CHAPTER 5

There was no sign of the boy anywhere inside. Lily looked for him as she made her way through the Academy and out into the street, where her taxi was waiting for her.

As she climbed in, she heard the sudden roar of a motorbike. She snapped her head round, but it was only a pizza delivery guy revving his engine.

As the taxi trundled its way back to Mayfair, Lily wondered what the boy had been running from. Despite the tattooed biker’s claim to friendship, it was obvious the boy hadn’t wanted to meet him.

The insignia on their leather jackets suggested they were members of the same gang, so maybe he’d done something to make the biker angry (he had been annoying) and now snake-tattoo guy was after him. If that were true then it was probably a good thing the stage door had been open.

Maybe if he hadn’t hidden inside the Academy there might’ve been a fight or even a gun battle and he could have been shot . . .

And maybe I’m going mental, thought Lily, banishing from her mind the vision of her cradling his wounded body in her arms. What was she thinking? Making up stupid stories about a guy she didn’t know and would certainly never see again.

Lily stared out the cab window at the busy London shops and felt her heart miss a beat as a tall figure in a black leather jacket and black jeans suddenly darted across the road between two trucks. She craned her head to see if it was the boy from the alley, but she was too late: by the time the trucks had moved, he was gone.

After that, she spent the rest of the journey counting the number of people wearing black jeans and leather jackets. There were far more than she’d have thought possible, but none of them was the green-eyed boy with the long black hair and the wicked smile.

When Lily’s taxi finally pulled up outside the house in Berkeley Square, Nick’s mother was just opening the front door.

‘Hello Lily,’ she said as Lily paid the driver and ran up the front steps to join her. ‘I thought you’d be here long before me.’ Lady Langham ushered her into the house. ‘Was the traffic bad?’

‘Awful.’

‘How was your audition?’

‘Okay,’ replied Lily, then, seeing the concerned look on her hostess’s face, she smiled her much-practised summer smile and added brightly, ‘Fine. I think it went fine.’

‘And will they let you know this coming week?’

‘This weekend,’ said Lily.

‘That’s exciting,’ said Lady Langham. ‘I suppose they’ll call Elena?’

Lily shook her head, ‘Grandmama’s out of town so the secretary said they’d call here.’ She looked at her anxiously. ‘I hope that’s okay?’

Lady Langham nodded, ‘Of course.’ She took Lily’s hand and patted it reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure the answer will be yes. I’ll tell Charles he’s to sit by the phone and let you know the moment it rings.’

‘Please don’t,’ protested Lily. ‘I’m sure Lord Langham is much too busy –’

Lady Langham’s eyes twinkled. ‘Uncle Charles will be delighted to have an excuse to spend the weekend in his study. It’s the US Open and he’s a big tennis fan.’

Lily smiled. ‘Okay.’

‘Are you hungry?’ asked her hostess as they took off their coats.

‘Not really. If it’s okay, I thought I’d go upstairs.’ Lily made a face. ‘Dad made me promise I’d write him at least one real letter. He even bought me a Visconti fountain pen as a bribe.’

Lady Langham laughed. ‘I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear from you. Shall I call you when dinner’s ready?’

‘Yes, please.’

Up in the guestroom, Lily threw her coat on the floor and dropped onto the bed. She pulled her pillows into a pile behind her and picked up the gold pen that had been Philip’s farewell gift. ‘I know you prefer texting and email,’ he’d said as he’d kissed her goodbye, ‘but I want something with a little bit of you in it – a real letter with stamps on it waiting for us when we finally make port in Bora Bora.’

Lily unscrewed the lid and stared at the gold nib. It really deserved to be used for something better than a dreary letter about how she’d failed her audition.

An image of the boy in the laneway flashed into her head and for an insane moment Lily thought of writing about him.

Yeah, ’cause that’d be a good idea . . .

She could just imagine what would happen if she wrote to her dad about how a reckless, long-haired biker boy had invited her to go with him on some (probably) illegal jaunt – Philip would be on the next plane back to London to rescue her.

At least he’d be listening . . . Lily pushed the ugly thought away and put down her pen. Maybe she should email Angel first. She picked up her laptop.

Hey Angel,

So I did my audition, but I’m pretty sure I blew it! I totally forgot my second speech and Arathula Dane had to prompt me. It was super-stressful, but at least I got to see her up close. I could hardly believe it when I saw she was one of the three judges!!! Anyway, I expect I’ll be back in Paris on Monday. The Director’s going to call Nick’s parents over the weekend with the verdict.

At least Dad will be happy if I don’t get in. It was a miracle he agreed to let me audition in the first place.

