Authors: Rowan Coleman
“So, what are you having then, kiddo?” Dad said. Kiddo. He had never called me kiddo before in my whole life. I watched him from around the edge of my menu. He was wearing this stupid bright red shirt and he’d got himself a stupid leather jacket. There was something else funny going on. I squinted at him as he studied the menu. Then I realised he’d put gel in his hair and made it all sort of spiky, even around the bits where you could see the pink of his scalp. If it wasn’t so sad it’d be funny.
“Your hair looks stupid like that,” I said. “I’ll have the marinara. A large one.”
“All to yourself!” Dad attempted to joke. “You’ll burst!”
“Are you saying I’m fat?” I said without cracking a smile.
“Er no, no! Ruby, you’re perfect. I’m glad you don’t worry about what you eat. Too many girls do, especially girls in your industry. It’s not worth it.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I know that, Dad, I’m not a total moron.” I looked around the restaurant. It was one of our favourite places: we’d all been coming here since I was really little. All the staff knew us and most of the time the other regulars either didn’t recognise me or simply ignored me. But tonight there was a table in the corner – a big family party – who kept looking over at me and nudging each other. I tried not to look at them.
“Hi, Ruby. Hi, Mr Parker. How’s it going?” Cassie, the waitress, stopped at our table, her order pad poised. “No Mrs Parker tonight?” My dad opened his mouth, but I stepped in before he could say anything.
“No, no. Mum’s ill. Got the flu – terrible flu – had to stay in bed and we can’t cook so we came out to eat. She’s really,
really
ill. Not so ill that it would be mean to leave her on her own or anything, just too ill to cook.” Cassie looked concerned.
“Poor Mrs Parker. I know, I’ll sort out some tiramisu for you to take away for her. That’ll make her feel better, what do you reckon, Ruby?” I nodded gratefully. Cassie took our orders and headed back to the kitchen, past the table of people who kept looking at me. Dad smiled at me: it was a new kind of smile – one he’d only got since he’d left. The sort of smile TV presenters give you when
they’re telling you how much they love your work. It was a fake smile.
“Ruby,” he said all cheerfully. “Darling, I know this is hard for you, I realise that, but, well, there’s no point in pretending that it hasn’t happened. People have to know some time.”
“Why do they?” I asked him in a low whisper. I nodded in the direction of the table that still kept looking at me. “Those people over there, they recognise me from off the telly. Do they have to know that my parents are splitting up? How do you think that feels, Dad? Or Cassie, who’s known us since I only used to eat toast and butter wherever I went. Does she have to know? Does she have to know that my life’s been ripped apart by
you
? I don’t think so. I don’t think anyone
has
to know.”
Dad rubbed his hand across his chin and thought for a moment, as if he were trying to find a magic spell that would suddenly make everything all right.
“Darling, you mustn’t think that this is happening because of you. I love you, never forget that.” I forced myself not to laugh out loud.
“You don’t love me enough to stay at home,” I hissed at him. “You don’t love me enough to try and work things out with Mum.” I slammed my glass down with a clatter. “Do you?” He was shocked, I could tell. Before all this, it
had always been him and me. Always us two joking around, always us teasing Mum or making her cross. Always him I went to when Mum said no. Always him who said yes until Mum overruled him. He must have thought I’d be on his side in all this. He thought wrong.
“Ruby, you have to see this isn’t about you. It isn’t about how much I love you. It’s about me and your mum being happy. We’re not happy together and things have gone too far now for us to be happy together again. There’s no way we could get back together. Your mum accepts that, she understands it. You have to try too.” Just at that moment Cassie arrived and set down our pizzas.
“Anyone for parmesan or ground pepper?” she asked us cheerfully.
“No, no thanks,” my dad said. Cassie looked at us both. She must have known that something was up because normally whenever we went there we made a joke about how much extra cheese I like on my pizza. But she must have seen the red blotches I could feel blossoming on my cheeks and maybe the tears that were edging their way out of my eyes, because she didn’t say anything more, she didn’t make a joke or ask me about the show. She just turned round and went. I bit my lip hard and took a deep breath.
