Star Struck (19 page)

‘I’m coming. Bloody hell,’ she shouted back to her sister before turning her attention back to her dad over whom she’d been fussing since he’d got up this morning. ‘So I’ve made you a jacket potato.’

‘You’ve pricked a spud with a fork and put it near the microwave, that’s hardly making me a jacket potato, is it?’ Mick grumped.

Jo breathed in and closed her eyes, mustering patience. ‘I’ve opened the bloody beans and put them in a pan
for
you, all you have to do is turn the hob on and microwave the spud. Do you want me to eat it for you as well?’

‘Just go. All this fussing doesn’t suit you, Joanna.’

‘Have you had your tablets today?’ she asked, thinking that when she and Catherine got back they needed to sit their father down and have a good talk about his illness and what they were going to do.

‘Why are you bothered?’ Mick asked, his eyes narrowing.

‘Why am I bothered? Good question,’ Jo snapped. She was trying to be nice to her dad but he didn’t help matters, being such a miserable old sod. ‘Go inside and eat your spud and we’ll be back in about six hours. Hopefully with a smiling Catherine.’

‘She won’t want to know us when she’s famous,’ Mick said morosely.

‘It’s a wonder she wants anything to do with you now.’ Jo muttered walking towards Claire’s car.

‘What?’ Mick shouted after her.

‘Nothing.’

Claire stuck her head out of the window again but before she had chance to say anything Jo shouted, ‘OK, I’m coming.’

‘All right, Jo?’ Paul said as Jo walked over to the car.

‘How’s tricks, Paul?’

‘Not bad. Off to the park with the terrorists,’ Paul said, nodding at the kids. Rosie and Jake jumped around, holding their dad’s hands.

‘You walking back home?’

‘The other car’s in the garage. Anyway I’m not risking the M60. It’s murder at the minute, lanes blocked, road
works,
you name it. You know, there was even a cow on it the other day.’

‘They’ve probably moved it now though, eh?’ Jo said.

The joke was lost on Paul. ‘I can’t take that risk,’ he answered.

Jo smiled tightly, ‘All right then, have a nice day.’

She kissed her niece and nephew and as she was about to jump in the front seat Maria ran towards her – as much as Maria ran anywhere, it was more of a fast totter – and jumped in the front seat. ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’ Jo shrieked.

‘Coming with you. Changed my flight. I’m not missing this again, am I?’

‘Get in the back. I was here first,’ Jo said.

‘I think you’ll find
I
was. By about eight years.’

‘Jesus. The age card. You play it when it suits you but when you’re out in town it’s “Tell everyone I’m twenty-two.”’ Maria refused to budge from the front seat. ‘Nobhead!’ Jo shouted, hammering on the window.

Claire jumped out and leaned across the roof. ‘Get in the bloody car or I’m leaving you here,’ she said, pulling rank.

‘Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant,’ Jo muttered, climbing into the back seat and taking her place, as always, at the bottom of the pecking order.

Chapter 7

ANDY KNEW THE
final twenty-four, which was why – since asking Catherine out for a drink – he had avoided talking to her. He knew that she was going home. She wasn’t going to tell the likes of Richard Forster about her father’s illness to have him splash it all over his TV show for the nation to see. He had also made a valiant attempt to get Richard to put her through and just hope that she would tell them her story when she got to the house of the judge who would be mentoring her group. But he knew that Richard wasn’t having any of it. He needed people who wanted to tell their story. Catherine wasn’t one of them. He had hoped that today might see a few change of hearts, as some of the people they hadn’t added to the list had put in spectacular performances. None more so than Catherine. But her first performance hadn’t been brilliant and as a result she had given the judges all the reason they needed to send her packing.

Andy was standing in the room where the hopefuls were seated waiting to be called through to see the judges. He felt his knees go from under him; someone had pushed their own knees into the back of his legs. Catherine giggled. ‘Hi. Avoiding me?’ she asked.

‘God, no! Hi. Avoiding you … what? No. Don’t be daft,’ Andy said with a big smile. He wasn’t avoiding her;
he
really liked her. He just didn’t like knowing that he knew her fate and she didn’t.

‘You’ll still come out for a drink even if I don’t get through, won’t you?’ Catherine asked shyly.

‘Of course I will,’ Andy said and was about to say, ‘Don’t be silly, of course you’ll get through.’ But he couldn’t bring himself to lie. It wouldn’t do either of them any good.

