As for Meena, she was all over the place. The whole time she was dancing, she seemed as though she was on the verge of tears.
When Alana noticed how miserable Meena looked, she forgot all about her own difficulties. Once the class was over, she went up to her.
‘Are you OK, Meena?’ she asked, gently. ‘Shall we go and ask Miss Trina if she’ll take a look at your Bollywood routine?’
‘What’s the use?’ wailed Meena. ‘We won’t be able to compete against Verity, with her private teaching and her amazing costume.’
‘That doesn’t mean we should just give up!’ Alana replied. ‘You love Bollywood films so much, and I bet that that will show in your audition.’
‘But that’s why it’s not fair!’ moaned Meena. ‘I don’t think Verity’s interested in this type of dancing at all, but she’ll probably get the part. And I would give anything to be in the show, but I don’t stand a chance.’
Alana wished she could think of an answer. This audition obviously meant such a lot to Meena and there wasn’t very much she could say. Verity was a great dancer, and if she was having private tuition she actually did have a very good chance of being chosen. And Alana really couldn’t think where Meena was going to get hold of a costume for her audition. She knew her mum and dad didn’t have the money spare to buy her one.
‘I’m just going to go home and flop on the sofa with my favourite Bollywood film,’ said Meena. ‘I can see my dad waiting outside.’
Alana sighed. There was no point arguing with Meena when she was this upset.
‘OK – see you tomorrow,’ she replied, and sat down to wait for her mum to pick her up.
Just as Alana was starting to wonder why her mum hadn’t turned up, Miss Trina came to find her. ‘Your mum’s on the phone,’ she said.
Alana took the call in Miss Trina’s office. ‘Where are you?’ she asked. ‘Practically everyone’s left already!’
‘I’m sorry, love,’ said Mum. ‘I’m stuck in the house with Abi. She’s not well. She’s spent the whole afternoon being sick. I haven’t even been able to get to the phone till just now.”
‘Oh, poor Abs,’ replied Alana.
‘Anyway,’ continued Mum, ‘I’ve phoned Meena’s mum and she says Meena’s dad will collect you when he picks up Meena and you can spend the evening round at her house.’
‘But Meena and her dad have already left!’ groaned Alana. ‘He mustn’t have got the message.’
‘Oh dear, I’m sorry,’ Mum replied. ‘I should have called earlier, but I’ve been dealing with Abi the whole time. Can you walk round there? You’ve done it lots of times before.’
‘I suppose so,’ muttered Alana. And she set off down the street, feeling like nothing would ever go right again.
Alana walked along in an absolutely terrible mood. It was bad enough having all the worries about her schoolwork, but now Abi was poorly and Meena was upset about the audition.
Suddenly, she knew what she was going to do. Before she went round to Meena’s, she was going to pay a quick visit to Madame Coco’s Costume Emporium.
The Costume Emporium was much more than a dance-costume shop. Whenever Alana had visited in the past, she had somehow ended up on an extraordinary adventure – an adventure that had helped her with whatever problems she was having at the time.
Perhaps Madame Coco will be able to think of a way to help Meena, thought Alana. She quickened her pace and strode purposefully past the familiar shops until she came to the window with the strange glow. Here, she hesitated for a moment. She’d never gone into the Costume Emporium especially to ask for help before. Would Madame Coco mind?
But, thought Alana, I’m trying to help my best friend, not myself, so I think it’ll be OK.
She pushed open the door and went inside. But the shop appeared to be empty. There were the usual rails of beautiful costumes – and shelves filled with shoes and hats and every imaginable kind of dance accessory. But no Madame Coco.
Then Alana heard a faint rustling sound from behind one of the rails, and a low tut-tutting. When she went to investigate, there was Madame Coco sitting on the floor. Scattered all around her was a jumbled mass of beads and sequins of every possible colour and shape.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Alana.
‘Ooh-la-la!’ exclaimed Madame Coco.‘What a shock you gave me, ma petite! I did not hear you come in.’
‘What are all these beads doing on the floor?’ asked Alana.
