Chapter 30 #2
As the night wore on, the lukewarm chardonnay sloshing around my insides began to feel like the rising waters of a sinking ship.
I stuffed handfuls of crackers, crisps and rectangles of cake into my mouth in an effort to soak up the backwash, but I could feel myself losing touch with the scene in front of me, could feel my body pulling further and further away from the others, the guy ropes that tethered my mind and spirit straining at the elastic.
Minutes passed. Or hours.
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed midnight. Happy 2012, darlings. Our shadows lengthened, and the year passed on.
I closed my eyes and saw flames burned onto my retinas. I opened them slowly and, through the haze, watched Victoria and Jolly across the circle.
‘Always watching, always watching,’ Victoria sang. ‘What are you watching for, little Shannon Bell?’
I smiled in a distant sort of way and Victoria laughed.
Jolly lifted his head. ‘Are you behind the glass, Shannon?’
I nodded, registering his concern.
‘What does that mean?’ Victoria asked, glancing between us. ‘What glass?’
‘She has these moments . . .’ Jolly looked at me for permission to continue. I nodded again. ‘She has these moments when she feels trapped, likes she’s behind glass, like she’s watching things happen but she’s not really there.’
Victoria frowned at the explanation. ‘I don’t understand. You never told me that, Shannon.’
Jolly sipped his wine. ‘Never mind.’
‘No, no, explain it to me. I want to know.’
‘You wouldn’t get it. She wouldn’t get it, would she, Shan?’
I didn’t know how to answer. Jolly’s speech, his movements, had taken on a peculiar slowness. I was struggling to piece together the conversation happening in front of me. I looked down at my hands, at the long pale fingers of a stranger that flexed on my command.
‘Of course I’d get it, just tell me.’
Jolly shook his head. ‘Have you ever felt stuck inside yourself?’
‘Stuck how?’
‘Like trapped – trapped within your body, within your head, within your existence, so trapped that it hurts you.’
‘I’m not following.’
‘Like you’re in a cage.’
‘Wait, what – an actual cage?’
‘Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.’
‘No, come on. Go back to the hurt thing – I’ve been hurt before, I know pain.’
‘Fine.’ Jolly held up his hands. ‘You’ve been hurt. You know pain. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
There was a pause. Victoria narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What is this, Jolly?’
‘What? Nothing. Let’s talk about something else.’
‘If you’ve got something to say to me, then just say it.’
‘I haven’t got anything to say.’
Victoria chewed her lip. ‘Is this because my agent didn’t want to sign you?’
Jolly laughed. ‘We were talking about Shannon and now you’re bringing up your agent?’
‘Tell me the truth, Jolly.’
‘You’re insane.’
‘Am I? Because I feel like the whole journey here you’ve had some bee in your bonnet, and now you’re trying to drag poor Shannon into it.’
‘I’m not dragging Shannon into anything, I was just checking she was OK.’
‘I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to my agent, I knew it would make you go all weird.’
‘Would you please shut up about your fucking agent?’
‘Don’t swear at me, Jolly.’
‘Fine, sorry. But can we not talk about your agent?’
‘You’re going to get rejected occasionally, Jolly. That’s just the way things are. It’s not the end of the world. There’s no need to turn on me for it.’
‘V, just drop it.’
‘The three of us are about to enter like the hardest industry, Jol. We need to stick together. Rejection affects us all.’
Jolly scoffed. ‘And what would you know about rejection?’
‘Erm, I actually know quite a lot. I didn’t get the Elizabeth job, if you remember, and then a bunch of others. You think that was easy for me?’
‘Fine, yes. But come on, V. It’s not like you’re going to be short of golden opportunities, are you?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing. Never mind.’
‘Why are you being so spiteful, Jolly? I would never say these things to you.’
‘I’m not being spiteful, I’m just being honest. You’re going to have a much easier ride in this industry than everyone else.’
‘How?’
‘Well, for one thing, you’re not going to be typecast all the time.’
‘I won’t be typecast?’ She laughed, incredulous. ‘Of course I will. I’m going to be playing public-school girls and coked-up Sloanes for the rest of my days.’
‘Yes, but alongside that you’ll play queens, warriors, heroines, and – and’ – Jolly threw his hands in the air – ‘fucking Brontes!’
‘She’s not playing a Bronte,’ I managed to interject. ‘She’s playing a Bronte character.’
‘Whatever,’ Jolly said, waving me away. ‘The point is—’
‘What is the point, Jolly?’ Victoria interrupted, clasping her hands together. ‘Please, please, please tell me the point!’
‘I will if you actually let me finish,’ Jolly said, a vein pulsing in his temple. ‘The point is that you can be whoever you want.’
‘Well yes, of course, Jolly, I’m a fucking actress, of course I can be whoever I want, that’s the point, that’s acting.’
