“It’s no use,” Danny said, once everyone had helped clear up the mess and they were sitting down for their meal. “We’re only making things worse. It’s obvious that Chloe doesn’t scream when she’s afraid. We’ll have to think of something else.”
Chloe heaved a sigh of relief. It was good to know she wasn’t going to be subjected to any more scares. But the problem with her voice hadn’t gone away.
One afternoon, Chloe went to her favorite spot to try once again all the exercises and tips Mr. Player had recommended. Although lots of people wandered beside the lake, hardly anyone bothered to walk around the far side. Here, sheltered by trees, she ran through everything he had taught her.
She relaxed her shoulders and neck, and imagined her tummy muscles pushing all the air out of her lungs. She pretended she had to sing to someone on the other side of the water, and for a moment her voice did seem to carry a bit farther. Then it faltered, along with her confidence, and she could tell that not even the ducks swimming near the shore were impressed.
Ankle-deep in crunchy, winter leaves, Chloe stared out over the lake. Rockley Park School looked lovely in the thin sunlight. She could imagine how the house must have looked in days gone by. There would have been carriages rolling along the gravel drive, and ladies in long dresses walking with their friends and having tea on the lawn. Her heart was filled with affection for the place, and although she’d been a student for only a few weeks, the last thing she wanted was to leave.
She thought about what Mr. Watkins, her old music teacher, had said when her parents were worried about her career choice.
There are lots of career opportunities in the music industry. Singing is only a small part of it. There are many other things she could end up doing.
Perhaps it was time she realized that what Judge Jim had told her was true. She couldn’t always have everything she wanted. She had gotten in to Rockley Park, but maybe her voice would never work well for her again.
She picked up a large chestnut leaf and twirled it between her fingers. Even if she couldn’t sing, she still wanted to stay here. She was certain of that. The thought of returning to her old school and leaving this life behind was too awful to contemplate. Was there something else she might be good at? How about becoming a recording engineer? She found the technical side of things really interesting.
Chloe dropped the leaf and sighed. It would be very hard recording other singers when she wanted to be one herself. She didn’t know what the future might bring, but she knew that she wouldn’t give up on singing. Chloe could never, ever do that. She would always hope. And as she headed back to Paddock House, Chloe was at least sure of one thing. She had wonderful friends, who really cared about her, and that was worth an awful lot. Now she must be a generous friend to them, and try not to be jealous when they were able to perform at the concert, and she wasn’t.
11.
Making the Best of It
“Well, I’ve done everything Mr. Player has taught me this term and I still can’t sing out loud,” Chloe announced.
Lolly, who was sitting on her bed, reading, flopped back with a huge sigh. “Well, you’ve done all you can for now, Chloe. I’m sure you’ll get points from Mr. Player for determination and dedication even if you don’t get any for actually performing. He couldn’t ask for a more hardworking student. I wish I was as brave as you.”
“You don’t have anything to be brave about,” Chloe said. “Your life is perfect.”
“Is that what you think?” said Lolly. She ignored Chloe’s surprised expression and changed the subject. “Come and tell me what you think of this.” She opened her closet and took out a dress in dreamy shades of green and blue.
“It’s gorgeous!” Chloe held it up admiringly.
“I brought it from home for my performance. Pop has one the same in reds and yellows.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it!” Chloe said, letting the silky fabric run through her hands.
“Just as well Mommy is rich,” sniffed Tara from the doorway. Pop followed her into the room and poked her in the back.
“Actually,” said Pop, “we earned these. We were supposed to be paid for modeling them, but we asked if we could have the dresses instead.”
“It was a freezing day in the middle of winter and we had to wear them on the beach in Brighton,” Lolly said. “It was for a summer feature in a magazine, but they always do them months in advance. I was so cold I thought my nose was going to drop off!”
“Remember how we kept slipping on the pebbles in those silly shoes we had to wear?” Pop reminded her. “You fell over and got a mark on your dress. Everyone was furious.”
