Dream On (20 page)

"Oh dear," said Ariel, "I am sorry."

"And then," she continued, "then I looked at that
little bitch Rachel - a
woman,
she should have been supportive! - and
she was actually
laughing
! I've never been so insulted in my life!" She did up the straps on her bag, with great ferocity of movement. "Then they
said they'd heard enough and that I wasn't really what they were looking for, so
I challenged them! Oh yes, sir, I challenged them! I most certainly
did!"

Ariel clutched Melodie's wrist, this time. "What did you
say?"

Glynis turned to look at them, then threw her head
back and laughed. "Ha! I
tasked
them to take off their blinkers, that
they might be able to employ their tiny minds to acknowledge true individuality,
the liberation of the goddess within the woman, when it stared them in the
face. I walked up to that Glenn fellow and
drummed
my bodhrán in his
face, and I
sang
to him,
"wake up, wake up, little man, get off your
self imposed pedestal and see the beauty in front of your ignorant, closed eyes!
" She closed her eyes, trance-like.
 "
I will cherish that moment forever! It was so
empowering!"

Ariel gulped. "What happened then?"

Glynis shrugged her arms into her turquoise mohair
jacket. "Oh, they got two apes to show me the way out," she said, and stood
up. "This isn't the place for me. I'm just not lowest common denominator
material! I can't expect people with minds wrapped in cotton wool to understand
a true artiste." She fixed Ariel and Melodie with a steely gaze. "I won't say
good luck, because you probably won't need it." She hoisted her khaki knapsack
over her shoulder, threw back her head in a theatrical fashion and laughed
again. "Yes, you two are probably exactly the sort of females they're looking
for - colourless little girls - I won't call you women - with soppy little
songs, who use their tits and
cunts
to get what they want. Just
like every silly little chickadee has to do in this male ruled world we live in. God help us all!"

With that, she pranced out of the room and away
into darkening afternoon.

"I don't believe it!" said Melodie. "She's like one of
those loony tunes you see on those 'Best and Worst of American Idol' programmes. I'd have given anything to have been in the room!"

"Ah, don't worry," said Ariel, wiping her eyes, "I'm sure one of the runners will sneak it out, and it'll be on YouTube by next
week." It was then that she noticed the beater with which Glynis had drummed
her bodhrán, lying forlornly on her abandoned seat. "Look," she said, "I think
I'll keep this as a souvenir."

"You know what?" said Melodie, "I reckon she's a lesbian. There's something about the way she says 'cunt' with such great relish, isn't
there?"

"Maybe," said Ariel, and laughed. "Ah, well, don't feel
sorry for her. I'm sure it'll give her plenty of material for her next
Sassy Monologue!"

Melodie giggled. "Shall we go to the next Creative Workshop
evening and take the piss?"

Ariel laughed so loudly that people turned round to
look at them; for a moment, she felt she was back in the old days, when they
were tearing around London together. Back before Melodie decided to be
a
celebrity
.

Then she felt guilty for laughing; completely batso
Glynis Tooke might be, but she was only a person seeking recognition, like all
of them.

On the other hand, she'd called them both
'colourless little girls', the cheeky cow.

By half past six, and about fifteen cigarettes
later for Ariel, there were only about a hundred people left in the holding
room for over twenty-fives. They were tired yet fidgety; no-one was singing,
anymore.

The girl with the pink hair strode through the door
leading to the corridor where the auditions had taken place.

"Hey guys!" she called out, and smiled around the
room. "Well, I'm pleased to announce that I've got the results! I'll be
calling out thirty names from this list - they'll be the ones who will audition,
tomorrow, in front of Ed Campion, the producer of Raw Talent. With Ed will
be Glenn Hunter, who you've already seen, and Shelley Mayes, one of the
organisers of Serendipity, the festival where the lucky winner will appear in
the summer."

Ariel found herself clutching Melodie's hand.

"The thirty we choose will need to be back here at
nine tomorrow, as part of the final eighty; thirty will be chosen from the
under-twenty-fives, too, and twenty bands. Don't forget, the cameras will be
on you for real, tomorrow!" continued Pink Hair. "For those of you who don't
make it through - well, we hope you've enjoyed this experience, and will gain
something from it. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you, on
behalf of the producers, for taking part in the procedure, and we wish you all
luck in the future."

