Dream Machine Read online

  Mum makes up for me being quiet by not shutting her trap the whole way back to Reading. When I got out of the theatre she was waiting for me in tears, and just threw herself at me like a mad person, all shrieking and crying. But for once I didn’t give a shit about what an embarrassment she was being cos I was crying and shrieking too, and we stood there letting the cameras get a good shot of us acting like tards and not caring one bit. Even that face-ache in yellow had something that almost looked like a smile on her mug, and said congratulations when she handed me the contract.

  When I get back to the flat it turns out Mum’s texted everyone on our block and there’re all these friends of mine waiting round our place. Fat Carol’s in the living room already, holding party-poppers and vino. Some of them I ain’t seen for ages. There’s Mel T and her hubby Johnny, there’s Tuff on her crutches from that accident she had falling down the stairs at Grouchy’s the other night, and Mel G with her new short spiky hairdo that from behind makes her look like a bloke, there’s Georgy and her boyfriend Ted, who’s this big black fella I ain’t met before with tatts all the way down his arms like he’s wearing sleeves on his skin. There’s even Irene who no one’s seen since October, not since she got the job down at that posh bar on Evan Street and started working nights. They’re all here cos of me, and as soon as I walk in the door they shout out Congratulations! altogether in this chorus and start lining up to take turns at hugging me.

  Couldn’t happen to a more deserving girl! shouts Fat Carol, handing me a glass. Come on everybody – hip hip hooray!

  And off they all go. I’ve never thought of meself as much of a crier, but at this point my eyes start pouring with tears like I’ve sprung a fucking leak. I can’t help it, and it just gets worse, especially when Mum fetches down Baby and everyone starts telling him how his mum’s gonna be famous while he looks at all these people around him with them big innocent eyes of his, no clue what’s going on at all.

  There’s only one thing that’s missing, which is Wend. I’d sort of hoped she’d text me to wish me luck today, and that she’d do what she always does after we’ve had a bust-up and pretend like the last week didn’t even happen. A right proud cow, she is. But I wouldn’t of cared, even if she had of done. I’d of just acted like it didn’t happen neither. Cept she ain’t done that. It’s like a cloud hanging over the party and I keep thinking about her and wishing she was here too. After a few glasses I get nostalgic, so I send her a text saying I hope she’s all right and let’s meet up for a last night out before I go to London. Don’t get no reply.

  Word spreads faster than an STD in this neighbourhood. The next day me phone don’t stop bleeping with calls and texts from people I ain’t spoke to for yonks, all wanting to congratulate me and tell me how excited they are about me being on TV. When I pop down the local everyone’s all over me, buying me drinks and telling me how I’d better not fucking lose cos they’re all placing bets on me. I feel like a proper celebrity. But I don’t let it all go to me head. I know that just cos I’m into the house don’t mean I’m in Purrfect yet. There’s some serious competition out there and this is no time to be getting smug about things. I only have a couple and then I head right on home and do some singing in me room while Mum watches TV with Baby. And for the first time ever she don’t bang on the ceiling and tell me to put a lid on it. Instead she brings me up a cup of tea and says I sound like an angel.

  Monday afternoon I’m just heading down the shops for some milk and some of that apricot baby food Baby loves, and who should be there but Davy, leaning against the wall with a fag in his mouth and his hands in his pockets, all casual like him hanging out on my block is just a coincidence. When he sees me he spits out the fag and gives me this big shit-eating grin.

  All right, Joni? he goes.

  I just carry on walking but he jumps in front of me. When I try to go round him he shoots his arm out and leans it against the wall so he’s completely blocking me way.

  D’you mind?

  Listen Joni, he goes, I’m really sorry about that thing with Shea.

  Why’s that then? I go. Give you the clap, did she?

  I mean it! he goes. Look, Joni, I’ve been thinking about us over and over, and about what I did to you with that Shea. I know you can’t forgive me. And I don’t expect it neither. But if you’ll give me the chance I just want to explain.

