Rebecca is Always Right (23 page)

‘I know he’s been a bit ridiculous about all this,’ she said, ‘but he really loves being in that musical.’

When we heard the car pull up, we both looked at each other. Rachel crossed her fingers and so did I.

But as soon as the door opened, we knew things had gone well. Dad was singing ‘I’m Getting Married in the Morning’,
and he positively danced into the room.

‘They loved it!’ he said, beaming from ear to ear.

‘They really did,’ said Mum, beaming too. ‘In fact, Joe came up and said he understood exactly why Dad had been so keen to let loose his dancing skills.’

‘And Laura said it was a perfect way to get the audience in the mood for the show,’ said Dad. And he did a little tap dance.

I am very pleased for him. In fact, if it weren’t for the ongoing Jenny and Tom secret thing, I would be in a very, very good mood today. I have a weirdly good feeling about Saturday. I don’t know why. I just feel like something exciting is going to happen. Something with Sam. Maybe it’s because the last time we played a gig at the Knitting Factory, Paperboy kissed me at the end of it. Of course, the last time we played a gig at the Knitting Factory, I also fell backwards off a drum platform and looked completely ridiculous in front of several hundred people. But I’m sure that’s not going to happen again. I’m going to check the drum stool very carefully before I sit down, anyway.

And really, maybe it’s just that I think if anything is ever going to happen with Sam, surely it will happen at something like a gig, which is basically a party. It seems like the right sort
of place. I mean, surely it’s more likely to happen there than in the art studio or at the bus stop. Of course, I do know that maybe nothing will ever happen with Sam. And I’m pretty much prepared for that. But IF it does, I really do think it might happen on Saturday. I just have a feeling.

Today got off to an excellent start because the woman who runs that Li’l Tykes animal performers’ agency was on the radio this morning talking about the Dogtown ad – she was one of the animal trainers who worked on it.

‘We know they say when it comes to showbiz, you should never work with children or animals,’ said the presenter. ‘So how do you find working with your canine team?’

‘They’re an absolute dream,’ said the Li’l Tykes lady. ‘I’ve worked with human performers who were much more difficult!’

And I totally know she meant Vanessa, especially because the next thing she said was, ‘And the animals like working together too. One of my dogs, Handsome Dan, recently starred in the famous Bluebird Bakery advert, but I think he
found this shoot even easier. He had a great time with the other dogs.’

So it really was Handsome Dan in the Dogtown ad! I knew I recognised his adorable squashy features.

Anyway, I don’t know whether the radio interview had anything to do with it, but today was the first day in weeks that Vanessa didn’t go on about Kookie all the time. She wasn’t even wearing the Kookie badge which has adorned her school jumper ever since the ad came out. In fact, I’ve just remembered that when the campaign started, she said that they were going to make more Kookie ads in the future, but we haven’t heard anything about that recently so maybe this is the end of Kookie forever? What a blessed relief. Unfortunately, she had more news for us.

‘I’ve got an audition for a television series tomorrow,’ she declared. ‘It’s a really interesting part. Much more challenging than the Kookie ad. I think it’ll really stretch my skills as an actor.’

‘If I do get that ad, we can run through our scripts together,’ said Karen. ‘Help train each other. Bernard and I find that very useful. We can spur each other on.’

I thought Vanessa would be outraged at the idea that she might learn something from Karen, considering how she’s
been spouting her supposed wisdom at her for weeks, but to my amazement, she said, ‘Hmmm, yeah, I suppose we could.’

Maybe finding out that one ad doesn’t mean you’ll be a big star forever is actually making her more humble and maybe even human? Though I won’t hold my breath. She’ll probably be lording it over her so-called friends again next week.

Cass and I went to Alice’s after school for our last-minute practice. Our parents let us do this on the condition that after this weekend we will knuckle down and concentrate on our studies for a while.

‘You spend half the day in town on Saturdays just for your band practices, anyway,’ said Mum. ‘So that should be enough music and weekend socialising for you. It’s back to work on Monday, okay?’

I hope she will forget about this after a while. Seriously, the odd Sunday afternoon out isn’t going to make me fail my exams. But I won’t argue with her for the moment.

Anyway, the practice went very well (I dropped my drum sticks once, and Alice got a chorus and middle eight mixed up, but we agreed it was just pre-show jitters and that we’ll be okay tomorrow). When it was over and we were waiting for Cass’s mum to collect her and me and bring us back to
Dublin, we sat around for a while drinking Cokes and talking about stuff.

‘I think we should drink a toast to the Dogtown dogs,’ said Cass, raising her can of Coke. ‘They have taken the country’s attention away from Vanessa, and so they have performed a great service to humankind.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ I said, clinking my can against Cass’s. Alice leaned over and clinked her can too.

