Charm School Page 8

  One by one, each of them peeled the paper backing off their disc, and stuck the number on their music tape before bringing it to Bonny. They hadn’t forgotten the incident with the pizza, she could tell. But no-one wanted to get on the wrong side of her before the show, so they were all smiles and sweet voices.

  ‘You will remember how I want my spotlight, won’t you?’

  ‘If I sing too softly, please turn down the backing tape.’

  ‘My floodlights must stay on for the whole dance, you know.’

  ‘Don’t forget that my drum rolls get louder and louder.’

  Bonny took notes, and put the tapes in order carefully. After all, if she was going to try and save them, it would be a whole lot easier if they liked and trusted her, and all that squabbling at the lunch table hadn’t made the best start in that. So she was as friendly as she could be, nodding and smiling as they trooped in, and reassuring them when, terribly nervous, they explained what they wanted again, over and over.

  And all the time Bonny was secretly hoping that Araminta would come in again, just to check about her lights and her snowflakes. This time, Bonny would get things right. First she would say how sorry she was the two of them had ended up quarrelling so horribly earlier. Then she’d apologize again, about the pizza. After that, she’d throw herself on Araminta’s mercy, and beg her help in telling everyone how they were being used, and how they could be so much happier if they had other things to think about than just being pretty. Bonny worked it out in her mind. Araminta would sidle in, looking a little bit pouty and nervous. But once she was absolutely sure Bonny meant what she said, she’d listen carefully. When Bonny explained about the glop men, Araminta would look shocked, and say, ‘Oh, let me help. We must explain to everyone. And now we’re friends again, please call me Minty.’

  So it was almost a surprise when Araminta pushed open the door and stood there, not halfway ready to be friends again, but scowling horribly.

  Bonny stepped forward. ‘I’m glad you’ve come. I was just going out to find you, to say I’m sorry.’

  Araminta didn’t smile.

  ‘About the pizza? Or about being so mean to me earlier?’

  Bonny was irritated, but she kept her temper.

  ‘Mostly the pizza. After all, you were mean to me, too.’

  ‘Not nearly as mean as you were.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t let’s argue,’ Bonny said. ‘Shoving a pizza in someone’s face may be worse than telling everyone that someone’s jealous. But I said sorry first, and that’s harder than anything.’

  Araminta was still making a grumpy I’m-not-convinced face. The meeting really wasn’t going as Bonny expected. But she pressed on, because it was important.

  ‘But we have to be friends again, because I really need your help.’

  ‘My help? Why?’

  She looked so suspicious that Bonny knew it wouldn’t work. Araminta wasn’t going to listen. And, if she did, she wouldn’t be convinced. And, if she were, she wouldn’t help.

  It was quite hopeless.

  Or was it? In a flash, the idea came.

  ‘Oh,’ Bonny said innocently. ‘I just had a little plan.’

  ‘A little plan?’

  ‘To please Mrs Opalene, so she’ll forgive me for behaving so badly.’

  ‘Please Mrs Opalene…?’Araminta’s eyes lit up, as Bonny knew they would. Then she made a face, and said contemptuously, ‘Now how would someone like you be able to please Mrs Opalene? It’s impossible. She only has to look at you now, to get nervous. There’s nothing you could do that would please her, except not cause any more trouble.’

  ‘There is,’ said Bonny. ‘And I’m going to do it.’

  Again, the glint shone in Araminta’s eyes.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I wouldn’t tell anyone else,’ said Bonny. ‘But I’ll tell you. I’m going to brighten up the Curls and Purls Show.’

  ‘Brighten it up?’ Araminta looked doubtful. ‘Why should—?’

  ‘Listen,’ interrupted Bonny. ‘How many Curls and Purls shows have you been in, Araminta?’

  ‘This is my seventh,’ Araminta said.

  ‘And how many do you think Mrs Opalene has judged?’

  Araminta rolled her eyes upwards as she did the counting. ‘Well, she’s been running them since my half-sister went to Hooper Road School, and now she’s getting on for twenty-two, and there are three a year, and so—’ Araminta’s eyes widened. ‘She must have watched nearly fifty!’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Bonny. ‘Fifty Curls and Purls shows. She must have seen every dance and heard every song a dozen times. I think she’d be delighted if someone fixed up something different. I bet she’d love a big surprise.’

