by Jo Cotterill
As the girls started to drift away, the boys arrived for their auditions. Mari nudged Fliss. ‘There’s your Romeo.’
‘He’s not my Romeo,’ said Fliss, blushing as she looked across the grass towards Tom. She wished Mari wasn’t quite so jokey about him. But then Fliss found it hard to admit even to her friends how much she liked him.
‘He’s looking particularly yumptious today,’ said Victoria. ‘New hair gel?’
‘Maybe,’ said Mari. ‘New T-shirt, definitely.’
‘You two,’ said Fliss, half-laughing, ‘are awful.’ But she couldn’t stop looking over at Tom. He was deep in conversation with another boy, his forehead creased as he listened. Then he shook his head vigorously and started to argue. Fliss watched as Tom used his hands to illustrate the point he was making. His fingers were long and slender, and his eyes flashed with enthusiasm. Fliss felt as though her stomach were suddenly full of small wriggling things.
‘Uh-oh,’ said Mari. ‘Here comes Samantha.’
Samantha had just emerged from the building, Eloise tailing her like a small dog. ‘You were in there ages,’ the girls heard Eloise say.
Samantha glanced around and spotted Tom. Instantly, her voice became slightly raised. ‘I was having a long talk with Candy,’ she said. ‘About Juliet mostly, but also about the play in general.’
‘What did you—’
‘I have a lot of ideas,’ Samantha continued over Eloise’s interruption. ‘About staging and things like that. A lot of the time, plays like Shakespeare are done without much imagination. I went to see Hamlet with school last term and it was really boring. All doom and gloom and black and white. So depressing.’ Eloise was nodding in agreement.
Victoria looked at Fliss. ‘Isn’t Hamlet the one where loads of people get murdered?’
‘Yes.’
Mari nodded towards Samantha. ‘She’d probably have the characters in rainbow costumes, stabbing each other to death to the accompaniment of Girls Aloud.’
Fliss giggled.
Samantha was still holding forth, and most of the people within earshot had turned to look at her – including Tom. ‘I was saying how the language needs to be kept fresh. Especially if you’re going to get kids like us to enjoy it. If people do Hamlet like the Royal Shakespeare Company all the time, it’s no wonder teenagers don’t like Shakespeare.’
A couple of nearby boys laughed. Samantha grinned, enjoying the attention. ‘I mean, who actually likes reading Shakespeare at school?’
I do, thought Fliss to herself.
‘Not me!’ squeaked Eloise.
‘So,’ said Samantha, smiling at Tom, ‘you’ve got to give people a theatre experience they won’t forget. Jazz it up a bit.’
Tom looked amused. ‘Jazz up Shakespeare?’ he asked. ‘You mean with pop songs and all that?’
‘Why not?’ said Samantha, tossing her shiny hair. ‘Why can’t Romeo sing “I Can Be Your Hero, Baby”?’
Most people laughed at that. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ said Mari. ‘Queen of the False Nails, look at her.’
‘And Juliet could do “Dancing Queen”,’ suggested Tom.
‘Exactly!’ cried Samantha.
‘Actually, that sounds kind of fun,’ murmured Victoria. Mari glared at her. ‘I mean, it wouldn’t work, obviously,’ Victoria added hastily.
‘Candy said my ideas were really interesting,’ said Samantha to the group of listening faces. ‘She said it would be really helpful to have someone with my ideas on the team.’
Mari looked horrified. ‘She’s not serious, is she?’
‘On the team?’ wondered Victoria. ‘What does that mean?’
‘And I was also talking,’ went on Samantha, ‘about how the two leads need real chemistry. I mean, you have to really believe that Romeo and Juliet are head-over-heels in love with each other.’ She threw a glance at Tom whilst twiddling the ends of her hair. ‘It’s about real passion. Don’t you think, Tom?’
‘Whatever you say, Sam,’ said Tom, grinning. ‘Sounds like you’re the director.’
Samantha gave a giggle. ‘Well, not yet, but maybe in the future . . .’ She fluttered her eyelashes. ‘You can play my leading man any day.’
Tom gave a mock bow. ‘Honoured, I’m sure.’
Fliss felt slightly sick. How could Samantha flirt with Tom like that in front of everyone? Didn’t she feel embarrassed about that kind of thing?
