Perfect on Paper by Gillian Harvey (top 20 books to read txt) 📕

‘Me too,’ Clare said. And for once, she was telling the truth. Sure she was nervous, but she also had a feeling that it was going to be fun.

Dan’s sister Nadia had sent over a wig and sunglasses as part of her disguise and Clare tried them on for the rehearsal. The wig was itchy and the glasses made it hard to see at times – but she had to admit when she looked in the mirror she didn’t look like herself.

‘She’ll come and help you with it all properly before we do it for real,’ Dan said. ‘It’s just to give an idea, you know?’

As she tried to learn the simple side-stepping dance routine that the troupe had worked out for her, Clare felt less confident about their readiness. The boys would be devastated if they didn’t get in; but although she had rhythm in her words, her legs were refusing to cooperate. Next to the lithe, fit boys she felt old and clunky.

‘It’s great,’ Dan said enthusiastically, as she stepped slightly out of time. ‘Now let’s go from the top. Put the whole thing together.’

‘OK!’ she said, feeling anything but.

‘And you know it now, right? You can manage without the paper?’

‘I think so.’ She put the crumpled poem in her pocket, feeling more nervous than she should by rights. ‘Dan, are you sure this is going to work?’

‘I know it is,’ he said, with such confidence she was taken aback.

‘But won’t having a … gimmick – a humorous sort of rapper – make the whole thing look a bit … well, silly?’

‘Humorous?’

‘Yeah, you know – Martha B., the middle-aged rapper. Livin’ it large,’ she said, striking a pose. ‘Doesn’t it make it all a bit, well, novelty?’

‘I think you’re better than you think you are,’ he said, walking over and putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She felt a shiver of electricity as his eyes looked deeply into hers.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Do you think I’d ask you to be part of this if I thought it would be a joke? That the boys would get laughed at? That you would?’

‘Well, I thought …’

‘Clare, I don’t think the judges want us to be a novelty act at all. I think they saw something. And I’ve watched you now; heard you. I think you’ve got something.’

‘You do?’ She enjoyed performing more than she thought, sure. But being told she was good at it by someone who seemed almost impossibly cool? She hadn’t expected that. ‘But it’s not even a rap really,’ she said. ‘It’s a poem.’

‘Look, I’ll record it on my phone. So you can watch back. See what you’re really like.’ He brandished his phone, thumb hovering over ‘record’.

‘I’m not sure …’ She would probably die of embarrassment. But his smile was so wide, so somehow hopeful and innocent that she nodded. ‘OK.’

After an hour or so of missteps and rhythmic lines she told them she had to go. The kids would be wondering where she was. Plus, she had to admit, although she was getting a feel for the dance moves, her leg muscles were screaming in protest. Despite all this, she also felt a new determination. If she was intended to be genuine talent rather than a gimmick, she knew she could do better.

‘I’ll get something new written,’ she said before walking out. ‘Something that will appeal to people more.’

‘You think?’

‘Yeah,’ she said. After all, if she was going to do this, she was going to do the best she could.

The blazing lights at Clare’s house practically illuminated the whole street as she arrived home. And as she stepped inside, Toby bounced up to her like an excited puppy.

‘You’ll never guess!’ he said with no acknowledgement that she was home two hours later than usual and was wearing what appeared to be a pair of dance shoes. ‘Something amazing has happened!’

‘What?’ she said, a little impatiently, as she hung her coat up. ‘Your friend Matt’s been abducted by aliens again?’

That brought him up short; a look of horror flashed briefly over his features. ‘Oh … I didn’t – did I mention that at Hatty’s?’

‘Forget it, forget it.’ It was too cruel. ‘Go on, what happened?’

‘Rumour has it,’ he said, soon shedding his horror at the kind of madness he might have revealed at the dinner party, ‘that the studio is looking to mix things up a bit. Move a couple of people around, commission some new shows. Tap into new talent.’

‘Yeah?’

‘And someone let me know, you know, on the quiet, that my name might be on a list somewhere!’

‘Wow,’ she said, hearing the uncertainty in her own voice. ‘That’s great!’ Because it was great, wasn’t it? It was just, since he had started to work at the TV centre, spent more time away, got preoccupied with work, they’d grown apart a bit. She felt it – did he?

‘Don’t you see?’ – he clutched one of Clare’s hands in both of his – ‘This could be it! This could be my chance!’

Clare looked at the excited man-child on the end of her arm and couldn’t help smiling a bit. His enthusiasm was infectious. When had she last felt that way about work? she wondered, thinking of her tiny new office. Maybe it wasn’t Toby’s enthusiasm or career goals creating her feeling of being disconnected – maybe it was just that his success had made her reflect on her own situation and see how side-lined she was.

Then she thought about the thirteen boys. Her rap. The competition. Giving them a chance to maybe hit the big time. She felt the corners of her lips turn up a little in spite of herself. She’d watched the performance back on Dan’s phone and had actually felt quite proud. It wasn’t bad at all. ‘Actually, I’ve got my own news,’ she said.

‘Oh yes?’ he said. ‘That Camberwaddle fellow gave you some more business?’ He turned and began to walk to the kitchen.

‘No,’ she said, feeling suddenly enraged at