Dream Machine Read online

  ‘Hello,’ says the woman on the left. She’s quite glamorous, dressed in a dark blue two-piece with bright blonde hair falling in waves across her shoulders. I recognise her from the girl band Kissy Kiss Kiss which bombed way back in the nineties after just one top ten hit. ‘I’m Emma,’ she says.

  ‘Hello!’ I say, clearly and brightly. ‘My name is Louise.’

  ‘Hi Louise, how’s it going? I’m Joe!’ says the guy on the right enthusiastically, camp as anything. His suit is all shiny and red, like he’s come out today dressed as a Christmas present. I vaguely know who he is too – some record company guy who’s always doing sound-bites for those programmes that supposedly explore what celebrity means, but which actually just expose how some people will bend over backwards just to be associated with it. But I’m glad to see him. If there’re gays in the audience you never have to worry about giving it too much – that’s what Dad always says.

  Finally the woman in the centre looks up. She’s got a face like she’s never managed to crack a smile in her life. She’s in her forties at least, black and grossly overweight. She wears silver-rimmed glasses with massive diamanté D&G symbols on the sides, which would be a blatant mistake on anyone else, but since she’s never going to look good I suppose she can wear whatever the hell she likes and no one’s ever going to bother saying anything about it. Beside Emma she looks like a hippo in drag. She doesn’t bother to introduce herself either, just grunts. The bee obviously doesn’t recognise me, but of course I remember her perfectly. Her name is Tess Roberts and she’s the one who put Purrfect together.

  ‘So tell us a bit about yourself,’ says Emma, smiling back at me.

  I clear my throat and begin the speech Dad and I have been rehearsing all week. I do it word for word, without stumbling or forgetting anything. As the words pass my lips I become convinced by them. They get imbued with meaning and insight, like the words of a really good sermon that pushes all the right buttons in a congregation. When I’ve finished the panel are all looking at me and I can tell they’re impressed. Emma’s nodding, her face all serious, and Joe looks positively delighted. Only Tess is frowning, but that’s only because she can’t find any fault with what I’ve just said. Of course, that doesn’t stop her from trying.

  ‘So you’re classically trained then?’ she demands.

  I give her a quick run-down of my awards and achievements.

  ‘In my experience,’ she says, her furry monobrow leaping up above her glasses like a hyperactive caterpillar, ‘those with classical training have a hard time adjusting to the pop industry. It’s faster, and too cut-throat for them.’

  I can feel my cheeks getting hot. I fight down the surge of panic rising from below. Help me God. Help me not to let her see my face going red. She must not know that she has ruffled me.

  ‘But pop is what I really love,’ I say firmly. ‘It’s what I listen to all the time. And it’s what I’ve been singing for the last two years. Pop music is what I live for.’

  The caterpillar dances over the D&G frames again.

  ‘So,’ she says in a quiet voice. ‘You consider yourself to be a dedicated fan of Purrfect, do you?’

  ‘The biggest!’

  ‘Huh.’

  I can tell she doesn’t believe me, though both Emma and Joe are nodding their heads and smiling. It’s obvious they think I’m great. I am great, I remind myself. God made me so.

  ‘What are their names then?’ says Tess.

  It’s such a stupidly easy question that I almost burst out laughing.

  ‘Saffron, Fina, Monique, Kharris and . . .’

