I gave the tiniest shrug, slumping down in my seat. I tried to make it crystal clear that I wasn't remotely interested.
'I'll take that as a yes,' said Miss Simpkins cheerfully. 'Yes, there's just the part of crusty old Ebenezer Scrooge himself to cast. Now, I'm going to have serious problems. This is the key part of the whole play. The best part, the leading part. I need a consummate actor, one who
isn't phased by a really big juicy part, one who can act bad temper and
meanness and lack of
generosity, and yet one
who can convincingly
thaw and repent and
behave wonderfully
after all. I wonder . . .'
I sat up straight.
I gazed at Miss Simpkins.
She surely couldn't
mean . . .
'You, Tracy Beaker!
You will be my Scrooge!'
she said.
22
'Yay!' I shrieked. I bounced
up and down in my seat as if I
had an india-rubber bottom.
'That's stupid, Miss!' said
Justine Can't-Hold-Her-Tongue
Littlewood. 'You can't let Tracy
be Scrooge. Why should she get the best part? She just mucks around
and doesn't take things seriously.
You can't let her be in the play,
she'll just mess it up for all of us.'
'I'll certainly mess you up,'
I mumbled.
I rushed out of my seat, right up to Miss Simpkins.
'I'll take it all dead seriously, Miss Simpkins, I promise. You can count on me. And don't be surprised if I turn out to be unexpectedly brilliant at acting as my mum is a Hollywood movie star making one film after another.'
'As if!' said Louise.
'I know the only sort of movies Tracy Beaker's mum would star in. Blue movies!' said Justine Liar-Liar-Liar Littlewood.
My fists clenched, I so badly wanted to punch her straight in the nose, but I knew she was just 23
trying to wind me up so Miss Simpkins would lose her temper with me and not let me be Scrooge after all. I simply raised my eyebrows and hissed a small rebuff along the lines that her dad belonged in a horror movie. Then I turned my back on her and smiled at Miss Simpkins.
'As I've got the biggest part you'd better give me a copy of the play straight away, Miss Simpkins, so I can get to be word perfect. In fact, maybe I ought to be excused all the boring lessons like literacy and maths just so I can concentrate on learning my part.'
'Nice try, Tracy, but I'm not that much of a pushover,' said Miss Simpkins. 'No, you'll have to learn your part in your own time.'
I was so anxious to play Scrooge I learned my lines in other people's time. Mostly Cam's. I used 24
up two entire Saturday visits getting her to read out all the other parts while I Bah-Humbugged my way through Scrooge. Cam tried almost too hard at first, doing weird voices for all the Christmas ghosts and an extremely irritating little-boy lisp for Tiny Tim.
'Hey, I'm
the one that's
supposed to
be acting, not
you,' I said.
'Just speak
the lines.'
'Look, I'm
the adult.
Aren't I the
one supposed
to tell you what
to do?' said Cam, swatting me with the script of the play. 'Oh no, sorry, I forgot. You're Tracy Beaker so you get to be Big Bossy-Knickers, right?'
'Absolutely right, Cam. You got it in one! Hey, all this saying lines about sucking pigs and sausages has made me simply starving. Any chance of us going out to McDonald's?'
25
I didn't just pester
Cam to hear my lines. I got
Jenny and Mike at the
Dumping Ground to help me
out, though I got dead
annoyed when they
wanted Justine Utter-Rubbish
Littlewood and Louise and weedy little Peter to attend our special rehearsals too.
'It's not fair! I can't concentrate with all that rabble around,' I declared. 'Let's send them packing.'
'They're all in A Christmas Carol too, Tracy.
You're not the only one who needs help with your lines,' said Jenny.
'We can act it all out together,' said Mike.
'Trust you to behave like a prima donna, Tracy.'
'Yeah, trust me, because what is the definition of prima donna, Mike? Isn't she the star of the whole show? I rest my case!'
I even considered commandeering Elaine the Pain to help me with my part. She's always encouraging us looked-after kids to role-play and act out our angst so I wondered if she might have any useful tips.
I'd lost it a little there. As if Old Elaine could 26
ever be useful at anything! Especially Elaine in Christmas mode, decking
our ropy Dumping Ground with
tinsel and home-made paper
chains, a pair of wacky rainbow
antlers bobbing manicly on
her head and a Comic Relief
nose pinching her own. She
was wearing a holly-berry-red
knitted jumper and an ivy-green
skirt, way too tight, and was
warbling the words of 'Rudolph
the Red-nosed Reindeer'.
'Elaine my social worker
Had a very large fat bum,
And if you ever saw her
You would scream out loud and run,'
I sang under my breath.
Not quite under enough. Elaine heard and got quite aerated. She burbled on about Cheek and Attitude and Silly Offensive Personal Remarks that could be Really Hurtful. I started to feel a little bit mean. I was even considering saying sorry.
Elaine can't help having a huge bum after all.
27
She said she understood I was feeling tense and anxious because she'd heard I'd taken on a huge part in our school play when I simply wasn't used to Applying Myself and Being Responsible.
