by Lyn Gardner
“How’s the voice, Amber?” asked Jon sympathetically.
“Dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. I can barely whisper. And to make things worse, Kasha Kasparian has knocked me off the number-one spot in the singles’ chart. I’m prepared to forgive him, though, because he’s really rather cute. Oh, sometimes I think I’ll just chuck it all in…” She paused as if expecting a storm of protest, and when it didn’t come she added brightly, “But of course my fans would never let me. They’d be devastated.”
Jon muttered sympathetically. “Amber darling, do you think you could manage a little rehearsal? Theo has been waiting for ages.”
“Of course, Jon, but no singing. My doctor says I must rest my voice. I’ll just go and touch up my make-up.” And she sashayed off jabbering very loudly to someone on her mobile. She appeared to have forgotten all about resting her throat.
“Diva,” whispered Eel, just loudly enough for those around her to hear.
“I didn’t hear that, Eel,” said Jon, and although his voice was sharp there was a twinkle in his eye.
Chapter Nineteen
Georgia finished reading the speech and waited. The director whispered something to the man next to him, who then whispered something to the woman next to him. Georgia strained to hear what they were saying.
“I don’t know,” said the woman, appraising Georgia with her grey eyes as if she was thinking of putting a bid in for her at an auction but wasn’t sure she was worth the money. “She might work, but I suppose that depends on who you cast as Zelda’s friend, Trinity. We don’t want two blondes. That would never do.”
“Maybe we could dye her hair,” said the director, as if Georgia wasn’t standing there right in front of him. She was beginning to feel quite angry, but she bit her lip and said nothing. The woman rifled through the photos on her desk.
“Of course, Aeysha’s already dark; you wouldn’t have to dye her hair.”
Georgia froze. There was no way Aeysha was going to get the role just because she wasn’t blonde. “I’d be happy to dye my hair,” she blurted out. In fact, what she wanted to say was that she would dye her hair purple, cut off her right arm or donate a kidney if that’s what it would take to get the role. But of course she didn’t.
“Maybe we do want a blonde?” mused the director. He looked bored. “Or maybe we don’t. Decisions. Decisions.” He suddenly brightened. “I know – we need a redhead.”
“Actually,” said Poppet nervously, “you weeded out all the redheads at the first-look stage. You said you were certain that Zelda wasn’t a redhead.”
“Oh, did I?” said the director absently. He scrutinised Georgia again for what felt like hours. “Thank you, Georgina,” he said eventually. “We’ll let you know.”
“Georgia,” said Georgia vehemently. “It’s not Georgina, it’s Georgia.”
The director smiled weakly. “Of course, of course. Georgia. I knew that.”
Georgia glared at him, enraged. They had called her back again and again, made her jump through hoop after hoop like a performing seal and they didn’t even know her name.
“Well, you don’t behave as if you do,” she said furiously, and stalked out of the door banging it hard behind her. As soon as the door closed, she regretted what she had done. She was such an idiot! And it wasn’t as if she didn’t know better. She had behaved badly on her very first audition soon after she’d arrived at the Swan and she had vowed never to behave like that again. And now she’d done just that, at what was one of the most important moments in her life. She’d blown it completely by losing her temper.
It was over for her now. Aeysha was going to get the part. She just knew it. She put her hot head against the cool wall. She wanted to feel pleased for Aeysha, but she couldn’t. All she felt was jealousy.
Katie watched Georgia leave the building from across the street. Then she waited for a black cab to pass, crossed the road and walked quickly over to the entrance, where she pushed the buzzer marked Kylight Productions.
“It’s Kate Carmichael,” she said into the intercom, looking nervously over her shoulder. She felt a bit sick. She was really worried that she would be spotted or, worse still, that she would run into Georgia or Aeysha and then her secret would be out. Both of them had separately asked if she wanted to join them all at lunch over the last couple of days but she had made an excuse on each occasion. She couldn’t bear to look either Aeysha or Georgia in the eye.
