nature; he much preferred a good old-fashioned British handshake. You know where you are with a handshake, he thought. ‘You’re going to have a great time in here with Beryl. Enjoy.’
‘Thanks,’ Catherine said, looking as if she really didn’t want to be left alone with Star.
‘Dinner’s at six this evening in the main room. You can meet everyone else in your category. Is there anything else you need while we’re here?’ He could tell what she was thinking –
Don’t leave me here
– but they had to go. They were charged with ferrying all newcomers to their rooms throughout the day.
‘No, I’ll be fine.’
‘See you later,’ Andy said, smiling at Catherine.
‘See you, thanks.’
‘No problem,’ Jesse said. Catherine smiled shyly. Why the bloody hell did every female seem to immediately fancy Jesse? Andy thought but then remembered it was because he was funny, smart, good-looking and knew how to talk to the opposite sex. Andy didn’t think he could lay claim to any of these qualities; he had to face up to the fact that he was one of life’s wing-men.
Catherine had envisaged getting to her room, having a bath and relaxing on her bed until it was time to meet the other contestants. She hadn’t bargained on having to spend the afternoon with Star, who had all the charm of Rudolph Hess. Star was now stretched out on the one and only double bed, wearing a silk nightgown with her hair in a knotted towel and slices of cucumbers placed on her eyelids. Where had the cucumber come from? Catherine wondered. She must have brought it from home. That was dedication to the beauty cause, Catherine thought. She opened the door to the en-suite. She wasn’t getting much conversation out of Star so she though she might have a soak in the bath anyway and then get ready for the evening ahead.
‘Is my bath ready?’ Star enquired as if Catherine was one of her members of staff.
‘Er, oh yes. It’s overflowing.’
‘Can you turn it off for me?’
Catherine did. She couldn’t believe she did, but she did. There was something about Star’s tone that made Catherine immediately obedient. She wondered how Jo would fare in this situation; she’d probably be pulling Star around the room in a headlock by now.
‘Where are you from?’ Catherine asked, trying to see if being amiable might have an effect on Star’s frosty demeanour.
‘New York, London, Paris, Beijing, Bangkok, Ljubljana. I’ve lived everywhere. I’m a citizen of the world.’
‘Oh right.’ Catherine said. She didn’t really know what else to say. It would be interesting to talk about these different places with somebody normal but Star, it was becoming quickly clear, took every conversation as an opportunity to be objectionable.
‘And you?’
‘Flixton in Manchester.’
‘Oh God, don’t you find that everyone nowadays is from Manchester,’ Star sighed heavily. ‘I blame Oasis. Even people from bloody Newcastle claim to be from Manchester, it’s like “Get over it, that is
so
nineties”.’ Star threw her legs off the bed as if she was descending from a horse side saddle and peeled the cucumbers from her eyes. ‘So are you any good at singing?’
‘Er, I’m OK, I think.’
‘They haven’t put you through on the sympathy vote then? I mean it happens …’
Catherine looked at Star. Who did this girl think she was? They were both there on the strength of their auditions, but Star’s assuredness of her own superiority over Catherine was breathtaking. ‘Yes it does. And what about you, can you sing?’
Star looked at Catherine as if she were simple. ‘Yes, of course I can. I went to Sylvia Young.’
‘What’s that?’ Catherine asked.
‘What’s that? What’s that?’ Star spluttered as if she’d just choked on one of her pieces of cucumber. ‘It’s only London’s premier stage school, that’s bloody all. We’re talking Billy Piper and Emma Bunton here.’
‘Right. And was it good?’
‘Of course it was
‘Thanks,’ Catherine said, looking as if she really didn’t want to be left alone with Star.
‘Dinner’s at six this evening in the main room. You can meet everyone else in your category. Is there anything else you need while we’re here?’ He could tell what she was thinking –
Don’t leave me here
– but they had to go. They were charged with ferrying all newcomers to their rooms throughout the day.
‘No, I’ll be fine.’
‘See you later,’ Andy said, smiling at Catherine.
‘See you, thanks.’
‘No problem,’ Jesse said. Catherine smiled shyly. Why the bloody hell did every female seem to immediately fancy Jesse? Andy thought but then remembered it was because he was funny, smart, good-looking and knew how to talk to the opposite sex. Andy didn’t think he could lay claim to any of these qualities; he had to face up to the fact that he was one of life’s wing-men.
Catherine had envisaged getting to her room, having a bath and relaxing on her bed until it was time to meet the other contestants. She hadn’t bargained on having to spend the afternoon with Star, who had all the charm of Rudolph Hess. Star was now stretched out on the one and only double bed, wearing a silk nightgown with her hair in a knotted towel and slices of cucumbers placed on her eyelids. Where had the cucumber come from? Catherine wondered. She must have brought it from home. That was dedication to the beauty cause, Catherine thought. She opened the door to the en-suite. She wasn’t getting much conversation out of Star so she though she might have a soak in the bath anyway and then get ready for the evening ahead.
‘Is my bath ready?’ Star enquired as if Catherine was one of her members of staff.
‘Er, oh yes. It’s overflowing.’
‘Can you turn it off for me?’
Catherine did. She couldn’t believe she did, but she did. There was something about Star’s tone that made Catherine immediately obedient. She wondered how Jo would fare in this situation; she’d probably be pulling Star around the room in a headlock by now.
‘Where are you from?’ Catherine asked, trying to see if being amiable might have an effect on Star’s frosty demeanour.
‘New York, London, Paris, Beijing, Bangkok, Ljubljana. I’ve lived everywhere. I’m a citizen of the world.’
‘Oh right.’ Catherine said. She didn’t really know what else to say. It would be interesting to talk about these different places with somebody normal but Star, it was becoming quickly clear, took every conversation as an opportunity to be objectionable.
‘And you?’
‘Flixton in Manchester.’
‘Oh God, don’t you find that everyone nowadays is from Manchester,’ Star sighed heavily. ‘I blame Oasis. Even people from bloody Newcastle claim to be from Manchester, it’s like “Get over it, that is
so
nineties”.’ Star threw her legs off the bed as if she was descending from a horse side saddle and peeled the cucumbers from her eyes. ‘So are you any good at singing?’
‘Er, I’m OK, I think.’
‘They haven’t put you through on the sympathy vote then? I mean it happens …’
Catherine looked at Star. Who did this girl think she was? They were both there on the strength of their auditions, but Star’s assuredness of her own superiority over Catherine was breathtaking. ‘Yes it does. And what about you, can you sing?’
Star looked at Catherine as if she were simple. ‘Yes, of course I can. I went to Sylvia Young.’
‘What’s that?’ Catherine asked.
‘What’s that? What’s that?’ Star spluttered as if she’d just choked on one of her pieces of cucumber. ‘It’s only London’s premier stage school, that’s bloody all. We’re talking Billy Piper and Emma Bunton here.’
‘Right. And was it good?’
‘Of course it was
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