“So was I,” Lolly said. “I got a terrible bruise on my butt!”
“What are you wearing for the concert, Tara?” asked Pop.
“Black, of course,” she replied.
“Don’t you ever get a bit, well, tired of black?” said Lolly. “I know it’s really sophisticated and everything, but ... all the time?”
The thought struck Chloe that Tara looked a bit like the spider she’d put on Chloe’s bed. She was all spindly arms and legs, and her black mohair sweater gave her quite a spidery body. It was hard not to giggle.
Tara smoothed her hands down her skintight black jeans and scowled. “Black suits my personality,” she said.
Pop snorted. “That’s true!”
“How are your rehearsals going?” Lolly asked, ignoring her sister. “You’re playing with Danny, aren’t you?”
Tara glared at Pop for a moment before she replied. “I’m perfect,” she boasted. “But Danny isn’t practicing enough. We need to work together more, but I can never get him to agree when.” Chloe couldn’t believe that for a moment. Danny lived for his drums. If he wasn’t meeting Tara to practice, then there must be a good reason.
Chloe tried hard not to let the thought enter her mind, but she found herself not wanting Tara to do well at the concert. In fact, it wasn’t only Tara. To have unkind thoughts about her would be understandable, but a small part of Chloe wanted everyone to perform badly. She kept telling herself not to feel this way, but the hope kept creeping into her mind. If she couldn’t perform at all, why should anyone else do well? Better still, why couldn’t something happen to get the concert canceled entirely? It wasn’t very nice having these thoughts. She was jealous, plain and simple. It was horrible, but true.
“It’s funny how so many rock musicians wear black,” said Pop, gazing at Tara. “Or if not black, they often wear really scruffy clothes, as if they don’t care what they look like.”
“It’s because we rock musicians care about the music, unlike you pop singers.” Tara sneered.
“We care about the music and what we look like,” Pop argued. “The whole act is important.”
“Oh, come on. Let’s not argue,” begged Lolly. “Can’t you two agree to differ about pop and rock music? After all, it’s all music.”
“Huh!” said Tara darkly. “Are you sure about that?”
Lolly put her hands over her ears. “No more!” she yelled. “If I hear this argument again, I’ll scream.”
“You can be a rock chick as long as we’re allowed to be pop divas,” Chloe said.
Tara looked at her and laughed. “You’re not likely to be either !” she began, but Pop picked up a pillow from her bed and flung it at her. Lolly and Chloe scrambled to rescue the dress and get out of the way as Tara and Pop started bopping each other in earnest.
“Sometimes, I think Pop and Tara are more like twins than Pop and me!” said Lolly. “Look at them. They’re really enjoying themselves!” She laughed.
It was true. They were giggling like mad in between bopping each other with pillows.
“But Pop is much nicer than Tara,” Chloe whispered, wincing as Pop fell off the bed, arms flailing.
“Yes, but Tara is nicer when she forgets about putting on an act,” Lolly replied. “It’s a shame she doesn’t have any brothers or sisters to set her strai
ght.”
Chloe looked at Tara, who was helping Pop up. Lolly was right. She was nicer when she wasn’t putting on an act. She even looked better. Her usually pale face was flushed a healthy pink, and her eyes, so often dark and unhappy-looking, were sparkling with fun.
“What have you been doing?” Rosie, an older girl who was the moniter on their hall, put her head around their door.
“Pillow fight,” said Pop with satisfaction. “Why?”
Rosie shook her head in disbelief. “It’s just that I’ve never seen a famous model look such a mess before,” she said. Chloe laughed. Rosie was so right. Pop’s T-shirt was all crumpled and stretched out, and her hair, instead of being sleek and shiny, was full of tangles.
“There’s a message for you, Chloe,” Rosie continued. “Could you go to the recording studio please? Mr. Timms wants to see you.”
“Mr. Timms? What does he want?” asked Chloe.
“I don’t know,” Rosie told her. “But he said to go right away. You’d better hurry and find out!”
