Olivia's First Term

by Lyn Gardner

  “What’s that?” asked Olivia.

  “She had true grit. She let nothing defeat her. Toni wasn’t the most naturally gifted student we’ve ever had at the Swan. But she was the most determined and hard-working. She always pushed herself that little bit further than anyone else, and always picked herself up and tried again if she failed. She used to quote a famous writer called Samuel Beckett: ‘Try again. Fail again. Fail better.’ She took a decent talent and made it a mighty one. She was always prepared to take a risk and she never gave up.”

  “So you think I’ve given up?” asked Olivia indignantly.

  “I think you gave up the day you arrived,” said Sebastian Shaw gently. “You were determined not to give the Swan a chance. I also think that you’re letting your unhappiness eat you up. Unhappiness is like acid. It destroys and scars.” Then he smiled and added, “But maybe you will prove me wrong, Olivia. Your mother always did. I told her she didn’t have what it takes to be a great classical actress, and through hard work and determination she became the greatest of her generation. Who knows, maybe if she had lived…”

  Tears welled in Olivia’s eyes. Sebastian handed her a tissue with one hand and a ticket with the other.

  “What’s this?” asked Olivia.

  “It’s a ticket for a play by Shakespeare I’m going to see tonight. Romeo and Juliet,” said Mr Shaw. “How old are you, Olivia? Twelve?”

  Olivia nodded.

  “Your mother played Juliet on the West End stage when she was sixteen, only a little older than you are now. Then a few years after that she met your father. Even though she was already engaged to be married, it was love at first sight.”

  “She was going to marry someone else?” Olivia’s eyes were wide.

  Sebastian nodded. “Look, Olivia, I’d be very honoured if you would come to the theatre with me tonight to see the play. I think it might help you understand your mum and dad a little better, what their love cost, and why your father has left you and your sister here.”

  Olivia sniffed and Sebastian Shaw passed her another tissue. “Your father hasn’t abandoned you, Olivia.”

  “Well, it feels like he has,” she replied, and burst into such tears that Sebastian Shaw quite ran out of tissues.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  There was an expectant buzz all around the theatre. Olivia leaned forwards in the box. When she had seen where they were sitting, she worried about feeling exposed and self-conscious, but the beauty of the theatre had quickly made her forget all such thoughts.

  The ceiling was painted with a scene from classical Greek drama and a massive chandelier hung down from its middle, twinkling with what seemed like a thousand candles. The balconies were edged with gold gilt and cheeky little gold cherubs grinned down beatifically from above the proscenium arch over the stage. Even the battered old safety curtain was painted with garlanded shepherds and shepherdesses and darting fairies.

  The gaudy gaiety reminded Olivia of the circus. She immediately felt at home.

  She had only reluctantly agreed to go with Sebastian to the theatre. But the lure of hearing more about her mother, Toni, was too hard to resist. She had not been disappointed. Over a bowl of spaghetti with fresh basil in a little Italian restaurant round the corner, where the waiters had greeted Sebastian like an old friend, he had told Olivia more about her mother than Jack ever had.

  “You are more like her than you could possibly imagine, Olivia. It’s not just how you look and how you sound, but in other ways too,” he’d said, thinking that mother and daughter were both a bit like wild ponies whose confidence you had to gain slowly and carefully.

  “But she was an actor; I’m not,” said Olivia, scraping her bowl of the last of her tiramisu. She found talking to Sebastian remarkably easy.

  “She wasn’t always. Not to start with. During her first term at the Swan, when she was seven, I could barely get her to open her mouth she was so shy in class. She’d visibly shrink if I tried to get her to stand up and say a poem. So I simply left her alone, as I’ve done with you. Towards the end of the second term, we decided we were going to put on a little end-of-term show for the parents. It was a version of Sleeping Beauty. We had a little audition session in class, and of course all the girls wanted to play the princess. I didn’t want to push Toni because I couldn’t imagine she’d want to audition in front of everyone or even take part in the performance. At best, I thought she’d want to hide somewhere at the back as a courtier. But after all the other little girls had played the scene I’d chosen for them, and I said it was time to move on to the boys, Toni put up her hand.

