Centre Stage: A Novel

by Linda Chapman

  You know the way people say that time flies when you’re having fun? Well, the next two weeks seemed to go by at supersonic speed. Starting proper rehearsals was brilliant. The adults in the cast were really good fun. There was Maureen, an actress who used to have a part on Eastenders, who was playing the witch. She was really frightening on stage but really good fun off it; she always had sweets and she told us loads of stories about what the rest of the cast of Eastenders were like. Then there was Robin, a brilliant ballet dancer who was Mr Tumnus; Clive, who played Asian, and was really tall — he usually played giants in Christmas pantos; and Darren, who was a children’s TV presenter, was Mr Beaver. We started rehearsing at nine o’clock each day and when I wasn’t needed in scenes I had to do school-work that my teachers from Charles Hope had set me.

  It was very different from being in a film. And it wasn’t just the fact I had to do schoolwork — the whole atmosphere was different. On a film set there were often just a few actors and loads of technicians, and you spent ages getting made up and waiting around for a scene to be ready. But in the rehearsal room there were just two technical people — Velda and the deputy stage manager called Lauren — but lots of actors. We rehearsed scene after scene really quickly and there was hardly any hanging around. If I wasn’t acting or doing schoolwork, I was at a singing or dancing rehearsal. It was really good fun. Everyone got on brilliantly and there was loads of talking and joking. I was really pleased I’d made up with Justine, and even Samantha and Colette seemed slightly less frosty to each other.

  I was trying really hard with my dancing. Justine was helping me and so was Colette. I was getting better but I still made mistakes and it was sometimes difficult to find time to practise. There was so much else going on and when I got home in the evening I was much too tired to start dancing. It was all I could do to collapse in front of the TV and then drag myself to bed. I’ll be fine by the first night, I thought. But at the back of my mind there was the nagging thought, What if I’m not?

  I hardly had time to think about school, although I did ring Harriet every night to see how she was getting on. She said Kelly and the others were still teasing her but she was trying to ignore it.

  ‘I can’t wait till tomorrow night,’ she told me on the Friday night before our sleepover. ‘It seems ages since I saw you. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Mum said we can get a video and have a takeaway pizza,’ I replied. ‘Are Ally and Eve still all right to come?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Harriet answered. ‘I think Eve’s really looking forward to it.’ I knew Harriet had been hanging around with Eve and Ally at breaktime.

  ‘It’ll be weird having her sleep over with us, though.’ I frowned.

  ‘It’ll be good,’ Harriet told me. ‘She’s really nice when you get to know her.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, but as I put the phone down I couldn’t stop thinking about the sleepover. What was it going to be like with four of us? I couldn’t imagine it. Please, I thought doubtfully, please let it work out OK.

  I needn’t have worried — the sleepover was just brilliant. Eve was really funny and I began to understand why Ally liked her so much. They had exactly the same silly sense of humour. First of all Eve started us off having a competition to see who could fit the most digestives in their mouth and then, just when Ally had her mouth stuffed full with three, Eve tickled her.

  Ally burst out laughing, spraying digestives everywhere.

  The rest of us all screamed and ducked the flying crumbs.

  ‘Got you!’ Eve grinned.

  ‘Not fair!’ Ally gasped and, picking up one of my old beanie babies, a shaggy orang-utan, she hit Eve over the head. ‘Take that!’

  ‘Ow!’ Eve squealed. She grabbed a lilac dolphin from my desk and began attacking Ally and the orang-utan with it. ‘I’m Dilly the killer dolphin from the deep. Die, evil monkey, die!’

  Harriet and I joined in and the next minute cuddly animals were flying around the room. By the time we stopped we were all red in the face and gasping with laughter.

  ‘I need a drink,’ I panted. ‘Who wants a Coke?’

  ‘Me!’ three voices exclaimed.

  As we headed on to the landing, Ally said, ‘I’m going to go to the loo. I’ll see you in a minute.’ She went up to the bathroom door and tried the handle but it was locked.

  ‘Oi! I’m in here!’ Tom shouted through the door.

  ‘Still!’ I exclaimed, joining Ally. Tom had been in the bathroom three quarters of an hour ago when I’d tried to go to the toilet. ‘What are you doing in there?’ I demanded.