“Chloe Tompkins, in trouble again!” said Tara. Pop gave her an extra-hard bop with her pillow and she collapsed onto the bed.
Chloe and Lolly exchanged glances. “Of course you’re not in trouble, Chloe,” Lolly said confidently. “Are you?”
“No! I don’t think so,” said Chloe. “But I’d better go and find out what he wants.”
Mr. Timms wasn’t the sort of person you kept waiting, and Chloe didn’t want to get on the wrong side of such an important teacher. She zipped up her jacket and hurried out of the room. What could Mr. Timms want?
12.
Danny’s Good Turn
Chloe raced over to the main house. Why did Mr. Timms want to see her? She’d coiled up some cables yesterday and put them away. Had she done it badly? Perhaps she’d put them in the wrong place and he couldn’t find them!
She sped downstairs as quickly as she could, into the basement of the building. The red light outside the studio wasn’t lit, so she knew it was all right to go in. Mr. Timms was making himself a drink in the tiny kitchen.
“Ah! Chloe. Just the person I ... ” His voice trailed away. He was so vague when he wasn’t actually working. “Was it you who coiled this ...?”
Oh no! She must have made a mistake, though the cable he was pointing to, hanging up where she’d left it, looked okay. Chloe swallowed nervously.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Very good,” he said. “Very neat.” After a few moments, he added, “I like neat ...” He waved her out of the way and went through to the control room with his tea. Chloe followed, feeling a bit better. You just had to be patient with Mr. Timms.
“You want to record ...” Mr. Timms waved his hand vaguely. “... Danny?”
“Danny?”
“Yes. He wants to do a demo ... said you might want ... ”
“Hi, Chloe!” It was Danny’s voice, coming out of one of the speakers, and it made Chloe jump. He must be somewhere in the studio! She looked through the large, soundproofed window that separated the control room from the larger of the two recording rooms, and her friend waved at her cheerfully. He’d been setting up the drum kit.
“Thanks for coming. I need to make a recording for Tara and I thought you might want to help. Hang on, I’ll come through.” In a moment, he was in the control room. “Mr. Timms said you could give me a hand if you want,” he explained when they were together.
“Really?” Chloe’s eyes shone. “You mean it?” She looked from Danny to Mr. Timms and back again.
“If you don’t mess around,” Mr. Timms said. “And do as you’re ... Let’s get on then ... ”
Chloe couldn’t believe it. This was awesome! She was going to be part of a real recording! Danny led the way back to the drum kit, and Mr. Timms showed them how to position the five drum microphones.
“We need that mike stand over there.” She picked up the black metal stand Mr. Timms was pointing at and carried it carefully to him. “Put it so the microphone on it is angled over the floor tom.” Danny pointed to the large drum next to his bass drum and Chloe set the stand down. “You’ll need to make it lower,” said Mr. Timms.
“Like that?”
“Bit more. That’s it. Now clip this mike onto the snare drum.”
“What’s this called?” Chloe asked Danny, pointing to a funny pair of cymbals with a little gap between them. They were on a tall, silver stand and were attached to a pedal on the floor.
“That’s a high hat,” Danny told her. “Look.” He pressed the pedal with his foot and the top cymbal closed down onto the bottom one with a satisfying little tchk! When he took his foot off the pedal, the cymbal went back up again.
“I don’t know how you manage to do so many different things at the same time,” she told Danny, gazing at all the equipment. “It’s like rubbing your tummy and patting your head at the same time, only more difficult!”
When all the microphones had been positioned correctly, Mr. Timms and Chloe went through to the control room, leaving Danny to get settled at his drums.
“Here are your five mikes on the screen.” He showed Chloe, pointing to the lines on a nearby monitor. “Put these around your neck; you’ll need them in a bit.” He handed her some headphones. Everyone called headphones “cans” in the recording studio.
“You can speak to Danny via this mike here on the mixing desk. Get him to play the bass drum first while you set up the sound level for it.”