"Oh, get on with it!" whispered Ariel.

Pink Hair coughed. "Okay, here goes. I repeat, the
thirty names I will now read out, in no particular order, are the ones we want
to see back here tomorrow." She looked at her sheet of paper and began to read
the names out, so slowly, looking up as she said each one. "Pansy Fenwick
...
Steve Sandler ... Will Corrigan ... Ariel Swan ... "

Ariel looked at Melodie and burst into tears.

All around them people were whooping and crying and
hugging each other.

"Can we keep the noise down?" said Pink Hair,
smiling. "I know it's exciting, but we don't want anyone to miss their name
being called!"

Ariel looked at Melodie; her face was impassive,
her eyes not leaving Pink Hair. Ariel clutched her hand as the names were read
out.

Ten to go ... eight ...

Melodie was clutching her hand back, squeezing it
so hard it hurt, and Ariel saw that she had begun to cry, too.

Five to go ... just three left ...

"Danny Coldham ... Laila Grace ... and, last but not least,
Melodie Joy Valentine!"

They looked at each other, laughed, burst into
tears all over again, and hugged.

"I didn't realise it meant this much to me!" said
Ariel, wiping her eyes. "I've been telling myself, yeah, I'll give it a try,
it'll be a laugh - I've only just realised how gutted I would have been if I
hadn't got through."

"Oh, not me," said Melodie, looking around the
room; some were laughing and crying, like they were, while some were just
crying. "I knew
exactly
how much I wanted it!"

Ariel stood up. "Shall we go and see the boys?"

Melodie laughed. "Yeah - hey, I'd forgotten all about
them!"

Ariel smiled. "God, I hope it's good news. Shane and
Boz - they'll be okay if they haven't got in, but Dave - "

"Yeah, and Ritchie," Melodie said. "He'll be moaning about
it all the way home if they haven't, so I hope for all their sakes that they
have."

They headed for the door - and bumped straight into
the four members of Thor, who were grinning all over their faces.

"You too?" said Shane, grabbed both girls and
hugged them. "How much do we rock? Eh?"

His phone bleeped his pocket; he took it out, pressed a
couple of buttons, frowned, and put it back.

"Nothing important!" he said, cheerily. "Now
- let's
party!"

"Not too much," Ritchie said. "Tomorrow's the big one,
remember?"

"Yes, I don't want to have a hangover face," said
Melodie. "There's a good chance that anything we do tomorrow, not just the
auditions, will actually be televised."

"I've got to agree with Mel and Ritch," Ariel
said. "Come on, let's just go and eat somewhere, shall we? We can have
some beer and wine, but let's not go too mad, eh?"

"There's a good place a couple of stops on the tube from
here," said a voice behind them.

The tall, square jawed guy with the shaved head
that Ariel recognised as Will Corrigan, whose name had been called out just
before hers, stood there.

"Yeah?" she said, and smiled at him. "Where's that?"

He smiled back at her. "It's called The Lorelei. The
food's basic but pretty good - well, it's pretty basic all round, really, but
the best thing is that it's not licensed; you can take your own drink."

"Why aye, it sounds like the very thing, man!" said
Boz, and slapped him on the back. "Are you joining us?"

"Thanks, that'd be good; oh, and Laila, too?" He
gestured towards Laila Grace, who'd received her good news just before Melodie.

"The more the merrier!" said Ariel, and smiled at
both of them. When she looked round, though, Dave and Shane were both staring,
decidedly unsmilingly, at Will, and Melodie was positively
glaring
at
Laila, a rather fluffy looking blonde with a Marilyn Monroe figure.

"Off we go, then!" said Boz, cheerfully oblivious
of all the competitive undercurrents.

"I'm switching me phone off," said Shane, with a
frown, ten minutes later, as it bleeped to indicate a text message for the
third time since they'd begun the walk through the dark night towards the tube
station.

"Christmas Eve Kerry again?" said Dave, putting an
arm around Ariel.

"What? Oh - yeah. Yeah. It's getting a bit much." He glanced at Ariel.  "She texts me about ten times a day."

"Stop sleeping with her, then," said Ariel.

"Yeah, you're right," said Shane. He looked ahead
of him. "Hey, what's he playing at?"

