Mime classes were held in the drama hall. Their mime teacher, Tamara Lynch, had looked about a hundred in their first class, before magically dropping about fifty years in the first five minutes. No one could figure out how she’d done it without make-up or props, but it made them all think differently about mime. Ms Lynch explained that the great mime artist, Marcel Marceau, had called mime ‘the art of silence’ and believed that it spoke to the soul in a similar way to music. She told them that a skilled mime artist could create a character as powerfully using gesture as the greatest actor could with words. After that, Lily thought she might even look forward to mime class instead of thinking of it as kind of pointless, as she’d always done.
Their combat teacher was Peter Collins. He looked like an ex-commando, only Max told her that he’d actually been born into a famous circus family and was an expert acrobat. Mr Collins lost no time in showing them how he could kick, slap and punch, all without actually touching anyone. Lily thought it looked like great fun until he ordered them each to find a partner and a place on the mat.
‘Boys with boys and girls together, please,’ called Mr Collins. ‘We can mix it up once I know where everybody’s at, skill-wise.’
As Lily had expected, none of the girls volunteered to be her partner and for the first time in her life she learned what it felt like to be left standing alone as others sorted themselves into pairs. In the end, Charlotte instructed Phoebe to partner Rachel and Gemma to pair up with a dark-haired girl called Fatima before taking up her own position opposite Lily.
Unsure of the other girl’s motives, at first Lily was nervous partnering Charlotte. But it quickly became clear that Charlotte was only interested in following Mr Collins’ instructions to the letter. They didn’t talk or laugh together like the other students, but as they practised the different moves Lily couldn’t help admiring Charlotte’s ability.
On Thursday, they went to the classroom at the base of the North Tower, where their clowning instructor, Sandor Bagy, was waiting for them. During breakfast, Max had taken bets on whether their new teacher would be wearing a red nose and clown make-up, so about half the class were disappointed to find him looking like any other slightly paunchy middle-aged guy wearing track pants and a rugby top. There was nothing ordinary about the class, though. Mr Bagy spent the hour giving them a potted history of clowning. Only, instead of reading it from a book, he performed it. By the end of the lesson, Lily’s sides ached from laughing and she wondered if she would ever be able to entertain an audience that well.
Acting classes were in the main theatre with Arathula Dane and Lily could barely contain her excitement as they took their seats in the stalls and waited for her to arrive. ‘What’s she like?’ she whispered to Max as she followed him into the second row. ‘Have you ever done a class with her?’
‘Had a session with the Dane during Orientation Week,’ murmured Max. ‘She was amazing – tough, but amazing.’
Before Lily had a chance to ask what he meant by ‘tough’, the house lights came up and Arathula Dane came down the centre aisle and stopped in front of the stage.
There was a hushed silence and Lily could almost feel the thrum of anticipation as everyone waited for the legendary actor to speak. She gazed at them for a long moment and then her voice rang out. ‘Here,’ she said, gesturing to the vast space behind her, ‘is where everything you learn at the Academy will be revealed. Every moment spent learning to speak, stand, fight, fall, move, sing, dance, laugh or weep will find its outlet on the stage.’ She scanned their eager faces and then her eyes met Lily’s. She couldn’t be sure if it was intentional, but Lily almost felt like the Dane’s next words were aimed directly at her.
‘Everything you learn at the Academy will shape you, but it is what you bring to the Academy that will determine your success!’ The Dane paused, as though she wanted them to have time to grasp some meaning beyond her words.
‘I know you are all eager and keen to learn, but I must warn you that my classes will not be easy. I will expect each of you to dig deep for emotion, to trawl your experiences and your memories, to consider your beliefs and, above all, to use your imagination! We will start slowly, and every Friday I will give you a written critique of your strengths and weaknesses. These notes will be private.’
A universal sigh of relief rose up from stalls. The Dane looked amused. ‘My verbal critique, however, which I will give each of you on the last Friday of every month, will be open, honest and delivered to you in front of your peers.’
