Olivia's First Term

by Lyn Gardner

  Katie finished and everyone clapped politely. Sebastian Shaw made a few remarks, suggesting that sometimes in acting less could be more, and then looked around the class.

  “Now, what do other people think?” Everyone hesitated. Nobody wanted to speak first. Mr Shaw’s eye lit on Olivia sitting under her curtain of hair.

  “Olivia, do you have an opinion?”

  Olivia turned very pink and said nothing. She wished she could disappear. Everyone was looking at her.

  “Olivia?” repeated Sebastian Shaw firmly.

  Olivia looked up from under her hair at the expectant faces. She thought she heard somebody giggle and whisper, “It watches, but does it talk?” The words rose angrily in her throat, very loudly and clearly: “It’s silly. I think acting is silly. What’s the point of pretending to be other people when you can just be yourself? It’s just lying by another name. And there’s no real risk; it’s not like when you see someone doing something really dangerous such as flying through the air on a trapeze and having to grasp someone else’s hand mid-air or hurtling head first down a pole. That’s real, and the consequences of getting it wrong are real too. If you don’t catch the hand or you don’t stop in time at the bottom of the pole, you’ll get injured very badly or die. But nobody in a play really dies. Acting is just faking it.”

  A murmur of surprise passed around the class, and Katie flushed scarlet. Some people started to protest at what Olivia had said, but Mr Shaw raised a hand to silence them.

  “I think what Olivia has said is very interesting. Olivia, have you ever seen a play?” asked Mr Shaw gently.

  Olivia shook her head fiercely. “I don’t want to either.” Her eyes flashed dangerously.

  “Well, I hope that I will eventually persuade you to change your mind, Olivia, because sometimes a play, a good play, tells more truths in two hours than most people discover in a lifetime. It allows us to experience things and feel emotions, sometimes terrible things and emotions, in a way so powerful that it becomes unnecessary for us to feel or perform those things ourselves in real life. Great acting isn’t about lying, it’s about daring to be totally honest. Great acting wears no clothes, it is completely naked.

  “Olivia, I once saw your father on the high-wire crossing between two skyscrapers in New York; it was thrilling and felt as if I was watching something very dangerous. But I also saw your mother play Rosalind in As You Like It here in London and that was thrilling, and I felt as if I was watching something very dangerous then too. In both cases the performer was utterly fearless. They gave themselves completely.”

  He spoke with such passion that the entire class was silenced, and the quiet was broken only by the sound of the bell going for the next lesson. Mr Shaw had to rush off and everyone began to collect their belongings.

  Olivia stood up and walked towards the door, acutely aware that everyone was watching her.

  “The cheek of it! Her, somebody so completely talentless, lecturing us on acting,” said Katie loudly and scornfully.

  “I don’t think she meant it like that,” said Georgia quietly.

  “Oh yes, she did, dummy. And she said I was silly,” said Katie.

  “No, she didn’t,” said Aeysha soothingly. “She said that acting was silly. I don’t think she’s right but it’s a point of view. I mean, I find football boring but loads of people think it’s ace.”

  “Either way,” said Katie ominously. “From now on, Olivia Marvell is dead.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Abbie Cardew had taken Olivia up to a small rehearsal room right at the top of the school. She was trying to help Olivia do a grand plié.

  “That’s much better, you’ve almost got it right,” said Abbie encouragingly, although in truth what Olivia was doing was a very long way from right. It was, thought Abbie patiently, a bit like trying to teach a newborn foal to dance. Olivia had the best sense of balance that Abbie had ever encountered – she could tumble, do cartwheels and back flips like a professional acrobat – but she seemed incapable of grasping the technique of any dance form, whether it was ballet, tap or contemporary. She was all gangly arms and legs. Privately Abbie suspected it wasn’t that Olivia couldn’t dance but that she wouldn’t dance; unlike her little sister, she just didn’t want to. But Miss Swan had asked her to try and help Olivia, and Abbie was going to do her best. Besides, she liked the younger girl with her dark soulful eyes and serious face, and although Olivia never complained, Abbie knew that she wasn’t happy.