I stopped feeling even the tiniest bit sorry. I was glad when I heard Elaine say to Jenny, 'Look, can I ask you for a really honest answer? Do you think my bu— behind looks a bit big in my new skirt?'
I decided I would simply rely on myself and learn my part properly and show them all. This was fine and dandy during the day but not quite so easy at night. I kept having these bizarre nightmares where I was all alone on stage and I kept opening my mouth like a goldfish but no sound at all came out. I couldn't so much as blow a bubble. The audience started
getting restless,
pelting me with
rotten fruit. One
maggoty old apple
landed straight in my
gaping mouth, so I
looked exactly like the
Ghost of Christmas
Present's sucking pig.
Then they put me on a spit and roasted me. I screamed that I was burning so they threw water at me. Lots and lots of water . . . When I woke up my bed was unaccountably wet and I had to go on a dismal damp trek to the bathroom and the linen cupboard.
I met up with Weedy Peter
on a similar mission. He
was actually crying. Like I
said, I never cry. I might
occasionally have an attack
of hay fever but that is a
medical condition, not
an emotional state.
'What are you
blubbing for, silly?' I
asked.
'I'm so scared I'll be
rubbish in the school
Christmas play,' Peter
sobbed. 'I wish wish wish
Miss Simpkins hadn't made me be Tiny Tim. I don't want to act. I can't remember the words and I can't figure out which leg to hop on, and it will all be so so so much worse with people watching us. It's all right for you, Tracy. You 29
never get scared of anything an
d you're a terrible show-off so acting's right up your street.'
'Cheek! Don't you dare call me a terrible show-off!' I said.
'But you are.'
'Yes, I know, but you don't have to point it out.'
'I'd give anything to be a terrible show-off,'
Peter said earnestly. 'Can't you show me how, Tracy? Is there a special trick?'
'It's just a natural gift, Peter,' I said.
'I was born showing off. I shot out of my mum and said, "Hi, folks!" to the doctor and the nurse, and then I
turned a somersault, stood on my
tiny feet and did a little tap dance on the delivery table.'
I felt for Peter's head in the dark. His mouth was hanging open. I closed it gently.
'Joke,' I said. 'OK, as an extra special favour to you, Peter, we'll act out all our scenes together.'
We started meeting up for midnight rehearsals on a regular basis. Peter was soon word perfect because he had hardly any lines to learn. I mean, how hard is it to remember 'God bless us, every one' for goodness sake? But though he could say 30
the words he couldn't act them at all. He just mumbled them in a monotone.
'You certainly are rubbish at acting, Peter,' I said. 'Oh stop it, don't go all sniffly on me. I'm not being mean, I'm simply stating a fact. But don't worry, I'll help. You've got to feel your way into the part. You're this little weedy boy with a delicate constitution and a gammy leg. That's not hard, is it? Talk about type-casting.'
'I haven't got a gammy leg,' said Peter the Pedant.
. 'I'll kick it hard if you like,' I said. 'Now, even though you're down on your luck, you're a chirpy little soul, the favourite of your family. Your dad especially dotes on you.'
'I wish that bit was true,' said Peter mournfully.
'Yeah. Me too,' I said.
We huddled closer under
our shared blanket.
'I wish I had a family to
come and see me in the play,'
said Peter. 'Well, maybe I
don't – not if I'm rubbish.'
'You won't be rubbish,
you'll be terrific with the
31
Totally Tremendous Tracy Beaker directing you.
Yes, it's sad you haven't got anyone. Never mind, I'll ask my mum to give you a special wave.'
'Your mum's coming?' Peter asked, sounding astonished.
'You bet. She's coming for Christmas, she promised,' I said. 'She'll be desperate to watch me act to see if I've inherited her show-biz talents
– which I have. I've written her a letter telling her all about the show'
I'd written her several letters. In fact I wrote to her every single day and gave them to Jenny to post.
Daear Mum
I can't wait to see you at Christmas, remember, you promised? Can you come a week early so you can come to my school play and see me in my role as
Scrooge? I am dead good at being a mean miserable old man.
Lots and lots and lots of love from your happy cheery little davghter
'I know just how much you want to see your mum, Tracy but don't get too fixated on her coming to see you,' said Elaine.
'But she is, she wrote and said – she promised
. . . practically'
'I know how much you want her to come, but sometimes our wishes don't always come true,'
said Elaine.
I wished I didn't have a social worker. I wished I had a fairy godmother who said, 'You want your mum to come and see you? Certainly, Tracy, no problem,' and she'd wave her wand and wow!
pow! there would be my mum, all pink and powdery and perfect, her arms outstretched ready to give me a big hug.
I haven't got a fairy godmother. I have to work my own magic.
The next Saturday Cam came to see me at the Dumping Ground as usual. We had a quick run-through of the whole play – and I mean quick.
I gabbled my way through my part like I was on fast forward. I possibly missed out whole chunks, but when Cam pointed this out I just said, 'Yeah, yeah, whatever, but I'm on this bit now,' and revved up into Thousand-Words-A-Minute Top Gear.
We finished the play in twenty minutes dead.
'Right! Done the rehearsal. Now let's go out,'
I said.