Everybody groaned and Lily felt her stomach turn a triple somersault.
The Dane held up her hand. ‘It may seem hard and even cruel when it is happening to you, but all I can say is that if you want to make it in this business, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with criticism, rejection and reviews.’ She smiled at them. ‘At least in my class, when you hear things about your progress that you may not like, you’ll be among friends.’
CHAPTER 13
By the end of the week Lily had come to the unwelcome conclusion that the Dane’s assertion about being among friends did not apply to her. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care if people ignored her outside class, that they’d eventually get over it, and all that mattered was getting through her probation. But she wasn’t entirely convinced.
At least Max was friendly, thought Lily, as they entered the dining hall together on Friday night. She was wondering if she should tell him about her one-term trial when Max nudged her, ‘Ooh, look, Dragons,’ he whispered.
Lily looked. She hadn’t seen Ronan or the Dragons in the dining hall since Tuesday, so it was a surprise to see them at their table again.
‘They’ve been on a field trip,’ Max explained as they lined up for food.
‘Sounds like they enjoyed it,’ she replied, as a chorus of laughter erupted from the Dragons’ table. She could see Ronan pulling drawings from a folder and people eagerly reaching for them and passing them round the table.
‘Yeah, apparently it was all castles and druid circles and ancient burial mounds,’ said Max.
‘I wonder what’s funny about a burial mound?’ remarked Lily as the Dragons’ laughter again punctuated the steady hum of chatter in the dining hall.
‘Don’t know, but I bet it’s Carver’s pictures that are keeping them entertained,’ said Max, piling potato onto his plate.
Lily served herself some salad and surreptitiously watched Ronan as she carried her tray across the dining hall.
He sat at the head of the table watching the Dragons pore over his drawings, and she couldn’t help noticing that, even though he was in the group, he wasn’t really part of the group. Not that he was excluded – quite the opposite. They wanted him to be one of them. She could see it in the way people leaned towards him, and called for his attention, and listened when he spoke.
And yet, despite their attempts at inclusion, somehow Ronan still stayed apart.
It seemed weird to Lily and she would have liked to ask Max about it, but the idea of discussing Ronan with anyone made her feel strangely shy. Besides, Max had peeled away to talk to Darcy again and Lily wasn’t sure when he’d be back.
She found a place at one end of a half-empty table and chased an olive miserably around her plate with her fork. She’d really hoped that by now she’d have got past the other students’ frostiness and begun making friends. But here she was eating dinner by herself. Again.
Max had sat with her a few times, but he rarely missed an opportunity to eat with Darcy Johnson, on whom he obviously had a giant crush. Lily’s hope that Max would ease her into the group was fading fast. She’d thought that after the Depiction and the way he’d stuck up for her in their first Voice class that people might accept her once they saw that he was her friend. But it hadn’t happened – not yet, anyway.
Lily looked across to where Max was laughing at something Darcy had said. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. She liked having Max as a friend: he was funny and cleve
r and obviously talented. But he was a guy and she didn’t feel comfortable confiding in a guy – not even a gay guy – about Ronan Carver.
She felt a sudden yearning for Angel. She’d always been able to talk to Angel about stuff – okay, not recent family stuff, but she could definitely talk to her about boys.
She glanced at her watch. It’d be almost eight-thirty in Paris. If she went upstairs now, she could call Angel undisturbed because after dinner the first years would be meeting in the common room to vote on the Christmas play.
As Lily pushed her plate away, a shadow fell across the table. She looked up to find Ronan standing beside her chair.
‘Still in quarantine, I see.’ He nodded at the empty places around her.
‘Apparently,’ said Lily.
‘What is it this time?’ asked Ronan, smiling faintly. ‘The plague? Smallpox? Or something even more exotic, like –’
‘Blastomycosis!’ finished Lily.
‘Sounds like a lethal weapon.’
‘Actually it’s a fungal disease, very contagious.’
‘Perfect for keeping people away.’
‘Exactly,’ said Lily. ‘So you’d better not come too close.’