  The last three weeks had been the worst of Olivia’s life. Eel had taken to the Swan like a cygnet to water. She was in seventh heaven. She loved the routine, the morning academic lessons followed by long afternoons of dancing, singing and acting, rushing between classes and discovering the amazing things that her body could do. Once upon a time, all her teachers had despaired of her, but now she was considered a star in the making and encouraged to take as many dance classes as possible. Whereas Olivia, who had always been such a rising star in the circus, was just a nobody.

  Sometimes Eel’s enthusiasm for the Swan made Olivia feel furious. Only yesterday evening Olivia had become so infuriated by Eel watching herself perform for hours in front of the mirror in their shared bedroom that she had called Eel a “stage-school brat”.

  “No, I’m not,” said Eel reasonably. “I just want to be very good at dancing, and you can’t get good at anything unless you practise for hours and hours. Gran says it doesn’t matter how talented you are, if you don’t put in the work you’ll never be really brilliant. And I want to be the bestest dancer in the Swan, in the country and in the entire universe.”

  “Oh,” said Olivia nastily, “so little Miss Twinkletoes wants to shine, does she? Just like Katie Wilkes-Cox.”

  Eel had looked hurt and replied, “I’m just getting the chance to do something I really like, and do it well. You should be pleased for me, but you’re being really horrid, Olivia, and behaving like a boar with a sore head.”

  “Bear,” snapped Olivia. Eel had stomped away.

  Olivia knew she was behaving badly, but she couldn’t stop herself being sulky and sullen. Every day was a trial. Because of their complete lack of experience, both Olivia and Eel had been put in the dance classes with the youngest children who had only just joined the school in Year Three. It was all right for Eel, who showed every sign that she would soon surpass them. Her obvious talent and sunny nature had already made Eel popular with the other children, and she’d quickly made friends. But Olivia, who was tall for her age, continued to feel like a clumsy giant among all the smaller children, and was acutely aware of Katie Wilkes-Cox and the little gang around her. Whenever Katie passed her in the corridor, she would come as close as she could and whisper, “Baby ballet,” and then fall about laughing as if she had said something supremely witty.

  “Olivia, I’ve got to go. Miss Swan promised to run through my song with me,” said Abbie, who was through to the final round of auditions to play Liesl in a new West End production of The Sound of Music. She glanced at her watch. “There’s ten minutes before the bell for afternoon lessons; why don’t you go through what we’ve just practised and we’ll meet here tomorrow at the same time.” Abbie picked up her things and rushed off, humming, “You are Sixteen Going on Seventeen” under her breath.

  Olivia sighed and wandered over to the big open windows. She looked across the rooftops of London. In the distance she could see Tower Bridge. Her attention was caught by a large bird swooping on to the flat roof of the building next door. The building, which was derelict, had a low parapet around the roof with large iron spikes sticking out, and it was just below here on a sheltered ledge that the bird had nested. Olivia could see the edge of the nest. The bird hopped on the parapet, eyeing Olivia inquisitively across the five metres that separated the two high buildings. Olivia rummaged in her bag, found a half-eaten sandwich that she had bought from the school cafeteria and crumbled it on to the window ledge of the rehearsal room. The bird watched her closely,
but didn’t come any nearer.

  “You’re like me, little bird, you’re scared,” whispered Olivia softly. The bird tilted its head as if listening to her. “But you are freer than me; at least you can fly away. I’m stuck here doing silly ballet and stupid tap until Dad comes back for us. I can’t even practise my tightrope-walking, and that’s the only thing that makes me forget myself.” Thinking of her dad and what stunt he might be planning made Olivia feel anxious. A tear ran down her cheek.

  She crumbled the last of the sandwich on to the window ledge in the hope the bird might come and peck at it, and turned back to the rehearsal room. She sighed and decided to practise as Abbie had suggested.