  I trail off. I was about to say Lucy’s name, but of course she’s not in the band any more. Lucky I stopped myself. It was a shock when she announced she was going solo, and many people thought Purrfect would split up. But they didn’t, bouncing back better than ever with that song ‘Never Forget’ which they wrote specially because of it and which won them the Golden Egg award for best ballad. And where’s Lucy now? Debuted at number 22, the stupid bee. Of course I knew her leaving wouldn’t stop them, not when they’d been so successful already. To create Purrfect they auditioned hundreds of girls across the UK in a nationwide search for the greatest talent, and all the girls I know wanted to be in it. I remember the first ads for it on ITV: big curly gold letters demanding to know if you had what it took to be in the next Girls Aloud. When I saw that question it seemed to me like it came from somewhere deeper than the television screen. Like God Himself was speaking to me. It was the first time I’d ever properly wanted something with my whole heart and not just in order to be the best of the best or to make Dad proud. He actually had his doubts about the contest, but when I explained to him how big it was he agreed to drive me up to the London audition, even though it was a school day and I was underage. But I didn’t care about those things. I so desperately wanted to be one of those girls. Emma and Joe weren’t on the panel then, but Tess was, right at the centre just like she is now, staring out at me like I was a dirty sweet wrapper blown in from off the street. I sang ‘Memory’, which of course I know now was a bad choice of song. The other judges gave their verdicts: they said I was good, but they weren’t sure if I was Purrfect material. They said it was up to Tess. Her decision alone. I remember those seconds as I waited to hear how the rest of my life was going to turn out. I really thought that I was in, so it was a shock when I heard the words ‘Too podgy.’ That was all she said. That and ‘Next!’ It was the first time I could remember ever outright losing something, not even coming in second or third, or at least being awarded a merit for my effort. It felt so horrible I can’t even describe it. Worse than anything I’d ever felt in my whole life – even when we found out Gramps had Alzheimer’s. I felt betrayed too: I couldn’t understand why God would want to play such a cruel trick on me. When I came out of the room I pretended to Dad they’d said I was too young because I couldn’t bear the idea of him thinking it was because his daughter was chubby that she didn’t get chosen. I shouldn’t have lied: a couple of weeks later the series started on TV, and there was a big close-up of my face as Tess said the words and after that everyone knew. At school they started calling me Podge, and I had to walk round with that nickname hanging over my head for the rest of the year. Meanwhile on TV I watched all those chosen girls competing with one another until just five of them were left, the ones who became known as Purrfect. Of course they went straight to number one with their first release. Everyone at school was downloading their single ‘I Want To Be Purrfect’ and it was always playing on the radio. They performed it on The Slammer, T4 and Great Selections, and all I could think every time I saw them was that I should have been on that stage, that I was as good as any of those girls and that I’d been robbed of what was rightfully mine. For being podgy.

  Tess folds her arms over her huge sagging bosoms and cocks her head to one side, causing her glasses to slide rapidly down her nose until they come to a sudden halt above her big flared nostrils.

  ‘Full names?’

  My smile freezes on my face and a horrible lump rises in my throat. I have no idea what Monique or Fina’s surnames are. Saffron Grady and Kharris Mitch. But Monique and Fina . . .? Oh God! I scream silently. What the effing eff are the full names of those stupid bees?!

  And instantly, just like the wonder He is, God saves the day.

  ‘This is ridiculous! I don’t even know their full names!’ cries Emma. ‘Why do you have to grill everyone that comes in here, Tess? This isn’t Guantánamo Bay, you know!’

  Slowly Tess turns to her, a grimace of icy contempt spreading across her face. I can’t help but notice that she glances slyly in the direction of the cameras at the same time. That’s professionalism for you. She wants to make sure they’re getting this.

  ‘It’s my job to make sure candidates are up to scratch,’ she says in a high and mighty voice that reminds me of my first-ever singing instructor Mrs Pilch, who used to walk around you with a ruler, slapping you on the neck every tim
e you went off key. ‘I was there at the beginning. Those are my girls out there. They work hard and they’re dedicated. And I sure as hell don’t intend to let them down!’

  She looks fierce and triumphant, and Emma looks suitably intimidated. Nonetheless she raises a hand and says she appreciates all that but it would be nice if Tess didn’t interrogate the girls since we do have feelings. Tess declares that this is hardly the point, and anyway she can’t be held accountable since the girl she’s looking for will need nerves of steel. At this point Joe joins in and says they all have a duty to be civil, and before you know it they’re all arguing away about the issue of responsibility, making catty remarks about each other’s conduct, shaking their heads and doing talk-to-the-hand gestures at each other like they do on Trisha. All the while I’m standing there smiling, praying that they don’t come back to Tess’s original question. I’m smiling so hard my mouth is beginning to ache. Inside my stomach a nasty heavy sensation is building up, and I regret throwing away Mum’s breakfast platter when she turned her back to pour out the tea this morning.