“Mum might tell you she’s fine, Dad, but she isn’t. She cries. All the time; her eyes are red all the time. She’s only accepted it because you aren’t giving her a choice.” I picked up my fork and stabbed it angrily into a piece of cheese-covered tuna. Dad shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Ruby, that’s not true. Your mum and I agreed. And we also agreed that whatever happens we’ll make sure that you don’t—”
“Is it because you’ve got a new girlfriend?” I asked him. It was as if I’d just thought of it, but somehow I’d kept the question hidden even from myself until that moment when it just came out without me telling it to.
“I…er…well, no, not in the sense you mean.” It was like I’d been punched in the stomach. I hadn’t known what I’d expected, but I hadn’t expected him to admit to it, I hadn’t expected it to be true. I couldn’t believe that Dad could love someone else apart from me and Mum. Love someone else
instead
of us.
“You have? You’ve got a girlfriend?” I asked in disbelief. My voice raised above the murmur of the restaurant and the watching table all turned and stared at us.
“No! No,” Dad said quickly, and then, choosing his words carefully. “There is…someone – a friend and that’s all. Nothing has happened, Ruby, we haven’t even
been on a date. We’re just friends. But…I enjoy her company. One day, when things have settled down a bit, maybe then, but we’ll see.”
Until that moment I hadn’t really believed he was gone. Until just then I thought he’d come round. Eventually he’d hate how angry and hurt I was, he’d get lonely and he’d realise he missed us and he’d just come home. But in that moment I realised – he was planning a future in which he was more than Mum’s husband and more than my dad. He was planning a future without either of us in it.
“I want to go home,” I said with a small tight voice.
“But we haven’t…” Dad gestured at my barely touched pizza.
“Please, Dad, I’m tired and I feel sick and I’ve got work in the morning…please.” Dad ran his fingers through his stupid spiky hair and suddenly looked very tired and older than normal. He shrugged and left some money on the table to pay the bill.
“I’m sorry, Ruby,” he said. “I just can’t seem to get things right at the moment – come on then.” I followed him out, keeping my eyes down as we threaded through the tables of other customers. The air was warm and the evening sun was still bright but I felt goose bumps chase up and down my arms.
“Er, excuse me?” I stopped in my tracks. A girl from the watching table had reached out a hand to get my attention. I stopped and made myself smile.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but you’re Angel, aren’t you? From
Kensington Heights
?”
I nodded. “That’s me!” I said brightly.
“We love
Kensington Heights
, don’t we, Mum?” The girl’s mother nodded.
“Never miss it – can’t wait for next week,” she winked at her daughter. “It’s our Cheryl’s birthday tonight. Well, her actual birthday’s not till Saturday, but her dad’s got her this weekend so we thought we’d go out tonight.” I smiled and nodded.
“Happy Birthday, Cheryl,” I said with some effort.
“Um, do you, would you mind…” Cheryl asked nervously. “Would you do me an autograph as it’s my birthday? I’m thirteen, like you!” I smiled, nodded and signed the piece of paper she handed me, wishing her many happy returns.
“There you go,” I said, even though I felt like screaming.
“I love Angel the best,” Cheryl said. “She’s the one you really believe in. All them other characters, they’re just not real. But you, you’re really real.”
“Thanks,” I said. “All the best, then!” I turned on my
heel and almost ran outside on to the street where Dad was waiting in his car.
“Ruby,” Dad said when I got in, “none of this was ever meant to hurt you. None of it.” I looked at him and wiped my tears away with my hands.
“But it does hurt me, Dad,” I told him. “It hurts me more than anything.”
After we got back, Mum and Dad stood for a long time in the hallway talking in low voices. Before tonight I’d have hoped they were trying to work things out for my sake. But now I realised that that really wasn’t going to happen. However they worked things out, it wouldn’t involve us getting back to the way we were. Dad hadn’t really wanted to talk about his so-called “friend”, but somehow I knew from the moment he mentioned her, nothing would be the same again.
When Dad had gone, Mum brought me cheese toasties and a mug of hot chocolate with cream from a can piped on top.