How are things at Vidal’s? Is the summer collection ready? Can you send some photos? I’d love to see what you’ve been doing.

One good thing about being back in Paris is that there’s no way I can do that stupid Debutante Club Grandmama was so keen on.

Anyway, call or email or text me when you can.

Miss you.

Lily xx

Lily hit Send, stood up and crossed to the window.

Outside, the late afternoon sun lit the leaves of the trees in Berkeley Square and she could already see a touch of autumn where they’d begun turning gold. Summer was over and Lily suddenly felt as if all her hopes had faded with the season.

If only she could talk to Angel properly and tell her what she was really feeling. They’d always worked out their problems together – but how did you tell your best friend that she was part of the problem? Lily thought of Angel and how happy she’d been all summer. What sort of person would she be if she spoiled that?

She stared out the window. A large grey cloud had drifted in front of the sun, leaching the colour from the buildings in the square. A newspaper blew along the pavement and everything suddenly looked drab and dull. It started to rain Maybe it’s time I grew up, thought Lily bleakly.

Her laptop pinged. She crossed to the bed and read Angel’s reply.

Darling Lily,

Don’t worry, I’m sure your audition wasn’t as bad as you think and the verdict will be good. Anyway, I’ve already texted Nick about us coming to London to see you in a few weeks. He was pumped, so you’d better be there!☺

Vidal’s is amazing and I’ve never worked so hard in my life! I don’t see Monsieur Vidal too often as I’m only a lowly apprentice, but he did stop and ask me how I was doing during a visit to the studio last week. The rest of the team were impressed that he knew my name!

I can’t send photos of the summer collection as it’s strictly under wraps until the show. I haven’t even seen it yet and probably won’t until after the opening. I’m busy with it, but mostly fetching and carrying and sourcing fabrics. Maybe in a year or two, I might make the team. I can dream!

I’ve attached a photo of me and Kitty for your room at the Academy. My fingers are crossed for you! Kitty’s staying in Paris with her mum’s family for a few weeks while her dad’s away. I haven’t seen her since the Versailles Ball, so there’s lots to catch up on!

BTW I spoke to Grandmama last night, she’d just arrived in Monte Carlo and was already busy drumming up support for the Red Cross Ball. She said to send her love if I spoke to you.

So here it is and my love too.

Angel xxx

Lily tried to believe Angel’s hopeful prediction, but the weekend dragged by and the telephone did not ring.

She did her best not to think about it. She rang Angel a couple of times, but they couldn’t talk for long because Angel was busy at Vidal’s. She sounded so happy that Lily didn’t like to mention how miserable she felt.

She might have spent the whole weekend on Facebook or Skyping her friends back home in New York, but Lady Langham had strict rules about time spent on the internet and had insisted on taking her sightseeing instead. Lily enjoyed visiting the Globe Theatre and Hampton Court Palace and the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, and she appreciated Lady Langham’s efforts to keep her mind off things. But there were whole hours when she wished she’d never even heard of the London Drama Academy.

By late Sunday afternoon, she’d given up all hope of receiving a call from Marshall Drake and had started trying to imagine life at a Paris high school.

It was after eight on Sunday evening when Nick’s father wandered into the sitting room and interrupted Lily and his wife watching a re-run of Downton Abbey.

‘It’s raining again,’ he said gloomily.

Lady Langham looked up. ‘I thought it might rain. Still, the gardener will be pleased. Such a dry summer.’

‘In America.’

‘Really? Have they been in drought too?’ asked his wife with interest.

‘I mean it’s raining in New York. At the tennis – rain’s halted play.’

‘Oh dear, how disappointing.’

‘I hope it doesn’t put Murray off his game.’

‘He’s Scottish,’ said Lady Langham cheerfully. ‘He’ll be used to rain.’

‘That’s true,’ replied her husband, brightening. ‘He’s off to a good start, anyway. Took the first two games off Djokovic without a blink.’

He stood there pondering, until his wife finally said, ‘Did you want me, Charles? Only, Lily and I are trying to watch television.’

Lord Langham thought for a moment. ‘Had something I needed to tell you.’

‘Oh?’

‘That’s right – I had a call.’

‘Yes?’

‘From that fellow at the Drama School.’

‘Oh, Charles, how can you be so cruel?’ cried Lady Langham. ‘How could you ramble on about the tennis when poor Lily has been waiting all weekend for news?’

‘Wh–what did the Director say?’ asked Lily tremulously.

‘Not much,’ replied Lord Langham. ‘Only that he wants to see you in his office at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, and that he looked forward to offering you a place at the Academy.’