I Think I'll Just Curl Up and Die (16 page)

‘Mmmm,' murmured Chelsea. ‘Of course,' she added wickedly, ‘if your mum hadn't fallen for Melvyn, you would still be living here.'

Laura grinned at her. ‘Yes, well, he's not so bad, really – I'm managing to lick him into shape.'

‘Do you think,' said Chelsea, ‘that Jemma will be OK as Nancy? I mean, she's lovely and everything, but she's not exactly your forceful type, is she?'

‘No,' agreed Laura, ‘but she's got a terrific voice. I never knew she could sing like that.'

‘Me neither,' agreed Chelsea. ‘But I still don't think she'll be raunchy enough for Nancy. Still,' she added to
herself, ‘I don't have to worry about Rob with Jemma playing opposite him. She's just not his type at all.'

Jemma was too busy for the next ten days practising the role of Nancy and worrying that she would forget her lines or that her voice would be too soft, to worry too much about dieting or to give a thought to the coming party. So when Rupert phoned her the Thursday before and asked her to arrive between seven and seven-thirty, she flew into a panic.

‘My dress – what if it doesn't fit now you are making me eat fattening stuff again?' she said to her mother.

‘Jemma, it will fit – and I am not making you eat fattening stuff – just seeing that you follow Gran's list. After all, you can hardly call prawn salads and breast of chicken and pork escalopes fattening, can you?'

‘But my hair – what'll I do with my hair?' she said, tugging at her mousy brown tendrils in disgust.

‘Well, petal, I could do it in a nice little plait or perhaps bunches,' Mrs Farrant began.

Her gran interrupted. ‘No, I know. Why don't you go to the hairdressers on the morning of the party and get
them to do it? After all, you want to look grown up for an eighteenth birthday do, don't you?'

Claire took a deep breath. ‘Good idea, Mother,' she said.

‘Try that place, Fringe Affairs, where Laura went. She looks lovely,' she added, turning to Jemma. ‘I'll pay.'

Mrs Farrant dropped Jemma at the door of Boughton Hall.

‘Have a lovely evening, darling,' she said. ‘And don't forget to say …'

‘Mum!'

‘Sorry, love. I'll pick you up at midnight.'

‘You're sure I look all right?' queried Jemma, touching her new crinkle perm.

‘You look stunning,' said her mum. And meant it.

Rupert opened the door.

‘Hi, there,' he said. ‘Gosh, you look really great. Love your hair.' He put an arm round her shoulder and led her through to the drawing room. Jemma's heart was thumping so loudly that she was sure everyone assembled in the room could hear.

‘Ma, this is Jemma Farrant,' he said. An enormous bust arrived, shortly followed by the rest of Mrs Kentigan-Fry, who was built like a galleon in full sail.

‘Lovely to meet you,' murmured Mrs Kentigan-Fry. ‘Oh Selena, my dearest, and dear Benjamin . . .' and she bowled off across the room.

‘I thought you said it was just a family supper party,' gulped Jemma, gazing round the room at the groups of elegantly dressed guests.

‘Oh, this is nothing,' said Rupert airily. ‘Oh look, there's my sister with her boyfriend, Felix. Come and meet them.'

From then on, he tugged Jemma hither and thither introducing her every time as ‘my girlfriend, Jemma'. She was thinking that it was quite nice to be someone's girlfriend when she heard a whisper behind her.

‘She appears to have forgotten to put her dress on.' Giggles followed. ‘Why has she come in her petticoat?'

‘Oh don't be horrid, Felix, it's one of those slip dresses – Essex girls love them! Ha! Ha!' The laugh that followed sounded like a horse with laryngitis.

‘Isn't she the comprehensive kid Rupert was going on about? She's frightfully Top Shop, isn't she?'

‘Ya, well my brother is so damned wet, he wouldn't manage to hook any kind of classy girl.'

Jemma wanted to die. She'd felt so good in her new dress till then. How was she to know that everyone else would be dressed up to the nines in designer frocks?

Supper was even worse. There were so many different knives and forks. Jemma just watched Rupert and prayed she did the right thing. She felt people's eyes on her everytime a new course was served. The guy on her left kept saying things like, ‘Were you at Klosters last Christmas?' and laughing like a drain when she said ‘Where's that?' and the girl opposite, who was called Lucinda Pinkerton-
Danesby or something weird said, ‘Not Klosters for her, Clacton more like.'

