Moon Pie

by Simon Mason

  ‘Now you mention it, I believe there’s a pie.’

  Tug said he thought it was a masterpiece.

  The format of the audition was simple. Martha would present one scene of her own choice, and do one given to her by the director. For rehearsal purposes, they chose three scenes representing three different aspects of Anne – Angry Anne, Honest Anne and Imaginative Anne. Over the next three weeks, Martha practised them all.

  Tug helped her learn her lines.

  Laura filmed the scenes from different angles and under different sorts of lighting so Martha could study the shoots and make adjustments.

  And Marcus ran everything. He also made the ugly dress, which, to everyone’s relief, proved to be ugly in a very straightforward way.

  Sometimes Dad came to Marcus’s house. He talked to Marcus about general arrangements, and to Laura about technical issues. One afternoon he watched Martha rehearse.

  ‘Imaginative Anne,’ Marcus whispered to him. ‘The first time she’s done it.’

  Martha appeared in the spotlight, lightly poised, her head cocked on one side. She was wearing Marcus’s ugly dress, which made her look younger and needier and somehow more hopeful all at the same time. There was a twinkle in her eye. ‘Now,’ she said, peering about. ‘I’m going to imagine things into this room so that they’ll always stay imagined.’ Her voice was bright and gleeful. ‘The floor,’ she said, squinting at Marcus’s equipment-strewn carpet, ‘is covered with white velvet rugs with pink roses all over them. And the walls,’ she added, switching her attention to a dull stretch of wallpaper, ‘are hung with gold and silver brocade tapestry.’ Suddenly she straightened up. ‘I can see my reflection in that splendid big mirror,’ she said, assuming a lofty expression. ‘I am tall and regal, clad in a gown of trailing white lace, and my name,’ she added – her mouth twitching briefly with fun – ‘is the Lady Cordelia Fitzgerald!’

  They all decided that she should perform Imaginative Anne as her chosen piece.

  Her Honest Anne was equally good. But she had more difficulty with Angry Anne.

  ‘I hate you!’ she shouted, stamping her foot. ‘I hate you! I hate you! How dare you call me skinny and ugly? How dare you say I’m freckled and red-headed?’

  There was no problem with her expression or movement, but her voice was slightly unconvincing. There wasn’t enough emotion in it.

  ‘Sometimes it’s hard to make yourself really angry,’ she said.

  ‘Think of Grandma,’ Tug said.

  With Laura and Marcus’s assistance, Martha worked hard on the scene, and it improved.

  ‘Anyway,’ Marcus said. ‘You might not get an angry scene to do.’

  For two weeks they practised everything, and on the day before the audition, Marcus addressed them all from in front of the mirror.

  ‘Tomorrow our leading lady, Martha Luna, makes history with the first professional audition of her career. A moment for all our memoirs. Martha, would you like to say a few words?’

  Martha wouldn’t. She was beginning to feel nervous.

  Marcus, who had no notion of what nerves were, went on smoothly. ‘Then it only remains for me to thank you all for your hard work. Please be here tomorrow at nine o’clock sharp. We set off at quarter past. Mr Luna is our chauffeur. That’s it. Take another look at the dress on your way out. Get a good night’s sleep. Pray to your gods. And darling,’ he said to Martha, ‘prepare to conquer the world.’

  46

  On Saturdays Martha and Tug usually tidied their rooms and changed their bedding, and helped round the house. Today Martha had persuaded Grandma to let them go to Marcus’s instead, to ‘finish a new speed film’.

  It hadn’t been easy. Martha didn’t like lying, and Grandma was suspicious.

  ‘This is very inconvenient, Martha. Can’t it wait till Wednesday?’

  ‘All the costumes have to be returned to the shop by the end of Saturday.’

  ‘What costumes?’

  ‘A tea gown. And a petticoat.’

  ‘What is the film?’

  Martha hesitated. ‘My Fair Lady.’

  ‘I thought you’d done that one.’

  ‘We’re remaking it. It’s a remake of the remake.’