‘Good, because I’m sure I’m going home. I’ve had a right laugh, though,’ Catherine said genuinely.

Andy wanted to run in to Richard and strike out one of the names on his list and replace it with Catherine’s. ‘Listen, I’d better go in the other room, they’re calling people in.’

Andy went through and watched Star, Kim and Sierra walk in front of the judges. Andy felt desperately sorry for Catherine. She should be up there with Star and Kim.

‘Girls?’ Richard Forster said with his trademark minute-long pause. ‘You’re coming to London.’ They all jumped around, squealing. Richard Forster was to mentor the under-twenty-five girls and they were to stay at his Mayfair mansion. Richard looked down at his list.

‘Carly Leadbetter, Therese Hornby and Catherine Reilly, please.’ Andy looked up in shock. Julie was meant to be in this group, not Catherine. He waited, his heart thumping as Jesse brought the girls through from the other room.

‘I’m really sorry, but only six girls can come to London with me,’ Richard said. ‘And I’m afraid you’re going to have to go home.’ Catherine’s shoulders sank. Carly put her hands to her face in despair; Therese looked at Richard waiting to see if that was it, her chance at the big time scuppered. Andy couldn’t believe it. Maybe he had changed
his
mind and not put any of them through. But a sly smile broke across Richard Forster’s face. ‘Because you’re going to have to pack your cases to come to London!’ he said.

‘Yes!’ Andy said and punched the air. He quickly realised he was drawing stares, he was meant to be neutral, after all.

‘Oh my God!’ Carly shouted and hugged Therese.

Catherine stood looking confused, she didn’t seem to know whether that meant that she was through or not.

‘We’re through, we’re through!’ Therese grabbed Catherine’s hand in a bid to make her understand.

‘We’re through?’ Catherine said, shaking her head in disbelief. She looked out at the audience and caught Andy’s eye.
I’m through!
she mouthed excitedly.

I know
, Andy mouthed back. Thank God, he thought. But there was still a feeling of dread that he would have to deal with sooner or later. He knew that his enthusiasm to get Catherine through to the next round would come back to haunt him.

‘What is it with you and services, Claire?’ Jo asked, as they stood in line at the Marks and Spencer food outlet. It was the third service station they had stopped at on the way to collect Catherine. Having bought a coffee in the first and a sandwich in the second, Claire was now buying a bucket of mini flapjacks.

‘They used to be really bad when I was a kid – like a Russian work camp canteen – but now they’ve got M&S food in them, I just can’t resist.’

‘Right. You big weirdo.’

‘Check your phone.’

‘I keep checking it. Jesus. She’d ring if she knew anything, wouldn’t she?’

Claire had been badgering Jo all the way down to see if Catherine had called. She had forgotten her phone. Jo didn’t know how this was possible. Her own phone went everywhere with her. She’d never forget it, or forget to charge it. Claire, on the other hand, was always leaving it behind or letting the batteries run down. But then Jo had to let her off. She was in her thirties after all; she was getting on a bit.

Jo was convinced that Catherine hadn’t got through to the final twenty-four. She would surely know by now. They were meant to be told by three o’clock and their family members had been told to pick them up at five.

Maria joined them. She had been standing in front of the crisp display for the past five minutes and was clutching a packet of prawn cocktail crisps. ‘Can you get me these?’ she whispered, passing the crisps to Claire as if she was handling hardcore porn.

‘I didn’t think you ate “carbs”.’ Jo hated people who said ‘carbs’. They were always the sort of people who went to the gym at six in the morning and had Hollywood bikini waxes. Maria said ‘carbs’.

‘I don’t.’

‘So how do you manage a packet of crisps then?’

‘I lick them,’ Maria said, as if this was perfectly normal.

‘You just said that out loud, you do know that, don’t you?’ Jo couldn’t believe Maria.

‘Duh! Yeah!’

‘Just checking, because you said it as if I was the stupid one.’

‘You are.’

‘You lick crisps! Are you related to me? Is she, Claire? Was she adopted?’

‘No, she’s all ours,’ Claire said, moving up in the queue.

‘You’re weird too,’ Maria countered.

‘How am I weird?’ Jo demanded to know.

‘How are you weird? You hate Dad but all of a sudden you’re being nice to him. What’s that about, if you’re not a complete odd ball?’

‘I can be nice to Dad if I want.’