‘That sounds like an order,’ said Ronan, raising his eyebrows.
‘Near enough. I doubt even your popularity could withstand being seen with me too often.’
‘The trouble is,’ said Ronan, pulling out a chair and sitting down, ‘I don’t take well to orders. Never have, not even as a kid.’
‘You know, I don’t need your charity,’ said Lily, meeting his gaze.
‘That’s lucky, ’cause I’m not giving any,’ retorted Ronan. ‘I just want to test my immunity to fungus.’
‘I’ve got rabies, too. Remember?’
‘I told you I’d had shots.’
‘And the Ebola virus,’ added Lily, trying not to laugh.
‘Nasty,’ said Ronan.
‘Plus the monkey pox.’
‘There’s no such thing.’
She nodded. ‘Yes there is, though it’s mainly in Africa.’
‘Have you been to Africa, Lily D?’
Lily shook her head.
‘So not very likely you’d have it then,’ said Ronan.
‘Probably not,’ she conceded with a smile.
‘But you do have all those other diseases?’
‘Must do.’ Lily’s smile faded. ‘Otherwise I’d be surrounded by hordes of my adoring fans.’
He laughed. ‘Instead you got me.’
‘And you’re definitely not a fan.’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve never been into hero worship.’
‘Really?’ she asked. ‘Not even as a kid?’
For the first time she saw him hesitate.
‘I did have a hero once, but he turned out to be a lot more man than Superman.’
‘Disillusioned at an early age, then?’ said Lily jokingly.
She saw Ronan’s face darken and instantly regretted her words.
‘Let’s say enlightened rather than disillusioned,’ he replied.
‘So, that’s a good thing?’ she asked lightly, trying to restore the bantering tone that had made her feel so much better about everything.
Before Ronan could answer, Max’s voice fell between them. ‘What’s a good thing?’ he asked. ‘What are you two talking about?’
‘Nothing,’ said Lily, turning to face him. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Enough,’ said Max. He looked at Ronan. ‘Hey, Carver. What’s new?’
‘Not much,’ replied Ronan. ‘You?’
Max shrugged. ‘The usual – people to see, things to do. I keep busy.’ He leaned towards Ronan and added, ‘By the way, Darcy says he met a mate of yours down in Shoreditch last week who said to say hi.’
It seemed to Lily as if Ronan’s face turned to stone. He looked at Max impassively. ‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Yeah, apparently he was an old friend of yours. Had a motorbike. Said he hadn’t heard from you in a while.’
Ronan frowned. ‘Do your friend Darcy a favour, Max, and tell him he’d do well to find some other place to play. He’s a little out of his league.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Max. ‘Darcy knows what he’s doing.’ He turned to Lily. ‘We should go.’
‘Go? Where?’
‘Common room. We’re voting on the Christmas play.’
‘Actually, Max, I was about to make a call. Do I really need to be there?’
Max frowned. ‘Of course you need to be there. We need every vote or else Queen Charlotte and her minions will have us doing Chekhov at Christmas.’
Lily smiled. ‘I like Chekhov, but I must admit I’ve never thought of Three Sisters as a festive play.’
‘It’s not, but I’ll bet Charlotte’s dying to play Masha or Irina, because they’re exactly the kind of parts she thinks will win her the Thorngold prize.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘You mean the founder’s trophy? But no first year has ever won it.’
‘That’s because no first-year group has ever been allowed to put on the Christmas play,’ replied Max. ‘Which is another reason why we need to do a play that suits more people than just Charlotte.’ He looked at Ronan. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Carver, Lily and I need to go upstairs and foil Charlotte Cardew’s evil plan.’
Ronan nodded. ‘Make sure you tell Darcy what I said.’ He smiled at Lily. ‘Good luck with the monkey pox.’ He turned away.
He’d only taken a couple of steps when he stopped and said, ‘By the way, I’ll be dropping in on the first-year classes next week, so I’ll see you both then.’
