I do not own Skins, I just like it.

3. Reputations

Naomi

"Well that just a complete load of bollocky wank shite, James."

The not so dulcet tones of our new director rang out across the table, managing the near impossible task of stunning Cook into silence. It was day three of our little adventure, and we'd deciding to engage in a little post-rehearsal bonding session in the pub. It was the first time we'd ever worked with a director, and it was proving to be an experience. Anthea Stonem had a well-deserved reputation both as a fearsome director and a fearsome human being, and it would appear neither reputation had been an exaggeration. She had waltzed into our rehearsal room on the first day with her strange, almost ghost-like daughter in tow, and had immediately claimed the space as her own.

"Effy has been having a few problems," she announced. "I like to keep her close by me, so I can look after her."

Effy didn't say a word, but merely smiled vacantly at each of us in turn. We soon learned that this was nothing unusual, it seemed that Effy hardly ever said a word. Whatever problems she'd been having, she certainly kept them to herself. Anthea then proceeded to rip up the schedule of everything we had planned to do for the whole of that first week, saying we needed to strip down our expectations, and start again from scratch.

"For this to work," she stated plainly, "we all need to start living outside of our comfort zones. You need to forget about everything you think you know, in order for us to construct a newer and more visceral reality."

Cook and I exchanged dumbfounded glances, but we had decided to put ourselves into her hands and we had to trust her. She was infamous. Everybody wanted to work with her. We had seen a show that she had directed by an acrobatic troupe called Equilibrium last summer and it had been groundbreaking. There had been points when my heart had swelled with emotion as I'd been watching it, and points when even hard-hearted Naomi Campbell had been struggling to keep a tear from her eye. I remember turning to Cook as we walked out of the theatre that night and telling him, "I think I've just seen the future."

So we had given ourselves over to Anthea as she led us through various exercises and games designed to rip apart our conventional relationships with our equipment, our disciplines and each other, and I have to say I was fucking loving it. She had completely refused to enter any discussion about the narrative of the piece before tonight, which is when Cook had gotten himself into such a pickle, with his suggestion that we include the twins silks routine at a certain point within the show, and prompting Anthea's outburst.

"That makes no fucking sense at all," she continued. "This is a point when the audience needs conflict, aggression and danger. They need to feel the protagonists struggle between bravery and compliance. And quite frankly I am so fucking over watching pretty little girlies wafting the fuck around on cunting silks."

I struggled to stifle a smirk, because I actually agreed with her, but at the same time I couldn't help but glance over at the Fitch girls to see how they were taking it. Katie looked shocked, but she was trying to hide it, not daring to take on the foul-mouthed whirlwind that was Anthea Stonem. But it was Emily's reaction that stopped me in my tracks. Her mouth only betrayed the tiniest hint of a smile, but her eyes, her beautiful eyes were laughing. I had to force myself to look away before someone caught me staring, but as I did I noticed Effy watching her too. And for the first time in the three days since I'd met her, Effy was smiling.

Unlike Anthea's, the reputation that the Fitch twins had carried before them as the stuck up divas of the corporate world seemed to bear no relation to the reality that presented itself before me. Despite Cook's insistence that Emily was a complete sweetheart, I had refused to believe it, convinced that it had been Cookie's little disco stick that had been doing all the talking. But from the moment I had met her, I had been forced to revise that opinion. She was lovely. She seemed genuinely excited about the prospect of working with us, and had thrown herself enthusiastically into all of the games that Anthea had invented for us. She was always cheerful, even when she was knackered and she was frighteningly fucking strong. Even Katie, who I had heard could be a completely loud-mouthed obnoxious bitch, was quieter and more subdued than I'd expected, already a little out of her depth, but doing her best to come to terms with it. I was still annoyed about the way he'd done it, but I was beginning to think that Cook might well have been right to take a gamble on them. My original theory was not completely wrong however, as he was clearly besotted with Emily, always asking her opinion on stuff, and sneakily managing to get himself paired up with her for exercises, especially if they required any trust games or physical contact.

"So what do you think, Ems?" he asked her in response to Anthea's statement. I smirked again over the cute little nickname he'd given her. It wasn't often I got the chance to watch Cook make this much of a fool of himself over a girl.

"Yeah, no," she said contradicting herself. "I think maybe we should mix it up a little there, you know. Try something we haven't done before."

"Exactly," said Anthea forcefully. "We don't have a doubles trapeze pairing in the group, do we?"

She looked around as everyone shrugged and muttered no. We had thought about it, but I'd never really fancied putting my life in Pandora's hands.

"Anyone ever done any?" asked Anthea.

"I've done a bit," I volunteered nervously.

"Right then, Blondie. You're up." She informed me, co-opting Cook's nickname for me. "Anyone else."

"Yeah, I've kind of done a bit too," admitted Emily.

"Excellent. She's tiny," said Anthea, focussing her attention on me. "You shouldn't have any problem chucking her about."

Cook shot me a look clearly stating that he wanted to be the one chucking Emily about.

"Since when did you do any doubles?" Katie asked her sister, forcing our attention back to the other side of the table.

"I used to train it with Annabelle," said Emily. "You know when I was… distracting her."

The second half of that sentence was almost said under her breath, and meant only for Katie, but Cook pounced on it immediately.

"Distracting her from what?" he demanded.

Katie's face lit up like a beacon.

"Distracting her from her boyfriend, actually," she beamed. "Brian. He was so fucking fit, but he had this girlfriend Annabelle. So I had to send in my secret weapon."

"Your secret weapon being..??" asked Freddie.

"Emily, of course," laughed Katie. "When she gets her charm on, no woman can resist her."

"You're gay?" sputtered Cook. Oh this was fucking funny.

"As a window," laughed Katie.

"And you seduced some poor guy's girlfriend to order, so you're sister could cop off with him?" I laughed.

"Impressive," even Effy was moved to join in.

"Oh it's not like she didn't enjoy it," said Katie. "Annabelle proper loved the ladies after that. She ran off to Germany with that hot Argentinean sword swallower."

"What, you totally gayed her up Emsy?" asked Pandora.

"It wouldn't be the first time either," said Katie proudly. "Emily's a right fanny magnet for straight girls. There's no stopping her. She's like the Lezminator or something. It seems like once you've had a taste of Emily Fitch, there's no going back."

"Blimey," said a stunned Pandora, clutching Thomas' hand just in case she was about to get sucked in by Emily's charms.

"Interesting," put in JJ. "Cause Cook seems to think he's got the cure for lesbianism in his pants, when Emily's definitely got the cure for heterosexuality in hers."

"It's brilliant actually," laughed Katie. "Emily lures away all the girls, leaving lots of lonely boys for me."

I had watched Emily throughout the whole of this exchange, saying nothing and staring down into her pint glass, swirling the liquid around in her hands, and simply waiting for it to end. This was obviously not the first time she'd been through this. Katie clearly loved shocking any audience with tales of her irresistibly hot gay sister, the implication being that as Emily was to girls, so Katie was to guys. The Fabulous Fucking Fitch Twins – literally. What I did notice, however, was that Emily wasn't denying any of it. I was so going to tease Cook about this later. Far from sorting himself out a tasty little shag for the summer, he managed to land us with a female version of himself.

"Fucking outstanding," said Anthea, getting up fag in hand, ready to go outside. "I want sex, blood, aggression and violence. Get to it, Blondie. You and the Lezminator here can start work first thing in the morning."