Dream On (24 page)

"Make the most of it, mate," said Jim the
bricklayer, stretching his arm wide as they looked out across the frost bitten,
muddy landscape. "All this you survey could be a thing of the past if you
become a reality TV star."

"It's not like that," said Dave, "it's a credible
talent show." God, he was fed up with trying to explain that to people.

"You'll be in those magazines the Mrs reads, soon,"
said Phil Wiseman, "knocking off one of those Girls Aloud, or something!"

Dave said nothing. The only person he wanted to be
knocking off was Ariel, and something was changing, he could feel it in the
wind. Since Raw Talent she was still there, physically; she still said all the
right things - but only if he actually asked her, he'd noticed. Then, he had the
distinct impression that she was saying them to keep him happy.

He knew the signs, because he'd done the same thing
to Janice.

"Where do you want me to take you on Friday,
birthday girl?" asked Max, as he loaded the dishwasher.

"Anywhere!" Janice said, carefully assembling three
Belly Buster breakfasts onto plates. "It doesn't have to be anywhere special!"

"Tell you what," said Lisa, who was standing at the
door, waiting to take the orders out to the waiting customers, "I'll get my
lazy lump of a brother to come and help out, and you can both take the whole
day off! What do you say to that?" She beamed at them both; both she and the
part-timer, Kim, were delighted that Janice and Max had got together; Max had
been gooey about her for ages, Lisa said; they'd both noticed. In fact, it had
been Max who had announced, straight away, that he and Janice were now an item,
just to save them speculating about it.

"Nice one," said Max, "and tell James that if he
pulls his finger out and stops being lazy, I might even offer him a job." He
looked at Janice. "Well, we're going to need a bit of time off, in late Spring,
aren't we?"

"We are?"

"Yes! Holidays, my love! Well, Harley wants to
go to Disneyland, I daresay, doesn't he?"

Janice whooped, and leapt into his arms.

"Put me down!" he said, and winked at Lisa. "You've no
idea what a curse it is, being so irresistible to women!"

They all beamed at each other, Max, Janice and
Lisa.

Outside, the sun poked its face through the clouds.

Friday night. January the twenty-fourth.

Five-thirty pm in The Romany.

Ritchie said he was going to need at least a couple
of pints down his neck before six o'clock, which was when they were officially
allowed to start panicking about not getting The Call.

"And I don't want to hear a word about it until
six, okay?" said Ritchie. "There's no point in going over and over what we
might or might not have done wrong last week, 'cause it's done, now."

"You heard the man," said Boz.

Dave, Ariel and Shane went outside to smoke, large Jack
Daniels in hand.

"I bet Ariel gets through and the rest of us
don't," said Dave.

"Stop it," said Ariel, rather more sharply than
she'd intended. "I feel sick enough as it is; that sort of pointless
speculation doesn't help."

"Sorry."

As they walked back into the pub, Shane's phone
rang.

"That's it!" shrieked Melodie, and clutched Boz's
arm.

"Don't be an airhead
all
your life," said
Ritchie. "It's only ten to six, and they'll be calling Dave, not Shane."

Shane went outside to take the call. When he came back he
went straight to the bar, and ordered another large Jack Daniels.

"What's going on with our man?" said Boz. "He's been
acting a bit weird for a week or so, now."

"Oh, he's getting a load of grief off some poor
girl who believes he's in love with her," said Ariel, "can't imagine
what
he's
done to make her think that, can you? Then there's the one he met at the
audition, the Bon Jovi girl." She turned to Dave. "What's her name, again?"

"The Bon Jovi Girl," said Dave.  "That's all Shane cares
about!"

Shane came back with a fresh round of drinks. His
usually buoyant other self was still nowhere to be seen.

"Kerry?" said Ariel.

"Yip," he said, and exhaled, loudly. His phone
rang again. This time he smiled; he got up and walked over to the fruit
machine, where he leant, hand in pocket and legs crossed, to take the call. He
was laughing, and obviously listening most intently to whatever the caller was
saying.

"I'd love to know what he's up to," said Dave. "He usually
tells me all the gory details about his escapades but he's keeping schtum this
time."

"I'll give you three guesses," said Ritchie, "it's
got two legs, frilly drawers, and
wants him, dead or alive
!" He sang
the last bit, and they all laughed; it relieved the tension, just a little bit.