‘Anyway,’ said Samantha, still looking at Tom, ‘I told Candy I felt I was absolutely the right person to play Juliet. I think I was born to play the part. Like it’s destiny. You know?’
Tom laughed. ‘I don’t know about destiny. But I do know if I’m not in there soon there won’t be any parts left to get.’
‘I’m sorry, am I holding you up?’ said Samantha. She gave a wide smile and flicked her hair. ‘That was all me, me, me, wasn’t it?’
Tom shook his head, amused. ‘Come on, guys,’ he said. ‘Let’s leave Samantha to her daydreams out here.’ He and the other boys headed into the Alexander Arts Centre.
‘Break a leg,’ called Samantha. ‘Saying good luck to someone on the stage is actually bad luck.’ She threw a look towards Fliss, Mari and Victoria. ‘Gotta dash, my dad’s picking me up.’
‘Make sure you remind him of the speed cameras,’ Mari shouted after her. Samantha pretended she hadn’t heard.
‘Do you really think she’s destined to play Juliet?’ asked Fliss in a small voice.
‘Of course not,’ said Victoria. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s just Samantha being Samantha.’
‘She’s good though,’ said Fliss. ‘I know you think she’s a bit over the top, but she can act. She can say the lines fine. She was quite good every now and then in Match Girl.’
There was a short silence. ‘Candy wouldn’t be taken in,’ said Mari. ‘She’d never want someone playing a lead role who couldn’t stop directing the play. You heard what she said. She spent most of her audition telling Candy how to direct it!’
‘She’d want the best person in the lead role,’ said Fliss.
Mari turned to smile at her. ‘Then that’s you. No question.’
‘Mari’s right,’ said Victoria. ‘You nailed that audition speech. You were brilliant.’
Fliss gave a half-laugh. ‘You couldn’t even hear it properly.’
‘I heard enough,’ said Victoria loyally.
‘Don’t worry about Samantha,’ said Mari. ‘With any luck, she won’t get a part at all!’
Chapter 3
you can’t eat dreams
‘I TOLD YOU!’ cried Mari. ‘You did it!’
Fliss stared at the sheet on the notice board. Right at the top – there was her name. Juliet – Felicity Richards.
‘And look who got Romeo,’ said Mari, her finger stabbing the paper. ‘Tom Mayerling!’
‘I can’t believe it,’ whispered Fliss. ‘I thought . . . I thought Samantha would get it.’
‘Well, she didn’t,’ said Mari triumphantly. ‘She got . . .’ Her finger travelled down the cast list. ‘She got – hang on, there’s me! I got the Nurse! Wow!’
‘That’s brilliant,’ said Fliss, her eyes shining. ‘We’ll be in the same scenes!’
‘But hang on a minute . . .’ said Mari. ‘Samantha’s not even on the list.’
‘What?’ Fliss peered at the list. ‘Are you sure?’
Victoria ran into the room. ‘The list is up already? Did I get anything?’
‘Umm . . . yes!’ Mari pointed. ‘You’re doing the Chorus, with a couple of other people, and . . . extra courtiers, crowd scenes and stuff.’
Victoria looked relieved. ‘So I won’t have many lines. That’s good. I can be an extra, no problem.’
‘But I don’t understand . . .’ said Fliss. ‘What about Samantha?’
‘Samantha,’ said a voice, ‘will be Assistant Director.’
The three of them turned to face Samantha standing in the doorway, looking smug. Her faithful follower Eloise was
at her heel.
‘Assistant Director?’ Mari repeated, as though the words tasted nasty in her mouth.
Samantha tossed her hair. ‘Candy had a word with me before making her final decision. She said there was a danger that if I played Juliet, my performance might overbalance the play – it was too powerful. But she said since I had so many ideas about the production, maybe I would like to be her assistant instead.’
Fliss found the courage to speak. ‘You’d prefer it to playing Juliet?’
Samantha’s face fell for a moment, but then she brightened. ‘I may not be the star on the stage, but I shall be the power behind it.’
‘But you’re just Assistant Director, right?’ said Mari, with emphasis.
‘The only Assistant Director,’ said Samantha.
‘Well, congratulations,’ said Fliss, giving a weak smile.
