Читать книгу The Classroom: A gripping and terrifying thriller which asks who you can trust in 2018 - A. Bird L. - Страница 22

BECKY, 2 AUGUST 2012

Becky can’t find Andy at breakfast. She can’t find Caitlin either. So she heads to the audition room, thinking maybe Andy will be there too.

But no. It’s just the course leader.

‘Hey, you made it!’ he says.

She shrugs, clutching the brand new Music Theatre Compilation book her mother bought her. It’s medium voice because that seemed to Becky to translate into ‘average’. Sopranos were special. Before she grew up and became a boring mum, her eldest sister had been soprano in the choir at school. Voice of an angel. So pretty. Et cetera.

‘Where’s the male talent – Andy, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. I figured he might be here.’

‘OK, well, let’s give him a minute. Are you warmed up yet?’

She shakes her head.

The teacher gives her a look of mock disapproval. ‘You must always warm up. Protect those vocal folds.’

He takes her through some exercises. They have to bend down low, swing their arms around as their heads nearly touch the floor. Becky becomes conscious her bra is on show – not a cleavage enhancer, just one that makes her breasts look flat and squat. She tries to pull her top back into place, unsuccessfully. The teacher seems not to notice. He is just saying, in calm, steady tones: ‘Now, wind yourself back up, vertebrae by vertebrae.’

She does as she is told.

‘Relax your neck. Set it squarely on your shoulders, then rock it gently from side to side.’

She does as he says.

‘Now stretch right up. Come on, hands up, stretch out your fingers!’

Again, Becky does what he says. This time, it’s her belly that’s exposed, her top riding up. Please let there be no flab hanging over my waistline, she thinks, as she stretches extra hard to make her tummy as taut as it will ever be. The teacher seems to be having the same problem – even his big baggy top isn’t long enough for this exercise. It rides up, revealing the dark grey waistband of some Calvins under his black jeans. She catches a glimpse of tummy flesh too, covered in black hairs. They look soft, masculine. She realises she is staring and looks away.

That’s when she sees Andy and Caitlin in the doorway. Andy is looking between them both, while Caitlin whispers, giggling, in his ear.

Becky drops her arms down, and pulls her top back over her midriff, crossing her arms over her waist. She sees the teacher follow her gaze, and he changes his posture too. Except he is relaxed, welcoming.

‘Ah, Andy – you made it!’

‘Yup,’ Andy says, noncommittal. Where’s the enthusiasm of the previous day?

‘We were just warming up,’ Becky says, feeling an explanation is needed.

‘Are you warmed up?’ the teacher asks Andy.

‘Yeah, I’m good – thanks.’

‘I could do with a warm-up,’ Caitlin coos. ‘I just feel really … tight, you know?’

Becky stares at Caitlin. Is she flirting with the teacher?

There’s a beat.

‘Let’s do some arpeggios and jazz hands, then!’ says the teacher, brightly. ‘Loosen everyone up. Ready?’

So off they go. No one comments on the fact that Andy and Becky’s audition seems to have become Andy and Caitlin’s personal training session. Becky stands at the back, watching Caitlin show off her hair, her legs, her voice. Andy sings pretty well, but he’s not a drama queen – just quietly capable. It’s one of the things she likes about him. Liked. She doesn’t understand where she stands this morning.

The teacher gets them to sing back some song lines to him, as a group, then individually. Becky tries, but her voice is reedy and weak. She peters out on the high notes, and the low ones suddenly come out too strong.

But it doesn’t mean Caitlin needs to giggle.

The teacher seems to think so too. He shoots Caitlin a dirty look.

‘Everyone’s just trying their best here – it’s not competitive,’ he says.

Caitlin smirks. ‘Even though some people are better than others.’ She sticks out her chest. Caitlin, Becky notices, is wearing a cleavage-enhancing bra. But the teacher doesn’t look in that direction at all. His gaze remains firmly at eye level.

‘Some people may be naturally gifted, but this summer school is for everyone. I’ll let you know later what parts you’ve got, if any.’

Becky doesn’t know why, but she suspects she might end up with a bigger part than Caitlin. She hopes she doesn’t.

Andy makes to leave, and Becky quickens her pace to follow him.

‘Hey,’ she says.

But before he can reply, the teacher calls her back.

‘Becky, can I have a moment?’

Reluctantly, Becky holds back. She sees Caitlin and Andy exchange a meaningful glance. Becky doesn’t know the meaning, but Andy looks sad.

Becky stands in front of the teacher, arms folded round her music.

‘Becky, are you OK with being on this course?’ the teacher asks her. ‘I don’t want anyone to feel like they’re being tortured.’

Becky shrugs.

‘Come on, I mean it. I’ll give you a part in the show because, well, everyone’s paid up and it’s meant to be fun. But I don’t want it to stress you out.’

Becky debates whether to have the long conversation or the short one. She wants to follow Andy, find out where the connection went overnight. She’ll go for the short one.

‘I’m fine, honestly,’ she says. ‘See you later.’

‘OK, if you’re sure. Take care of yourself, OK?’

The teacher gives her the briefest of touches on the shoulder. She’s surprised it makes her spine tingle. Suddenly, she wishes she’d gone for the longer conversation. But it’s too late. Already, she’s headed towards the door, Andy in her sights.