“He is trying,” she said as she sat down next to me on the sofa, tucking her legs up underneath her. I looked at her sideways. I wasn’t sure if I should tell her about what
Dad had told me or not. In the end I decided that she would want to know, that she’d hate me to keep something from her.
“Mum…did he tell you about his…friend?” I said uncertainly. I didn’t want to upset her. Mum stretched her mouth into a thin unhappy smile.
“I know who she is, yes,” she said. She put an arm around me and sat close to me as I ate my toast. “Look, Ruby, it hurts; it hurts a lot to think about your dad being with someone else. I suppose that’s why I’ve been crying so much. But it’s not because I want your dad back, it’s because I’m sad when I think about how happy we were when we started out. I’m sorry we couldn’t keep it that way. But…your dad and I don’t make each other happy any more. I’m not saying we don’t still love each other in a way. Just not in the way we used to. He thinks he might find that kind of love with another person. That’s hard to understand, I know, especially when you’ve been so used to things being one way for such a long time. But I
do
understand it. I’m not the victim in this, Ruby, so don’t make your dad into the bad guy just because you need someone to blame. He loves you very, very much. You’re everything to him.”
I slurped my hot chocolate.
“He won’t love me when he’s got loads of new kids,” I said. “He’ll probably just forget about me then.” Mum shook her head and kissed the top of mine.
“He won’t, Ruby, he won’t, even if one day he does have another family. He won’t forget about you.” I rested my head on her shoulder.
“How do you know?” I asked her.
“Because I still know your dad better than anyone. I know that you mean the world to him. It’s breaking his heart to see you like this, Ruby.” I shut my eyes and suddenly I felt terribly, terribly tired.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t you be sorry, darling,” Mum said softly. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”
I watched Brett’s profile, her face tipped back under the glare of the huge make-up light that was angled directly above her. Her personal make-up artist, Claire, was applying her foundation. It took a long time. Over their professional relationship, Brett had once told me, she and Claire had developed a lengthy routine that minimised shadows, reduced lines and made her look ten years younger than the thirty-nine she actually was. Mind you, Brett told me that about two years ago and she’s still thirty-nine according to the
Sunday Express
magazine, so I’m not exactly sure how she works it out. Maybe it’s like dog years. Maybe there are five human years to every Brett year. It was probably the journalist’s fault. They are always printing lies about Brett.
Claire looked annoyed. Claire always looks annoyed and I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate what Brett has done for her enough. I often heard her swearing loudly in complaint about something Brett has done or said, as if
it wasn’t Brett that paid her wages. And once I caught her doing an impression of Brett which made her look like a wicked old witch! This is unfair because, after all, without Brett, Claire wouldn’t have a job. In fact, Brett could make it so that Claire never worked in this industry again if she wanted to, so really Claire is very lucky that Brett is so kind to her.
You see, a lot of people don’t see the real Brett. The touchy, hard, nasty Brett isn’t her at all. Deep down she’s very kind and vulnerable. I saw her say that on
Parkinson
once. And when she’s being Angel’s mum, you just know it’s true. Sometimes I’ve even wished Brett
was
my mum.
“Oh, hurry up, Claire!” Brett demanded. “I feel like I’ve been here for hours!” Claire rolled her eyes and winked at me.
“You have been here for hours,” she said. “It takes hours to get you looking exactly the way you want to, Brett. It’d be quicker to have a face lift. Another one.”
I was surprised that Claire hadn’t read Brett’s autobiography where she says once and for all that she’s never had any plastic surgery. I was also surprised that Brett didn’t sack her on the spot, right then and there. Instead she just looked sideways at me and pursed her lips.
“You don’t know how lucky you are,” she said as if she might be quite angry with me. She had every right to
be, as ever since I found out I was still on the show I hadn’t had a chance to thank her for her help. Which was why I’d hung on after my own make-up had been done, waiting for the right moment to talk to her.