‘I was getting down a box from the shelf,’ explained Madame Coco.
‘I leaned on the shelf a little too hard and it broke – and now everything that was on it is on the floor, all mixed together.’
‘Let me help you sort it out,’ said Alana. ‘I like looking at all these pretty beads and things anyway.’
‘You are a good girl,’ said Madame Coco.
Alana soon became absorbed in the task of sorting the beads and sequins and putting them back in their various boxes and containers.
‘If there are any you really like, you must keep them,’ said Madame Coco.
‘Oh, thank you!’ Alana replied, putting a few of the prettiest ones in her pocket.
After that, the two of them worked in silence, but Madame Coco kept glancing at Alana. She spoke at last.
‘Eh bien, are you going to tell me what is troubling you, or do I have to wait all day?’
Alana sighed deeply. ‘I don’t understand how you always know something’s wrong, Madame Coco,’ she said. ‘But it’s Meena I’m worried about this time.’
‘Meena? She is your friend, no?’
‘Yes, my best friend,’ Alana replied. And she told her all about the Bollywood Dreams audition and how much it meant to Meena, but how she didn’t have a teacher or a proper outfit.
Madame Coco listened carefully, and when she had finished she stood up briskly. ‘Leave the rest of this,’ she ordered, gesturing to the remaining beads on the floor. ‘Meena’s problem is far more important. Now just wait one moment.’ And she disappeared into the back of the shop.
What was Madame Coco up to?
Just as Alana was starting to think Madame Coco was never coming back, she heard a silky rustling sound, and there she was with something draped over her arm, made of a vivid blue material.
‘What is it?’ Alana asked, intrigued.
Madame Coco shook out the material and Alana gasped. It was a fabulous, Bollywood-style outfit, with a bright blue silk tunic, baggy trousers and matching scarf. ‘It’s called a salwar kameez,’ Madame Coco explained. Every inch of the material was sewn with blue and gold beads and tiny mirrors, each the size of a fingernail. The overall effect was completely dazzling.
‘Come and try it on,’ said Madame Coco.
‘Oh, I couldn’t!’ Alana replied. ‘It’s far too fancy for me. Anyway, it’s so kind of you, Madame Coco, but it’s Meena who wants to be the Bollywood queen, not me.’
‘Alana, ma petite, go into the dressing room and try it on,’ ordered Madame Coco, as if Alana hadn’t said anything at all.
Alana shrugged her shoulders and took the outfit. After all, what harm could it do?
In the dressing room, she pulled on the tunic and trousers and draped the scarf around her shoulders. When she glanced in the mirror, she hardly recognised herself.
‘I look as if I belong on a real Bollywood film set,’ she exclaimed to Madame Coco, as she came out of the dressing room.
‘There is just one finishing touch you need,’ said Madame Coco, and she produced four shiny gold bangles and slipped them on Alana’s wrists, two on each side. ‘Now,’ she smiled, ‘why don’t you show me some of these Bollywood moves your friend has been learning.’
‘Oh, I don’t know how!’ said Alana. ‘I’ve been watching the film and helping Meena out, but I haven’t tried any of the steps myself.’
‘Just think of the steps in the film and try to copy them,’ said Madame Coco.
So Alana closed her eyes and imagined she was one of t
he dancers in the Bollywood film. Hearing the fast-paced music in her head, she raised her hands in the air and began to stamp her feet in time to the Bhangra drums. As she spun around, she felt a whirling sensation as though the room were turning with her. After a few moments, she could no longer feel the ground beneath her feet.
The sound of Madame Coco’s voice came to her, saying, ‘Remember, ma petite, when your good deed is done, the call of home will beckon. You will return home! You will return home!’ Then the voice grew fainter and fainter, until suddenly her feet touched the ground again.
Alana stood still, her eyes squeezed tight shut. She knew she was no longer in the Costume Emporium, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out where she was. Part of her wished she’d never even decided to pay Madame Coco a visit.
