by Katy Cannon
Well, that explained why Mr Hughes was so amped up about this one. Reliving his glory days.
I glanced across the circle again. It was like my eyes just couldn’t stop themselves. Like when you’re trying not to stare at the piece of lettuce stuck in someone’s teeth, or the huge zit erupting out of their forehead.
Connor had one leg stretched out in front of him, his head bent down over the folder in his lap, so at least he couldn’t see me watching him. His hair flopped over his forehead a little and, every now and again, he’d reach up and push it out of the way.
“Now, I want to try something new with this year’s performance,” Mr Hughes went on, and I made an effort to tune in. “Last year we did Shakespeare in period costume, but I want something a little more modern for Much Ado About Nothing.”
OK, that made me sit up straighter in my chair. Costumes were my thing this year, and if everyone just needed jeans and T-shirts that would be a lot easier than breeches and ballgowns. Had Mr Hughes decided this because Connor told him I wasn’t up to the job?
“So we’re just going to be wearing ordinary clothes?” Violet asked from what, somehow, seemed to be the head of the circle. I knew exactly what she was thinking: but I wanted to look really hot in a corset. In fairness, it’s what I’d have been thinking in her spot.
“Not exactly.” Mr Hughes’s smile grew wider. “I want to set the whole play right at the very start of the 1920s. Just think. The war over in 1918 and the men coming home and getting demobbed only to find jazz clubs, flapper girls, the Charleston … everything.”
That didn’t sound like making things easy for me, at all. But it did sound like fun… I risked another glance across at Connor. Even he had managed to raise his eyes from his folder to stare at Mr Hughes as he described his vintage vision for the play.
“If we want to pull this off, it’s going to take attention to detail and a lot of work. Which is why I’m pleased we’ve got such a strong backstage team this year.” He pointed at the lighting and sound guys first. “In addition to the tech crew, who I think most of you know from last year, we also have Grace and Yasmin running our wardrobe and props department.”
A whole room full of curious eyes turned on me as Mr Hughes pointed in our direction. A room full of people who’d been wondering why I’d even bothered to show up now I wasn’t the star any more.
Well, now they knew. So I met every gaze with my head held high. Even Connor’s.
“We also have a new stage manager this year,” Mr Hughes went on, and Connor’s gaze snapped away from mine as he buried his head in his chest again. “You might not have met Connor yet – Connor, stand up?”
Despite his mutinous glare, Connor did as he was told, keeping the folder clasped to his chest.
“Now, even if you haven’t met him, I’m sure most of you have heard about him – I know how gossip travels at this school. So, yes, I’m saying on the record that Connor is my stepson, and I’m very happy to have him as part of this show. But trust me, I’m going to be working him just as hard as any of you – probably harder! And I wouldn’t have appointed him as your stage manager if he didn’t have the experience to back it up.”
Mr Hughes looked up at Connor as if he were maybe expecting him to say something about himself, but Connor took it as his cue to sit back down again, and resume staring at the floor.
With a small sigh, Mr Hughes turned back to the group. “So, does anyone have any questions before we get stuck in?”
Of course people had questions. Mostly stupid ones. But for once, I had a serious one I wanted answering.
But not before Violet had asked about what sort of dress she’d get to wear. Because obviously that was more important that the play itself. I hid a smile. The moment she got up there and fell flat on her face, Mr Hughes would know he’d made the wrong choice. And I’d be there ready to fix that.
“Well, that will be up to our wardrobe and props department,” Mr Hughes said, and I gave Violet my best, innocent, “of course I won’t put you in a sack of a dress”, smile.
She glowered back at me.
“If the play’s supposed to take place in the 1920s, does that mean we’re going to update the language, too?” Robbie, who was playing Claudio, asked, and I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Had the guy never seen a non-traditional Shakespeare production in English lit?