  “‘What is it, Toni?’ I asked.

  “‘I want to play the princess,’ she said very firmly. Frankly, I was astonished. She had barely spoken in class for the entire year. But she stepped out to the front of the room and played the scene. It was an extraordinary performance for a seven-year-old. She had clearly studied very carefully what all the others had done, and knew where to make improvements. Of course, she got the part, and I knew then that with dedication and hard work she had the potential to be a great actor. Eventually she was.”

  Then Sebastian had looked at his watch and nodded to a waiter for the bill. “We must hurry or we’ll be late for the theatre.”

  They had taken their seats, and as the house lights started to dim Olivia felt the same excitement that she felt at the start of a circus performance. The royal-blue curtains across the stage swung open. Suddenly Olivia was transported back to Italy on a hot summer’s day. She leaned further forwards. She could almost smell the bright colours. At first she found the language difficult to understand, but gradually her ear adjusted and it grew easier. She watched the preparations for the Capulets’ party and enjoyed the banter between Romeo and his friend, Mercutio. They reminded her of Tom and William.

  When Juliet made her first entrance, Olivia was surprised how young and fragile she was. She wondered what it must have been like to live in those times when you had to obey your parents and a girl just a few years older than she was now would be married off to someone they’d chosen for her.

  Then the party began and Romeo and Juliet glimpsed each other across the room crowded with dancers. Romeo breathed the words, “O! She doth teach the torches to burn bright.” Olivia felt her heart flutter inside her chest as if it was a bird trying to get out.

  Romeo approached Juliet for the first time:

  “If I profane with my unworthiest hand

  This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this;

  My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

  To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

  For a moment, Olivia suddenly thought about her parents’ first meeting, and then she was completely swept away by the story again. Romeo and Juliet were secretly married without their parents’ knowledge, Romeo was banished after killing Juliet’s cousin, Tybalt, and Juliet was forced by her parents to prepare to marry the man they had chosen for her, Paris. It was as if Olivia was experiencing the play with every sense, and she completely forgot that she was sitting in a theatre in the heart of London and felt instead as if she were Juliet in Verona hundreds of years ago.

  During the interval she spoke very little, eager for the play to resume. When, after the final tragedy of the young lovers’ deaths, the play finished, Olivia sat in dazed silence, tears pouring down her cheeks. For a long time she couldn’t speak. Sebastian waited patiently and just handed her tissues.

  Finally she sniffed, turned to Sebastian and said, “It was wonderful. Thank you. I loved every minute. I had no idea that the theatre could be so amazing.”

  Sebastian smiled. “As good as the circus?”

  “Totally, but in a different way,” said Olivia, surprising herself.

  “They both have their strengths,” said Sebastian.

  Olivia nodded, and as she did so an idea popped into her head.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When they arrived back at the Swan after the theatre, Se
bastian pressed a copy of Romeo and Juliet into Olivia’s hand, telling her it was a present, before he made his goodbyes and left to walk around the corner to his flat.

  Olivia stood alone in the large foyer of the Swan. She liked the school best at night when it was empty, so different from the hustle and bustle of the day. Then it was full of people and energy, and a different noise – from choral speaking to tap-dancing – drifted from behind every door. It felt so peaceful at night.

  She headed up the wide sweeping staircase towards the upper floor where Alicia had her flat. But when she reached the first floor, she stopped and turned back and, leaning over the balcony, she opened the play. She started to speak:

  “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou,

  Romeo?

  Deny thy father, and refuse thy name;

  Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn by love,

  And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

  If her grandmother or Sebastian Shaw had been watching, they would have sworn they were seeing a ghost.

  The next day Tom and Olivia were practising in the room at the top of the school.