“I know,” I said, and I glanced at my reflection in the mirror opposite me. “Mind you, it doesn’t take long to get some spots glued on and a bit of grease sprayed in your hair.” I sighed and picked up one of my newly lank strands of hair. Liz said it was so that when I shot my transformation scenes next week, the contrast between the new Angel and the old Angel would be even more dramatic. Which was fair enough, I supposed, it was just that I’d got used to being told I wasn’t
beautiful
enough. It was a bit of a shock to be told I wasn’t
ugly
enough and, what’s more, to have to go around like this in front of Justin, who never had to look ugly, who, even with all the special ugly make-up in the world, could never look ugly because his inner beauty just shines through, and…Anyway, I made myself concentrate on what I wanted to say and not on Justin’s inner beauty. I watched as Claire began to stick Brett’s false eyelashes on one by one with tweezers and some glue.
“Brett, I meant to say…I know it was all down to you that Liz let me stay on the show and—”
“Ouch!” Brett shot up in her chair as Claire, who had
suddenly started choking, accidentally poked her in the eye with her tweezers.
“Sorry, Brett,” Claire said between coughs. “Must be my asthma.” She took a deep breath and sort of shook herself. “Just lie back and relax.” Brett scowled at her but still didn’t fire her.
“Anyway,” I continued, “I wanted to say thank you. Thank you so much because, well, things have been really difficult recently…at home. And the last thing I needed was to be thrown off the show too. This is all that’s keeping me going.”
“I know, darling, I know,” Brett said. “Which is exactly why I fixed for—Ow!” Brett covered one eye with her hand and the other one glowered at Claire. “I swear, Claire, you are this far from getting the sack.” Claire just shrugged.
“I’m always ‘this far’ from getting the sack,” she said. “But you and I both know that I’m the last person in the industry who’ll put up with you and that’s only because you pay three times as much as anyone else will.”
I almost said something to Claire then. I couldn’t believe that Brett was letting her get away with being so rude, but the thing about Brett is she’s too kind. She lets people take advantage of her. I read that in her autobiography too. She’s really too nice for her own
good, which is why she’s been married so many times. She just can’t say no.
“Um, Brett?” I asked her. “What did you mean that you already know?”
“I knew you were worrying about leaving the show, darling,” Brett said.
“You didn’t know that Mum and Dad have split up then? Because I didn’t tell anyone except my friend Nydia.” Brett’s face remained expressionless as Claire plucked a stray hair from her eyebrows.
“Your mum and dad have split up?” Claire asked me. She put down her tweezers and, crossing to my chair, gave me a big impulsive hug. “Oh, Ruby, you poor thing,” she said releasing me. “My mum and dad split up when I was about your age. I really thought it was the end of the world. It was horrible, but I got through it in the end. I think the important thing to remember is—”
“Oh, shut up, Claire. Ruby is talking to me not you,” Brett said shortly, and Claire pressed her lips together as if she were trying to stop something really bad from getting out of her mouth. “Yes, darling,” Brett said to me sweetly. “Of course I did – well, I mean I knew that something was wrong even if I didn’t know exactly what. How many times have I said it, Ruby? You’re like a daughter to me, after all.” Brett brushed Claire away and
beckoned for me to go to her side. She slid her thin arm around my waist and squeezed me tightly. “But I wish you
had
told me, darling, and Liz too, because I’m worried for you. With all this going on at home will you be able to concentrate on your work? Should you even be trying to?” Brett squeezed me again and I felt some of my bones click. She lowered her voice the way Angel’s mum does when she’s giving Angel some really good advice. “Maybe a break from work is what you need after all. If you like I could talk to Liz again…” Her smile was kind but I shook my head quickly.
“No! No, I mean, thanks but no,” I said, finding myself wishing she’d stop squeezing me. “I need work. I need something else to think about. But thank you, Brett, I really mean it.” Brett let go of me at last and I took a deep breath in.
“Brett!” one of the runners called through the door. “On set in two minutes!” he yelled.
“OK, OK!” Brett sort of growled back. “These little people,” she said. “They have no respect for talent. Claire, sort out my lips, pronto!”
I looked at my watch as I left make-up and decided I would try and fit in a cup of tea before I was needed on the set, but just as I was leaving Liz grabbed me.