“Sorry, Robbie, no.” Mr Hughes grinned. “You still have to learn all the ‘thees’ and ‘thous’. Now, if that’s—”
“Actually,” I interrupted. “I have a question.”
I swear I heard Connor mutter, “Of course you do,” across the circle.
“Go on, Grace,” Mr Hughes said, in a way that suggested he’d heard it, too.
“You said that Connor had a lot of stage-management experience. I was just curious what sort of plays he’d worked on.” If he was so comfortable doubting my abilities, it was only fair I got to question his.
Mr Hughes blinked, his eyebrows jumping up a centimetre or two. “That’s a great question, Grace. Connor, perhaps you’d like to answer it?”
I smiled down Connor’s glare and didn’t even have to fake looking interested. He thought he knew the sort of person I was? Well, it was time for me to find out a little bit more about our new boy.
“I belonged to the school Drama Club and to the local youth theatre back where I used to live,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying fine in the now-silent room. Everyone wanted to know about Connor, it seemed. “I was assistant stage manager for two years and in my last term was promoted to DSM – deputy stage manager. I’ve worked on everything from musicals to Shakespeare to talent shows. That enough?”
He stared straight at me as he spoke, even though he had to know everyone else in the room was interested, too. I was just the only one who dared ask the question. And I couldn’t help the irritation I felt as I realized Connor really did know what he was doing backstage. Unlike me.
“That’s really interesting,” I said through barely gritted teeth. “Maybe we can talk more about some of the shows you’ve been involved in some other time.”
Connor tilted his head a little, as if he were trying to figure out exactly what I wanted. I just kept smiling sweetly.
“I think that’s a great idea. After all, you’re going to be working together very closely over the next few months. Right then, cast, up on stage for warm up, please!”
Everyone jumped to their feet, eager to get started. Most raced up there, while the tech crew ambled back off towards the lighting desk. There wouldn’t be much for them to do at this stage, but Mr Hughes had wanted everyone here for this first full rehearsal.
The cast were missing their Benedick though, I noticed. Ash and Yasmin stood a little way off from the stage, heads close as they talked. Yasmin had her chin dipped, but kept sneaking glances up every now and then, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her.
I really needed to talk to her about better flirting techniques.
Standing over by Connor, Mr Hughes called, “Grace?” and I hurried across to join them.
“I was just saying to Connor, while I get our cast ready for the opening scenes, why don’t you two schedule in some meetings to start on the props and costumes? You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you, and it would help to have you both on the same page. You’ll need to meet once a week, at least at the start.” Connor nodded in agreement, but he didn’t look happy about it. “You’re welcome to use the drama room after school, or at lunchtime. Or why doesn’t Grace come over to our house one evening, if you need more time? You can stay for dinner.”
He clapped his stepson on the back and wandered off towards the stage, leaving me and Connor staring at each other.
“I think we can consign that idea to the ‘last resort’ pile,” I said, and Connor nodded. Hard.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Mr Hughes, but the idea of being in his home was kind of weird. I supposed that must be how it felt for Connor all the time.
>
“After school, then?” Connor asked. “Which days are you free?”
“Um…” Actually, with Sewing Club on Mondays, Drama Club on Tuesdays and Fridays, and Bake Club on Thursdays, not many. “Wednesdays? Maybe?”
Connor shook his head. “No good. I’m busy Wednesday nights.”
“Busy? Doing what?”
“Does it matter? Look, we’ll just have to meet during study periods, or something.”
“If we have any that match.” The brush-off stung.
“Well, then, we’ll do it at lunch, if we don’t. It’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.” His gaze kept jerking across to the stage, as if he couldn’t wait to be somewhere else.
“Meaning I don’t?” I snapped. Rummaging around in my bag I pulled out a bright pink pen. “Give me your timetable.”
“Why?” Connor asked, but he was already pulling it out from his pocket.
I grabbed it from him, and starting scribbling my own obligations over the top. As an afterthought, I added my mobile number in the corner, then handed the paper back.