Six-fifteen.

Dave's phone rang.

It was his Mum.

"Mum! Sorry, I can't talk, I've got to go. I'll
call you back. Please. No, we haven't heard yet. I've got to go. No, I'm
fine - yes, Mum, let me go. Yes, Harley's okay. Yes. Mum, please just get off
the line.
Now
!"

"I feel sick," said Melodie. She kissed Boz on the
cheek. "Sweetheart, this wine isn't hitting the spot. Will you get me a
large vodka and tonic?"

"Sure, pet," he said, smiling at her, running a hand
down the length of her hair, and standing up.

"Make sure the tonic's slimline!" she called, as he
made his way over to the bar.

Another fifteen minutes went past, another round of
drinks was bought, Ariel, Dave and Shane went out for more cigarettes.

Six thirty-five.

A few of their friends, knowing what was going on,
walked past and said things like "Good luck, guys" and "We're rooting for you!"

Ariel's phone bleeped.

"Yes!" said Melodie.

Ariel looked up at her. "It's a
text,
Mel."

"Well, read it! You never know!"

She opened it up, a tiny little part of her daring
to hope that it might be an alternative method of contact, as Melodie had
suggested.

It wasn't. The text was from Will Corrigan,
wanting to know if she'd heard yet.

"How come he's got your number?" asked Dave.

Ariel ignored him.

They fell silent, all of them.

"I can't stand this much longer," said Ritchie.

Six-forty.

Shane's phone rang again. He turned it off.

Dave's phone, sitting on the table, started to
vibrate.

He picked it up, heart thudding, then closed his
eyes.

"Fucking Vodafone," he said.

"Anyone fancy going out for another fag?" asked
Shane.

Melodie's phone rang.

She picked it up. "OMG! I don't recognise the
number!"

"Answer it!" said Dave and Shane, in unison.

She inhaled, deeply, and held the phone to her ear.

"Hello? Yes, this is Melodie Joy Valentine. What?
What?
Yes! What? Yes! Oh, my God! Thank
you! Oh my God!"

She stared around the table at her friends,
open-mouthed, and nodded her head.

"Yes. Sure. Wednesday. Yes, that's fine. Yes. Oh, yes, no, definitely. Thank you! Oh yes! Oh
thank you so, so much! Yes! I'll see you then. That's great. Ten o'clock. That's fine. Oh no. Oh yes! Thank you! Goodbye!"

She put her phone down on the table, stood up, put
her arms in the air, and shouted out, "They want ME-EEE! I'm going to be
faaaay-mous!"

Most of the people in the pub laughed and clapped
her, even those who didn't know what she was talking about, and those who did
bounded over to her and kissed her, asking her all about it, what the TV people
had said to her, when the show started.

"I've got to go down on Wednesday for a meeting
with the producers, meet the singing coaches, find out where I'm going to be
staying, discuss songs, everything!" she told them all, breathlessly. Every
other minute she'd clutch the arm of whichever one of her friends was sitting
next to her, and squeal "I can't believe it! I've got through!"

Six fifty-five.

"Our watches and phones might be fast," said
Ritchie.

"What, all of them?" said Ariel.

Five past seven.

"I shouldn't think they mean exactly seven
o'clock," said Dave. "I mean, they might have got chatting to some of them. It's a lot of people to have to ring, fifteen in one hour."

Twenty past seven. Melodie was at the bar, being bought
drinks by most of the men in the pub.

"Suppose that's me out of the picture, then," said
Boz, though he didn't look terribly upset about it.

Seven twenty-five. Seven-thirty.

"Let's stop kidding ourselves," said Ariel. "We didn't
make it. Let's just be happy for Melodie, shall we?"

"Bit of a joke, though, isn't it?" Ritchie said. "I
thought this bloody show was supposed to be about real musical ability - look at
us, we're five proper musicians, we write our own stuff, and who gets through? Miss Tits and Arse."

Dave looked at him. That was what he had been
thinking, too; they probably all had. Trust Ritchie to be the one to say it,
though.

"Her voice has got a lot better since she's been
taking singing lessons, to be fair," said Ariel.