“Ah, Ruby, good. Glad I’ve found you.” She beamed at
me. “I was wondering if you’d do a last-minute run through with Danny. I think he’s feeling rather nervous, it being his first day of filming. I thought a familiar face might calm him down and help him get into the swing of things a bit. We’ve got two scenes with Brett before we need you so you’ll have plenty of time! Do you mind?” I thought about being shut away with miserable Danny who hates me so much he can barely talk to me and sighed on the inside. I did mind, but I’d get over it.
“Not at all,” I said, and I trotted off obediently behind her. Liz took me to one of the small rehearsal rooms where Danny was sitting on a table, waiting, and chewing his thumb.
“OK, I’ll leave you to it and give you a shout when you’re on,” she said with a smile, shutting the door behind her. I went and opened the window looking out on to the lot below where someone was choreographing the extras into a street scene. You wouldn’t think it took so much practising, would you? Walking about, that is.
“Are you OK?” Danny said, sounding strangely nice and concerned. “You look terrible!” My heart sank.
“It’s make-up,” I told him, with an embarrassed smile. “At least, mostly.”
Danny on the other hand
didn’t
look terrible. The make-up department had sort of spiked up his black hair
and given him their special boys’ make-up which made him look like he didn’t have any make-up on at all and which really made his blue eyes stand out. I wondered if he had mascara on, but thought it probably wasn’t a good idea to ask him. He wasn’t the sort of boy to share information like that – or any information at all, in fact.
“So,” I decided I’d better start things off, “Liz says you’re feeling a bit nervous. Don’t worry, I was really nervous to begin with,” I told him sympathetically before realising that that wasn’t strictly true. “Actually, I wasn’t – not to begin with – because I was only little and I didn’t really get it. When I was about eleven, then I started to get nervous, but I’m back to being fine with it now.” Then I remembered my forthcoming kiss scene. “Well, mostly. I do sometimes get a bit nervous still, though. Terrified sometimes!” I laughed but Danny didn’t even smile.
“I’m not nervous,” he said, shortly. “It’s, well…It’s just not how I expected it to be. They film all the scenes out of sync and the scripts come at you like they’re rolling off a production line. You never get chance to really get into a scene, to really get into your character. I mean, what does my character really
think
and
feel
? What’s my motivation?” He looked at me with those intense blue eyes and I felt a bit like I imagine a rabbit does when it’s caught in the glare of car headlights. Like
I knew I was going to get run over, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to get out of the way.
“Um,” I said. “Well, I know what you mean, but that’s just how it is in TV…” I sort of trailed off. After all, I had grown up on the show, it was the only job I’d done outside school. I didn’t even know there
was
another way to work. It had never occurred to me that the shooting schedule was interfering with my motivation. Angel was like a second skin. I just slipped her on when I needed to, and I knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling and how she’d react to a scene, because I knew her inside out. We were like two sides of the same coin. Maybe Danny just had to get to know his character a bit better.
“After a while,” I said, “it gets easier. It’s just like learning to ride a bicycle, really!” Danny glared at me and I got the feeling that if I had been a rabbit I’d be a squashed-flat one by now.
“Acting is a craft, Ruby,” he said. “It’s nothing like ‘riding a bicycle’. I thought
you
of all people would understand that!”
I was shocked. “You did?” I asked him. I would never have guessed that Danny had ever thought anything about me at all.
“Yes, I did. I thought you weren’t like the other girls, more worried about being famous and what they look like than about doing good work and really getting into a character. I must have been wrong.” I scowled at him.
“So if all this,” I gestured around me, “is SO terrible, then why are you doing it? Why are you lowering yourself to my level? Why did you audition at all?”
For some reason Danny suddenly blushed and a deep red tide spread across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks.
“Um, well, I…” He looked at his feet. “Because I know that if I get TV work it will open up doors for me,” he said quickly. “Because I have to, for my career.”
“Well,” I said haughtily, “I’m sorry you have to put yourself through the trauma of working with lowlifes like me, but, if you can manage it, we might as well rehearse this scene now we’re here. It might help you find your ‘motivation’.”
And we read through the scene, which was about Angel making Marcus a cup of tea, as if we were arch enemies plotting each other’s violent demise.