‘Come on, Alana,’ she muttered to herself at last. ‘Wherever you are, you’re going to have to deal with it.’ And she opened her eyes and looked around her.
It was dusk. The air was warm and muggy and she was standing on the edge of an immense courtyard in front of a magnificent palace. An ornate fountain sprayed water high into the air. The falling droplets caught the light from hundreds of candles lining a path that swept in a big circle. Surrounding the courtyard were banks of film cameras. In front of the fountain was a huge group of dancers, moving perfectly together to a piece of Indian music that was playing out of giant loudspeakers.
The scene was just like the film she’d been watching on Meena’s TV. I’m on a Bollywood film set! thought Alana. A real one! In India!
But the most extraordinary thing of all was that every female dancer was wearing the very costume Madame Coco had given her – the same bright blue salwar kameez with its hundreds of beads and tiny mirrors. How was it possible?
It was growing darker by the minute, and Alana was nicely concealed in an area outside the courtyard, which was not lit up. An amazingly beautiful woman now joined the dancers by the fountain. She was richly dressed in a sari sparkling with thousands of golden threads. And round her neck was the most incredible necklace Alana had ever seen, made of gold twisted into intricate patterns, with an enormous sapphire in the middle. She was obviously the leading lady: when she began to dance, her moves were extra complicated, and she was positioned out in front, alone.
Next, a good-looking man dressed completely in white came on to the set to dance with her. The hero, thought Alana. As she watched she could see that the two of them were telling a story through the moves they were making. They kept joining hands and staring into each other’s eyes, then pulling apart and weeping as if some obstacle were coming between them. Maybe one of them has to go away, Alana thought. Or maybe their parents don’t want them to be together.
Then Alana nearly jumped out of her skin, as a woman carrying a walkie-talkie came up to her, shouting, ‘You! What are you doing there! Why are you not with the other dancers?’
Alana had been so absorbed in the story that she hadn’t realised that she’d been creeping closer and closer to the action. By now she was standing on the edge of the courtyard, with one of the studio lights pointing directly towards her.
What on earth was she going to say?
‘I’m not …’ stammered Alana, ‘I mean, I wasn’t supposed …’
‘No time, no time,’ said the woman, crossly. ‘What are you thinking? You haven’t even got your make-up on. Go go go …’
Before Alana could do or say anything else, she was being ushered into a make-up van, where a friendly-looking woman in jeans and a T-shirt sat her down in a chair. ‘I’m Preeti,’ said the woman. And without further ado, she started to braid Alana’s hair.
‘They think I’m one of the dancers!’ Alana said to herself. But she wasn’t given any chance to explain the mistake. Preeti kept up a constant stream of chatter to a lady who was sitting on the other side of the room, checking her make-up in a mirror. A small girl was sitting next to her.
Looking at the lady’s reflection in the mirror, Alana saw that it was the film star – the one with the gold sari and the beautiful necklace. She caught Alana looking at her and smiled. ‘What is your name?’ she asked, kindly.
‘Alana,’ replied Alana, shyly. ‘What is yours?’
‘Tut tut, how can you not know who that is?’ said Preeti. ‘It’s Katika Kaif, of course – one of the most famous Bollywood stars in the whole of Mumbai!’
‘This is my little sister, Nalini,’ said Katika, turning to the small girl, who was busy playing with a box of nail varnishes of every colour, painting each of her nails a different shade. She looked about Abi’s age. ‘Nalini wants to be a Bollywood actress too, one day. She loves to visit me on set and watch the filming.’
Alana felt a pang of envy towards Nalini. Imagine having a glamorous big sister like Katika!
‘Anyway,’ said Katika, ‘I have to get back on set.’
‘Yes, and I’m going to practise my dancing,’ added Nalini. And the two of them left the make-up van.
Preeti took a brush and painted thick black kohl around Alana’s eyes. ‘Nearly done,’ she said. ‘We just need to put in a tika.’ She opened a big box that was full of jewellery and accessories of every kind, and drew out an intricate gold hair ornament which she attached to Alana’s hair.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘back to the set. They’re about to start rehearsing again.’ And before Alana knew what was happening, Preeti was shooing her out of the door.