  She held on to the barre and made a few awkward movements. Immediately she was aware of stifled giggles behind her, and whirled round. Katie Wilkes-Cox, Kylie Morris, Georgia Jones and some other girls were standing in front of the plate-glass observation window. Abbie had forgotten to pull the blind down so that nobody could see in. Katie was imitating Olivia’s ungainly movements in a manner that was very cruel but also very funny. Georgia and Aeysha looked embarrassed but the others were doubled over laughing, and Katie said loudly, “Some Swan! More like an ugly duckling!”

  Peals of laughter followed the girls as they ran down the corridor. Olivia stood numbly in the rehearsal room until the sound died away and the bell went for afternoon practice.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Georgia was playing the piano in one of the music practice rooms. She didn’t really want to practise, even though she had her grade-three exam coming up at Christmas, but she didn’t want to be on her own, either. Since the day of the newbies’ concert, Katie had been particularly snide and unpleasant to Georgia, as if she was testing her loyalty.

  “Oh, look, here comes Miss Clumsy Clots!” she’d say every time Georgia came near, and she excluded Georgia from a sleepover party. Aeysha had been really apologetic about going, but Georgia didn’t blame her; if it had been the other way round she’d have probably gone too. When the Queen Bee called, they all buzzed.

  Georgia finished playing her piece and sighed. She couldn’t keep away from Katie; she wanted her approval and she wanted to be invited to the swimming-pool party that she had heard was being planned, but she hated herself for it. She felt like a puppet on a string. She wanted to break free of the puppet master but she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone at a time when home was so sad and miserable. Only that morning, her mum had said that she was going to have to make an appointment to see Miss Swan.

  “I promise that I’ll do anything I can to keep you at the Swan, Georgia. But I can’t promise the impossible. I want you to know that I really am trying my best.” Georgia had pushed aside her cereal bowl and given her mum a big hug, but her stomach had lurched at the thought that she might have to leave.

  She started playing a Mozart piece. She wasn’t playing well but Olivia, walking past the room, heard the music and was transported back to a glorious summer in Ireland when Jack had used the same piece for part of his act. Quietly she opened the door and crept in to listen.

  “I enjoyed your playing,” she said when Georgia had finished.

  Georgia turned round and smiled hesitantly. “I like it because it sounds how I feel inside.”

  “Sad?” said Olivia, surprised.

  Georgia nodded.

  “But you always look pretty happy to me.”

  “It’s called putting an act,” said Georgia. She took a deep breath. “Sometimes I think I’m better at acting being me than I am at actually being me.” She beckoned Olivia over to squeeze next to her on the piano stool and they sat together, their backs to the open door.

  “Sometimes,” said Olivia, “I don’t like being me at all and wish I could be someone else. I used to be comfortable in my own skin. I knew who I was, what I was good at and where I belonged in the universe. Now I don’t even recognise myself. I’m snappy and miserable all the time. How do you bear it here?”

  Georgia looked surprised. “But I love it at the Swan! I’m dead scared that I’m going to have to leave. My mum doesn’t think she can manage the fees after the end of this term. I love the singing and the dancing and the acting. I know you think acting is silly, but when you’re doing it, it doesn’t feel silly at all – it’s thrilling – and when you’re doing it well you can feel that the audience is thrilled too. They believe entirely in the world that you are creating; for that moment nothing else matters to them or to you. It’s as if your entire life, your past and your future only exists in that single moment.”

  “I feel like that when I’m on the wire,” said Olivia.

  “The wire?” asked Georgia.

  “The high-wire.”

  “You can do that?” Georgia asked admiringly.

  “Yup.”

  “That’s so cool. Can I watch you?” asked Georgia shyly.

  “Fat chance,” replied Olivia grumpily. “My gran hates the circus and there’s nowhere to practise.”

  “Bet you’re amazing.”

  “Really?” said Olivia with sarcasm in her voice. “I’m the baby ballet girl, remember. The one you and your friend Katie Wilkes-Cox make fun of at every chance.”

  Georgia turned beetroot red. “I never meant—” she protested.

  “But you still do it,” snapped Olivia. There was an uncomfortable silence.