  “That’s epic, you’re coming on brilliantly,” said Olivia, watching Tom walk the wire to the point where it touched the ledge of the open window in the upper rehearsal room. He leapt gracefully to the ground and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

  Olivia suddenly spun round quickly to face the little observation window, but there was nobody there.

  “What’s up?” asked Tom.

  “I sometimes get the feeling we’re being spied on by somebody,” said Olivia. “We should be more careful about pulling the blind right down.”

  “Are Katie and her coven still bothering you?” asked Tom.

  Olivia ignored the question and quickly changed the subject. “You’re getting so good, I was wondering whether we might work up a little double act. Nothing too complicated.”

  “Whoa, Olivia Marvell. I’m just a beginner. I’m nowhere near your league.”

  “You’re improving every day. My dad would say you’re a complete natural. You really are making amazing progress,” said Olivia.

  “That’s because I’ve got a brilliant teacher, who also happens to be a slave driver,” grinned Tom.

  Olivia blushed with pleasure. Since she had been at the Swan, she had forgotten what it was like to be praised. Then she said casually, “Have you read Romeo and Juliet?”

  “Bits. We don’t do it in acting class until we’re in Year Eleven. But I’ve seen the movie. It’s fantastic, and I saw the Royal Shakespeare Company do it on stage and that was wonderful too.” He looked at Olivia’s expectant face. “Why do you want to know?”

  Olivia suddenly felt impossibly shy. Her words came out in a rush.

  “It’s just I went to the theatre last night to see it with Mr Shaw, and when I came home I read some of the speeches; acting it out made me feel just like I feel inside when I’m on the tightrope and doing something really difficult really well. It’s as if nothing else in the world matters except the moment that you’re caught up in and I just wondered … I just wondered—” Olivia broke off, embarrassed. “No, it’s a silly idea…”

  “You can’t stop now,” said Tom, “but if it really sucks, I’ll tell you.”

  “Well,” said Olivia nervously, “when I was thinking about the play, I thought that the feelings Romeo and Juliet have, and the feeling of being on a tightrope, are rather similar. It’s all risky and dangerous, scary and off-kilter, as if you’re wobbling about and yet perfectly balanced at the same time, and I just thought…” Olivia faltered again.

  “Spit it out, Liv!” said Tom impatiently.

  “I just wondered what it would be like to act out the moment when they first meet at the masked ball, or the balcony scene, or something, on the tightrope.”

  Olivia looked up at Tom from under her hair, wondering nervously what he was going to think, but Tom looked interested. “With the words or without?”

  “Whichever way works best. Maybe some words, but not all of them. It’d have to be a perfect mix of words and movement. I don’t know, we’d have to try it and see.”

  “But that means we’d both have to tightrope-walk, speak and act all at the same time,” said Tom slowly.

  “Yes,” said Olivia. “We would.” Then she added enthusiastically, “I don’t think it’s ever been done before. At least, not in the circus.”

  “I can see why not,” said Tom. “Doing one of those things well is hard enough; trying to do all three is insane.”

  Olivia’s face fell.

  Tom spoke gently. “Look, Liv, I can probably do the Shakespeare bit OK. Just about. Speaking Shakespeare’s really hard. But I can still barely tightrope-walk. And although you can do the tightrope-walking and acrobatics brilliantly, I’ve yet to hear you open your mouth in acting class, though I’ve always thought it requires an immense talent to make yourself appear as invisible as you manage every lesson. And aren’t you the girl who not so long ago told us all that acting was silly?”

  Olivia glared at him, and said, “Well, it can be. When it’s done badly. But Mr Shaw’s got a point. Circus and acting have got a lot in common. Actually, I’ve decided I quite like acting.” She paused, and then added, “I just don’t like doing it in front of other people.” Tom started to laugh, but he stopped when he saw Olivia’s serious face. “Trying to act in front of other people makes me feel as if there’s nowhere to hide, that the people watching can see right inside me.”