She was beginning to wish she hadn't come when Rupert's father, who was sitting at the top of the table said, ‘So what do you do in your spare time, Jemma?'

‘Oh, er, well at the moment I am busy rehearsing – our school is putting on
Oliver!
and I've got to be Nancy because the girl who was doing it broke her leg.'

‘Splendid, splendid,' said Sir William. ‘Well, good for you. Putting your free time to good use.' He shot a critical glance at his daughter who was giggling with Felix. ‘Always enjoyed am dram myself, you know.'

‘Gosh, that's terrific – I'll come and watch you,' said Rupert.

His mother looked at him as though he had suggested personally supervising the digging of a sewer.

‘Oh wow, how exciting!' said his sister, giving a mock yawn behind her immaculately manicured hand.

After supper, Rupert led her through the house to the conservatory.

‘We can dance here,' he said. ‘Away from everyone else.'

And he clasped her to him, almost suffocating her, and began to bounce unrhythmically from side to side. He was hot and sweaty but at least they were out of sight of all his sister's pompous friends.

‘I'm sorry if I let you down,' muttered Jemma apologetically. ‘I mean, not wearing the right sort of dress and things.'

‘Oh, golly no. I like your dress – especially this bit,' and he clamped a clammy hand on her left boob.

‘Stop it!' said Jemma, whose nerves were already on edge. ‘How dare you?' She slapped him round the face.

Rupert went scarlet and stared at her. ‘I say,' he began.

‘No,
I say'
shouted Jemma, real anger suddenly taking hold of her. ‘Just because I'm not one of your public school friends and don't go around in designer label dresses and own half of Leicestershire, doesn't mean I don't have feelings! I felt really awful in there. And you didn't do anything to stand up for me. I've only just realized what you were up to – you brought me here so your friends could make fun of me.'

Rupert bit his lip. ‘I say – I'm sorry. Don't go,' he said as Jemma turned to go hack into the house.

‘I've never had a girlfriend before, you see,' he admitted. ‘I mean, all the chaps at school, they talk about their bits of … their girlfriends, and I have to pretend I know all about it. I thought girls liked – well, you know, that sort of thing.'

Jemma felt quite sorry for him.

‘Well, we don't,' she said. ‘And you might have stopped your sister from being so bitchy to me.'

‘Sorry!' said Rupert again. ‘She's always so rotten to me I suppose I never notice her any more.' He looked crestfallen. ‘I suppose you won't let me kiss you now,' he said mournfully. ‘I had hoped you could be my first kiss.'

‘Well,' said Jemma. She rather thought it was time she got kissed – she had heard enough over the past few
months of Bilu's lips and Chelsea's commentary on the number of seconds her mouth was clamped to Rob's. ‘All right,' she said.

‘Oh gosh, yes, well,' stammered Rupert, and pulled her to him.

Jemma closed her eyes and waited. Well, she thought, as a wet smack landed somewhere between her chin and her nostrils. If that's kissing, I honestly don't know what everyone is on about.

‘Good evening, was it, darling?' asked Gran the next morning.

‘It was OK,' said Jemma.

Her gran regarded her quizzically. ‘But?'

‘Nothing,' said Jemma.

GOOD LUCK!
To my darling Jemma,
The most wonderful girl
in the world.
I LL be rooting for you!
Loads of Love
Rupert
.

Despite feeling sick with fear and shaking like a leaf, Jemma grinned. The card was attached to the biggest bunch of roses she had ever seen. No one had sent her flowers before, let alone roses. She just wished she felt more – well, romantic about him.

Then she remembered that in a little under fifteen minutes she would be on stage as Nancy and all thoughts of love and passion went out of her mind.

‘I can't do it. I can't. I am going to be sick,' wailed Jemma. She was breathing in while Miss McConnell laced her into her scarlet and black dress.

‘Of course you can, Jemma,' she said, sounding considerably more confident than she felt. ‘You've got a great voice.' At least that bit's true, she thought. She just needs to loosen up a bit.