‘No, you’re not listening. You can be whoever you want.’
Victoria screwed up her forehead ‘What are you talking about?’
‘What I said.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You think I can?’ Jolly asked.
‘What? You’re not making any sense.’ She looked at me. ‘Is he making any sense?’
‘You think I can play whoever I want?’ Jolly repeated.
‘What?’ Victoria swigged from the bottle. ‘Of course you can.’
‘No, V, darling, darling V.’ Jolly shook his head. ‘I’m always, always going to be cast as the gay guy.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Victoria said, swiping her short shock of hair behind her ears.
‘It’s true. They’re never going to let me play the leader or the politician, or the boring-ass straight love interest. I’m always going to be the gay guy.’
‘But why would you even want to play the boring-ass straight love interest?’
‘Because I’m an actor and I want to fucking act.’
‘You will!’
‘No, I won’t!’
‘You will!’
‘You’re not listening, V. I’m always going to be cast as the gay guy.’
‘Come on, Jol, you don’t honestly believe that, do you?’ Victoria said, shifting onto her knees. ‘You’ve trained at one of the best drama schools in the country. You’re going to have casting directors at your feet, you’ll get to play anyone you want.’
‘Ha! No, I won’t. Malcolm and Frida said as much,’ Jolly said, reaching for his glass. ‘Oh, and your oh-so-tactful agent.’
‘I highly doubt that. I think you must’ve got the wrong end of the stick. What did they say? What did she say?’
‘That I’m a fucking limp-wristed fairy.’
‘No, they didn’t.’
‘In as many words.’
‘Ha! There you go, in as many words.’
Jolly looked up, and I caught something hard and unfamiliar flash behind his eyes. He glanced across at me. ‘OK, yeah – well, what about Shannon?’
‘What about Shannon?’
‘What about me?’ I said, struggling to keep up.
‘She’s always going to be just the northern girl.’
‘Leave her out of it!’
‘I—’
‘You are,’ Jolly said, rounding on me. ‘You are. Because you’re normal, because you grew up in a normal house with normal parents, because you’re not an ultra-connected millionaire, because your ancestors weren’t on the fucking Mayflower or whatever.
You’re always going to have to play up to your one puny little USP. ’
‘USP?’
‘Unique selling point. Come on, Shannon, keep up.’
‘That’s not true,’ Victoria said, coming onto all fours. ‘Don’t listen to him, Shan. You’re super versatile.’
‘It is true, it is! You just don’t see it, V, because you’re fucking loaded!’
‘Jolly!’ Victoria yelled.
‘Jol—’
‘You’re fucking loaded and well connected, and you can be whoever you want.
But us?’ Jolly wrenched himself up to standing.
‘Us little people, we’ve got to trade on our differences because that’s all we’ve got.
We haven’t got town houses and agents and fucking Dexters.
We’ve got to, got to . . .’ He thought for a moment, grasping for the word.
‘Self-fetishize – that’s it – self-fetishize.
’ Jolly pointed at me and then at himself.
‘She’s got to play the plain little northern girl and I’ve got to play the limp-wristed queer because otherwise no one in the industry would ever think to look at us twice.
’ Jolly’s face was twisted, contorted, his words unleashing some hidden anguish I’d not seen before.
‘You can drop your Rs and smoke roll-ups and try to sound like you’re from Croydon all you like, but you’ll never understand what it’s like, because you’re an insider, V.
A fucking insider. Everywhere you go you’re accepted, already at home.
You live in a world of open doors. You’ll never know what it is to trade on your differences, never.
I mean, Jesus, you grew up in a castle, V, a fucking castle! ’
‘It’s not a castle, it’s a Georgian manor,’ Victoria spat back.
Jolly let out a whoop of laughter. ‘Are you kidding me?’
‘What? Why is that funny?’
‘A Georgian manor. OK yeah, fine, Your Highness, you win and I’m a fucking pleb.’
‘Guys, stop, please—’ I tried to interject.
‘It’s not my fault my family made good investments, Jolly. And why should I feel guilty anyway? I can’t help my background.’
‘You should feel guilty because all you do is make people feel tiny and pathetic and insignificant.’
‘If you feel insignificant, that’s got nothing to do with me, Jolly,’ Victoria said, cruelty glinting in her eyes.
Jolly looked at her like he’d been slapped. ‘You’re a real cunt, V, you know that?’
‘Whatever,’ she snapped, blush lacing her cheeks. ‘You’re a drunk.’
‘And you’re a junkie,’ he shot back.
Victoria drew a sharp intake of breath. Her lip quivered. She turned away from the two of us, looking like she might cry.
‘Yeah, yeah, here come the waterworks.’ He drained the last of his glass. ‘You’ll never get it, V.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘You’ll never fucking get it.’