  Grandma frowned. ‘Just this once then. Grandpa will take you. And pick you up no later than five o’clock. You’ll have to tidy your rooms after tea.’

  Sitting silently in the back of Grandpa’s car at a quarter to nine on Saturday morning, Tug didn’t dare look at Martha. She had explained to him very carefully that he mustn’t say anything about the audition in front of Grandpa, and he sat next to her on the back seat staring the other way with both hands over his mouth.

  ‘He hasn’t got toothache, has he?’ Grandpa asked.

  ‘No,’ Martha said. ‘He’s just got nothing to say.’

  She had nothing to say either. Now that she was on her way to the audition, she felt more nervous about it than ever. She was also nervous about Dad. At the back of her mind was the fear that Grandpa or, even worse, Grandma, would find out he was violating his court order by helping them. He was due to pick them up at Marcus’s just after Grandpa had left.

  To Martha’s dismay, when they got to Marcus’s Grandpa insisted on coming into the house – as he occasionally did – to say hello to Marcus’s mum and dad. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to get back to Grandma.

  ‘I think I might stay and watch a bit,’ he said.

  She began to panic. For a moment she thought that everything was going to go wrong before it had even started. But Marcus rescued the situation.

  ‘Alas,’ he said to Grandpa, ‘we operate a sealed studio policy. No unauthorized personnel allowed during filming. It’s the insurance,’ he added, a phrase he often used in awkward situations. Adults were very sensitive to matters of insurance, he had noticed.

  Grandpa left, not a moment too soon. Almost immediately afterwards, Dad arrived.

  ‘And now,’ Marcus said. ‘Our date with glory.’

  Gathering together their copies of the various scripts and Martha’s costume, they got into Dad’s car and set off, leaving Mr and Mrs Brown smiling vaguely at the door.

  ‘They do not know,’ Marcus said wistfully, looking back at them, ‘that history is being made.’ He checked his watch and smiled. They were exactly on schedule.

  It was an hour’s drive to the studios. Their excitement mounted steadily, and by the time they turned off the ring road and began the last stretch of the journey, the car was a hubbub of voices. Dad was explaining to Marcus how television companies organize their costume requirements, and Tug was asking Dad how television companies organize their canteens, and Marcus was telling Laura how celebrities organize their fame, and Laura was asking Dad what cameras professionals used. Everyone kept looking out for the first sight of the studios, and thinking they had seen them when they hadn’t, and laughing at themselves.

  Only Martha was quiet.

  There was an up-and-down feeling in her stomach, and a gulp in her throat she couldn’t quite swallow away. She tried to think of nothing, but it didn’t work. Instead she found herself thinking about Mum, the way she looked in all those photographs, with that strange expression, as if she knew something wonderful and was about to tell her what it was, and never would. She wished Mum was with her now. With all the auditions she had been to, Mum must have known everything about up-and-down stomachs and ungulpable gulps; she would have known exactly what to recommend.

  They parked in the studio car park and got out, everyone still talking and laughing.

  Martha said in a small voice, ‘Dad?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I feel anxious.’

  He gave her his hand, and she held it tightly.

  ‘Are you going to stay with me?’

  ‘Don’t worry. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.’

  They went into a building, through the security systems and down several corridors to the performers’ room, where the other auditionees and thei
r families were already waiting. They were quieter now, talking in whispers, but just as excited. From the auditions manager, they learned that it was the last round of auditions before the director flew home. There were fourteen candidates altogether, most from theatrical agencies, some from abroad. The most exciting news of all was that there were still no front-runners for the part.

  Dad gave Martha’s hand a squeeze. ‘They really could choose someone here today,’ he said.

  According to the schedule they were given, Martha was last on the list. Dad read out the order of events.

  ‘You need to have your hair done in three quarters of an hour. Then you go into make-up. Then wardrobe. Finally the audition room. That’s at twelve fifteen. Excited?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Nervous?’

  She nodded. She still had hold of his hand.

  They sat together in a corner of the room.