She walked slowly up the stairs. She knew what she was doing was wrong. She had told herself that she wasn’t going to come this afternoon. After she’d been persuaded back to the Swan after the audition fiasco and her mum got the job on Cinderella it had been her intention to give up the Zelda auditions. Things were definitely looking up for them both and her mum was transformed. She had given the landlord a piece of her mind and he had immediately sent someone round to do the repairs to the flat. Lily was cooking again and had taken over all the laundry too. Best of all she woke up with a smile and couldn’t wait to get to the Swan to work on the designs for Cinderella. It felt to Katie as if she and her mum did have some kind of future.
So she had no excuse for carrying on trying to get the role of Zelda. But the lure of playing the part was so strong: it was like being locked in a room with a bar of chocolate when you’re starving hungry. It was so hard to resist…
Three times Katie had tried to do the right thing, and three times she’d failed. The morning after her mum had announced her good news, she’d knocked on Miss Swan’s door to confess, but the headmistress had been too busy to see her and Katie had fled. Then when she was walking down the corridor that morning she had noticed Kylie, in a gaggle of the other girls, staring. It wasn’t the first time she had seen Kylie looking at her. She knew that Kylie had been told off by Miss Swan, so what if she was plotting her revenge? If Katie got thrown out of the Swan again, they’d be straight back where they’d started.
Even then she had been determined to do the right thing. But when she had rung Kylight Productions, Poppet had started prattling away before Katie could tell her that she was withdrawing from the auditions.
“How are you, Kate? I know everyone is very excited about seeing you again this afternoon. I know I shouldn’t say this, but between you and me I know you are one of the favourites to play Zelda. They all love you.”
“Do they?” said Katie doubtfully.
“Definitely,” said Poppet. Then she added conspiratorially, “I really shouldn’t say this but you’re my favourite. I think you’d be a brilliant Zelda. You were born for it.”
Katie’s heart had started racing. How she would love to play Zelda! Maybe she shouldn’t chuck it in now when she was so close to the prize. Maybe she should keep her options open for just a little bit longer.
“Anyway, sweetie, what can I do for you?” asked Poppet.
“Oh, nothing,” said Katie. “I was just checking that you really were expecting me.”
“But of course we are,” said Poppet, surprised. “Looking forward to it. You’re going to be a star.”
A star! It was what she’d always wanted, since she was tiny.
Katie walked up the stairs to the office where she knew everyone was waiting for her. She didn’t feel like a star. She felt shabby for the way she was deceiving everyone, but she felt she had to hedge her bets. And there was one thing she really wanted to know: after everything that had happened, was Katie Wilkes-Cox still good enough to get a major role?
Alicia craned her neck and looked back through the rear window of the taxi. She could have sworn that she’d just glimpsed Katie Wilkes-Cox standing in a doorway opposite the Kylight offices. But Katie should be at the Swan. It must have been a trick of the light, thought Alicia, that made one blonde teenage girl look much like another, and because Katie was playing on her mind. Only yesterday morning Katie had knocked on her door and said she’d like to see her, but she’d had to send her away because Sheridan had been on the line demanding to know exactly how big A
mber and Theo’s names would be on the posters, and she hadn’t had had time since then to seek Katie out. Alicia looked at the piece of paper in her hand on which Sheridan had written all the things that it was essential for Theo and Amber to have in their dressing rooms: four bottles of fizzy water, two bottles of still, a bowl of fruit (no bananas), mixed nuts, two cartons of cranberry juice, dark chocolate. Alicia snorted. Theo and Amber would be lucky to have a dressing room at all, such were the cramped conditions backstage at the Swan theatre, let alone free snacks. She sighed. She seemed to be spending more time attending to the demands of her old Swans than looking after the needs of the current ones.
Chapter Twenty
Olivia and Tom were struggling to get into their pantomime horse costume. Will Todd was trying to help, but he wasn’t much use because he only had one free arm. A box was tucked under his other.