'Ah! So McDonald's is calling?' said Cam.
'No. Well, yes, I'm starving actually, but I want to go round the shops. I want to do some Christmas shopping.'
Jenny gives all of us older kids a special Christmas shopping allowance. She goes shopping with the little kids and helps them choose – otherwise they just spend it on sweets for themselves. Us older kids usually snaffle a little for sweets too, but this time I wanted all my money for presents. One set of presents in particular.
34
'I might as well do my Christmas shopping too, Tracy,' said Cam.
'Ooh! What are you getting for me, Cam?' I asked, momentarily
diverted. 'I could really do
with some new jeans.
Designer, natch. And
one of those really cool
furry jackets with a hood.
And there's this seriously wicked motorized go-cart that would be fun for swooping all round the gardens of the
Dumping Ground – swoosh, swoosh
– Oh I'm sorry, Justine Littlewood, was that your foot?'
'Tracy I can't afford to buy you so much as a motorized matchbox at the moment. I'm totally skint. You've got to adopt a new attitude. It's the thought that counts.'
'It strikes me you should be playing Scrooge, not me, if you're not giving proper Christmas presents,' I said. 'Honestly Cam, why don't you get your act together and write a socking great bestseller? Something that would be snapped up by Hollywood in a million-dollar movie deal. Then me and my mum could star in it.'
35
'Dream on, sweetheart,' said Cam. 'I somehow don't think I'm bestseller material.'
'You've got to think positive, Cam. You've got to make your dreams come true,' I said.
I was intent on doing just that.
When we got to the shopping centre I got Cam to come to Boots with me to buy some really special make-up.
'So what's the best brand, Cam?' I asked.
'Don't ask me, Tracy, I hardly ever wear make-up. I just buy whatever's cheapest,' she said.
'Well, this is a present for my mum so I want the most glamorous gorgeous stuff possible.'
I fiddled around trying out different lipstick shades on my wrist until it
looked like I had red-rose
tattoos up both arms.
Then I finally selected the most perfect pearly pink.
Cam thought we were done
'No, no! Hand lotion next!'
Cam sighed and fidgeted
while I tried out all the
lotions, sniffing them carefully and comparing them for creaminess.
After a while my hands got very
slippery and sticky and I had to wipe them on my skirt.
'I don't think Jenny's going to be very thrilled about those great greasy marks,' said Cam. 'Come on, Tracy, let's go to the bookshop now.'
'No, no, I've got to get my mum another present. I need a jewellery shop now.'
'But you've already got your mum the lipstick and the hand lotion.' Cam sneeked a peek in my purse. 'Don't forget you've got to buy Christmas presents for everyone.'
I wasn't interested in buying presents for everyone. I didn't want to buy a present for anyone but my mum.
I dragged Cam into a lovely sparkly jewellery shop, but when I saw the prices of even the weeniest rings I had to back away, sighing.
37
'That's real jewellery, Tracy. A little bit ostentatious, all that gold and diamonds. I think costume jewellery is much more tasteful,' Cam said quickly.
'OK. Where do you buy this costume jewellery then?'
She took me to the ground floor
of this big department store and
I walke
d round and round great
glass cabinets of jewellery. I saw a pink heart on a crimson ribbon.
It was utterly beautiful. I could just imagine it round my mum's neck. It was very expensive, even for costume jewellery, but I counted out every last penny in my purse and found I could just about manage it, keeping a fiver back for my last-of-all purchase.
'Are you sure, Tracy? I think maybe your mum would be happy with just the lipstick.
Or the hand lotion.'
'My mum likes lots of presents,' I said. 'I know what I'm doing, Cam.'
I didn't really know what I was going to do about everyone else's presents. Still, I wasn't speaking to Louise any more on account of the 38
fact she'd ganged up with Justine Ugly-Unscrupulous-Friend-Snatcher Littlewood so I didn't have to buy her anything.
There was Jenny and Mike, but they quite liked all that pathetic home-made calendar and dried-pasta-picture rubbish. Maybe Miss Simpkins at school would go for that sort of stuff too. Ditto Cam. She believed that it was the thought that counted, didn't she? She'd as good as indicated that I wasn't getting anything to speak of from her. It would only embarrass her if I gave her too lavish a gift.
That just left Weedy Peter. I was sure I could fob him off with something of mine I didn't want any more, like my leather wallet with the broken clasp or my leaky snowstorm or my wrinkly copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe that got a little damp when I was reading it in the bath.
I heaved a sigh of relief. Christmas-present problem sorted. Now there was just one present left.
'Come on, Cam, I've got to go to a bookshop,'
I said, tugging her.
She was peering at some very boring pearls in the jewellery cabinet.
39
'Bookshop! Now we're talking. But hang on.
Look, what do you think of that little pearl necklace there – the one with the diamanté clasp?
All the sparkly stuff's half price, special offer.'
'Cam, you are so not a pearl necklace person.'
'They're not for me, silly.'
I blinked at her. 'Look, Cam, it's very kind of you, but actually I'm not a pearl necklace person either.'
Cam snorted. 'You can say that again, Tracy.