so you say [Jess has left the chat]

  CAROLYN

  I feel a strange mixture of excitement and dread as the four of us—me, Elise, Bronnie, and Kendall—slide into our booth. We’ve come to one of my favorite restaurants: Gymkhana, on Albemarle Street. It’s a haven of elegance with a serious, almost secretive atmosphere: all dark woods, muted colors, and hushed voices—perfect for whatever revelation Elise is about to hit us with. I’m trying to convince myself that I don’t mind not knowing in advance, that I’m fine with finding out at the same time as Bronnie and Kendall.

  The more contact I have with Elise, the less sure I am about her. Do I like her? Does she like me? Why do I even care?

  It was her idea that the four of us should meet for lunch. She assigned the task of arranging it to me. Her text message read: We need to talk urgently: you, me, K & B. I’ve got wall-to-wall meetings today—can you arrange? Lunch tomorrow, or dinner. Can’t really wait longer than that. Sushi’d be great, or Italian. You are NOT GOING TO BELIEVE what I found out while in America.

  Tell me!! I texted back.

  Not by text. This needs face-to-face meeting, came her reply.

  Did she know what she was doing, I wondered, and was it deliberate: confiding at the same time as not really confiding, singling me out for special treatment, then pushing me away? Or was I creating drama in my mind that simply didn’t exist in Elise’s?

  I resented the implication that I was less busy than she was, but I did as instructed nonetheless and made the arrangements. My one act of rebellion was the choice of restaurant: upmarket Indian instead of sushi or Italian.

  Fine by me, but you might want to manage expectations (Bronnie’s) re cost as it looks pricey, Elise texted back.

  I wrinkled my nose, and gave myself permission to think less of her for using the phrase manage expectations unironically. It’s such a manipulative idea. I’ve always found it baffling that people say it without embarrassment. ‘I wanted to manage her expectations’ is a more polite way of saying, ‘I wanted to control her thoughts.’ It’s repellent. Much better to tell everyone the truth, and let them be in charge of how they respond to the plain facts.

  ‘Don’t worry, lunch is my treat,’ I texted back on an impulse, through gritted teeth. ‘Pathetic, Carolyn,’ I muttered to myself. Elise was throwing her weight around (or was she? Perhaps she was just trying to get something sorted while in a hurry) and I’d let myself get riled into doing the same. Now I was going to have to buy an expensive lunch for three women who weren’t even my friends.

  As it turns out, it’s Kendall who says, ‘Wow, look at the prices,’ as she turns the pages of her menu.

  ‘Carolyn’s picking up the tab,’ says Elise.

  ‘Are you sure, Carolyn?’ Bronnie asks me. ‘I’m happy to split the bill.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I say, thinking that she’s changed her tune. It wasn’t too long ago that she was tutting and sighing over the cost of a latte in Caffè Nero, and claiming that she couldn’t afford a taxi and would run to the Tube station in the rain instead. Maybe she’s taking the opportunity to look generous because she knows there’s no danger of me taking her up on her offer.

  ‘Well, next time it’s my treat,’ she says with a smile. She’s sitting directly opposite me, and it makes our booth feel unbalanced, tilted. There’s palpably less tension on our side of the table. Kendall and Elise, opposite one another next to the wall, aren’t smiling. Kendall looks nervous. She must be wondering why she’s been included again, after
we all steered clear of her on Noose Night. I wish that name wasn’t so temptingly alliterative—then I could maybe stop thinking of it as Noose Night.

  Elise says, ‘Today’s lunch isn’t going to be any sort of treat, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It is for me,’ I quip. ‘I’m going to be having my usual: minced goat meat with a side dish of goat brains.’

  ‘Ugh, that’s disgusting,’ says Bronnie. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yup. It’s divine. I have it whenever I come here.’

  ‘I’ve got some pretty serious things to say, and not everybody’s going to like hearing them,’ Elise presses on.

  ‘What things?’ asks Kendall. ‘Why don’t you say whatever you have to say instead of dropping hints? You’re talking about me, aren’t you? I’m the one who won’t like it, whatever it is.’

  ‘Shall we order first?’ I suggest. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘Me too,’ says Bronnie.

  I wave at a waiter, who nods at me from across the room.