“What have you got in there?” asked Olivia crossly as Will tried unsuccessfully to ram her leg into the costume.
Will looked around to check nobody was near. “My mice.” He opened the top of the box so that Olivia and Tom could see. “They’re cute, aren’t they?”
“You’d better not let Miss Swan catch you with them,” said Tom. “She’ll go nuclear.”
“I had to bring them in. I promised Connor he could have four and he’s going to choose which ones he wants after rehearsal. They keep having babies and my mum says we’re going to be overrun by rodents.”
“Look out, Will,” said Olivia. “Gran’s heading this way.”
Will looked wildly around. He had to get rid of the box before Miss Swan saw it and asked what was in it. The props table was just nearby so he stuffed the box underneath and pushed it behind the pumpkin that would become Cinderella’s carriage during the transformation scene.
He stood up to find Alicia standing right behind him. “What are you up to, William Todd? You look as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth and that always makes me suspicious.”
“Nothing,” said Will. “I’m just tidying the props.”
“How wonderfully and uncharacteristically helpful of you, Will,” said Alicia with a dry smile, and although she looked unconvinced, she didn’t ask Will any more awkward questions.
“Ouch,” said Tom as Olivia half fell against him as she tried yet again to put her other leg in the horse. Brilliant though the costume was, it was delicate, and getting in and out of it was tricky. It required complete cooperation between the two halves, and Olivia and Tom were not in the mood for cooperating.
“They haven’t said anything but I know Ella and Arthur are really hurt that you’re not going round to Campion’s any more,” snapped Olivia. “They know something’s up and I’m running out of excuses.”
“I never asked you to make any excuses for me,” said Tom hotly. “Look, Liv, you know I think Campion’s is creepy. All the secrecy, the way they keep it like a shrine and the way it makes you behave. Finding out about the children who died was the final straw. I don’t want to go there any more and I don’t think you should either.”
“Ella’s just an old lady,” said Olivia scornfully. “What harm can she do?”
“Have you asked her about Helen Campion and the two children? They must be related.”
Olivia shook her head. “It’s not easy. You know how private she is. It feels like prying. But I am going to ask her, I promise, Tom. And when I have, will you come back again?”
Tom sighed. “I guess so. But I really don’t like spooky stuff.”
“But it’s Hallowe’en soon! I was going to ask you to help me take Eel and her friends trick-or-treating. Or will you be hiding under the bed instead?”
Tom laughed. “Now, Hallowe’en ghosts are my kind of ghosts,” he said. “I’d love to come with you.” He smiled at Olivia. “Here, Liv, let me help you put your leg in.”
Olivia grinned. She and Tom never fell out for long.
“Is everything ready, Lily?” called Jon from the front of the auditorium. Katie’s mum appeared, beaming, her hair and shoulders covered in specks of plaster so it looked as if she had been caught in a snowstorm.
“All ready to go, Jon. I just hope the extra weight of the backcloth on the ceiling isn’t too much. The plaster isn’t great. But I think it will hold. The worst that can happen is that everyone will get covered in lots of white dust.”
“I’ll get someone in to look at the ceiling and the roof tomorrow. I’ve been meaning to get them checked out for ages,” said Alicia. “But the backdrops look really lovely, don’t they, Jon?”
“Yes,” said Jon. “Lily’s a real star. Wait till you see her pop-up puppet mice for the transformation scene. They’re so cute and clever.
“Poppy!” Jon yelled. She put her head round the side of the wings. “Are all the props in place?” Poppy gave a thumbs-up. He turned to the waiting cast. “OK, everyone. We’re going to really try and get Act One up on its legs. Things will go wrong, but don’t worry. Let’s just try to carry on and get through to the end. Places, please. When you’re ready.” He sat down and leaned back towards Alicia, who was sitting in the row behind.
“This is going to be very rough, so bear with us, Alicia.”
“I will, of course. There’s still plenty of time for rehearsals, and I’ll make more time in the school day if necessary.”
