I Am Watching You(39)

For a number of years, this hotbed of theatrical ambitions provided a rollercoaster of tears and tantrums, triumph and tragedy for the two girls. During years seven and eight, the camaraderie was for the most part entirely positive. The younger girls all sang together in the chorus. But once auditioning for bigger parts was in the mix, everything became more competitive. As the pool of hormones, longing and insecurities bubbled furiously, Anna and Sarah watched all the subsequent falling-ins and falling-outs with a new awareness.

While Sarah surprised many around her with her burgeoning academic talents, Anna became the better singer. By year ten, the two friends were both obsessed with the notion of becoming musical theatre stars. They each believed this to be perfectly possible and hatched a plan to apply together to study music and drama. They imagined sharing a flat and spending their days singing on a West End stage, ignoring the eye-rolling of Tim and Paul and all the adults in their families. Anna’s father was especially dismissive.

I blame The X Factor for this, Anna. His mantra, sitting in his socks around the farmhouse dinner table, was that it was one thing to enjoy a school production, but quite another to kid yourself there was a career in it. Do you know, you two girls, where most musical theatre students end up? Waiting tables and pulling pints. You want to stop all this pipe-dream nonsense and work towards a solid degree. The pair of you. Something that will lead to a job . . .

Sarah and Anna ignored it all. They huddled up in Anna’s bedroom, wrapped in her duvet, and watched DVDs of all their favourite shows back to back. Cats. Phantom. Starlight Express.

And then – joy of joys – at the beginning of year eleven, the drama department announced that the new production was to be the girls’ favourite musical of all. Les Misérables.

Sarah sighs and looks at her watch, her eyes narrowing as she remembers it. That first discussion with Anna about which part to try for. She remembers sitting in Anna’s bedroom as they fell silent, each realising with excitement and dread what lay ahead for their friendship.

There was suddenly no place for loyalty or compromise. They were each ready to sacrifice their very soul to play Fantine.

From the off, Sarah knew that Anna was more likely to get the part, but that did not stop her trying. In her own bedroom, she secretly watched Anne Hathaway in the film version over and over and over until she had perfected every nuance, every breath, every tear. To her shame, she began to hope Anna would catch a cold or that her father would ban her from the distraction during their important GCSE year.

But no. On the day of the audition, there they both were – best friends and arch rivals – wishing each other well in public but secretly harbouring new and confusing thoughts. Sarah was ashamed but consumed by the depth of her ambition and jealousy.

By 3 October it was all over. A post on the drama noticeboard confirmed it: Anna would play Fantine. Sarah would be in the chorus with the ‘additional responsibility’ of understudying Madame Thénardier. The baddie.

Anna’s face said everything about the nature of her personality.

You want me to withdraw, Sarah? Honestly – if it means so much to you, I’ll withdraw. My dad doesn’t want me to do it anyway. I don’t want this to be a thing between us.

No, don’t be silly. I’m pleased for you.

And then for weeks and months she had to watch it all. The spotlight on Anna. Everyone amazed at her talent. All the boys, who dismissed the musical theatre crowd as hysterical suddenly seeing her in this new light, as rehearsals were filmed and shared on Facebook. Even Tim and Paul, who both hated musicals, seemed to become more tolerant, showing an interest in how things were going. Sarah still had a secret crush on Paul, and hated to see his funny comments on Facebook telling Anna how fabulous she looked in the costumes.

It was then that Sarah began her diversion. Not a conscious decision. More an experiment to boost her self-esteem . . . and then a steep and slippery slope. She discovered there were other ways to be popular with the boys. At first she felt powerful. She had her own spotlight. Then, very quickly, the grubby flip side emerged. Some gossip and nastiness on social media. A shared picture. And suddenly everything just ran away from her.

It wasn’t long before she was openly being called a slag. An ugly rumour went round that she had given oral sex to two boys on the rugby team at the same party.

Anna, ever loyal, told her to ignore the haters. Sarah wondered if deep down Anna suspected she was going off the rails, but they never discussed it properly. Publicly, Anna simply stood up for her. She said that people made things up because they were jealous of how clever she was. Sarah never told her it was all true.

All of it.

That was when their little gang really started to fall apart. Was it because Tim and Paul heard too much from the other boys? Sarah had never been sure.

And now, checking the train timetable on her phone, she realises how badly she needs to go to Tintley, to discuss all of this with the one person who just might understand.

Lily.

For a whole year, Sarah has convinced herself that Antony and Karl are to blame for whatever has happened to Anna. But new and confused thoughts are bubbling up within her and getting stronger every day.

Because Sarah keeps thinking of her father turning up to watch the school’s production of Les Misérables out of the blue. How much he went on and on about how stunning Anna was in the show.

And she cannot forget the truth about what happened in London. The truth about what happened in the club. And the text.