Chloe felt very important sitting at the mixing desk with all its dozens of knobs. She leaned over to speak into the mike.
“Give me some bass, please,” she said, like she’d heard Mr. Timms say to people.
“Okay,” Danny said. She could hear him perfectly. He thumped away with his bass pedal and one of the lines on the monitor jumped up and down. Mr. Timms showed Chloe how to set it at the correct level. When it was about right, she asked Danny to stop and play his snare drum instead. When all the recording levels had been set, Mr. Timms told her to get Danny to do a run-through. Danny twirled a drumstick at her through the glass partition and set off. She sat back to watch him. She felt like a real professional.
“Watch the levels, Chloe,” Mr. Timms warned, tapping the monitor. “Look at the cymbals. They’re going to drown out the rest if you don’t tweak it a bit.” Oops! Perhaps it wasn’t as easy as she’d thought!
It didn’t take long to record the piece Danny wanted to perform. When it was done he came into the control room and they all listened to the playback.
“What do you think?” asked Mr. Timms. Chloe tried hard to think of something that would improve the recording.
“Is the snare drum a bit quiet?” she asked.
Mr. Timms nodded. “You could increase it a bit if you like.” He showed her which knob to turn, and she adjusted it until the sound was more balanced.
“That’s fine!” said Danny when they’d played it back again. “Thanks. Tara will be pleased.”
Mr. Timms took a tape out of a tape machine and handed it to Chloe.
“Put your name on this tape,” he told her. “This is your first recording as a sound engineer. It’s important to keep a record of your work.” Chloe was speechless with delight. She held on to the tape as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
“This is Tara’s copy,” Mr. Timms added, handing another tape to Danny. “You can tell her she needs to bring it back after the concert to be used again. I don’t approve of waste. Well, go on, then,” he said. “Well done. Off you go. I’ve got better things to do ... When I was at Abbey Road I didn’t ...”
Danny and Chloe scooted out of his way and back into the main hall.
“Thanks for helping,” Danny said.
“No! Thank you !” Chloe said. “I’ve had a great time. You didn’t really need me though, did you? Mr. Timms could have done that recording in his sleep. What made you think of me?”
Danny shrugged. “Do you mind giving the tape to Tara?” he said,
not meeting Chloe’s eyes and changing the subject. “It’s just that she’s such a pain about rehearsing. She’s so bossy, always thinking she knows best. If she has the tape, she can practice without me there. Then I might just manage the performance without losing my cool!”
“Of course I will, but Danny, why... ”
He hurriedly thrust the tape at her, still avoiding her eyes. “No reason,” he said, and then relented. “Well, I thought, you know ... ” He shrugged. “You’ve had a hard time, and you really like the recording studio ... ” He looked at her at last, and blushed.
“You’re beginning to sound like Mr. Timms,” she complained. Then she found she was blushing, too.
13.
An Awful Fright
It was the last day of the term and the day of the concert. Lots of parents were arriving. Right after the concert, everyone would be heading home for Christmas, but no one could get excited about that until the performances were safely over. No one except Chloe, that is.
Chloe was really looking forward to seeing her parents, and her little brother, too. She couldn’t wait for Pop and Lolly to meet Ben at last. She’d shown them pictures and told them so much about him. At the same time, he was too young to worry about her lack of progress with singing. He, alone of all the people she knew, wouldn’t be asking how she’d done this term. With Ben, Chloe could be herself, and forget her worries, and she badly needed to be able to do that.
She had plenty of time to pack her bags while everyone else was frantically rehearsing.
“I’ll strip your beds if you want,” she volunteered to Pop and Lolly, after Mrs. Pinto had asked everyone to put their bedding in piles to help the housekeeping staff. “I’ll do yours as well, if you want,” she offered to Tara.
“Thanks!” said Tara, looking very surprised. “That would be great.”
Chloe was glad to have something to do. It was horrible watching everyone get ready for the concert. She couldn’t stop herself from being jealous, however hard she tried, so helping out was a way of making herself feel less guilty.
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