  Tom didn’t reply.

  I gave up. ‘Just use the toilet in Mum and Dad’s room,’ I told Ally. The rest of us trooped downstairs. ‘And people say girls spend ages in the bathroom,’ I commented.

  ‘Maybe he’s painting his nails,’ Harriet giggled.

  Jessica was in the lounge working on the computer. ‘You mean to say Tom’s still in the bathroom?’ she said, looking up.

  I nodded.

  ‘He is so annoying.’ Jessica frowned. ‘He knows I want to wash my hair and he’s been in there almost an hour.’

  ‘What’s he doing?’ I said.

  Jessica shook her head in exasperation. ‘Probably trying out a new look for next Friday.’

  ‘Next Friday?’ I echoed, wondering what Tom was doing next weekend.

  ‘It’s his gig at the Junction,’ Jessica informed me.

  My eyes widened. Of course! I’d been so caught up with rehearsals and everything else I’d forgotten that Tom’s band were about to perform at the Junction. I felt suddenly guilty. It was a really important night for him. ‘Are you going to go and watch?’ I asked Jess.

  ‘Yeah,’ she answered. ‘So I’ll give you all the goss’.’

  I nodded. ‘You’d better!’ I carried on through into the kitchen with Eve and Harriet.

  ‘You’re so lucky, Sophie,’ Eve said, sitting down at the kitchen table. ‘Your family’s so cool.’

  Cool! Us? ‘We’re just normal.’ I frowned.

  ‘Normal?’ Eve exclaimed. ‘Your brother’s in a band, your sister looks like a model, you’ve been in a film and now you’re in a theatre show. That is definitely cool!’

  I didn’t know what to say. Maybe if it had been someone else’s family I would have thought the same but I certainly didn’t feel that cool. I hurried to the fridge to hide my embarrassment. ‘Coke?’ I said, getting out a huge bottle.

  Eve nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

  Harriet fetched some glasses. ‘How’s the play going anyway? We’ve all got tickets for the first night.’

  ‘We managed to get seats together,’ Eve said. ‘They’re near the front.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Ally asked, joining us.

  ‘We were just telling Sophie we’ve all got tickets for the first night of her play,’ Eve replied.

  ‘Lots of other people from school are coming too,’ Harriet added.

  ‘Oh, great,’ I groaned. ‘Everyone can laugh at how useless my dancing is.’

  Harriet frowned. ‘But I thought you said your dancing was getting better.’

  ‘It is,’ I sighed. ‘But I still make mistakes quite a lot of the time. And now there’s just one week to go…’

  ‘Arghhhhhhhhhhhhh!’

  We all jumped as a muffled yell from upstairs interrupted me. It sounded like Tom.

  Shooting a worried look at the others I dashed through to the lounge. ‘Tom?’ I called as they piled after me.

  Jessica was standing up by the computer.

  ‘Was that Tom?’ I demanded.

  She nodded. ‘Yeah, I don’t know what made him shout like…’

  ‘ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!’ Tom appeared at the top of the staircase. He was wearing nothing but an old blue towel around his waist — but that wasn’t what made my eyes widen.

  ‘Your hair!’ Jessica gasped.

  My hands flew to my mouth. ‘Your hair,’ I echoed in a squeak.

  Beh
ind me, I heard my friends trying to stifle their giggles.

  Tom looked down at us from the top of the staircase, an alarmed expression on his face. His hair, long enough now to reach just past his nose, was dripping with water.

  It also happened to be the exact same colour as a tangerine!

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘What have you done?’ Jessica gaped.

  ‘I tried to dye my hair,’ Tom said, coming down the stairs two at a time. He hurriedly hitched up his towel as he saw my friends. ‘It was supposed to go blond, you know white-blond, like Chester Bennington or Eminem, but look!’ He ran a hand through his unmistakably orange hair.

  ‘Yeah, it doesn’t exactly look like Eminem,’ Jessica commented. A giggle burst out of her. ‘More like Coco the clown!’

  ‘Or Chris Evans!’ Ally gasped.