‘What did you get?’ asked Samantha. ‘Lady Capulet? Nurse?’
‘Don’t you know?’ asked Mari in a snarky tone. ‘Aren’t you Assistant Director?’
Samantha looked down her nose at Mari. ‘Candy made all the casting decisions once she’d given me my job. I thought it best that she . . .’ Her eyes travelled over the list, and her eyebrows rose a full inch.‘Juliet?’ She turned to stare at Fliss. ‘You’re playing Juliet?’
Fliss nodded, unable to speak.
Samantha opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind and smiled sweetly. ‘I’m sure you’ll be just fine. And of course I’ll be in all your rehearsals if you need any advice.’
Fliss went white as Samantha walked out. ‘She’s going to be in my rehearsals!’ she said in a strangled whisper. ‘Watching me say my lines!’
‘Worse than that,’ said Mari. ‘She’s going to have to watch you kiss Tom.’
Fliss’s big eyes seemed to double in size. ‘I can’t!’ she said.
‘Of course you can,’ said Mari. ‘You have to.’
Victoria’s hand found Fliss’s and squeezed it. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Once you get on that stage, no one can touch you. Once you become Juliet, Samantha won’t even exist.’
Fliss smiled gratefully. ‘You’re right. When I act, I forget who’s watching anyway. Hopefully I’ll just get used to it.’
‘There you go,’ said Victoria. ‘And if Candy’s doing the actual directing, then maybe Samantha won’t have much to do.’
Mari glanced at Victoria as though she were about to disagree, but Victoria glared at her. ‘That’s right,’ Mari said. ‘And guess what? You’ve got me in half your scenes too!’
Fliss beamed. ‘True.’
‘In fact,’ continued Mari, ‘things couldn’t be much better!’
Jeanette stared at her daughter. ‘You’re – what did you say?’
‘I’m playing Juliet,’ said Fliss, feeling as though her smile might break her face in two, it was so wide. ‘The lead. I’m playing Juliet.’
Jeanette was speechless for a moment. ‘Well,’ she said at last. ‘Well. I didn’t expect that. I suppose this will mean a lot of rehearsals.’
‘Um . . .’ Fliss felt her smile evaporate. ‘I guess so. I haven’t got a rehearsal schedule yet.’ Wasn’t her mother pleased for her?
‘And do you have a lot of lines?’
‘Juliet is in a lot of scenes, yes,’ admitted Fliss.
Jeanette sighed. ‘So yet again drama club will be occupying most of your brain for the holidays.’
‘Is that bad?’ asked Fliss hesitantly. ‘School’s finished for the year. It’s not as though . . .’
‘But you’ve been set work from school, haven’t you?’ asked Jeanette.
‘Some,’ said Fliss.
‘Just make sure,’ said Jeanette, ‘that this play doesn’t overshadow the more important things. You’ve got exams coming up soon. You should be looking over everything you learned last year. That’s what holidays are for. Not for wasting all your time with drama club. You didn’t do so well in your last Maths module, did you?’
‘No,’ said Fliss quietly.
‘Well, this is an opportunity to revise it all again, isn’t it?’ said Jeanette. Her voice softened. ‘I’m not saying you can’t have fun, Felicity. I think it’s great you’ve got this hobby. It’s good for your confidence. Drama is good for public speaking. Vivienne says her daughter Sofie was quite the dramatic star at her school. And look at her now – a successful teacher, on the career ladder. She’ll be a head teacher before she’s forty, Vivienne’s sure of it. Security and stability – that’s what you’ve got to strive for, Felicity. It’s important to relax and have fun. But not so much that you forget about hard work.’
Fliss twisted her hands together. ‘What about dreams?’ she said hopefully.
Jeanette put a hand under her daughter’s chin and lifted it so she could look into Fliss’s eyes. ‘Everyone has dreams,’ she said gently. ‘And it’s good to have a dream. Always strive for more, Felicity. But you can’t run a car on dreams. You can’t pay a mortgage with dreams. And you can’t eat dreams.’ She traced the outline of Fliss’s cheek. ‘You’re such a lovely girl, with so much to offer. It’s natural that you can only see the things you like at the moment. But when you’re grown up you’ll realize that other things are more important. Plenty of people do jobs they don’t like, just so they can pay the bills. When you’ve got the security behind you, then you can spend time on your hobbies. Join the local amateur dramatics company. They do plays twice a year – quite good, I hear. Of course, I’ve never been to any of them. Not my kind of thing.’