Max looked puzzled. ‘You’re coming to our classes? Why?’
Lily saw the gold flecks dance in Ronan’s eyes as he reached out and clasped Max’s shoulder. ‘Didn’t you hear, Holcroft? My new art project – I’ve got permission to use a first year as a model.’
CHAPTER 14
‘So what was that about Darcy and a motorbike guy?’ asked Lily as she and Max headed for the stairs.
‘Nothing,’ shrugged Max. ‘Darcy asked me to pass on a friendly message from one of Carver’s mates, that’s all.’
‘It didn’t sound friendly to me,’ said Lily, wondering if the message had anything to do with the tattooed biker she’d seen in the lane the day of her audition.
‘I’m sure Carver can handle it,’ said Max. ‘I mean, look how he handled the rumour about him wanting to paint a first year.’
‘Which he knows isn’t true.’
‘Sure, but I reckon Ronan Carver’s the kind of guy who’d get a kick out of making a rumour reality.’
‘But what would he want a model for?’
‘Don’t know, but he’ll have thought of something.’
‘I’m surprised he got permission from Dr Frank,’ said Lily as they climbed the stairs. ‘I overheard someone say she preferred the Pendragon kids to stay in their own school.’
‘Yeah, but Carver’s a special case.’
‘Oh?’ said Lily, trying not to sound too interested.
‘Yeah, last term there was a bit of a crisis with the end-of-year show. A huge storm damaged the South Tower – which is why it’s off limits – and there was this massive leak in the storage room, where they keep a lot of the sets and props. The Duck had done these amazing paintings for the finale and they were all ruined. Apparently she was so upset she actually asked Pendragon if they could let a few of their students come over and help redo the paintings in time for the show.’
‘And Ronan was one of them.’
‘Not one – Ronan was it. Apparently, he came over, saw what she was trying to do and in about three days had redone the lot. The Duck was ecstatic. Even Dr Frank was impressed.’
‘He must be good.’
‘Better than good. Darcy showed me photos on his phone of some of Ronan’s stuff down in Shoreditch and it’s not the sort of thing you forget.’
‘I’d love to see his art,’ said Lily. ‘Is it in a gallery?’
Max hesitated and then said, ‘Not exactly. More of a private collection.’ He suddenly bounded ahead, taking the stairs two at a time. ‘Hurry up. We need to get there before Queen Charlotte talks everyone into Chekhov.’
Lily ran after him. ‘I’m not crazy about Chekhov for Christmas, but don’t you think Gemma would be perfect as Natasha in Three Sisters?’
‘Oh my god, that is so true,’ chortled Max. ‘She’s such a bitch, she wouldn’t even have to act.’
By the time they got to the common room the meeting was in full swing. As Max had predicted, Charlotte was urging people to vote for the Russian play. Luckily, there were a few dissenting voices and when Max walked in several people called out to ask him what he thought they should do.
‘Well, being Christmas, naturally my first choice would be a pantomime,’ replied Max. ‘Especially as I think I’d make a gorgeous Cinderella –’
‘Ugly stepsister, you mean,’ shouted Justin.
Everybody laughed.
Max grinned and said, ‘Unfortunately, I don’t think the Drake will be keen on us doing a panto, so I think we should do Pygmalion.’
‘Not enough parts for everyone,’ said a brown-eyed boy from the corner. ‘I think we should do The Crucible.’
‘Oh, great idea, Imran,’ said Rachel, ‘’cause a play about the Salem witch-hunts is so Christmassy!’
‘Pygmalion has plenty of decent parts,’ interrupted Max. ‘And if we double-cast, then everyone will still get a decent role.’
‘But only for half the show,’ objected Gemma. ‘Why should I spend all that time learning a part if I’m only going to perform half a role?’
‘Actually, double-casting’s a good idea,’ said Charlotte, ‘but I still think we should do Chekhov. Okay, so it’s not light and Christmassy, but isn’t that why we’re here? To learn how to act in a real drama?’
The Rapunzel Dilemma Page 9