  After the first audition I stopped eating. It’s funny all these magazines with women talking about how difficult it is to lose weight, when actually it’s incredibly easy. You just have to be diligent about it, that’s all. Follow instructions and not stray from the course, and I’ve always been good at doing that. It was just that this time it was me who was giving the instructions and setting the course instead of a tutor, and I don’t do things by half measures. Overnight my body shrank. I lost half a stone in a week. I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand, but once I’d started I just couldn’t stop. After a month I was down to seven and a half stone, and Dad started receiving letters of complaint from parents and concerned phone calls from teachers about my appetite. He said it had to end and I agreed, then went right back to hiding my food in my napkin and coughing the rest out into the upstairs toilet. Then there was that day I fainted and had to go to the hospital, where they told me I had a serious eating disorder. After that Dad sat me down and had a long talk with me. He said he knew why I was doing it, that he knew I had a dream and that he respected me for it. He said we’d do everything we possibly could to make my dream come true. He actually promised me that one day I would be the biggest pop star ever – but only if I started to eat again. I had to trust him, he said, because when had he ever let me down before? It was hard to start again after going all that time without food. Meals became ordeals that I had to get through, and a lot of times I thought I was going to be sick just on reflex. I’d get agonising pains in my stomach, and feel bloated after just a few mouthfuls. There was even some talk of sending me to Rexia Camp, where they force feed you and put you under twenty-four-hour surveillance to make sure you don’t exercise off any of the weight you’ve put on. But I did it off my own bat. I did it and in return Dad got me hip-hop lessons in Canterbury and a new vocal coach, Mr Field, who specialises in pop. As soon as I was out of school, Dad said, we would find me an agent.

  Then last year the stories about the arguments hit, and then came the news that Lucy was leaving. But Purrfect were too strong to let it finish them, and a couple of weeks later they released the news that they would go on without her, even though of course they were terribly upset and it wouldn’t be the same. And then came the word that they would be doing a hunt for a replacement girl, and that was when I knew God was giving me a second chance. That all along He had been there, on my side, rooting for me. Before it just wasn’t my time. But now it is. I can feel it. That’s why I know – I just know – that today I’m going to be chosen.

  The panel finally stop bickering, Joe and Emma having ganged up on Tess and persuaded her not to ask me anymore of her mean effing questions. The stupid fat bee sits back in her chair and glares at me, obviously hoping I’ll be a disaster and prove her gut instinct right. But what she doesn’t know is that her gut instinct isn’t right. It’s never been more wrong in her whole life.

  ‘Well, Louise,’ says Emma, leaning forward and giving me a reassuring nod. ‘Let’s hear what you’ve prepared.’

  Time to kill it. I open my mouth and take a breath. I sing for them LeAnn Rimes’ ‘How Do I Live Without You?’ It’s one of the hardest songs to do, partly because it’s already been done in an unsurpassable way, and partly because it requires perfect use of tone, range and pitch. The big three. But if you do get it right it’s the best showcase a voice can possibly have. I go through the whole first verse without stopping, really feeling that pain that sits at the heart of the song. The man with the camera steps forward and I close my eyes and imagine the close-up of me he’s getting, channelling that raw emotion out into my voice, turning the atmosphere around me into a thing of beauty.

  When I’m finished there is dead silence for a few seconds. I open my eyes. Emma and Joe are both looking at Tess, who’s still staring at me, still unsmiling, her eyes magnified by her silly designer spectacles. She looks like a bulging-eyed lizard, lying in wait for an unsuspecting insect to pass. I watch as she swallows and the muscles in her jaw begin to work, and time seems to suspend itself. There’s a great thumping in my head and I realise it’s the sound of my own heartbeat. This is it, God. Don’t let me down.

  I’ll kill myself if they don’t choose me.

  How long does it take to ruin a life?

