Free Lucky Break by Esther Freud

inexplicably, and she imagined cut glass shooting from their eyes. As the flares melted away, Cath appeared on tiptoe in her Snoopy T-shirt. ‘Hello,’ she mouthed, and she disappeared into their shared room. ‘Night.’ She blushed as she appeared again, and on pale, bare legs she ran in the direction of Richard’s room. Nell turned back to the window. The sky was dark. The night was silent. And then a volley of gold rockets scorched up through the blackness and cracked open the sky.

The Interview
    â€˜You know they’re only planning to keep four girls for the third year?’ Samantha’s eyes were wide with fear as she shuffled along the bench towards Nell.
    â€˜Who said? How do you know?’
    â€˜I heard it from Charlie. But everyone’s talking about it. Patrick knows what he wants to direct, apparently, and there are only parts for four girls. The interview times are up, have you seen?’
    Nell abandoned her lunch and dashed to the front of the building. Traditionally, information was pinned to a noticeboard inside the main doors, and there it was – one white A4 sheet of paper on which, in two columns, was printed the names of the twenty-two remaining students. Nell traced the list with her finger. She was in the second column. Near the end. She was before Jonathan, and after that freak Eshkol. She felt herself go pale.
    â€˜Look,’ Samantha pointed to the list, ‘I’m second.’ She laughed nervously and a red flush appeared on her neck.
    â€˜But what does it mean?’ Pierre joined them. ‘Why have they put us in that order? It’s not alphabetical. It’s not by date of birth . . . is it some sort of code, do you think?’
    â€˜Probably,’ Nell said gloomily. Instinctively she glanced up at the balcony where, rumour had it, Patrick hovered between the lockers. What could he hear from there? Gossip, exhilaration, bitter grievous tears?
    â€˜Right,’ Samantha chewed on an already chewed-up fingernail. ‘Well, they’ll obviously keep Charlie. And Hettie? What do you think?’
    â€˜Probably.’ Pierre agreed. ‘And Marvella’s popular.’ Only last week Silvio had praised her ‘inner tranquillity’. Inner docility, more like, Nell thought now, but it was hard for a man, even a gay man, to see beyond those suntanned limbs and the natural wave of her blonde hair.
    â€˜Yes. And . . . and . . . who else?’ Samantha’s broad shoulders were bent forward, her large oddly bare face, gaunt.
    â€˜They like you,’ Nell assured her. ‘They won’t throw you out.’
    â€˜Really? Do you think so?’ Blood coursed through her, revealing pleasure and a new brief belief. ‘And you!’ Politeness overcame her. ‘They’ll keep you. They’ll have to. You were amazing last term in Othello . No one could have done Emilia better.’
    â€˜Really?’ Nell felt her stomach sinking. ‘But that makes five.’
    â€˜You know they’re only keeping ten boys,’ Pierre shook his head. ‘Just think how awful it’ll be, for the only one to go.’
    Both girls turned to him but neither could summon up the necessary sympathy. ‘It’s bloody ridiculous,’ Samantha wailed. ‘Most of the boys in our year are useless, everyone knows that.’
    â€˜Yes.’ Nell hoped Patrick was listening. ‘It’s not as if there aren’t any plays for women. You just have to look a bit harder. Show some imagination.’
    A door slammed and Jemma hurried through the foyer. She kept her head low, as if distracted by the large bright orange tutu cradled in her arms. She pushed against the door on to the street, and stood there for a minute silhouetted against the day, dust mites dancing round her curly head, each strand picked out in sunshine.
    â€˜Does she know the list’s up?’ Pierre mouthed.
    Samantha sighed. ‘And what