Remember My Name Page 17

As I saw my dad tugging at the too-tight collar of his new shirt, bright lights reflecting off the sweat of his bald head, and my mum tucking her freshly dyed hair behind her ears nervously, I knew that they were both off balance, both having a wobble. They were here, in a glitzy office in London, surrounded by Bright Young Things with what, to them, were posh accents—and they looked about as at ease as a pair of extra-terrestrials being invited into a government laboratory.

  Unfortunately, Dad tried to cover up his nerves by being as loud and outrageous as possible. He made a few jokes that nobody got, and asked one of the male backing dancers where he got his tights, and constantly had the video camera on the go—he even took it into the toilets with him, as though he’d never seen a loo before in his life.

  I was giving them the guided tour, much as I had with Becky when she came down—but this time, everything was different. Everywhere I went in the building, people reacted—they said hi, looked eager to talk to me, asked if there was anything they could do for me. This time round, I was doing the Starmaker tour as one of their big names—not one of their tiny interns. And that sprinkling of magic stardust was reflected in the way they greeted my parents, treating them like royalty—or at least the family of royalty. If anything, that seemed to freak Mum and Dad out even more.

  Mum was quieter than usual, having the opposite reaction to Dad, and she seemed to shrivel into herself. The only time she really came to life was in the break room—where she insisted on doing all the dishes that had been left by the sink, and gave all the surfaces a good going over with some Jif.

  I’d hoped they’d be proud of me—and I’m sure they were—but they also looked stiff and tense and uncertain, and no amount of chatter on my part seemed able to put them at their ease. I know it was a different world to theirs—and maybe I’d felt exactly the same when I was first plunged in at the deep end—but by the end of the walkabout I was starting to feel stiff and tense myself.

  Which—a day before our single launch party—was exactly what I didn’t need.

  Part of the bad atmos was totally my fault. I can only confess to this, hold my hands up, and admit I was wrong—but I had missed Nan’s birthday meal. I had no real excuse; Becky had reminded me the week before and, even as I read her message, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go. It was the same day we were filming the new sections of the Midnight video, and there was just no way I could miss that.

  I could, I knew, have asked for it to be rescheduled. I could have explained the situation to Jack, and hoped he would understand. I could even have talked to Vogue about it, after her comments relating to family.

  But in reality, I did none of those things. It was like a train crash heading in my direction—and I was so frozen in its headlights, I couldn’t get myself off the tracks. I just didn’t feel confident enough to rock the boat—I had to make a choice, and I made the one I felt was right at the time. I’d had many birthday meals with my nan, and would be able to make it up to her—but this was my first and best shot at making it in the music industry.

  So in the end I’d asked my mum if they could reschedule the meal instead—which I genuinely didn’t think was that big a deal. I was working hard, I was trying to make them proud, and I was earning what felt like a ton of money, by my standards. Literally every hour of my day felt boxed in and accounted for, with Tilly and Patty managing my schedule like sergeant majors, and Jack managing my time off in ways I couldn’t complain about.

  From the moment I woke up—usually after three hours of patchy sleep following the latest party I was shown at, like a prize dog at Crufts—until the moment I got back into bed, I was busy: the rehearsals, the recording, the interviews, the parties.

  I knew things were slipping—despite my mum’s sharp words, I hadn’t been calling them. I hadn’t been to see Yusuf, or even written him a note. I hadn’t found the intern who’d boxed all my stuff up and thanked them, like I’d vowed I would do. I hadn’t even found time to speak to Daniel again—which I desperately wanted to do.

  Everything was so hectic, so frenzied—and every time I remembered something else I was supposed to do, I put it off as to be handled ‘After the Launch’. In fact, my whole life started to be put off until ‘After the Launch’—in the end, I was so busy, I even started reducing it to ATL. I didn’t even have time to say three whole words.

  Build bridges with worried family? ATL. Catch up with much-missed childhood friend? ATL. Show basic human decency to the little people—and yes, I was starting to think in terms like that—who’d helped me on the way up? ATL. Get some sleep and drink something other than Red Bull? ATL.