  “I know it’s no excuse, but I don’t join in.”

  “But you’re there, and you don’t say anything and you never raise a finger to stop it, do you? I don’t know if that makes you any better than Katie, and in fact it might make you worse. You let somebody else do the dirty work, look anguished but you don’t actually protest.”

  “No,” whispered Georgia. “I don’t. I’m a coward.”

  Olivia looked at her. “Oh, please don’t cry, Georgia,” said Olivia. “I’m as much a coward as you are. I never tell anyone what she’s doing. But I’ve made such a bad start at the Swan, I know that nobody would believe me. She may be a rubbish Miranda, but Katie’s a very good little actress. In front of the teachers she acts as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She opens her eyes wide and smiles that irritating little smile and everybody falls for it, even my gran.”

  She looked hard at Georgia. “Even you aren’t prepared to speak up against her when she’s done something truly dreadful. You didn’t fall at the newbies’ concert, did you? You were pushed, and you think Katie did it.”

  Georgia gasped. “How do you know that?”

  “You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to work it out. I saw you come through that curtain like a rocket and I saw who benefited because you couldn’t go on. But, of course, as long as you protest that it was an accident, nobody’s going to think differently and Katie’s in the clear.”

  “You won’t blab, will you, Olivia?” said Georgia, looking panic-stricken.

  “Of course I won’t. I’m a coward, remember, just like you. Anyway, nobody would believe me; they all think I’m some kind of freak. But then I think Katie’s a monster.”

  “Her dad’s awful. If I had a dad like that, I’d just want to curl up and die,” said Georgia.

  “Yes, we saw him,” said Olivia. She mimicked Mr Wilkes-Cox. “Katie, you’re a little star! What have you got to do, Katie? You’ve got to shine, Katie, shine!”

  “Shine, Katie, shine!” repeated Georgia, exaggerating the words to comic effect. Olivia and Georgia burst out laughing and they didn’t notice Katie standing listening at the open door. She had a face like thunder and she was clenching her fists.

  Olivia suddenly stopped laughing. “We’re being as bad as she is,” she said guiltily.

  “Totally,” said Georgia seriously. “We are. But at least Katie will never know what we said.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  After her conversation with Georgia, Olivia put some effort into finding somewhere she could walk the wire. But she had no luck and she soon lost heart. Most rehearsal spaces in the school were in constant use
all day, and even after school and at weekends they were in demand for extra classes and practice sessions.

  Space was cramped at the Swan and it wasn’t unusual to find someone practising their cello at the bottom of the stairs or even learning lines in a broom cupboard. Olivia had once come across a line of girls tap-dancing in the toilets and an older boy doing one of Hamlet’s soliloquies when she had gone to get something from the stationery cupboard. In desperation, Olivia had gone to the park and rigged her wire between the branches of two trees, but a small crowd had gathered, which she found unnerving, and eventually a park-keeper had arrived and told her grumpily that it was against by-law 426, subsection 212 to tightrope-walk in the park.

  It was Georgia who had thought of the rehearsal room at the top of the school, and she had told Eel during their contemporary dance class one afternoon. Immediately after school Eel marched Olivia up the stairs and pointed out the hook by the mirror on the wall next to the door.

  She wanted to do something to shake her sister out of her misery. Olivia had taken to walking around with a pained look on her face, as if she had just received a particularly tragic piece of news. Eel hated to see Olivia so unhappy, but she didn’t know what she could do about it, she was so busy discovering new friends and new skills. Besides, the routine at the Swan was so punishing that by the time she crawled up the stairs to the flat some evenings, she could barely keep her eyes open. Trying to have a heart-to-heart with Olivia just felt more than she could cope with, particularly when Olivia was so snappy all the time.

  Only last night there had been another scene. After supper, Alicia had said, “Now then, Eel, would you like to look at this ballet book with me and I’ll read you the story of Swan Lake?” Eel didn’t hesitate. Straight away she clambered on to Alicia’s lap and snuggled down with her thumb in her mouth. Olivia said nothing, but inside she was screaming, “Traitor!”