Boz was walking in front of them with Melodie; he was
making her laugh, and every time he did so he slung a casual arm around her
shoulder.

Shane whistled. "Hey, Boz! What do you call a
drummer with no girlfriend? Eh? Homeless!"

"He's just talking to her," said Ariel. "You know, talking
to a woman, not just feeding her a line in the hope that she'll get her knickers
off."

"You don't know men," said Shane. "That's all we ever do,
if we're honest about it."

"Speak for yourself," said Dave. He turned to look
at Ariel. "I don't think much to that Will bloke. I reckon he's after
you."

"Do you?"

"You're right, he's a smarmy git, that one," said
Shane. "You can always tell that type, can't you? Probably hasn't decided
between you and Melodie yet. Or that blonde. Laila."

Ariel laughed, disentangled herself from Dave, and
skipped in front of them, her bright hair blowing in the night wind. "You
two! I thought you were Vikings, not petulant little adolescents, scared that
the other boys in the class might have bigger dicks than you! Listen to
yourselves!" She reached up and tweaked both of their noses, then laughed, and
danced off down to the front of the group to link arms with Laila.

"Do you reckon all women are secretly lesbians?" said
Shane, a tad eagerly.

"Dunno," said Dave. He just hated it whenever
anyone took Ariel's attention away from him, whoever they were. He'd seen the
way Ariel had looked at that Will character - and it scared the hell out of
him.

Janice Brown smiled as she pushed her trolley around
Morrisons that Tuesday morning, thanking the heavy snowfall of the night before
for the unexpectedly delightful evening she and Harley had spent with Max - and
Sam the border collie, and the stew with dumplings.

As the snow swirled down more and more thickly, Max had
drawn the heavy velvet curtains in his warm living room and suggested they stay
the night; he could put up the camp bed in the spare room for Harley, he said,
next to her single bed, so that he wouldn't feel scared if he woke up in the
night and couldn't remember where he was.

"Is that okay?" he asked, when he put the idea to
her. "I've got spare toothbrushes! Only I really don't fancy driving in
this; it's not that I don't trust myself, but the roads aren't very well lit out
here, and it might take forever if we get stuck."

"No, that's fine," she said, stretching. "God, no, the
last thing I'd expect you to do is set out on a night like this. Honestly,
it's so lovely and snuggly in here I could just stay here forever. Harley! How do you fancy a sleepover, eh?"

"Yes please!" said Harley. "Can I have Sam on the bed with
me?"

Max had laughed. "Well, I don't mind if your mother
doesn't. There's nothing Sam likes more than sleeping on people's beds!"

Once Harley was tucked up in bed Janice had
relaxed. She curled up on the big squashy sofa, revelling in the soft comfort
of the cushions, breathing in the pine smell of the logs burning in the grate,
and decided that, yes, she'd allow herself a few glasses of red wine as Tuesday
was her day off that week, and Max swore that it didn't bother him at all if
she was drinking when he wasn't.

They talked long into the night.

What was it about him that made her feel able to open
up in a way she so rarely did, even to Carolyn or her mother?

She told him all the stuff she never got to tell
him at work, where the conversation revolved around whether or not the bacon
had been delivered, and who had forgotten to put salt in the dishwasher. She
told him how she and Linda had coped with her grandmother's increasingly
debilitating illness, everything about Dave, Critical Mass, Thor - and Ariel. Max really
listened -
as did she when he told her how his drink problem had been one of the causes of
his divorce, how he'd lost his job as head chef in a Cambridge hotel, stopped
being in denial and sought help.

"Is this it, now, then?" she'd asked. "D'you think you'll
ever be able to drink again?"

"I think I might," he said. "Oh, I know so many
alcoholics think that; everyone says that you kid yourself, you know, that the
first drink is just the first step on that downward path back to the abyss, but
I don't know if I'm a text book case. I think I drank because I was unhappy. Lydia had two affairs, blaming me for never being at home; she didn't want children even
though I did, wouldn't even consider it. Work was totally stressing me out,
too, and I was always worrying about what Lydia was doing when I wasn't there. I'm happier, now. Calmer. I don't
need
an escape. I was never a
particularly obnoxious drunk, I don't think; I was just always pissed, which can
get pretty tedious for the people you live with. So, to answer your
question, I don't know. I'll have to give it some thought."