  That was it. A snort escaped me, and the next second, me, Jessica, Ally, Harriet and Eve were shrieking with laughter.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve dyed your hair orange, Tom!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘It is just so sexy,’ Jessica exploded with fresh peals of laughter. ‘Not!’

  ‘Jess, help me!’ Tom pleaded. ‘I’ve got to get the dye out. It’s the gig next Friday.’ He groaned. ‘Not to mention school.’

  I caught Eve’s eye. ‘Still think my family are cool?’

  She couldn’t answer, she was laughing too much.

  Tom glared at us. ‘OK, don’t help me, then.’ He turned in what he seemed to imagine was a dignified way, and stalked back upstairs. Unfortunately for him the back of his hair was even worse than the front. He didn’t seem to have put the dye on evenly and the back of his head was striped orange and bright yellow. At the sight of it we laughed even more helplessly.

  Tom swung round. ‘Some help you are,’ he muttered bitterly.

  Just then there was the sound of the back door opening. ‘I’m home,’ Mum called. Hearing our laughter, she came through to the lounge. ‘What’s going…’ She saw Tom and her jaw dropped. ‘Oh my goodness, Tom!’ she exclaimed. ‘What have you done?’

  Mum was so not pleased with Tom for dyeing his hair, particularly when she found out that he’d also managed to get the dye — a permanent dye that didn’t wash out — on to a bathroom towel, the bathmat, and the bathroom walls. However, once she had finished telling him off and he had promised to buy a new towel and bathmat with his savings from his job as a washer-up at the village pub, she was far more help than the rest of us had been. She sent him off to put some clothes on and then sat him down in the kitchen and gingerly examined his — very ginger — hair.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ she asked as we all sat round and grinned at him. ‘It’s a really… um… unusual colour.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it to turn out like this,’ he groaned. ‘Look, it was supposed to go white.’ He held up the box the dye had come in. It showed a model — a girl — with white-blonde hair cut in a short spiky style.

  ‘Yes, but if you look on the box,’ Mum said, ‘you can see it says that if you have very dark hair you need to apply a separate hair-lightener first. Then when it’s gone lighter, you can dye it with this hair dye to make it go white. Didn’t you read the instructions?’

  ‘Yeah, but I just thought it was a scam to try and get you to buy two lots of dye. It cost me five pounds to get this one,’ Tom said.

  Mum shook her head. ‘It’s going to cost you a lot more to put it right. You’re going to have to go to a proper hairdresser. It could cost up to fifty pounds.’

  ‘Fifty pounds!’ Tom said in dismay. ‘But what about the amp I’ve been saving up for?’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘Couldn’t you pay?’

  ‘Definitely not,’ Mum said, shaking her head. ‘You got yourself into this mess, Tom, you can pay to get out of it. So what’s it to be?’ She fixed him with a look. ‘Hair or new amp?’

  Tom struggled for a moment. ‘Hair,’ he sighed at last.

  Mum smiled. ‘OK, I’ll give my hairdresser a ring and see when she can fit you in. She’s very good at dyeing hair.’

  ‘See if she can do it today, Mum,’ Tom said.

  Mum nodded, but when she got off the phone she said the soonest Helen the hairdresser could fit Tom in was Friday.

  ‘You mean I’ve got to stay like this all a week?’ Tom exclaimed, looking aghast.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Mum said. She paused. ‘Though Helen did say she could fit you in first thing Monday morning for a haircut. If it’s shorter it might not look quite so bad.’

  ‘Cut my hair?’ Tom’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘No way! I’m growing it.’

  ‘I know, it’s a shame,’ Mum said. She sounded innocent but I could see the smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. ‘But Helen did say that the dye might have damaged your hair and that you might have to cut most of the dye out on Friday anyway. Of course,’ she added quickly, ‘Dad and I don’t mind paying for a haircut, Tom. So what do you say? Shall I book you in?’

  Tom looked at Jessica and me. He looked like this was torture for him.

  ‘You can’t stay looking like that till next Friday,’ Jessica said, glancing at his frizzy orange hair.

  ‘And your hair looks much nicer short,’ I put in. ‘It really does.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Harriet agreed. ‘I think so too.’

  ‘Well?’ Mum said to Tom.