  Araminta was weakening, Bonny could tell. The Charm School girls would all do anything to please Mrs Opalene (especially on the day she chose the winner of the glistering tiara!). Bonny felt a bit bad about being so sneaky with someone who had come so close to being her friend, and whom she’d already upset by covering in pizza. But it was all in a good cause. The girls really should be saved from wasting any more of their lives.

  So, leaning closer, Bonny whispered in Araminta’s ear.

  ‘Don’t you think Mrs Opalene would be thrilled with someone who arranged a nice surprise for her? Something really different? Just for once? Don’t you think she might even want to give them extra points?’

  Araminta drew breath sharply. ‘Extra points?’

  ‘Not for me, obviously,’ Bonny said casually. ‘Because I’m not in the competition.’

  ‘I am, though,’ Araminta said, thinking fast.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Bonny. ‘You are.’ She shrugged so innocently. ‘I suppose you might end up getting the extra points she would have given me, as well. Why, you might end up getting so many you walk off with the glistering tiara!’

  She peeped slyly at Araminta, whose eyes were glinting with desire.

  ‘The glistering tiara! Supreme Queen! Me! Oh, yes!’ She spread her arms as if she were catching golden coins falling from heaven. ‘Oh, yes! The glistering tiara! Me!’

  Breaking off suddenly, she turned to Bonny. ‘But how do I know I can trust you? You’ve never seemed to bother about Mrs Opalene having nice surprises before. Quite the opposite! You’ve given her several nasty ones. And me, too. So how do I know you’re not just trying to get me into trouble? How do I know you don’t want to win a crown of your own – the Spiteful Miss Sparky crown?’

  Turning on Araminta that same, deeply reproachful, look that Mrs Opalene had given her earlier, Bonny put her hand on her heart and said in all honesty, ‘I swear to you, Araminta. I’m doing this for the very, very best of reasons.’

  Had she missed something? Did Mrs Opalene dish out marshmallow hearts along with the handy hints every Saturday morning? For suddenly Araminta was smiling happily from ear to ear. Reaching out to take Bonny’s hands, she spun her round and round, just like before.

  ‘Yes!’ she said excitedly. ‘Let’s do it! Let’s do it together! It’ll be enormous fun. And we’ll give darling, darling Mrs Opalene such a surprise!’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SERENA WAS FIRST. Crossing her fingers for luck, she tripped up the steps onto the stage dressed in a frilly white Bo-Peep frock and carrying a crook garlanded with ribbons. Bonny wound the big handle labelled BACKDROP 1, and down behind Serena unfurled a painted farmyard scene, with crooked walls, and horses peering over stable doors. Serena wheeled a cardboard wishing well onto the stage. It had a bucket dangling from its winding bar and painted weeds growing up its side.

  Serena turned her back to brush an invisible speck of dust from one of the frills on her frock.

  Bonny seized the moment. ‘Quick, Araminta!’ she whispered through the only microphone still on SOUND OUT. ‘Push the well over the trapdoor.’

  Araminta dashed on the stage and pushed the cardboard well a few inches over. Then she glanced up at Bonny at the controls and put her thumbs up.

 
‘Dear!’ Mrs Opalene called. ‘Shouldn’t you be down here, in your seat?’

  Araminta flashed Mrs Opalene one of her stunning, star-spangled smiles. ‘I was just helping out a little,’ she explained, ‘because you’ve always said how very important it is to be as helpful as you can.’ And she dashed off between the drapes into the wings, before Mrs Opalene could argue.

  Serena turned back and gave the audience her prettiest smile. With her marking pencil in her hand, Mrs Opalene gave her a little wave.

  ‘As soon as you’re ready, dear …’

  Serena nodded at Bonny through the glass, and Bonny slid the first tape into the cassette player. After a moment’s silence, in which Serena’s set smile gradually began to freeze, out came a swell of violins, playing a sickly tune.

  Serena sprang to life. Pressing the back of her hand against her forehead she began her song.

  ‘My earring! My earring! I have lost it down the well.

