Someone Like You by Becky Alexander

Author:Becky Alexander [Alexander, Becky]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

BEFORE

‘Who’s next? Jemima.’

‘Yes, Jemima Evans.’ It was strange to hear my new name said out loud. Did the drama school teacher, Messios, remember that I had a different name when I first auditioned, back in January? Maybe he did, and maybe he didn’t care. When I’d got in I emailed and said I wanted to use Jemima, as a stage name, if that was OK, and no-one ever mentioned it again. The truth was I wanted to leave Gemma behind. Be someone new, better.

‘Hi, everyone. I’m Jemima. From Bristol.’ I smiled around the room. I wonder if they thought I’d come from the Bristol Old Vic or Redmaids – somewhere posh, exclusive. I had practised how I said Bristol, to lose the soft roll that I knew would stand out in a room of people from private school. More confident, clipped – I didn’t want to be the odd one out.

Our lunch-break was in the tiny cafe space that doubled as the box office in the evenings. There were more of us than chairs, so I leaned awkwardly against a narrow ledge piled with flyers for future plays. We were watched over by framed black-and-white headshots of alumni, and I recognised three. Just last year’s graduates and already famous – no pressure, then.

Some of the students took the largest table next to the grand piano and Leo, I thought he was called Leo, started to play something without sheet music, something jazzy, until he looked bored, but stayed on the piano stool, holding court. There was a space near me, a section of ledge to put lunch on, and a stool, but I watched as people glanced over and then chose other places to sit. It was day one and they’d made a decision about me already. Had I failed some sort of test – didn’t I look the part?

‘Do you know Gisella? I love her!’ I heard screeching happiness as the mutual connections were established. ‘Oh, you were at National Youth Theatre, too? When? I was the year before – it was so good…’ ‘Just got here from San Francisco… I’m completely exhausted, night flight…’ ‘Oh, I’m the black sheep of the family. My brother is the really talented one – he’s at Cambridge.’ I made myself look busy, eating my cold pasta salad.

‘There’s a pub on the corner near the British Museum. Old school, really sweet.’

‘Or we can walk to Charlotte Street and find a decent bar there? Is anyone a member at the Groucho or Union?’ Confident, talking over each other. Deciding where to go to celebrate the end of the first day. People gathered bags and coats; it was cold outside, already getting dark. It had been a long, mentally draining day. One of the loud, posh girls – Neema – radiated confidence and people gathered near to her, waiting for a decision to be made, knowing that it would be made with her at the heart of it. I waited, taking my time, pretend to check my phone although there wouldn’t be any messages.

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