  In they go through those double doors and out they come just a few minutes later, pale and shaking, struggling to hold back the tears. They will never forget what they’ve experienced in there. It will scar them for ever. With each girl I find myself desperately wishing I could somehow stop her – that I could say something that would make her change her mind about going inside. But what could I possibly say? These girls are so determined. So full of themselves. They’d never listen to what I have to tell them. They believe this is what it’s all about – that behind those doors fame and glamour and all the things they have ever wanted are waiting for them. I should know; I once believed it myself.

  How long does it take to ruin a life? The answer is no time at all.

  ‘Oh my God! I can’t . . . believe it . . . I never thought they’d actually . . . I’m . . . I don’t even know what . . . speechless! I can’t tell you what this means to me. How it . . . changes things . . . I’m never going to be the same again after this. Never.’

  I stand there in front of the camera, crying like I’ve just given birth. I know I’m making an idiot of myself but I can’t seem to stop. Snot is forming in my nose, I can feel it preparing to launch itself on the world and I don’t even have any tissue. I’ve never cried from joy before. It’s a weird feeling. The woman in the pink skirt I’ve seen on sale in Woo-man stands impatiently at the side holding her clipboard, waiting for them to finish with me so she can take down my details for the call-back. There’s no sign of Jack and Mimi.

  After a few minutes of filming me acting like I’ve won an Oscar, the guy with the microphone says he’s got enough and heads off with the camera guy to film a group of girls in school uniform who are singing a Sugababes song. The woman mutters ‘Finally’ under her breath and hands me the clipboard. She tells me to put down my contact information. I try to write down my name and address, but I’m shaking so much it comes out like one long squiggly line and she has to tear off the sheet and get me to do it again. She looks thoroughly unhappy, like she probably wanted to be a doctor and never dreamt in a million years she’d end up saddled with this job, but I’m too elated to care. I’m through! I think to myself, trying to believe it. They really liked me. They really want me back.

  ‘Look, just let me do it,’ snaps the woman in exasperation as I produce yet another unreadable squiggle. She snatches the clipboard and pen back off me. ‘Name?’

  ‘Ella Platt,’ I croak through my tears.

  ‘Address?’

  I look around again, trying to spot Jack or Mimi. A few feet away the girl who was in before me is sitting watching. Her face is a blotchy mess of tears – just like mine must be. I can
’t help shooting her a ridiculous smile. As soon as I do she bites her lip and looks down, her whole face starting to wobble, and I realise that unlike me she didn’t get through. Right away I feel bad, like I should go and apologise to her. She’s here all on her own by the looks of things, and I think how easily that could have been me, crushed because I didn’t get chosen. I think about what that woman Tess, with her sharp voice and her bored expression, might have said to this girl, how she could have just decimated that girl’s feelings with one single curt sentence. When she told me my nerves were going to be a major obstacle I was bracing myself for it. Then when she said yes I just stood there staring in disbelief until finally the other woman, Emma, got up, gave me a hug and led me to the door. ‘It’s okay,’ Emma whispered to me when I stared at her, all confused because I couldn’t believe what had happened, ‘you got through!’

  Just as I’m giving my number to the woman Jack and Mimi appear at the other end of the room. Jack hurries over, Mimi trailing behind. ‘Ella, there you are!’ he cries. I’m so overwhelmed by what’s just happened that for once I don’t feel any spasm inside at the sound of my name on his lips. I’ve never felt like this. Like I’m going to burst with happiness.

  ‘Where were you?’ I say. My voice sounds dry and dead, like I’m traumatised from surviving a 9/11-style disaster, even though the situation is completely the opposite.

  ‘We just popped out for a breath of fresh air,’ says Jack. ‘Mimi wasn’t feeling too hot. Were you, Mimi?’

  I look at Mimi, who’s yawning. She looks perfectly all right, just bored out of her brain, that’s all. I can’t help thinking that Jack would never have walked off and left her if she’d been the one auditioning. Come to that, if Mimi had been the one trying out, Rita would be here too.