“You go, check your schedule, your busy social life, whatever. Then let me know when you want to meet. Preferably at school, please.”
I shoved my pen back into my bag and strode off towards the stage. Whatever Connor thought about me, I was there to work, to prove myself. And the first thing I needed to do was get a feel for the play and the cast.
And see how bad Violet really was at playing Beatrice.
Rehearsal ran over, as it always did. I’d hoped to grab Yasmin for a gossip on our way home, maybe even detour via her house for a bit and see if her sister-in-law had been cooking. But by the time we got all packed up I knew that if I didn’t head straight home I’d never hear the end of it from Mum.
“I’ll message you later, yeah?” I told Yasmin, as we parted at the gates. She nodded, but at that moment Ash caught up to us and I didn’t have a chance of holding her attention.
“Are you going this way, too?” He pointed towards the park and Yasmin’s house. “Maybe we could walk together?”
Yasmin gave him a shy smile. “I’d like that. See you tomorrow, Grace!”
I waved, but they’d already turned away. Maybe she didn’t need quite so many tips on flirting, after all.
At home, Faith’s car was parked on the driveway again and my spirits fell to new lows. I’d barely held it together through all the looks and whispers at Drama Club, not to mention trying to convince Connor I was actually serious about being the wardrobe mistress. All I wanted to do was curl up in my room.
I always felt like Mum and Dad were waiting for me to do something, although I wasn’t entirely sure what. Welcome Faith with open arms, maybe? Tell Mum everything was fine, even though it wasn’t? Say I understood, when I didn’t? I didn’t understand how this could happen. How they could have a daughter I didn’t know about for sixteen years. How they could change so completely the moment Faith walked into the house. How did they go from parents who only wanted me to succeed, to prove myself, who put achievement over affection, to Faith’s parents, who wanted to bake with her and talk about their feelings and stuff? None of it made any sense.
And whatever it was they wanted from me, I couldn’t face any more expectation tonight, so I let myself into the house as quietly as I could. Sometimes, if they were really engrossed in doing the bonding thing, they wouldn’t notice I was back. No such luck today, though.
“Grace? Where have you been?” Mum appeared in the hallway, her hair coming loose and an apron tied around her waist. “Faith is here. We’ve been waiting for you to eat dinner.”
I blinked. Mum had cooked an actual meal? And one that didn’t involve popping holes in plastic and putting it in the microwave, judging by the smear of sauce on her apron. Was that weirder than her baking, or less weird? I couldn’t decide.
“I had Drama Club, Mum.” I dumped my bag at the bottom of the stairs, as usual, and kicked off my shoes. “Same as every other Friday. And I had to go – I’ve missed too many this term already.” I didn’t point out that I hadn’t even known Faith was coming round. Given that she practically seemed to live at our house these days, I should have guessed.
“Family is more important than having fun with your friends, Grace.” Dad sounded utterly serious when he spoke, and I barely managed to hold in a laugh. A bitter, harsh, painful laugh, but a laugh all the same. There was no way to win with my dad. He wanted me to steal back the lead role, but didn’t want me missing a family dinner in order to do it. Besides, he thought I’d been having fun? Wrong. And my parents thought they could just erase the last ten or so years of dysfunctional family life and replace it with a perfect, complete family now they had Faith back? Wrong again.
“Since when? Family wasn’t ever more important than work for you two, until this summer.” Throwing my coat at a peg, I grabbed my bag again. After years of coming second to whatever else the two of them had on their calendars, I wasn’t going to be lectured now about making time for family.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t appreciate your tone,” Dad replied, his face red.
“You are part of this family, young lady, and that comes with responsibilities,” Mum said, stepping in front of Dad. “Like not throwing parties without our permission, and showing up for family dinners on time.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to keep all the hateful words I was thinking inside. What did they know?
“You need to—” Dad started, but the words came spilling out of me before he had the chance to say more.