‘Though she might get that TV series,’ she said. ‘And then she’d be on telly for ages. And it’ll probably be even more high profile.’

‘Meh, even if she gets it, it won’t be on TV for months and months,’ said Cass. ‘So we’ll have a nice break from her nonsense until then.’

‘I think we should think about recording something soon,’ I said. ‘I mean, we learned a fair bit about the technical stuff at the summer camp. And we could get some studio time at the Knitting Factory.’

‘Don’t you think we should wait until after the exams?’ said Alice.

‘Oh, we can fit something in before then!’ said Cass. ‘What about the Christmas holidays? You’re not going to spend every second studying then, are you?’

‘I suppose not,’ said Alice.

‘There you go,’ said Cass. ‘We can record a mini-album then.’

And we probably will. It’s hard to believe Cass used to be so nervous about band stuff. She’s the most confident of us all these days.

Anyway, I am fairly confident about tomorrow. And very excited. I love playing live so much, even though I’ve only done it twice. And Kitty will be there to see how we’ve come on since she last saw us on stage. And so will Sam. And I really, really hope something will happen with him. Surely something will? I can’t feel so butterflies-in-my-tummy-ish for nothing.

I just went downstairs to find Jenny the Traitor lolling about in my sitting room with Rachel. I don’t know how she dares show her face in this house after what she’s been doing. And it turns out she is staying the night! She is truly shameless. I’ll try to avoid her as much as possible. It shouldn’t be too hard as I want to practise my drums a bit more in preparation for tomorrow. I’ve just spent twenty minutes playing along on my
snare to our recording of ‘The Real Me’. I think I’ve actually got better at drumming since we recorded it – when I listen to it I keep thinking of things I’d do slightly differently now. So I’ll just think about drumming and tomorrow’s gig and not about the evil traitor in my house.

It’s only eleven o’clock, so I don’t have to leave the house for ages, but I can’t bear to go downstairs because Jenny is still here. My parents have gone to the garden centre yet again to buy some new winter shrubs, whatever they are, and Rachel and Jenny are in the kitchen drinking mugs of Rachel’s special hot chocolate, which she only makes for special occasions and which Jenny definitely does not deserve. Just the thought of her sitting there drinking that delicious treat is sending me into a rage again. How can I just sit here when I know what she’s done?

Oh, screw this, I can’t. I can’t let her fool Rachel a second longer. It’s gone on for too long. I’m going to do what I should have done weeks ago. I’m going to go down and confront her. It has to be done.

Right. Here I go.

Oh God. I have made a big mistake. A really, really stupid mistake. I feel ridiculously embarrassed. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve got to go and perform on a stage in a few hours, I would never leave the house again. I can barely bring myself to write it down, but I suppose I have to for the sake of posterity. So here’s what happened.

When I went down to the kitchen, I almost changed my mind about confronting Jenny. But then I came in and I heard her say, ‘Just look how far you’ve come in the last few weeks! I’m kind of in awe.’ And the idea of her fawning over Rachel when really she was stabbing her in the back made me so mad I just said, ‘In awe? Oh, is that what you call it?’ in a really snarky voice.

Rachel and Jenny both stared at me.

‘Sorry?’ said Jenny.

‘You heard what I said,’ I said.

‘Well, yeah,’ said Jenny. ‘But I don’t know what you meant. Seriously, Bex, you’ve been really weird and off with me lately. Is there anything wrong?’

I snorted in a rather undignified way.

‘As if you don’t know!’ I said.

‘I don’t!’ said Jenny. ‘And I’m starting to get tired of it!’

‘Well, good,’ I said rudely.

‘What on earth are you talking about, Bex?’ said Rachel. ‘And why the hell are you being so obnoxious?’

I swallowed. I knew what I was going to say would break Rachel’s heart, and I didn’t want to do it, but I knew it had to be done.

‘It’s Jenny,’ I said. ‘She’s having an affair with Tom.’

I expected Jenny to go white with shock and deny it all, and I assumed Rachel would start wailing or burst into tears or even hit Jenny. But none of these things happened.

In fact, what happened first was that Jenny burst out laughing. And not fake ‘Ha-ha-ha’ laughing, proper, genuine, wheezy laughing.

‘Oh my GOD,’ she said. ‘Where did that come from?’

And Rachel didn’t look upset. She just looked amused and baffled.

‘Bex, Jenny is not having an affair with Tom,’ she said.

‘But I saw them!’ I said. ‘A few weeks ago! Sitting in the window of a café on Wicklow Street!’