  Another one I had now added to the ATL list was contacting Ruby—who had left me about a gazillion messages since all this began. I know we hadn’t exactly been living together harmoniously for those last few weeks, due to the arrival of the lovely Keith, but I’d known her since I was four—I’d built a business with her, moved in with her, shared boxes of tampons with her, and spent countless nights both in and out with her. And yet, I still hadn’t found the time to get in touch—Ruby was very much ATL.

  And, as we emerged from the Starmaker offices and out onto the bustling London streets, looking at their faces in the late autumn sunshine, I was really starting to wish that seeing my family again had also been put off until ATL.

  Except that was the whole reason my family was there. To come to the launch, to see me perform, to find a place in my new life. To understand what my days looked like. To show their support. I knew all of that—but I still didn’t, in my heart of hearts, want them there. I owed them a lot—but I didn’t have time to start repaying that debt just then. In fact, I didn’t even have time to spend with them—and instead was handing them off to Tilly, who was going to take them on the London Eye and show them the sights. It should have been me doing that—I wasn’t so far up my own backside that I didn’t realise.

  I realised, but I didn’t care enough to make things change. There were dozens of last minute things to check, to practise, to get my head around. So I said my goodbyes, gave them all hugs, and slipped Tilly a bundle of cash so she could look after them for the day.

  As I watched them all trundle off towards the Tube station, Luke waving over his shoulder, my mum and dad grasping each other’s hands, the only thing I really felt was relief.

  I walked back into the building and immediately put them out of my mind because I had things to do. It shouldn’t have been that easy—but I’m ashamed to say it was.

  I didn’t see them again until the evening, when Jack had organised a dinner for us all at a restaurant near to their hotel. They hadn’t wanted to stay at a hotel; despite the fact that my flat only had one bedroom, they offered to bring sleeping bags and the inflatable mattresses we used when we went camping, and ‘make do’. But, I’d reasoned with them, what was the point of me working so hard to make money, to build a better life for us all, if we just ended up ‘making do’? I wanted them to stay in a nice hotel, with room service and champagne in the mini-bar and fresh flowers in the windows—I wanted them to have the best, and I was now in a position to give them the best. At least for a couple of nights. I just wasn’t in a position to give them my time—which is what they seemed to want most of all.

  ‘Your nan sent you this,’ said Mum after we were all shown to our seats. Jack was talking to my dad—playing the role of Starmaker main man, rather than my boyfriend—and Luke was busy snapping photos of the place on his phone, which I fully expected to show up on his Facebook timeline within minutes. Becky was staring at the menu, practically salivating, and Neale had also come along. I wanted them to meet Neale—he was playing a big part in my life, and I knew they’d like him. Plus, the uncomfortable truth was I wanted him there as an extra buffer zone between me and the demands of my own family.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, taking the envelope from her hands.

  ‘Try opening it and looking, Jessy—or do you need Tilly to do that for you?’

  I bit down t
he sharp retort I could feel brewing, and ripped open the envelope. Inside was a note from my eighty-five-year-old grandmother: ‘Treat yourself to something special, girl—lots of love your Nan xxx.’ Wrapped up in the paper was a twenty-pound Matalan gift card.

  It was silly, but I immediately felt tears start to sting the back of my eyes, and clenched them down before they could mess up my make-up. This was a popular restaurant, and there was always the chance I could get photographed—there was no room for crying in public any more. Or for being anything less than perfect in public any more.

  The flip side of that pressure was that the days when I needed a Matalan gift card were hopefully well and truly behind me—but God, it was so sweet of Nan to think of me, especially after me knocking her birthday party back. I promised myself that I would go up to Liverpool and pay her a visit—ATL, of course.

  ‘Looks like she’s forgiven me at least, Mum,’ I said, tucking the gift card and the note away in the very swish handbag I’d been sent for free.