“What about your responsibilities to me?” I asked. “Like not lying to me my whole life. Or not always putting work first until your new, improved daughter shows up and suddenly you decide it’s time to be a family? To be honest, I’m surprised any of you even noticed I wasn’t here. You all seem perfectly happy without me.”
And with that, I stormed off upstairs to my room. There was no way I was eating any dinner Mum had cooked for her perfect family and perfect daughter.
They didn’t follow me, which I was glad about. I thought about messaging Yasmin or Skyping Jasper, or even calling Lottie. But I didn’t want to talk to any of them right now. They’d have listened, I knew, and tried to be understanding. But who can understand suddenly having a big sister after years of being an only child?
I needed a distraction. Something to make me forget all about my dysfunctional family.
I reached under my bed for the sewing basket, pulling out Gran’s half-finished quilt, but I didn’t even know where to start with it. So instead I found my script of Much Ado About Nothing, grabbed a new notepad and pen and started to make notes. I wanted to be prepared for my meeting with Connor, whenever he decided to have it. Which meant knowing who I needed costumes for, at the very least.
Watching the rehearsal, it had finally dawned on me what Mr Hughes’s vision for the play meant. Every single person on that stage needed at least one period costume, but most needed several. I didn’t even know what people wore back then. Where on earth did you get 1920s costumes? Much as I hated to have to ask him, I hoped Connor had some idea, or we were completely stuffed.
Still, I could make a start. And by the time I heard a soft knock on my door, I had a list of every character, and a few notes on how many times I thought they’d need to change costume. I also had “wedding dresses?!” scrawled next to Hero, Beatrice, Margaret and Ursula for the last scene, when Mr Hughes wanted them all to come in for Hero and Claudio’s wedding with veils over their faces, so Claudio didn’t know who was who.
“Come in.” Shoving Gran’s quilt back under the bed, I scrabbled to sit up, rather than lounging on my front with my feet kicked up. There was always a chance that someone was coming to apologize, and it was good to look poised for that sort of situation.
The door creaked open and a plate of sandwiches appeared, followed by a blonde fringe. Faith.
“I thought you might be hungry,” she said,
holding the plate out like an olive branch.
“Thanks,” I said, not moving to take it from her. “You can put it on the desk. If you like.”
Faith looked around her, finally spotting the desk behind the door and putting the plate down. She waved a hand at the desk chair. “Can I…?”
“Sure.” Although I couldn’t imagine why she’d want to, and I really wished she wouldn’t, but I couldn’t think of a way to say “no” that wasn’t supremely brattish. She must have heard everything that I’d said downstairs, and she had to know that her being here had made my life a thousand times more difficult. So what did she want to talk about?
Faith picked up the small cushion sitting on the chair – one Gran had made for me out of my favourite T-shirt once I outgrew it. Holding it to her chest, she sat down.
“What are you working on?” she asked, and I instinctively covered my notepad before deciding that was stupid. What did I care if she knew about the play?
“A costume list. For the school play.”
“You’re in charge of costumes? That’s cool.” She frowned. “I thought Nick … your … Dad said that you were understudying for one of the leads, though?”
I shook my head as she stumbled over what she was supposed to call the parents she’d only just met. Nice to know I wasn’t the only one baffled by how to deal with the situation, even if Mum and Dad were trying to pretend it was all totally normal.
“That, too. But I … wanted a new challenge. That’s why I’m only understudying. Couldn’t be the lead actress and the wardrobe and props mistress.” The whole situation sounded way better if I put it that way.
“That’s good, then.” Faith bit her lip, chewing it the way Mum often did when she was thinking too hard.
“I’m sorry, did you want something in particular? Only…” I pointed at the script with my pen, and Faith jumped to her feet, placing my cushion back where it belonged.
“Sure, yeah, you’re busy. It was just … I wanted to ask you…”
I raised my eyebrows and waited for her to finish.