  I reached over for the bucket, and into the depths it fell.

  Oh, what am I to do now? I am stricken! I am sad!

  For my earrings were a present from a handsome, charming lad.’

  At this point, Serena began to twirl, while heavenly choirs on the tape kept up the chorus without her.

  ‘Her earring! Her earring! She has lost it down the well.

  Will her love survive this dreadful shock? Not one of us can tell.’

  Following Serena’s instructions, Bonny turned up the drum rolls. Serena pressed her dainty fingertips to her temple and started on the second verse.

  ‘If he peeps, he’ll see it twinkle. If he peers, he’ll see it flash.

  And perhaps he will be angry, and away from me he’ll dash.

  He may fall in love with Flora from the farm along the way,

  And I’ll spend my whole life sobbing at the well-side. Lackaday!’

  In the control room, Bonny whispered, ‘Go!’ Again, Araminta put her thumbs up, then, draping one of the fluffy white blankets they’d found in the storeroom tightly round her shoulders, she crept on all fours like a baby sheep, closer and closer to Serena, who was too busy twirling through the chorus to notice her.

  Bonny’s fingers were tingling with excitement over the switch labelled STAGE TRAPDOOR. As Serena embarked on the last verse, she waited for Araminta’s little ‘baa-aa’ as a signal, then flicked it from CLOSED to OPEN. Serena’s song rang out quite loud enough to hide the low, mechanical rumble as the trapdoor slid open beneath the cardboard well.

  ‘Since I know my love will leave me, and my tears I cannot quell,

  In the darkness of despair and deepest misery I’ll dwell.

  In a dramatic gesture of grief, Serena raised herself on tiptoe and spread her arms. Just at that moment, Bonny pressed the two buttons labelled LIGHTNING FLASH and THUNDERCLAP, and Araminta the blanketed lambkin scuttled forward and butted Serena hard. Momentarily blinded by lightning, none of the audience saw. And deafened by thunder, none of them heard Serena’s startled scream as, losing her balance totally, she dropped her beribboned crook and toppled out of sight into the well in a flurry of white bloomers.

  But everyone heard the splash when she fell headfirst in the water bucket Bonny and Araminta had, giggling merrily, put underneath the trap door earlier.

  Serena came up dripping just in time to hear the impostor sheep singing two new last lines to her song.

  ‘And to maidens the world over the sad news this sheep will tell –

  How she’s gone to join her earrings at the bottom of the well!’

  Everyone cheered. Some of them, it must be admitted, were just delighted because Serena looked so terrible, with ringlets like rats’ tails and eyes smudged as black as coal holes. But all the others had very much enjoyed the song, with the excitement of the sheep creeping closer to Serena, the flash! and bang!, and the ungainly tumble down the well.

  ‘Well done, Serena!’

  ‘That was brilliant!’

  Serena made a parting in her dripping hair, so she could peer out. Everyone was laughing and clapping. She stood a moment, wondering whether to giggle or cry. And then, deciding it would be a whole lot smarter to make the best of things, she spread her hands modestly.

  ‘I just thought you’d all like something a little different,’ she said. ‘And it was fun.’

  Everyone looked at Mrs Opalene, to see what she made of this change of plan. But, though she looked rather dubious, and anyone could tell she wasn’t very much at ease with Serena’s tangled wet hair and ruined make-up, she was still Mrs Opalene, and couldn’t help saying something nice.

  ‘Very—’ She hesitated. ‘Very authentic, dear!’

  Not knowing what authentic meant, Serena took it for a compliment, and smiled very prettily all the way back down the stairs to her seat.

  Araminta waved frantically at Bonny and pointed to the microphone.

  Bonny switched to SOUND IN.

  ‘You were right!’ Araminta whispered excitedly. ‘Mrs Opalene is enjoying it. She did want a change.’

  She didn’t have time to say more because Mrs Opalene was already calling, ‘Next!’

  Esmeralda was next. Smoothing her slinky green skirt, she took her place on the stage. In her bright yellow top, with matching petal hat, she looked exactly as she’d planned, like a willowy spring flower. Bonny flicked switches till the stage took on a sunlit hue. She wound down the backdrop Esmeralda wanted – another country scene – and dropped special effects sheets into the slots of the lanterns. Across the stage appeared a sprinkling of yellow dots, like a rash of spring flowers. And spinning across the painted blue sky were a host of puffy white clouds.