"Yeah, but it's no better than yours. And some of
your songs are really good. So are Dave's, even if they are rip-offs."

"Oy - "

"Only jesting, mate. That Melodie, though, she can't
even read music. It ain't right."

"Aye, it's hard lines, but there's no use us
whingeing about it," said Boz, patting him on the shoulder. "So, looks like
it's back to the gigs, then."

"I suppose we could still put 'as seen on TV' on
the MySpace page," Ritchie said. "Fuck, I must be learning all this marketing
shit off our Pete without realising it."

Dave felt like crying. He kept thinking about Glenn Hunter
saying that his voice was made for rock.
"You're better than you realise,
mate."
He didn't want to mention it, though, because he knew
he'd never hear the last of it from Ritchie and Shane if he did, and he wasn't
in the mood for having the piss taken out of him.

Melodie was still at the bar, laughing and
shrieking, the rest of them forgotten. They sat there, the five of them, making
desultory conversation, staring at their drinks.

"Who's that?" said Ariel, suddenly.

Dave looked up and saw someone approaching their
table, staring around at them all, quite intently. He didn't recognise her at
first; he saw a pale faced girl with light brown hair scraped back into a pony
tail, chubby cheeks emphasised by enormous hoop earrings, dressed in a white
crop top, black track suit bottoms and a huge parka coat. Then he remembered. She was Christmas Eve Kerry. Shane's number one fan.

"Hi," said Shane, standing up to greet her. Dave
looked at him and frowned. He didn't look surprised to see her, but neither
did he look particularly pleased.

"Guys, this is Kerry," he said.

"Hi," they all chorused, and she nodded back.

"What do you want to drink?" Shane asked.

"Just a diet coke," she said. "I'm not stopping long. I just wanted to check that you're coming round later, seeing as you hadn't
given me a definite answer, and you've switched off your phone."

"Yeah, I said I would," said Shane. "Don't give me aggro,
babe."

"Why don't you stop out with us for a bit, Kerry,
pet?" said Boz. "We're all having a commiserating session, you might as well
join in with it and get thoroughly pissed - we're going to!"

Kerry gave him a half smile. "I'm not in a drinking mood
tonight, thanks."

She looked at Shane, who was just getting up to go
to the bar. "Actually, forget the drink; I won't stay, I parked outside a trade
entrance. But I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Sure thing," said Shane, and kissed her before she
left. Then he slumped back down on the seat. "More large Jacks all round,
then, is it?" He grinned, broadly, like he usually did, but Dave couldn't help
feeling his heart wasn't in it. "I'm in the chair. What the hell, eh?"

Ariel's phone started to ring; for a moment Dave's
heart leapt, but then he remembered, and told himself not to be so daft; it was
eight o'clock. An hour after the deadline.

Ariel picked up her phone and went outside, towards
the smoking shelter; she was gone for fifteen minutes or so.

"That Will again, was it?" said Dave, when she came
back.

"No," she said, "It was Emily, one of my friends in
London."

Dave felt sure she was lying.

The next day, when Ariel was at work at The Bandstand,
she asked Shane's Uncle Vic for the following Wednesday, Thursday and Friday
off.

"Yes, we can work around that," said Uncle Vic. "Trade's
so bloody quiet this time of year that I won't even bother to cover you. Doing anything nice?"

"Just going down to London for a few days to see
some old mates," she said.

"Yeah?" He smiled. "Well, if you're going for a job
interview and don't want to tell me about it, just do me a favour, will you? Give me a bit of notice so I can find someone to take your place."

Ariel smiled back. "Of course I will, Vic. If I ever
do such a thing."

When he was at work the following Wednesday, Dave couldn't
help thinking about Melodie, who was going down to Inspire TV that day, to meet
up with her fellow contestants again, and all the people who were going to make
the show a hit, they hoped.
It should have been me,
he kept thinking.
Us. Thor.
Us and Ariel.
If it was Thor and Ariel
who'd been chosen, they'd all be happy and excited about the future, and Ariel
wouldn't be drifting away from him, he was sure of it.

Meanwhile, he was standing in some mud outside a
half-built house, on a freezing, bleak, rural fenland morning. If he was in a
good mood he appreciated the beauty of nature, however bloody cold it was, but
this morning he found it hard to appreciate anything.