‘No,’ whispered Fliss.
Jeanette smiled suddenly and flicked her on the nose. ‘Although I suppose I’m going to have to come and hear my only daughter say complete gibberish in the park in a few weeks, aren’t I?’
Fliss tried to smile.
‘Go on,’ said Jeanette. ‘Go and do something in your room for a while. I’m doing some cleaning in here.’
‘OK.’ Fliss ran up the stairs. Jeanette looked after her for a moment, a worried expression on her face. Then she turned to face the room, said, ‘Right,’ and set to work.
Fliss sat cross-legged on her bed, a closed copy of Romeo and Juliet in her hands. A highlighter pen rested on her leg, but Fliss was staring into space. Her bedroom was small; it was a box-room really, only just big enough for a single bed. A narrow wardrobe was squashed into the gap between the end of the bed and the window. Fliss had tried to make the room look more personal, but it was hard when you didn’t have much space. Bunting in pink and purple hung round the tops of the walls – bunting that Fliss had made herself in textiles at school. The stitching was uneven, and some of the triangles weren’t attached very firmly, but you couldn’t tell unless you looked closely.
The bedding was white with turquoise edging, and Fliss had customized a small bedside table she had found in a skip, painting it white and gluing seashells to its legs. Some of the shells had broken over time, and Fliss wondered every now and then if she should break them all off and start again.
The problem was that nothing really matched. The carpet was green and had been there when they moved in. Jeanette had promised Fliss a new one years ago, but kept making excuses whenever Fliss brought it up. The truth of the matter was that Jeanette cared more about the downstairs décor than the upstairs, because the downstairs was what guests saw. Not that we have many guests, Fliss thought to herself. Only Vivienne, and their house would never impress her no matter how nice it looked. Vivienne lived in a modern four-bedroom house on the edge of the council estate, though she always denied its location. ‘It’s on the main road,’ she said, ignoring the fact that it faced onto the side road, which led to the estate.
Fliss’s gaze fell on a poster on the wall. It was of some pop star she had fancied a year ago. Had she really fancied him though? Or had she just put the poster up because everyone else fancied him and she thought she should too? Surrounding the poster were numerous postcards that she had collected over the years – Stratford, Lo
ndon, Broadway . . . all of them were of theatres or actors. She hadn’t seen most of them, of course, but sometimes a friend or relative sent her a postcard they thought she might like. One or two were small versions of theatre posters – Twelfth Night and An Inspector Calls sat beside postcards of the Winter Garden on Broadway and the Swan Theatre at Stratford. They seemed magical to Fliss; places where the spotlights and the costumes swept away reality.
Fliss leaned forward and tugged at the poster. It didn’t fit – she had outgrown all of that now. She didn’t care about pop bands and concerts. She only cared about the theatre. The poster tore across the corner, and Fliss frowned in annoyance. She’d have to do a better job peeling it off the wall and she must make sure it didn’t leave a mark on the paint. Jeanette would have words if it did – ‘You can’t have your room re-painted again, Felicity, it was done three years ago. Make sure you look after it. Vivienne says . . .’
Fliss sighed and her gaze fell on the book in her hands. A smile crept across her lips, transforming her face. The almost permanent worried expression was gone, and in its place was a warmth that made Fliss glow from the inside out. Anyone looking at her at that particular moment would have gasped at her prettiness – something they might not have seen only a minute earlier.
Fliss snapped the top off the pen and turned to Act I Scene 3 – her first scene. Carefully, she began to highlight her lines.
Chapter 4
let me show you how it should be done
‘QUIET, EVERYONE!’CALLED Candy. ‘We’re going to take it from the top again. Just concentrate. It’s not as hard as some of you are making it out to be.’
‘Yeah, right,’ mumbled Sean, who was clasping Fliss’s hand so tightly her fingers were starting to ache. ‘Nobody told me we would have to do any dancing.’
‘We’re supposed to be at a party,’ said Fliss, trying not to smile. ‘They danced.’
‘Stupid history stuff,’ said Sean. The music started up again, and he promptly stood on Fliss’s foot.