  ‘Mum used to get nervous before auditions.’

  ‘Did she know any trick to stop being nervous?’

  ‘She did actually.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘Bananas.’

  ‘Bananas? Did it work?’

  ‘No. She never remembered to eat them.’

  For a while they sat together in silence.

  ‘Mum would be very proud of you,’ Dad said quietly. ‘And I’m very proud of you too. I’ll be proud of you whatever happens in the audition. You won’t forget that, will you?’

  She shook her head, and gradually she began to feel better. Though she remained nervous, she was determined to do her best. She sat up straight and pointed her nose at the clock, and said to herself: I don’t need bananas because Dad’s with me, and I don’t mind if I don’t get the part because Mum would be proud of me anyway, and if I do get the part even Grandma will have to be proud of me.

  At exactly the same time as Martha was thinking this, Grandpa’s car was pulling up again outside Marcus’s house. He had left his glasses behind.

  He knocked at the door and waited.

  When Mrs Brown opened it she stared at him in surprise.

  ‘You’ve missed them,’ she said, ‘They’ve gone already. He came for them just after you left.’

  It was Grandpa’s turn to look bewildered. ‘He?’

  ‘Mr Luna.’

  ‘Mr Luna?’

  ‘To take them to the audition. History is being made,’ she added proudly.

  Grandpa’s face fell into an unusual shape.

  Twenty minutes later, when he got back home (rather breathless), it was Grandma’s turn to be bewildered. Her bewilderment was brief, however. It was immediately replaced by righteous anger.

  ‘I was right to be suspicious. Saturday morning rehearsals indeed. He has abducted them. Get me the number of the Social Services. Also his probation officer. And get the car out,’ she called after Grandpa as he hurried from the room. ‘We set off at once.’

  It was a long wait in the performers’ room, but Dad got them all drinks from the vending machine, and Laura had lots of good solid advice (‘Relax, it’s only bloody Hollywood,’) and Tug drew an interesting picture of what he thought the canteen would look like, and Marcus kept them entertained with a long soliloquy about the Golden Age of Hollywood Costumiers.

  At last Martha’s name was called.

  ‘This is it,’ Dad said.

  They crowded round her one last time, wishing her luck, then she took her ugly dress and her other things, and walked away from them, out of the room.

  Dad sighed and looked at his watch. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Now we wait a bit more. Any questions?’

  Tug wanted to know where the canteen was.

  ‘Later, Tug.’

  ‘Isn’t it lunch time?’

  ‘We have to have a late lunch today. It’s OK, the canteen stays open. Any other questions?’

  Marcus wanted to know if they could watch the audition.

  The auditions manager said it wasn’t allowed, but Dad had an idea. ‘If we go into the director’s box for the studio next to the audition room, we could watch her as she goes in. I’ve got a security pass. What do you think? That might be nice, just to see what she looks like with her hair done and everything. And you’ll have a chance to look round the director’s box.’

  The auditions manager said it was OK and, a little while later, Dad led them out of the hall and along various corridors until they came to a door marked DIRECTOR.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said.

  He swiped his card and they went in.

  It was a small technical-looking room filled with computers, screens and control panels. Down one side of it there was a long window looking out onto a large, square room hung with spotlights and set up with cameras.

  ‘A Sony HDW-750P!’ Laura said.

  ‘The control centre!’ Marcus said.

  ‘Buttons!’ said Tug.

  Dad explained that the window was a mirror on the other side, so that what happened in the director’s box didn’t disturb the actors out in the studio. It was sound-proofed too. He pointed through the window. ‘The audition room’s on the far side of the studio, through that door over there. We’ll be able to see Martha as she goes across. Tug,’ he added, ‘don’t push the buttons.’

  ‘This is where it happens,’ Marcus murmured to Laura. ‘This is where the power resides. I can feel it.’

  They were so busy looking at everything that they didn’t realize what time it was until they heard footsteps in the corridor outside. Dad looked at his watch.

  ‘Quarter past already,’ he said. ‘She must be about to go in. Quick!’