  He gave a deep sigh. ‘OK,’ he said, almost as if he was making a decision to have his leg cut off. ‘I’ll have it done.’

  On Monday Tom and Mum set off for the hairdresser together first thing in the morning. ‘Have fun!’ I grinned as they left.

  For once I’d been given a ten thirty call at rehearsal, which meant I had an hour to laze around the house before I had to get ready to go. Dad was working in the study and for a while I hung around in the kitchen in my pyjamas, eating toast and reading Jessica’s latest copy of Mizz. However, after a bit I got bored and went to get dressed.

  As I pulled on my jeans I thought about the play. It was hard to imagine that in a week’s time it would have started and the first night would be over. We had three more days of rehearsal at Clawson Academy and then we were moving to the theatre. On Thursday and Friday there would be technical and dress rehearsals and then on Saturday it was the first night. Cold shivers ran down my spine. Just five days until I had to be perfect — not just getting by with only a few mistakes like I was at the moment. Absolutely spot-on, every-step-right perfect.

  *

  At ten o’clock, Mum arrived back to take me to rehearsal. ‘So what does Tom’s hair look like?’ I asked as we drove into town.

  ‘Better,’ she replied. ‘You don’t notice the colour quite so much now it’s short.’

  ‘How short is it?’ I asked curiously.

  ‘Really very short, although he’s had it left slightly long on top so he can spike it up or something for gigs and going out.’ She smiled at me. ‘Poor Tom. He was moaning about having to have his hair cut off all the way to school. He says he’s going to grow it again.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, how are you feeling, love? I guess it’s pretty nerve-racking being so close to opening night.’

  I nodded.

  Mum smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

  By mid-morning I was seriously doubting it. The rehearsal was fraught. Claire had decided we were going to have our first proper run-through, which meant going through the play from beginning to end instead of just working on one scene over and over again. It went badly, lots of people forgot their lines and Claire got increasingly tense.

  ‘For goodness sake, guys, there are just five days until we open!’ she shouted as Lauren, the deputy stage manager, had to prompt us for about the tenth time in the fifth scene. ‘This isn’t good enough!’

  Everyone looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Take five!’ Claire snapped. ‘And look through your lines.’

  As Claire rattled off a list of instructions to Velda and Lauren, people sat down and silently got out their scripts
. The usual jokey atmosphere had been replaced by an air of tension. I sat down next to Justine. She hadn’t had much to do so far that day because Claire had decided that my team would act the first half and Justine’s team would act the second half. I’d groaned when I heard because it meant that I would have to do the ballet solo. I was much better at it now but I still couldn’t say I looked forward to it. I always went wrong at least once.

  ‘It’s not going well, is it?’ Justine said to me in a low voice.

  I shook my head. ‘Claire’s really stressed.’

  ‘She’s not the only one,’ Justine said, nodding to where the adult actors were sitting. Some of them were walking up and down silently saying their lines, others were running their hands through their hair.

  When Velda called us back on to the stage, all I could think about was the ballet solo.

  Get it right, I thought as I went to stand ready to come on for the scene in Mr Tumnus’s house. Just get it right.

  I was thinking so hard about the dance that I almost forgot my lines. At one point my mind seemed to go completely empty. What did I say next? Luckily the words came back to me just in time. I gasped them out. But it shook me and, after that, I gabbled and spoke too quickly.

  Oh no, I was really messing things up. I saw Claire starting to frown.

  Almost before I knew it, it was the solo. Determined to get it right, I tried too hard on the first spin and overbalanced. I stumbled my way through the rest of it. Claire’s face grew darker by the second. She didn’t stop me, though, and we carried on to the end of the first half.

  I wasn’t the only one to mess up; more lines were forgotten and entrances missed. By the time we had finished the run-through, Claire’s head was in her hands.

  ‘You know, I feel like walking out of here right now,’ she told us as we all gathered nervously for the notes she was going to give us on our performance. ‘In fact, why don’t I just do that?’ she said, her voice rising. ‘We haven’t got a show. That was a disgrace! You forgot your lines, you forgot the songs, you didn’t know when you were coming on and you made mistakes in the dances.’ She glared round at us all with her flashing lion-like eyes. ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Just tell me why?’