Rowan Coleman - Ruby Parker - Soap Star

I heard Trudy sigh and someone shuffled some papers. It felt like a dream, like one of those nightmares when you walk into class in your knickers and nothing else and everyone laughs and you think it’s real. And just for a second when you wake up you feel sick and terrible. Except it wasn’t a dream. And I wasn’t going to wake up. I wanted to leave, to run away, but I couldn’t. I was sort of glued there.

“So,” Liz said, after a pause, “what are our options?”

“Well,” Trudy said, sort of crossly, “bearing in mind we’re talking about a child here – option one: we send Angel away to America or something and she comes back a different actress, a more ‘photogenic’ one.” I felt my stomach turn over and my mouth go dry. I felt this wave of panic in my tummy like just when a roller coaster starts going down really fast.

“Option two,” Trudy continued, “and my favourite – a bit of a cliché, but always a hit – we give Angel a makeover. Maybe put a few highlights in her hair, get her some coloured contacts and let her wear a bit of lip gloss.”

I remembered wearing lip gloss at the British Soap Awards and feeling like I had raspberry pudding glued to my lips, but before I could get used to the idea Simon chimed in:

“But do you think Ruby’s got anything to work with? I’m not sure a makeover will cut it.” There was a short silence and it was like I was watching a live link on satellite telly. Like there was a two-second delay between him talking and me hearing what he was saying.

“Option three is that we kill her,” Trudy said. just like that. Bang. My knees went and I had to grip on to the wall to stop myself falling off the world. It was just like someone really had told me I was going to die; it was almost just like that, because in that second it all caught up with me and I realised that if I go from the show, everything else that was just about holding things together in my life would go to.

I’d never get to see Justin again, which meant he’d never get to know me properly and then realise one day that it was me he loved and not his stupid girlfriend. And worse, worst of all, Mum and Dad would be so disappointed in me. So angry with me that…that they might stop trying altogether, and then…

And then I had to stop thinking about it. I had to stop being there before I started crying and they heard me or something.

“Oh, yes,” Simon said. “I like that option. Let’s kill her: some sort of disease or something. We could tie it in with national kids dying week or something like that.”

“Oh, Simon, you are such a—” I think Trudy was going to swear, but Liz stepped in before she could.

“Ruby is such a great little actress. I know she’d give that story line everything, but well…”

I couldn’t listen to any more after that because suddenly I felt sick. My head was throbbing and I could feel my cheeks burning; I ran out of the building and on to the lot and tried to get as far away from everyone as I could. I ran into one of the Portaloos and locked the door. My face was all hot and I felt like I should cry, but my eyes were dry and prickly. I get letters from girls who are picked on at school because they’re fat, because they wear glasses, or sometimes just because they are different. And I write back to them and say I know how they feel, because everyone feels isolated sometimes in life and it’s best to be true to yourself and talk to a parent or teacher. But I didn’t know, not really, not until then. It wasn’t until then that I knew how they felt. So alone and so wrong in the world that there was nothing they could do to fit in, because it wasn’t anything they did that was wrong. It was everything they were.

It took me ages to be able to go back on the set and act like everything was fine. Actually it took until one of the runners came and banged on the door and shouted my name. A part of me wanted to just walk out there and then and leave them in the lurch. But I’m not very good at rebelling, so I just went back and I did my scene. Luckily I was filming reaction shots for a scene when Angel accidentally finds a robber in her house and I had to scream and look scared. It was pretty easy – after all, it’s not every day you find you’re going to get killed, is it?

Flat 32

Mandela Tower

Freedom Estate

Luton Beds

Dear Ruby,

I hope you don’t mind me writing to you – I’m sorry to be taking up your time. It’s funny though, because I’m thirteen like you, and I feel like you know me really and that talking to you is like talking to a friend.

The thing is, Ruby, I don’t know what to do at the moment, I really don’t. My best friend Becky stopped talking to me a couple of weeks ago. She got in with the in-crowd and then just stopped talking to me, and it wasn’t just her it was everyone. Nobody talks to me any more. No ones calls me names or hits me or anything, but all day long at school I’m on my own. At break time I just go to the library and read a book. I told my mum about it and she said it wouldn’t be for ever and that Becky would talk to me again one day, but I don’t think she will.

I tried to talk to her before English yesterday and one of the other girls said, “Don’t you realise she hates you?” I didn’t know what to say after that. Becky looked sort of upset but she still didn’t talk to me. I know that when Angel and Julia fell out, Angel felt like that too for a while, but then she found out just in time that Julia was going to be kidnapped by Armenians and they made up. I don’t think anything like that will happen to me. On Sunday nights I feel so terrible that I’m sick. It’s the holidays soon and that’s good, but even then I know that I won’t have anyone to talk to and that I’ll have to go out on my own so my mum doesn’t worry about me being lonely.

What would Angel do?

Love

Shamilla Choudary

xx

Ruby Parker

Dear Shamilla,

I’m so sorry that you’re feeling so lonely, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to answer your letter. Today I had a very tough scene at work and I have really thought about what Angel would do if she was going through what you were. I think that sometimes when there’s a whole group of people doing something, it’s easier to do what they are than to be different. I think maybe that’s what your friend Becky is doing. I don’t think she’s stopped being your friend, not really, not if she was upset about what that nasty girl said to you. Maybe as it’s now the summer holidays you could ring her up and ask to speak to her on her own. Or maybe just send her a friendly text. I bet once the pressure of school is off she’ll realise how much she’s missed you, because a good friend is hard to find.

If she really has stopped being your friend then, well, she really isn’t worth being upset about – although I know that’s easy to say. I talk to my mum when I’m really worried and I think you should try and talk to your mum again. Ask her to sit down for a minute and really listen. I bet she will and I bet when she properly understands how sad you are you’ll feel better.

You sound like a lovely girl and I bet you’ll make new friends before you know it. If you really don’t think you can talk to your mum I have enclosed some leaflets and the number for ChildLine.

Good luck!

Ruby x

I usually do tell my mum everything. Usually she picks me up from school or the set and we go home together and I tell her all about my day: if I’d had a good scene or if Liz said that I’d had a good day. We laugh and talk about Everest and the things he got up to at home that day, like trying to kill Mum’s fleece, or getting stuck in the cat flap again carrying a whole baguette in his mouth, all nonchalant like nobody’d notice a cat with a baguette. When we’d get in, I’d sit at the table and Mum would make me tea; then after an hour or so Dad would come in and Mum would say she was off for a bath, and Dad would sit at the table and I’d tell him all about Everest and the baguette, or something, and he’d tell me a joke he’d heard on the radio. And I’d laugh really loud so Mum could hear us in the bath and she’d realise that we are happy and that nothing had to change.