  They crowded to the window to get the best view of her.

  But no one came into the studio. Instead, the door behind them was suddenly flung open, and Grandma and Grandpa burst into the director’s box, followed by Alison from the Social Services and the auditions manager.

  ‘Just as I told you!’ Grandma cried. And there was a commotion.

  Tug had seen Grandma angry before so he wasn’t surprised. But Marcus was.

  ‘Dear lady,’ he said, putting a hand on her arm. ‘She hasn’t gone in yet. You’re just in time to see her.’

  ‘Don’t touch me, you degenerate,’ she said. ‘I’m here to stop her.’

  Tug watched them all arguing. Alison from Social Services was telling Dad something about the penalties for court order violation, and Dad was asking Grandma to please, please just listen to him, and Grandpa was looking for his glasses which he had dropped, and Marcus was muttering ‘Degenerate? Degenerate?’ in a half-shocked, half-pleased sort of way; and in general everyone was speaking and no one was listening, and the noise grew louder and louder until in the end Tug had to get up on the desk and shout to make himself heard.

  ‘Quiet!’ he shouted, and everyone stopped to look at him.

  ‘There she is!’ he said, pointing.

  At exactly the same moment they all turned to look out of the window, and no one spoke as they watched Martha in the studio beyond.

  She was on her own, and she walked with slow, quiet steps, head up, from one side of the studio to the other. She was wearing Marcus’s brilliantly ugly dress, and the braids of her hair shone, and as she pointed her small nose from side to side, looking about her, she seemed brave and hopeful and very nervous all at once. At the door to the audition room she paused and seemed to give a little sigh of determination. Then she knocked and went in, and shut the door behind her.

  There was silence in the director’s box.

  ‘My little girl,’ Grandma said in a broken voice.

  They all turned to look at her. She was holding on to Grandpa, and her face was white. ‘Just the same,’ she whispered.

  ‘I know,’ Grandpa said.

  ‘The same look on her face.’

  ‘Hush,’ he said. ‘Don’t cry.’

  Dad took Grandma’s hand. ‘She would have been so proud of her,’ he said. ‘Won’t you let her audition?’

  And Grandma nodded.
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  47

  Later that afternoon all the families were waiting in the performers’ room for the candidates to return from the audition office, where they had been called to hear the director’s verdicts.

  One by one they came back in, each holding an envelope. The murmur of voices steadily grew. There were some tears. People began to leave.

  Still Martha didn’t appear.

  Everyone was tense. ‘Dad?’

  Tug whispered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m still wondering where the canteen is.’

  ‘Not now, Tug.’

  ‘I’m wondering very hard.’

  ‘In a minute.’

  Finally she came.

  They all fell silent as she joined them. She stood there for a moment looking at their expectant faces – Dad and Tug, Marcus and Laura, Grandma and Grandpa – and smiled.

  It was a brave smile.

  ‘I didn’t get it,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

  They all began to talk at once, and Martha could hear herself saying, ‘It’s OK, I don’t mind.’

  But the truth was, she did. It surprised her, how much she minded. She hadn’t even expected to get the part.

  Everyone crowded round her talking, but she wasn’t listening. She was lost in her own thoughts. It felt to her as if she’d failed again. Suddenly she didn’t think that Mum would have been proud of her. She thought that she’d let down Marcus and Laura, and she was worried that Grandma was going to be very cross, and she was frightened that Dad was going to get into trouble for helping her. Worst of all, she felt sorry for herself, she couldn’t help it.

  Ordinarily, she was good at controlling herself. But somehow she couldn’t do it any more. After all the times in the last two years she’d managed to keep her head, it seemed such a small, selfish thing to make her upset now. It was as if all the emotions she’d pushed down inside her for so long were rising up, and she couldn’t stop them. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she started to gulp. There was no possibility now of keeping her head. No possibility of closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, of making a list and carrying on as normal. Her chin began to tremble and her hands began to shake, and she turned to Dad to be comforted.