“It’s not the Swans I’m worried about,” said Jon. “They’re always completely professional and some of them are fab. Katie’s a revelation, although she seems to be keeping herself to herself a bit. Kylie’s a real trooper, and the tinies like Eel and Emmy are terrific, every single one of them. Of course, Livy and Tom will bring the house down. No, it’s the principals who are giving me nightmares. Amber Lavelle still doesn’t know her lines, and the few she does know she delivers as if they are written very faintly on toilet paper and are being held up for her to see by someone standing at least three miles away.”
“Ah,” said Alicia, snorting with guilty laughter. “I did warn you. She never was an actor, even when she was at the Swan. We really do try to ensure that all our children can sing, dance and act. It makes them so much more employable. It’s what some stage schools call being a triple threat, and it makes sense. But there are some children who really only have one talent. Amber was only ever a singer. Still, if you’ve got a voice like that, all burned toast and honey, you can get away with a lot. But doesn’t Theo’s acting ability make up for what she lacks?”
“Yes, Theo’s great – when he’s here. His prince is devastatingly handsome and utterly charming, and he could do the role walking backwards in his sleep. The real problem,” he looked around to check that they definitely weren’t overheard, “is that he and Amber have the onstage chemistry of a couple of partially defrosted prawns. Theo is going to have to do an awful lot of acting to persuade the audience that he and Cinders are meant for each other.”
“I’ve every confidence that on the night, and on every night of the run, Theo will convince us all that he and Amber are madly in love; he’s nothing if not a pro,” said Alicia as the orchestra began to play the overture. There was a small commotion as Sheridan swept into the theatre and settled herself down in an aisle seat with a great deal of look-at-me-I’m-a-very-important-person pomp. Jon sighed. He could do without her being here. It was only a first run-through. He knew that however it went, Sheridan would complain about the way her clients were being treated.
Alicia sat back in her seat and watched. Jon was right, the show was a very long way from ready. But you could see what it might eventually be. Michael Marvell’s script was charming but also witty, even when Amber was doing her best to kill it dead. But she sang beautifully, the dancing was lovely and Theo was very charismatic, even though he was clearly treating the whole thing as if it was a gentle stroll in the park. Alicia wished that he had ignored his agent’s advice and played Baron Hard-Up. He’d have had a lot more fun. Sebastian was really enjoying himself in the part. She sat back in her seat, confident that the Swan panto
was going to be a rip-roaring success.
Chapter Twenty-One
Olivia and Tom were in their pantomime horse costume and waiting in the wings for the transformation scene. In the script, the fairy godmother’s spell goes awry and Daisy the panto horse steps into the breach and takes Cinderella to the ball. They were all ready to make their entrance. They could see Poppy and the stage management team already trying to move the gilt and glass coach into place, but they had got it wedged tightly against the back wall and were trying to pull it clear with very little space to manoeuvre in. They were whispering furiously to each other but as there was nothing Olivia and Tom could do to help in their costume, they turned their attention to the stage.
The first act was nearing its end. Amber’s Cinderella was sobbing by the fire after her sisters and stepmother had gone to the ball. She broke into a beautiful yearning ballad about how much she longed for her mother. It was very affecting. Then there was a puff of smoke and Abbie’s Cockney fairy godmother appeared on stage, wand in hand.
“Who are you?” asked Amber with the air of somebody idly enquiring about the time of the next train to Brighton.
“I am your fairy godmother,” said Abbie, taking control of the scene, “and you shall go to the ball.”
“But I don’t want to go to the ball. I want my mum,” wailed Amber.
“Look, love,” said Abbie’s fairy godmother. “I can’t bring your mum back for you. But I can send you to the ball. And what I do know is that your mum would have wanted you to live a little. Not to just sit here snivelling by the fire like a daft pumpkin and feeling sorry for yourself. She’d have wanted to see her daughter making the most of her life.”
“Do you think so? Do you really think that’s what she would have wanted?” asked Cinderella.
“With all my heart,” said the fairy godmother.