  ‘Well, she’s eighty-five and lived through the war, love—I’m sure worse things have happened to her. But you just remember that she won’t live forever, and you’ll regret it if don’t come home and see her soon.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, pouring us both a glass of wine; I suddenly felt like I was going to need it, and wished I’d sat between Neale and Luke instead. That was definitely the easiest part of the table. ‘And I will—it’s all crazy at the moment, but good crazy.’

  ‘Good crazy?’ piped in Becky, staring at my wine with the undisguised envy of the pregnant woman. ‘Just crazy, I’d say. I mean, Tilly’s a lovely girl—but we didn’t come all the way down to London just to see her, you know? Or for Dad to talk to him …’

  She cast a glare in the direction of Jack—for some reason, she’d always taken against him. I’d always denied there was anything going on between us but I think she secretly suspected, despite that. Plus, he was the man who ultimately took me away from home … something I think my family were starting to see as a bad thing now, no matter how successful I was.

  I could feel the mood declining, and just didn’t have the energy to get into a debate with them—from their point of view, they were right. From my point of view, I was right—I was a big girl living my own life, and doing the very best I could. I had a hugely stressful and important night ahead of me in twenty-four hours’ time, and I needed to put off the showdown I could feel was brewing. ATL, I told myself—ATL.

  Luckily, Neale chose that exact same moment to screech like a banshee at something undoubtedly hilarious Luke had just whispered in his ear—and the whole table turned to them instead. For once, I was grateful not to be the centre of attention—and didn’t even object to the fact that my darling brother was now entertaining everyone with a story about the time he waited under my bed on Halloween night, then climbed on top of me wearing a Scream mask while I was asleep. Even I had to laugh—and it had been pretty funny, right up until the point where I tried to stab him with my nail scissors.

  After that, everything seemed to relax down a notch or two—Jack chipped in with some funny anecdotes about his early career; my dad told some stories that all started with ‘One night, I had this fella in the back of my cab …’, and my mum and Becky focused on eating, drinking, and, in Becky’s case, repeatedly going to the loo.

  I caught Jack’s eye at the end of the meal, when we were all on coffee and our final dregs of alcohol. He gave me a smile so wide, so charming, so outright gorgeous, that I thought I might actually melt and slide off my chair, landing on the floor where Becky could kick me in the ribs.

  He stood up, and held his glass high as everyone looked at him.

  ‘And now, ladies, gents, Neale, a toast. To Jessika—one of the most talented women I’ve ever met, and one of the nicest people I’ve been privileged to work with. Jessika!’

  As the others joined in, raising their glasses and chinking them against each other so hard the waiters looked a bit worried, my dad stood up next to Jack.

  He still looked a bit uncomfortable in yet another new shirt, and was wearing a tie—which I’d only ever seen at weddings, christenings, and funerals before. His bald head was shining with sweat under the lights, and he clinked the side of his spoon against the glass before he spoke.

  ‘To our Jessy,’ he said. ‘My favourite ever middle child.’

  Everyone started laughing, and I rolled my eyes—that’s my dad for you. Some things never change.

  Chapter 23

  ‘You look gorgeous, darling,’ Neale said, standing back to admire his handiwork. ‘And if I was on that particular bus, I’d be tempted to ask you for a ride.’

  I giggled, far more loudly than his lame joke merited. It was the nerves; I was so terrified, every cell in my body seemed to be vibrating with fear. I hadn’t eaten all day, and was surviving on coffee and Red Bull, so pumped up on adrenalin and caffeine that my hands kept shaking and my mouth was constantly dry. I’d even considered joining Neale for a cigarette break earlier, even though I didn’t smoke.

  It probably wasn’t the ideal condition to be in when I was about to perform—but there wasn’t much I could do about it. My mental state dictated that I couldn’t eat, couldn’t relax, could barely breathe. Although part of that was down to the hideously tight leather corset affair that Neale had me strung into—it was either made for a dwarf, or for alien beings who had no need for oxygen.