  ‘You’ve told us quite a few lies, haven’t you, Kendall?’ says Elise. ‘You and Ruby, you’ve both lied in a pretty significant way. Would you like a chance to set the record straight now, before I tell everyone what I’ve found out?’

  Kendall says nothing at first. Then she says—she almost hisses—‘You’re so sure, aren’t you?’

  ‘Sure of what I found out while I was in America? Yes, I am. I wouldn’t have arranged this lunch if I was in any doubt.’

  ‘So sure you’re better than me. So superior.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Bronnie looks at me, then at Elise, then back at me.

  A different waiter, not the one I waved at, appears at our table. ‘Good morning, ladies. Oh—I apologize. It is good afternoon already. Have you dined with us before?’

  Nobody has apart from me, and it takes them a frustratingly long time to order. Kendall asks for a Diet Coke, nothing else.

  Once the waiter has moved away, Elise says matter-of-factly, ‘I don’t think I’m superior to anyone. It’s going to be a lot easier to sort this out if we keep accusations and personal attacks out of it and concentrate on the facts. Kendall . . . are you going to tell them or shall I? Maybe it’ll be easier for you if I do the talking, which I’m happy to do, but . . . you need to understand, there’s no way of avoiding this now.’

  ‘Someone tell me what’s going on,’ I say.

  Kendall looks down at the table.

  ‘Well, first of all, Ruby wasn’t offered places by all the best US stage schools,’ says Elise. ‘In fact, she wasn’t offered a place by any. She was blacklisted by all of them. That’s why she applied to the Academy and came to London. The only way she could find a decent place to take her was to leave the country.’

  Bronnie turns to Kendall. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘It’s true,’ says Elise firmly. ‘The problem is, even Adam Racki all the way over here in England wouldn’t have let Ruby in if he hadn’t been sent fake references—by you, Kendall.’

  ‘How did you find all of this out?’ Kendall whispers.

  ‘Wait—you mean it’s true?’ I say.

  ‘I just told you it’s true,’ Elise says briskly. Obviously it hasn’t occurred to her that I might not believe her without question. ‘And you’re not going to bother denying it, are you, Kendall? I hope not.’

  ‘You patronizing bitch!’ Kendall spits at her.

  Elise holds up her hands. ‘I’m sorry if it sounded patronizing, but let’s not deflect here. You faked good references—glowing references—for Ruby to get her into the Academy. In doing so, you deprived Adam Racki of the ability to protect his other students. Didn’t you?’

  ‘Protect?’ says Bronnie anxiously. ‘From . . . from Ruby?’

  A waitress appears with a tray. One by one, she places our drinks on the table. I’m sure she takes less than ten years to do so, though it doesn’t feel that way. I wonder if she can detect the tension between us.

  Once she’s gone, Kendall says, ‘You have no idea—no idea at all. What was I supposed to do, just let everyone assume the worst about my daughter, who I knew was innocent?’

  ‘Innocent of what?’ I ask. The room tips. I’m aware that my breathing has speeded up. What are we about to hear? I’ve always thought that there was something seriously wrong with Ruby Donovan—much more than the usual bitchy teenage girl stuff. Am I about to be proved right?

  ‘Ruby bullied a girl in America—much like she bullied Jess last year,’ says Elise, keeping her eyes on Kendall. ‘And then one day, this girl—Vee, her name was—was at Ruby’s house, Kendall’s house, and she died. Fell down the stairs to the cellar.’

  Wow. Did Ruby kill someone? Without any evidence in either direction, I’m sure she did. I’m certain Ruby Donovan is a murderer.

  ‘No!’ Kendall wails, tears streaming down her face. ‘Ruby did not bully Vee—that’s a lie. It’s a fucking lie.’

  Suddenly, the restaurant has gone from quiet to silent. Heads turn, then awkwardly turn back to concentrate on the food on the tables in front of them. Everyone is now ostentatiously minding their own business.

  Kendall lowers her voice. ‘The relationship between Ruby and Vee . . . it was completely different from . . . They weren’t friends. Ruby and Jess are friends, and yes, Ruby was jealous of Jess and behaved badly, but Vee? Ruby would never have been envious of her. She was weird and creepy and . . . physically unattractive.’

  ‘Unattractive? Oh, heaven forbid,’ I blurt out. Your daughter’s a fucking killer.

  ‘Carolyn,’ says Elise sharply, as if she’s my mother.