  He’s giving me this sort of look like a puppy might make what’s drowning in a bucket of water. The sort of look he was always giving me when we was together, when he wanted me to spot him a fiver or cook him a fry-up. Always fell for it too. A right mug, I am.

  I ain’t interested, I tell him. Now can you get out of the way, please?

  Davy does a sad slow nodding thing with his head and turns away from me. But watching him trudge away all dejected like that suddenly gives me this urge to know what he’s got to say for himself. Back before I found out what a cheating bastard he was, I was having a good time with Davy. He’s fun to be around. He don’t ever lose his temper, and he makes you laugh, too. I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for jokers, something about how vulnerable they is on the inside. He’s got a decent-sized cock too.

  All right, I go. Let’s hear it. Should be good.

  Davy turns and comes back with his eyes all shining. He starts telling me stuff about how he only went with that Shea a couple of times and they was only cos he was drunk and she was throwing herself at him – like he didn’t have no choice in the matter. He tells me that he always loved me but he got frustrated cos I had Baby to take care of and couldn’t always come out with him. He says that he knows it don’t excuse his behaviour or nothing, but he’s sorry for it and he just wants me to know that. It’s dead weird, cos I’ve never heard Davy apologise before. It even sounds almost like he means it.

  Okay then, I say after some considering.

  Davy breathes out this great big gust of relief and gives me another big grin like I’ve just said yes to a blow job.

  Oh Joni, he goes, I’m so glad! I never thought you’d—

  I’ve heard you out, I butt in before he can say anything else, so see you round.

  Davy’s face goes all puppyish again, but he nods like he knows it’s only what he deserves and starts to trudge off down the block. When he reaches the corner he turns like he’s suddenly remembered something and shouts back, I heard you’re going through in that contest – just wanted to say good luck! Then he disappears round the corner. I can’t help thinking it was nice of him. To come here and say all that, especially what with me heading off to London next week. It don’t mean he ain’t a prick and a piss-taker, but at least he’s man enough to come and say sorry. Even if it is a whole fucking month late. But it gives me a good feeling, like that’s something I don’t have to feel bitter about no more. Closure – that’s what they call it, ain’t it?

  Thinking about this closure business, that’s when I realise I gotta go see Wend before I leave. Don’t want to go to London with this bad stuff hanging between us. I figure I’ll go to the shops the long way round and stop off at her block.

  When I get up the stairs to Wend’s floor the door’s open so I go right on in and find her mum Pam in the kitchen cooking noodles. Wend hates her mum cos of the way she looks. She reckons it’s all Pam’s fault for giving her short and tubby genes, but it could just have easily have been her dad’s, since she’s never met him and don’t know what he looks like. Pam’s a nice lady, but it’s true she does like to eat. She used to be good friends with Mum back when me and Wend was growing up, till they had this stupid fall-out over who was meant to be paying for a round of drinks at some wedding bash a couple of years ago. It’s sad really, but it turned out that was just one of hundreds of other moans Pam’d stored up against Mum over the years that she’d known her, like stuff Mum’d borrowed and never returned, times when Pam’d looked after us when we was kids so Mum could go out which Mum hadn’t ever done for her, and these fat jokes Mum was always making about her. They neve
r made it up, and now whenever they see each other in the shops or on the street they both make this big show of lifting their noses up and looking in the opposite direction like they’ve just smelled a ripe fart. It’s a good thing Pam has a different local cos I’d hate to see what they’d be like if they saw each other after getting a few drinks down them, specially Mum, who gets a bit rowdy. Luckily Pam don’t hold her moans about Mum against me, and when I come in she lets out a little scream and throws her little arms round me. Turns out even she knows about what’s happened.

  And to think, she goes when she’s finished crushing me, I used to look after you when you was just a little one. You and my Wend, eh? You here to see her?

  I nod and she smiles and tells me she’s been miserable and sitting in her room all week. Too proud to say she’s sorry, that one of mine, she goes, and gives me this meaningful look, like in case I don’t know who it is she’s really talking about. I shrug, since me and Wend have long since given up trying to get her and Mum to be friends again.