  I stood up and looked at myself in the dressing room mirror. I was barely recognisable as the girl who’d been serving smoked salmon twists just a few weeks ago—Neale, plus the work I’d been putting in myself, had transformed me into some kind of borderline kinky sex goddess. My hair was sleeked smooth with some industrial strength serum, a fake pony tail shimmering down over my back all the way to my now tiny waist. My eyes took smoky to a whole new level, and my legs were encased in black fishnet tights that somehow made them look a lot longer than they actually were. Although part of that illusion might also have been down to the thigh-length boots as well.

  I pulled a face like a horse at my reflection, admiring the dazzling shine of my newly whitened teeth—sleeping with plastic mouth guards on had so been worth it for the end result.

  ‘Neale, you are a genius!’ I said, grinning at him. ‘Thank you so much.’

  My nerves about the single launch weren’t completely soothed by looking this good—but it definitely helped. I knew Vogue was in the room next door, and that she’d be looking like a squillion dollars, so my confidence had needed the boost. I wasn’t in competition with her—but neither did I want to feel like her dowdy little sister, or the plain one all the boys would want to avoid at a party.

  ‘I know,’ said Neale, doing a theatrical fake sigh as he packed away his brushes and picked up the hairspray for a final toxic waft. ‘I’m like the Van Gogh of make-up—except with both my ears.’

  I knew the score now, and shielded my eyes with my hands as he sprayed me, making sure I didn’t breathe in before the fumes had dissipated.

  Althea, the stage manager at the club, popped her head through the door, radio in one hand and all miked up like an aircraft controller.

  ‘Ready, Jessika?’ she said.

  Two words. Two very simple words—both of which struck horror into my heart. Was I ready? Well, I certainly looked ready. The outfit was perfect—if a little out of character from my usual clobber. The make-up was done. The hair was amazing. The teeth would probably be visible to passing satellites, they were so white.

  I’d rehearsed this song with Vogue over and over again. I knew my notes, I knew my words, I knew my key changes. I knew my dance steps, I knew the other guys’ dance steps, I knew the lighting, I knew my marks. We’d done it several times on this stage throughout the day, we’d ironed out any wrinkles, and we’d nailed it. Technically, I was ready.

  Except … I was still petrified. The shaking hands and rumbling tummy were now accompanied by their good friend nausea, and my whole b
ody felt like a big, wobbly jelly. Or at least it would have done, if most of it hadn’t been strapped into a too-tight corset.

  My parents were out there. Becky and Luke were out there. Pretty much everyone who worked at Starmaker was out there, including Jack, his bosses, and possibly the cleaners and the bloke who came round to water the corporate plants with a spray bottle once a week. There were reporters and bloggers and columnists, not just from the UK but from all around the world. The single was available for download the next day—and this was our way of shouting about it. And of shouting about me—Jessika.

  Jessika, I knew, should be thrilled. She should be ready to take on the world, and think the world was lucky to have her. But Jessy—who was still alive somewhere, under the products and the costume and the slap—was feeling like an absolute pussy.

  Neale took one look at my face, and grabbed hold of my shoulders, shaking me so hard I thought my head might rattle off and roll across the dressing room floor.

  ‘Get it together, superstar!’ he said, pinching my arm really hard. ‘Don’t you dare fall to pieces now—there’s not time to fix that make-up!’

  It snapped me back to reality just enough to do exactly as he said—get it together. I couldn’t let him down—or my parents, or Jack, or Vogue. Or—let’s not forget—myself.

  ‘‘Kay,’ I mumbled, rubbing my arm where he’d pinched it. ‘Ta for that. I’m ready now.’

  I strode out, glad I’d spent the whole of the day wearing the scary boots to get used to them, and met Vogue, as she emerged from her dressing room looking predictably stunning. The dancers were already on stage. The live backing band were ready to go. The audience was waiting.

  Vogue gave me a huge grin, her teeth even whiter than mine, and held up her hand for a high-five.

  ‘Come on, babes,’ she said, as I slapped her palm. ‘Let’s nail this.’

  Chapter 24

  We did nail it—and it was euphoric. The launch was finally the culmination of everything I had wanted, and felt like fireworks and confetti cannons and a celestial choir singing all at once. Of course I was exhausted too.