‘Just
be
Nancy, think yourself into the part and forget
everything else. And remember, don't be so gentle in the fight scene with Bill Sykes. He's compromising you, making you his plaything – fight back. Live it,' Miss McConnell suggested.

‘Yes,' said Jemma meekly.

It won't work, thought Miss McConnell. Why did Mandy have to break her leg?

‘You look great in this dress,' Miss McConnell said truthfully. ‘You need a good bust for a dress like this.'

Maybe I'm not so hideous after all, thought Jemma and held her head a bit higher.

Just then, Laura and Chelsea came bursting into the dressing room bearing a huge envelope.

‘This is for you,' they said.

It was another card with a picture of a teddy bear and the words ‘You can do it!' on the front.

‘Thanks a lot – but I can't. I know I can't,' wailed Jemma.

Sumitha was on stage, singing
Consider Yourself
with James Gill who was playing Oliver. Her heart wasn't really in it. She'd imagined that come the big night, Bilu would be out front watching her and she'd be able to sing some of the songs straight to him. It had been a very romantic image. Now she had no one. What's more, Mandy Fincham had told practically the entire school about the disaster at the party and wherever she went, people said things like, ‘Fancy a drink, Sumitha?' or ‘Heard of any good hangover cures?' She felt she couldn't look anyone in
the eye. Everything had gone horribly wrong. No one would want her now. Ever.

Jon was in the third row, watching Sumitha's every move. She was gorgeous. He sighed. There had to be a way of getting to see her again. Bilu or no Bilu.

‘I'd do anything for you, dear, anything,'
sang Jemma, her voice wavering slightly on account of the ten thousand butterflies lurching from her stomach to her throat. I think I am going to die, she thought.

She's going to blow it, thought Miss McConnell.

Don't let me down, Jemma, prayed Mr Horage silently. I know you've got it in you – somewhere.

‘For you mean everything to me,'
she sang a bit more.

It was getting easier.

That's better, thought Miss McConnell.

She's doing it, thought Laura.

Then the dance routine began. It was really quite fun.

And another verse.

And she'd done it. The first song was over.

The applause was enormous.

‘She's incredible,' said Mr Farrant.

‘I never knew she could sing like that,' said Mrs Farrant, dabbing away a tear.

‘There's a lot about our Jemma that you didn't know,' said her gran.

‘She's lovely,' said Rupert, his eyes fixed on Jemma's cleavage.

In the wings, Chelsea and Laura were jumping up and down in excitement.

‘She's great,' said Laura.

‘And her best solo is still to come,' said Chelsea.

In the interval, as Chelsea was changing into her flower seller's costume, Laura came bursting into the library, which was doubling as the girls' changing room.

‘Guess what!' she cried. ‘Your dad's out there!'

‘Well, so I should hope,' said Chelsea. ‘I had to suffer watching him marinating mushrooms in front of the entire universe, so he can do his bit.'

‘No, I don't mean that!' said Laura. ‘He's dressed up as a street seller. He's ringing this bell and selling soup!'

‘Oh my sainted aunt!' Chelsea ran through to the stage and peeped through the curtains. There was her father, hat askew, ladling out soup into paper cups with a queue stretching to the back of the hall.

‘Chelsea Gee!' shouted Mr Horage, who was feeling a little frazzled what with the pressures of the evening. ‘You know the rules: no opening of curtains during the interval. Now get ready for the
Fine Life
number.'

But Chelsea had seen enough. Never mind ‘It's a fine life!' As far as she was concerned, hers was a total mess.

Jemma was even better in the second half and was really beginning to enjoy herself.
‘If you don't mind
having to do without things, it's a fine life!'
she bellowed, picking up her skirts and twirling her ankles. She danced over to Rob, sitting moodily as Bill Sykes at the trestle table and tickled him under the chin. She winked flirtatiously with the boys in the chorus. This acting was great – you could be anyone you wanted to be, she thought.

When they got to the bit in the show where Nancy had to fight with Bill Sykes just before he killed her, she remembered Miss McConnell's advice and she recalled the instance with Rupert in the conservatory. Poor Rob nearly forgot his lines as Jemma dealt him a sharp slap on the cheekbone.

She got a standing applause at the end.

‘You were wonderful, darling!' Jemma's gran gave her a bear-like hug. ‘I knew you could do it!'