Page 81 of A Class Act

‘Sorry, Sorrel.’ I moved to hug her and, for the first time in months, she allowed me to do just that.

And I really was sorry.

28

It had been one hell of an interesting week’s break from school.

‘You know, Jess,’ I said on the Sunday morning before the start of the new half-term, ‘I’ve been googling, and I don’t see why Sorrel can’t apply to the Susan Yates Theatre School herself.’

‘Are you sure?’ Jess, buttering toast, looked up. ‘Don’t you have to go through a dance school? And is she any good? She’s not had an actual lesson for the last year or so.’

‘Apart from with Peter Collinson… Look, I’ve no idea if she’s any good or not. I feel a bit guilty that I’ve never been to watch her in any of the concerts she used to be in. She’s been classically trained like I was, but, like me, much prefers the contemporary stuff: musical theatre and the like.’

‘But the cost, Robyn? Don’t go getting her hopes up, will you? We just can’t afford it.’

‘There’s bursaries available apparently, and she wouldn’t have to wait until next September – they take new kids on at Christmas and Easter. The big problem, as far as I can see, is that they only take academically sound kids: you have to beup to scratch with schoolwork as well as absolutely brilliant at dancing, singing and acting.’

‘Well, forget that, then, Robyn. Sorrel’s been bunking off school for the last six months. She must be way behind with her GCSE work.’ Jess drained her coffee cup. ‘And do they take these older kids, who’re already in Year11? I thought they’d only be interested in much younger ones they can train up. Right, are you off to fetch Mum while I make us a lovely roast as a welcome-home dinner? We’re going to eat about fiveish if that’s OK?’

‘I thoughtyoumight want to go?’ I said, straight-faced.

‘Me? Why? I’m the cook round here.Yourjob is to chauffeur.’

‘One last look at a certain consultant?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Jess turned away, slightly flushed.

‘Iknewit.’ I smiled in delight. ‘You’ve not stopped talking about Dr Spencer ever since I got home from London.’

‘He’sMrSpencer. Give him his correct title, Robyn. He’s lovely though, isn’t he?’ Jess grinned, reaching for a pack of butter. ‘I have real fantasies about him, you know.’

‘Involving his stethoscope on your chest?’

‘’Fraid so.’

We both chortled conspiratorially.

‘Shall I invite him back to eat with us?’ I asked, determined to do just that.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned. ‘No.’

‘Are you daring me?’

‘No, just don’t.’

‘I’m going to.’

‘You do that and I’ll ring Mason and ask him as well.’

‘You don’t have his number.’

‘’Course I do. For if I need to get in touch with him about his granny.’ Jess indicated her phone with a floury hand, pushed hertongue out at me and began to chop the butter before thrusting her hands into the bowl once more.

‘Lovely. Do it.’

‘What?’

‘Invite Mason. And I’ll invite Matt Spencer.’

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