  ‘The Buttercup Song,’ declared Esmeralda. Waving her body from side to side, she started off.

  ‘Gentle country breezes

  Sway me to and fro,

  Kiss me and caress me,

  And make me lovely grow.’

  In the control room, Bonny switched on a tape of sounds labelled ‘Weather’. And, in the wings, Araminta turned the knob of Maura’s wind machine on to BREEZE.

  On the stage, Esmeralda’s petal hat lifted and fluttered prettily. But on she sang.

  ‘Lovely winds of heaven

  Raise my petals high

  To keep me ever busy

  Worshipping the sky.’

  Bonny forwarded the weather tape on to ‘Very windy’, and Araminta turned the wind machine up a notch to match. Esmeralda looked startled as her petals flapped violently. Clutching the rim of her hat, she raised her voice above the gathering sound and embarked on her third verse.

  ‘Fearful storms of winter

  Shall not come my way.

  Safe and warm I stand here

  On this mild spring day.’

  Araminta winked at Bonny through a gap in the side drapes and both of them, giggling, turned up to STORM. One by one, all of Esmeralda’s petals tore from her hat and flew off into the wings. Esmeralda was horrified. But Mrs Opalene was still staring kindly, if a little bemusedly, in her direction. And one of the things she always said over and over was, ‘The worst thing you can do on stage is stop. Whatever happens, dears, press on. Press on!’

  So, bravely gripping the last remaining shreds of hat rim, Esmeralda sang on.

  ‘What care I for tempests?

  I shall have no fear.

  A proud and yellow buttercup,

  Simple flower of cheer.’

  On the last note, Bonny and Araminta switched up to TEMPEST. Instantly both halves of Esmeralda’s little buttercup outfit ripped off and swirled away into the wings. Determined not to fail at the last minute, Esmeralda resolutely bawled out the last verse in her vest and knickers.

  ‘See me in my beauty!

  Watch me in my pride!

  A glorious golden buttercup,

  Springtime’s happy bride!’

  Still grinning at one another, Bonny and Araminta switched to OFF. Just for a moment, Bonny feared there might have been some electrical fault because
out in the big room the noise seemed to be carrying on without fading. But then she realized it was all the others, roaring their approval.

  ‘Esmeralda, that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!’

  ‘Brilliant!’

  ‘You’re so clever, keeping it a secret till the show!’

  ‘You never told us you were so good at comedy skits!’

  While they were all applauding, long and loud, Araminta rushed round the back of the stage and lifted Esmeralda’s slinky green skirt off the lantern from which it was dangling. She ran on stage and handed it to Esmeralda, who hugged it to her body and proudly took bow after bow. Then, nervously, Esmeralda looked at Mrs Opalene.

  Mrs Opalene’s lips pursed. On the one hand, here was a girl with blown-about hair standing unashamedly on a stage in her underwear. But on the other hand, everyone was cheering frenziedly, and she did so want all of her girls to be happy.

  ‘Well, dear,’ said Mrs Opalene at last, choosing her words with care. ‘That was a shade outlandish, I confess. But I think everyone enjoyed it thoroughly.’

  Esmeralda beamed. She wasn’t sure quite what outlandish meant. But she knew about enjoying things thoroughly. Especially warm applause. In fact, she wouldn’t mind trying the song all over again sometime soon. She could do it even better. She could put in some of those silly faces she made to amuse her baby sister. And she could rewrite the words of the song so it was a weather forecaster standing there. That would be even funnier. Or she could—

  ‘Next!’ called Mrs Opalene firmly.

  Amethyst floated up the steps onto the stage, flicked her hair and stood shyly in her glorious silver gown, cradling a glittering wand. She couldn’t help feeling a little bit more nervous than usual. The other two had had such very exciting acts. They’d been such fun to watch. And all she had was … Well, never mind. What Mrs Opalene always said was, ‘Don’t waste time wishing yourself like other people. Just make the best of what you have.’

  What she had was pretty unexciting. But she’d make the very best of it.