  You go see her and I’ll bring you in some tea, offers Pam.

  I go through to the hall and knock on Wend’s door. There’s no answer so I just open it. She’s on the bed against the wall, smoking and holding an ashtray so stuffed with fag butts she must’ve been chaining it all day to get it so full. The whole room’s cloudy from the smoke too. I wave me hand in front of me face and say Cor, where’s the fire? but Wend don’t even look up at me. She just carries on staring straight ahead and chuffing out the smoke. After a pause like a century I go in and sit down on the end of her bed. Out of the speakers is coming ‘Tied Up For You’. Our song. It’s cos she’s listening to that that I know that it’s not just me and she really has been feeling shit about how things have got between us.

  Heard you got through, Wend says finally, in this scratchy voice.

  Yeah, I say.

  Well done. You must be real happy.

  She stubs out her fag on the mountain of butts and reaches down for her Mayfairs. She takes out another and after thinking about it offers me the packet.

  Help yourself.

  I’d better not, I say. Got to take care of me voice now, don’t I?

  Wend makes this frown and looks away. Right away I feel like a bitch for saying that, like I’m rubbing it in about me getting through and not her.

  What the fuck? I go. I reach out and take out a fag. Wend lights it for me. More smoke wafting round the room. Suddenly I start coughing away like I’m choking on me own tongue, only it’s not really coughing it’s more like crying.

  I’m sorry! I go.

  No, I’m sorry! goes Wend. I’ve been a right fucking arsehole!

  Next thing we’re all over each other like a couple of lezzer grannies, clutching each other and stroking each other’s hair and faces, saying stuff like how much we love each other and how we’re never gonna fight again, which even being all emotional I know is pretty fucking wishful. But that nice feeling I got from when Davy apologised before is back. Suddenly everything is wonderful. I think of me life stretching out ahead of me and it seems so exciting and full of possibility. Right there and then on that bed is like the best moment ever, better even than hearing the judges say me name yesterday, or the first time I got shagged and found out it didn’t just have to be the fellas who had a good time.

  Hey, what you gonna do about Baby? says Wend finally, snapping me out of it, as she lights up another fag. D’they know you got a little boy?

  I take a deep swallow cos I don’t know what Wend’s gonna think about this. What we decided, me and Mum, is that from now on Baby ain’t gonna be my little boy anymore. He’s gonna be hers. Those judges ain’t gonna be interested in no teenage mum, she said, and the fact is she’s got a point. When you’re a parent you come with baggage. Can’t just up and leave on tour to sing round the world, or go out and meet the right people, not when you’ve got a toddler waiting for you at home what needs feeding and cuddling and playing with and putting to bed. Course it’s only temporary, just until the whole thing is over. And anyway, it’s all for his sake in the end. Ain’t like it’s gonna change how I feel about him or nothing. It don’t mean I’m not still his mum really.

  Wend listens without interrupting while I explain it to her. I’m a bit worried cos of the way she’s all silent that she’s gonna start shaking her head and getting all moral about it, like she’s some snow-white virgin who’s never told a lie in her life. But when I’ve finished she gives this thoughtful nod and says if I want she don’t mind looking after him for a bit while I’m away. I don’t say yes, just give her another big hug.

  The week passes in a blur. I’m so excited I can’t seem to concentrate on anything proper, not even when I’m with Baby. I just keep thinking about what it’s gonna be like in London, doing this competition. I end up doing loads of shit about the house to try and take me mind off it. I even clean out the oven, which is a real chemical job cos it ain’t been touched since back before time began. Mum can’t believe her eyes. When Baby’s not asleep I get in a bit of singing practice, and when he is I plug in one earphone to the CD player and try and memorise lyrics. The information in the notes I got given by the face-ache says how each week all the girls have to sing a number and then the judges will vote one of them off. It don’t say what numbers you’re gonna get, but it’s best to be prepared, I reckon.