  ‘Vee latched on to Ruby and wouldn’t accept that Ruby didn’t want to hang out with her.’ Kendall looks only at Elise as she speaks. ‘Vee’s parents decided to define that as bullying—as if Ruby had a duty to socialize with a girl she barely knew and didn’t really like, a girl who had an unhealthy obsession with her. It was pure bullshit.’

  ‘Go back to the “she died” part,’ I say to Elise. I can’t bring myself to speak to Kendall, though I know I ought not to believe it’s necessarily the mother’s fault if the daughter’s evil. I can’t stop thinking: It could have been Jess. Ruby could have killed Jess. She still could, if we don’t do something. She’s clever enough—puts a noose where Ruby’s costume should be, does the graffiti against herself, makes it look as if she’s the target, so that when she attacks the true target—Jess—no one suspects her. Was the music box, in retrospect, a little too obvious? Did she think twice after that and change tack?

  ‘The official version of the story is that Vee fell down the stairs,’ says Elise.

  ‘She did fall,’ Kendall insists.

  ‘No one at Vee and Ruby’s school thought so, though,’ says Elise. ‘Everyone believed Ruby had pushed Vee, and killed her deliberately. Just like everyone at the school believed Vee’s version of the bullying story, not yours or Ruby’s. That’s why Ruby couldn’t get a reference, and why no US stage school would take her.’

  ‘What would you do if that happened to Sadie?’ Kendall asks her. ‘If you knew she wasn’t the monster everyone seemed to think she was, and you wanted her to have a new start, a second chance? You’d do what I did!’

  ‘Fake some great references and lie my way into a school far enough away for my plan to work?’ Elise shakes her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t. I have principles.’

  Kendall tries to stand, then falls back into a sitting position. There isn’t enough room to stand in the booth. The table is fixed to the floor, the banquettes’ seat cushions extending to just beneath it.

  Her face contorted with rage, or perhaps pain, Kendall spits at Elise, ‘Ruby didn’t bully Vee, she didn’t so much as touch her that day, and she certainly didn’t kill her. You know nothing.’

  Bronnie puts her head in her hands. ‘This is so horrible,’ she says. ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.’

  ‘We need to be having it with Adam Racki,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, as so
on as possible,’ Elise agrees. ‘This is serious. Threatening incidents have been happening, and we’ve had no proper response from Adam. Now we know Ruby was blacklisted in America because everyone apart from her mother thinks she killed a girl, he has to act fast. It’s a safeguarding issue, even apart from the fraudulent references.’

  ‘Elise, please don’t tell Racki.’ Kendall grabs her hand across the table.

  ‘I have to, Kendall. You must realize that. I’m not proposing to go behind your back. I think we should all talk to him together, actually. I’m going to ring him and arrange a meeting as soon as possible.’

  ‘And you expect me to just . . . dance to your tune?’

  ‘Does it matter if she’s at the meeting or not?’ I ask Elise. ‘I mean, Adam’s going to be expelling Ruby, right? There’s no other possible outcome, not now. I can understand why Kendall doesn’t want to face the consequences of her dishonesty and endangering of our daughters in front of us. Why does she need to be there?’

  ‘Do you really think Ruby will be expelled?’ asks Bronnie.

  ‘Of course,’ I say as decisively as I can, as if my saying it firmly enough can make it a reality. The truth is, I fear it might not happen, even now.

  ‘I think she can’t be allowed to stay,’ says Elise, sounding all regretful and reluctant about it.

  ‘If she is, I’ll contact the Mail or the Sun and tell them about Vee’s suspicious death,’ I say. ‘That sort of negative media attention would soon persuade Adam to get rid of her.’

  ‘Fuck you, Carolyn,’ Kendall says in a low voice. ‘Just . . . fuck you. Excuse me, Bronnie. I’m not sitting here . . .’

  ‘Kendall, stay where you are,’ orders Elise. ‘Carolyn, you’re not helping: needlessly antagonizing Kendall, threatening to manipulate Adam . . .’

  ‘All right, I’ll shut up.’ Not helping? I’m not trying to help. Elise might be able to operate strategically and manage outcomes at all times, but I can’t, and I don’t want to. I’m a human being, not a multinational corporation’s marketing department. Ever since I found out that Ruby is probably a murderer, there’s been a flow of burning rage inside me that wants only to crush her—her and her mother.