Star Struck Read Online Free Page A

designed to be against her.
    Jo’s thoughts turned to how this was all going to play out when they got where they were going. What exactly did they think they were doing? What were they going to do when they got there – run in and put a hood over Catherine’s head and kidnap her, IRA-style? Catherine wasn’t answering her phone and Jo wasn’t sure she would take too kindly to her family turning up and demanding that she not put herself through a public audition. Maybe they should just support her, Jo thought. But then Jo didn’t really get a vote where family decisions were concerned – as the youngest she was always treated as the baby without any of the usual perks. She wasn’t even allowed the odd teenage strop without someone pulling her up and telling her how hard it had been for them when they were younger – like her three sisters had grown up in a Dickens’ novel or something. They’re not that much older than me, for God’s sake! she thought. Catherine was twenty-four, Maria was twenty-eight and Claire – first in line to the Reilly throne – was thirty-three. As much as Jo tried to put her point across and make the others see that she did sometimes know what she was talking about, she felt that her opinion was never really taken on board by her older sisters. Today would be no exception. She knew what would happen as soon as they arrived at the auditions: Claire would take charge and everyone else would fall into line. It was just the way things were.
    Claire rounded a corner in fifth gear and Jo lurched to the side, squashing poor Rosie who had been sitting quietly minding her own business all the way into town. ‘Sorry, Rosie,’ Jo said, putting a protective arm around her niece.
    ‘That’s it! There!’ Claire said, screeching to a halt outside a five-star hotel.
    ‘You can’t just drop us off here,’ Maria said. They had stopped on double yellow lines and were being waved at by an angry-looking man in a high-visibility jacket.
    ‘Right, you lot go in and I’ll park up. I’ll be one minute.’
    Jo jumped out and helped Rosie out of the car. She looked across at the sea of people who were packed inside the building. ‘We’ll never find her in there,’ she said to Maria.
    ‘We bloody well will,’ Mick countered defiantly.
    Jo looked at her father’s disgruntled expression. She had a feeling that daddy dearest didn’t want Catherine – his carer – going anywhere anytime soon.
    Andy Short wasn’t short. He was six foot two and his skinny frame and shock of black hair made him look even taller. He heard the line ‘You’re not very short are you?’ nearly every time he was introduced to someone. He had grown to think this odd; like saying ‘You’re not very black are you?’ to Jack Black.
    Andy worked in TV. ‘Our Andy works in telly,’ he would often hear his mum say proudly. Then she would pause for effect and add the killer punch, the one that got even the most hardened and snobby of her I-don’t-care-that-your-son-works-in-TV friends staring at him with admiration. ‘He’s working on
Star Maker
.’
    Once this bit of juicy information was out of the bag everyone always asked the same question, ‘What’s Richard Forster like?’ The real answer to that was that he had a penchant for young girls and many of the hopefuls who came through the doors found themselves being promised the earth and invited back to his palatial hotel suite in whichever city they were auditioning that week. But Andy never told anyone this. Neither did any other crew member, not just because it was unprofessional and sounded like sour grapes, but more importantly because Cherie Forster – Richard’s wife and one of the other judges – was such a formidable character that everyone assumed she’d find out who’d snitched on her husband and they’d never work anywhere in the world again, ever.
    Andy lived in south Manchester in the suburb of Withington with his parents, something he had vowed