As she walked across the floodlit set, she could see Katika in the centre of the stage, preparing to start a dance number. The cross woman with the walkie-talkie ushered Alana over to join the group of dancers she’d been watching earlier.
‘Take One!’ called a man who looked like he was in charge. He must be the director, thought Alana. Musicians began to play their instruments, and the backing dancers moved into a circle, raising their arms in the air in time to the music. To her astonishment Alana found herself joining in, performing the steps without a single mistake! Wow, she thought. It’s as if I’ve been dancing this all my life!
The routine included some very complicated steps, so the backing dancers needed to keep counting the changes of rhythm in their heads. The steps moved quickly from right to left. One or two of them kept losing count, causing the director to call ‘Cut!’ and the choreographer stepped in to remind the dancers of the timing. Alana concentrated extra hard on her counting. She didn’t want to be the one to go wrong.
As the dancers performed take after take, Katika sat on the edge of the fountain, the water falling all around her, and performed a song in Hindi. Alana noticed that Katika wasn’t actually singing – she was lip-synching to a sound track that played out of the loudspeakers. It was obvious from her gestures that the song was a sad one. It’s probably about why she can’t be with that man I saw in the last scene, thought Alana.
Just then, the director called ‘Cut!’ for what seemed like the hundredth time. But now, he got down from his chair and walked up to Katika. ‘Where is the necklace?’ he demanded.
Katika put her hand up to her throat. Her sapphire and gold necklace had disappeared.
Immediately, there was panic round the set.
‘I had it in the make-up van,’ exclaimed Katika. ‘I took it off when I was touching up my make-up, because it’s so heavy and uncomfortable. I’ll go and look.’ And she ran off.
Everyone talked all at once while they waited. As she listened to the chatter, Alana managed to work out that the necklace was very valuable, and that Katika was supposed to wear it throughout the film. In the story, she was given it by the man she loved, and she had to keep it on at all times as a symbol of her love for him.
Everyone stared as Katika came back out of the van. She looked at the director and shook her head – no necklace.
‘All right, everybody,’ the director called. ‘We can’t do any more filming until we find that necklace. So I want everyone to go and search for it.’ Then his voice grew lower and more serious. ‘If it turns out that one
of you has taken it,’ he said, ‘then as long as you hand it in now, there will be no penalty. But if you are found with it later on, you will never work in Bollywood again!’
Nobody moved or spoke.
‘What are you waiting for?’ he shouted. ‘Go and look – NOW!’
The cast and crew scattered in all directions.
As Alana set off to join in the search, she overheard the director saying to Katika, ‘If we don’t find it, this film will probably have to be scrapped. We don’t have the budget to start shooting all over again.’
This is terrible, thought Alana. All those people working so hard, and it might be for nothing.
She ran from place to place, searching everywhere from huge sound stages to tiny store rooms. She even found her way on to the deserted set of another film.
But Katika’s necklace was nowhere to be seen.
Alana thought about Abi, sick at home, and how much she loved playing with her jewellery box. ‘If she were here, I’d think she’d taken the necklace to play with!’ she smiled to herself. Then she stopped short, clapping her hand to her forehead.
‘Nalini!’ she said out loud. Alana rushed up to Preeti who was searching nearby.
‘Do you know where Nalini is?’ she demanded.
‘The rehearsal rooms, I suppose, practising her dancing,’ replied Preeti, pointing down a long corridor lined with doors.
Alana dashed down the corridor, calling out her thanks as she went. Preeti stared after her, looking puzzled.
Every time Alana passed a door, she threw it open, but every single rehearsal room was empty. There was no sign of Nalini anywhere.
Finally there was only one room left to look in – right at the end of the corridor. Alana flung open the door, and there, in the middle of the room was Nalini. She was practising one of the dance moves that her sister had been doing on the set. And around her neck hung the brilliant, sparkling necklace.
Bollywood Dreams Page 2