‘Course you can,’ Maria agreed. ‘You just never are.’

Jo didn’t care if Maria thought she was weird, that would be like being called a racist by a member of the BNP, but something shifted with Jo as they moved up to the front of the queue. This conversation was annoying her. There were far more important things to think about than how Maria chose to conduct her weird eating habits. Jo knew she was looking for a reason to tell her sisters about her dad. She knew that she had promised Catherine but the secret was weighing heavy on her and anyway, she needed her sisters to know what she and Catherine knew, that way they could all confront their father together when they got back and make him tell them how serious his cancer was. She knew that Catherine would be annoyed at first but she would realise that it was something they all needed to know about, not deal with in isolation.

‘Dad’s got cancer,’ Jo blurted out.

The woman behind the counter scanning the flapjacks and prawn cocktail crisps flinched for a moment before asking, ‘Would you like a carrier bag? They’re five pence.’

‘No!’ Claire snapped, before remembering her manners. ‘Thank you.’ She turned her attention back to Jo. ‘What?’

‘Catherine told me. Last night. It’s true. She’s known for months but he’s sworn her to secrecy.’

‘Oh my God.’ Maria said, clutching at her stomach. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’ She ran off in the direction of the toilet. Jo and Claire watched her go. Jo was about to say something about her making room for her crisp flavouring but now was not the time for sarcastic comments, even if it did concern Maria.

Claire pulled the car up in front of the manor house. They still hadn’t heard from Catherine and assumed that this was because she hadn’t got through to the next round. The mood was already sombre in the car. It wasn’t often that the Reilly sisters had a serious conversation, but that was what they had had for the last half hour of the journey. Maria and Claire had been angry at first that Catherine had kept this from them, but Jo had convinced them to see reason and think about how their father would have put pressure on her. Eventually they had agreed that Jo was right. Mick would have put his daughter in such a position that she would have felt she couldn’t tell a soul. Catherine must have felt terrible keeping this to herself.

A few rejected-looking auditionees wandered out of the front door of the manor house. One girl burst into floods of tears as her father hugged and consoled her. Jo looked at Claire; they didn’t need to say anything, they were both thinking the same thing: Poor Catherine.

‘Come on then, let’s get it over with,’ Maria said, getting out of the car.

‘Are we allowed in? We weren’t last time.’

‘We are now there’s nothing to see, they’re all on their way home,’ Maria said confidently. ‘Anyway, if they’re going to chuck us out they’ll chuck us out, won’t they?’ she added.

Good point, Jo thought. She liked getting into places where she had no right being.

‘We don’t know that she’s not through yet, Maria.’

‘Come on … She’d have called if she’d got through. Anyway, she might be relieved. She’ll want to look after Dad at a time like this.’

‘Why does Catherine have to do it? Why can’t you do it? Why can’t I do it? Why does it have to be her?’ Jo asked angrily.

‘I’m just saying, Jo. Get off your teenage high horse.’

‘I’m not on a high horse. You just hope that she’s coming home because you can’t be arsed with all the hassle.’

‘That is so out of order.’ Maria shoved Jo, Jo shoved her back. ‘If Dad’s seriously ill I will be there, who are you to say I won’t?’ Maria said, with another push.

‘Don’t push me,’ Jo seethed.

‘Well, don’t push me either,’ Maria squared up to Jo.

Claire pulled them apart. ‘Will you two knock it on the head?’

Jo could have happily thumped Maria, but realising they were drawing stares from disappointed
Star Maker
contestants suddenly made her stop her bickering.

They walked towards the entrance. ‘We might as well go in, there’s no sign of her,’ Jo said, wanting to have a good nosey around the premises.

‘I don’t think we’re allowed are we? Won’t security tell us off?’ Claire said.

‘We were checked in at the gate, they know we’re family anyway …’ Jo said, marching up to the door. She pushed it open and walked in. There was no one to tell them they couldn’t enter so she turned and beckoned to her sisters to join her. They trotted behind her along the vast wood-panelled corridors. Jo had no idea where she was going, but she was enjoying getting lost in such a palace.

Jo turned a corner into a huge formal dining room and sitting, perched on the edge of a priceless dining table, so massive it looked as if it could seat about a thousand people, was Richard Forster talking to none other than her sister Catherine. Jo coughed. She didn’t really know what else to do. Maria and Claire stood behind her as if they were doing the conga.