  “Yes,” said Tom, “that’s exactly what it’s like. Acting’s scary, but after a while you just forget that people are watching you and it’s like shedding one layer of skin after another until you’re completely naked.”

  “Like a snake,” said Olivia.

  “Yes,” said Tom, “although not the poisonous kind, unless you’re Katie Wilkes-Cox.” He grinned. “Come on, dark horse, let’s give it a whirl. Maybe we’ll be better together than we are alone.”

  “That’s what a double act is. By trusting each other completely and doing what you do best, but also by being generous, you make the other person look even better. In a true double act, one and one doesn’t make two, it makes three.”

  “I believe you,” said Tom, “but I’m very gullible.” He grinned. “All right, then, let’s give it a go.”

  Olivia beamed at him. Then, from somewhere at the bottom of the school, came the distant sound of excited screams and shouts of congratulation.

  “The results for the Children’s Royal Spectacular auditions must be up on the notice board,” said Tom. “Come on, let’s go have a look.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I didn’t audition for the silly show, remember. I’m not interested.”

  Tom caught her hand. “But I did, and now we’re a double act, you’ve got to support me in everything I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  There was quite a crowd around the notice board, peering at the list of names. Eel was dancing a little jig, and when she saw Olivia, she rushed to hug her sister.

  “I’m going to dance on TV and in front of the Queen!” she said excitedly.

  “So am I!” said Tom, with a whoop. “Well, the TV bit’s certain; we’ve just got to be so royally good that the public votes for us as the act the Queen most wants to see.”

  “Congrats, I’m really pleased for both of you,” said Olivia, and she was, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit lonely, an outsider at these celebrations.

  “We must tell Dad; he won’t want to miss seeing me dance,” cried Eel.

  “No, he won’t,” agreed Olivia, and she hugged Eel again. “Dad will be very proud of you, Eel, and…” she paused, “…and if Mum was still alive she would be too.”

  They rushed upstairs to Alicia’s flat and dialled the mobile number that Jack had left them. But instead of hearing his cheery, “Hello, girls,” all they heard was an impersonal voice telling them: “The number you have dialled has not been recognised. Please check
and try again.”

  Eel burst into tears. “His phone’s been cut off because he can’t pay the bill.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a mistake and we’ll hear from him soon,” said Olivia soothingly. But the knot of anxiety in her stomach tightened. She remembered listening to Jack talk to some of the other circus performers around the fire late one evening. He had been describing his preparations for his dangerous stunts, and how in the few weeks before a stunt you had to close down the rest of your life and concentrate on nothing but the stunt ahead of you. She recalled his face, contorted with fear, the last time he tried to walk the high-wire, and she shivered.

  “Are you OK, Livy?” asked Eel anxiously.

  “Yep,” said Olivia. “Let’s go find Tom.”

  Alicia walked into the room at that moment. “What are you up to with Tom?” she asked with interest, pleased to think that Olivia might at last be settling down.

  “Nothing. We’re not doing anything,” said Olivia, turning pink and glaring at her grandmother stonily in the hope of preventing further questioning. If her gran found out about the high-wire walking, Olivia felt certain she would ban it.

  Alicia took a deep breath and counted to five. “Olivia, my dear, I wasn’t trying to pry. I’m just glad that you’ve made a friend.”

  “Oh,” said Olivia, embarrassed at her overreaction. “I’m sorry, Gran, but I’ve got to go.”

  “Why don’t you just tell her about the tightrope-walking?” asked Eel as they headed down the stairs.

  “Because she’d never understand in a million years,” replied Olivia.

  Georgia stood all alone by the notice board, biting her lip. Everyone else had drifted away to celebrate or to commiserate. She peered again at the list pinned to the wall. There was her name in black letters. It wasn’t a mistake.

  Miss Swan had taken her to one of the rehearsal rooms alone and coaxed a performance out of her. Georgia didn’t think she’d been very good but clearly Miss Swan had taken a chance on her again. This time she vowed she would make her proud.