  Friday night I run into Davy again outside the toilets in Utopia. I’m out with Wend, Irene and Mel G to have a long-overdue get-down and a bit of a celebration. It’s Wend’s idea, since I’m gonna be pretty much cut off once I get to London, if what them notes say is anything to go by. Once you’re in the house, phone calls and visits will be privileges that get decided on by the organisers and ‘not subject to negotiation’. On Sunday this camera crew’s coming to film me on me last day, saying goodbye to all me mates and getting sound-bites off of them about what I’m like. I’ve told everyone that if they don’t say nice things about me I’ll go round their houses and fix their noses for them.

  So I’m just on me way out of the ladies’ after taking the pill Mel G got me as a goodbye pressie, when I run right into Davy at the condom machine. He’s giving it a right kicking and is swearing at it for not giving him his condoms and sucking up his change. He ain’t seen me and I know I ought to probably just keep on going, but since we’re friends now, sort of, I can’t resist going up to say something.

  Planning to get lucky? I says in his ear. He jumps about a foot in the air and whirls round, a real comedy-classic moment. I can’t help grinning at the look on his face.

  Hey! he goes, like he can’t believe it’s me.

  It’s all right, I say, I ain’t gonna have a go. Nice to see you.

  And I mean it. I ain’t changed me mind about the apology. It’s the nicest thing any man’s ever done for me, to say sorry like that, which obviously don’t say much about the men I been with, but still. It’s something. Davy looks good too, well turned out, for a change. He’ll pull tonight, no question, if that’s what he’s come out for.

  I turn to go but Davy reaches out and stops me. When I look back at him he straight away drops his arm and gets all dappy.

  It’s nice to see you too, he goes. You look good.

  Just good? I says. I can feel this flickering at the base of me spine. It’s the pill kicking in. In a second I’m gonna need to get out there on the floor and dance like a maniac, but I can’t resist teasing Davy just a bit. As a matter of fact, I’ve got a naughty little urge to give him a quick snog. He grins at me.

  Like a fucking goddess.

  That’s better! I say. I give him a wink and head out to the bar. Irene’s just shelled out on cocktails for us all, which is pretty enormous considering how tight she is. Must be the punters from that posh place rubbing off on her. We’re about to do a toast when all of a sudden Purrfect’s latest single comes on – ‘Or Die Trying’. That’s the best one to dance to, the one with the crazy deep bassline that makes you do sexy things no
matter how bloated or spotty you’re feeling. There’s a special set of moves that go with it, too. Me and the girls all let out screams, down the cocktails and bundle onto the dance floor, really working it, pushing people out of our way and doing Purrfect’s routine to each other. The whole time I’m thinking, one day I’m actually gonna be onstage singing this song with the real deal. One day this song’s gonna be mine. And I start going for it like I’ve never gone for it before, imagining that Irene on me right is Fina and Wend on my left is Monique, and we’re all in the band together, working it for the crowd. I’m properly giving it some, letting me hair flick around me face and weaving me hips in and out when this fit guy catches my hand and makes me do a twirl before yanking me in close. And it’s only as he does, and the song comes to an end and he’s leaning down towards me with this starry look in his eyes that I see it’s Davy.

  Joni, he’s shouting in my ear, I want to get back with you! Say you’ll think about it!

  And right then the pill comes shooting up like a volcano inside me. I feel wave after wave of joy. But it’s not just the pill cos I know somewhere deep inside what I’ve really wanted for a long time is to give it another shot, too. Maybe this contest’ll be a good thing, like a test for us both. Davy’s holding me looking at me waiting for me answer with these big eyes, almost as big as Baby’s, and instead of saying yes or no I just reach up, pull his face towards me and start giving him a good hard snog. I feel his muscles around me tense and then he’s kissing back with everything he’s got. I’m all sweaty and me heart’s beating super fast. It feels so good I practically fucking orgasm right there and then in his arms.

  ‘. . . just totally absolutely thrilled. I hope I’m proof to others that you can come from nothing and still follow your dreams. I want girls like me to know that just cos they take their clothes off it doesn’t mean they’re not worth something. If I could make just one girl know that then I could go home happy!’