The Overnight Fame of Steffi McBride

Chapter Seven

‘You treacherous little bitch. You’re no f***ing daughter of mine and never will be again.’

     The call from Dad had woken me up and so it was a good few seconds after he’d hung up before I actually worked out the full impact of what he’d said. I tried ringing his number back, but he’d switched the phone off. It was the first time I’d heard his voice since leaving home and it brought back a million bad memories.

     I wondered if he was angry because there’d been coverage of me and Luke in some of the papers over the previous few days. I’d been praying no one would point the stories out to Pete before I’d had a chance to go round and explain things to him. I couldn’t really see why Dad should be so upset about that, though. I mean I knew he’d liked Pete well enough, but not that well. Why would he care if I was going out with Luke? Luke wasn’t married or anything, was he?

      It was Sunday morning; my one chance of a lie-in that week and I attempted to get back to sleep, but my mind was too churned up by then. I slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Luke, and went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. The phone went again, this time from Dora.

     ‘I am so sorry, Darling,’ were her opening words.

     ‘Sorry about what?’

     ‘I had no idea she was going to do that. She’s out of my classes for good, I can tell you, the talentless little cow.’

     ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dora.’ I was beginning to feel panicked now, like I was stuck in a dream where nothing anyone said to me made any sense.

     ‘You haven’t seen the papers?’

     ‘Of course not, you know I don’t read them if I don’t have to.’

     ‘That Tanya girl, the one who used to come to the same classes as you, she’s sold a story about you to the News of the World.’

     A horrible coldness ran through me as I thought back to Dad’s call. Every Sunday morning his ritual was the same. Mum made him a cup of tea and then went down to the shop on the precinct to buy him a packet of fags and a News of the World to go with his breakfast. She was never allowed to read it until after he’d finished, so there was no chance she would have been able to censor anything she didn’t want him to see.

     ‘What kind of story?’ I asked, lighting a cigarette and dragging on it deeply.

     ‘That monologue you did the night Audrey and Tom were there, about your Mum and Dad, she’s sold that as a story.’

     ‘F***! How does she know I didn’t make it up?’

     ‘Apparently she’s going out with a boy who lives on the same estate as your family. He confirmed that everyone around there knows your Dad beats up your Mum.’

     ‘The newspaper just took their word for it?’

     ‘No. They sent reporters down there knocking on doors. Everyone confirmed it.’

     ‘Jesus. You make him sound like some kind of monster. He isn’t that bad, he just can’t handle his drink.’

     ‘The press don’t like wife-beaters, even if they only do it once.’

     ‘They went to all that trouble just to write a story about Dad thumping Mum when he’s had a few?’ I was having real trouble getting my head around it.