Phoebe Finds Her Voice
“BUT ARTHUR! WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY MUST HAVE BEEN SOLD?” she shouted, waving her arms about, and for a second I was sure she was going to hit him. “WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MINDS WOULD WANT TO BUY A BUNCH OF OLD PATCHED-UP DRESSES?”
“I really am sorry, Mandy,” said Arthur, trying to walk out of the room backwards. “But you see, you err…left them on the stage and so Mrs. Beagle from the church fund-raising committee…erm…just assumed, erroneously as it turns out, that they’d been put there as part of the church jumble sale we had last Sunday. You surely must have noticed that there were lots of other old clothes up there stuffed into bags?” He took a few more steps back, muttering something about all being fair in love and show business.
“I just can’t believe I’m hearing this,” said Mandy. “Do you realize how much work went into making those dresses? There’s no way I can make them again before the production. The dress rehearsal is next week for goodness’ sake.” She looked close to tears.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked me, as she came back from the toilet.
“I’m not really sure, but it sounds as if someone called Mrs. Beagle sold all our costumes at the church jumble sale last Sunday afternoon.”
“No way! Who would want to buy some tatty, old dresses and trousers with patches sewn on?”
Mandy was still shouting at Arthur when he said he could hear the phone ringing in his office and practically skipped out of the room shouting, “The bells! The bells!”
“I must have done something really awful in another life to deserve this.” Mandy sighed, and then suddenly, without any warning at all, she threw back her head and started to laugh – but not in a funny ha ha sort of way; more in the way of someone who’s finally lost their mind. She bent over, clutching hold of her stomach and groaning, and I wondered if one of us should call an ambulance.
“There must be another hall we could use,” she gasped, wiping her eyes. “There must, because I’m going to end up murdering that man if we stay here, I really am. Come on, everyone, let’s sit down and try to work out what we’re going to do.”
“Well, my mum’s really good at sewing, Mandy,” I blurted out without even thinking. My face turned scarlet and everyone looked at me.
“Is she, Phoebe?” said Mandy. She’d stopped laughing now except for the odd snort.
“Yes, she’s really good. She makes wedding dresses and stuff, but I’m not sure if she’s actually free today because my sister isn’t very well…and…” I trailed off, fiddling with my script. It still felt weird calling Miss Howell, Mandy, and that was the most I’d ever said in front of everyone at drama. I looked down at my hands, willing my face to return to its normal colour.
“Well, is there anyone else?” Mandy looked around the circle. “We need ten dresses and three pairs of trousers, so that’s going to be way too much for one person.”
“There’s always my nan,” Monty B said. “She’s brilliant at knitting but she’s very slow. She started knitting me this scarf about three years ago and she still hasn’t finished. She says it might be ready by the time I get married! She’s even going to sew on little reflector lights to keep me safe in the winter.”
“Ah, bless,” said Neesha.
“Oh, that reminds me, actually,” said Ellie. “My dad’s a stage technician thingy and he said he’d be happy to come and help out with the lights if you want him to.”
“Do we ever! That would be fantastic, Ellie. I was going to attempt the lights myself, but then Arthur mentioned that he was a bit of a whiz at special effects and you can just imagine how thrilled I was about that! I’ll give your dad a ring later.
“Okay, let’s move on. We need to have a full run-through today. It’s our last chance before the dress rehearsal. I don’t want to see any scripts at all and I want a massive effort from everyone. No talking in between scenes, and try to be ready for your next entrance without me having to tell you.
“I’ll try to get hold of your mum a bit later, Phoebe, to see if she can come to the rescue. And maybe Monty’s nan will be able to help out too.”
The run-through went quite well even though Mandy did keep stopping us, reminding us to speak up, to sing from our bellies, to space ourselves properly and to make eye contact with the audience. We only managed Act One before the break and I said a little prayer that we wouldn’t get to the end of Act Two, which was stupid really, because I was going to have to face up to my solo situation at some point. I had planned to talk to Mandy about it today, but there was no way I could mention it now that half the costumes had gone missing.
I was also going to ask Polly about her new brother, but as soon as I saw her at school on Monday, back with her friends whispering about something, their heads close together, I knew there was no way I was going to say anything. She hadn’t actually been horrible to me since the hospital, but then she hadn’t been particularly nice either. I looked across at her now. She was on the other side of the hall mucking about – acting like she didn’t have a care in the world – but I knew she was covering up how she really felt.
In the break Mandy called Mum. I was sure she’d say she couldn’t help out because she had Sara at home in bed recovering from a serious illness, and because the rest of the family was in pieces. But she didn’t. According to Mandy, she said she’d love to help, but everyone would have to come over to ours because she couldn’t leave Sara: anything to pretend things were normal!
As it turned out we didn’t get to my solo in the end but we were getting closer and closer and I knew I couldn’t avoid it for ever.
“There’s just one more thing,” Mandy said before we went home. “The tickets are on sale from me. We’re doing three performances so you really must try to get as many people as you can to come along. Adam’s designed this brilliant poster for us to put up at school, and in the library, and other places like that – and I’ll give some leaflets out to each of you next week. There’s nothing worse than performing to a half-empty hall.”
Except performing to a FULL one, I thought, but I didn’t say anything.
“Why did you invite everyone round to ours when Sara’s so ill and everything?” I asked Mum the second Dad dropped me home.
She looked at me, bewildered, as if I was speaking in a different language or something. “I did it for you, Phoebs, to help out. Miss Howell said you’d suggested it, and after everything that’s happened, with Sara and the hospital, I just wanted to…you know…do something for you. I even borrowed an extra machine from Mrs. Burton!”
I stood there thinking of all the things she could have done for me, like sort things out with Dad for a start. Their rows were getting worse and worse and I was dead scared that the further they grew apart, the harder it was going to be for them to get back together. So it’s not as if offering to sew a few costumes was going to magically put things right.
I trudged upstairs and shut myself in my room. I couldn’t believe that Monty B and Mandy were coming over – it was so embarrassing. I wouldn’t be able to think of anything to say, and if Mum let Sara come down she’d probably go on and on about Monty B being my boyfriend or something.
I flopped down on my bed and stared at my poster of Donny. Sometimes I imagined him walking straight out of the poster and into my room. It would be so amazing if he could. I’d be able to ask him loads of stuff – like how I was ever going to find the courage to sing my solo for a start. Except knowing him he’d probably tell me to stick a smile on my face, slap a load of gel on my head and then repeat some ridiculous mantra.
“I am the World’s Greatest Singer!” I said to myself, just for a joke. “I am the World’s Greatest Singer and no one else in the Whole Entire Universe or Star Makers Drama Club can sing anywhere near as well as—”
“Get that, will you, Phoebe?” Mum called out, interrupting me mid-mantra. “I’m just taking Sara’s temperature and someone’s at the door.”
I ran a brush through my hair and traipsed back downstairs. Mum had cleared a
huge space in the living room and set up her sewing machine on one side – and the one she’d borrowed from Mrs. Burton on the other.
“Hi, Frankie,” said Monty B, coming in with his nan. “This is going to be so cool.”
Just then Mum came down from Sara’s room. “Why don’t you and Monty B go and sort out some tea while we wait for Mandy to arrive,” she said, taking Monty B’s nan into the living room.
In the kitchen I turned on the kettle and reached up to get some mugs down.
“How’s your sister, by the way?” said Monty B, helping himself to a biscuit. “Ellie said she was really ill.”
“She was but she’s much better now. Hey, you’ll never guess who I saw when I was up at the hospital? Polly Carter. Her new brother had just been born and she was visiting him.”
Monty B pulled a face and stuffed another biscuit in his mouth. “Imagine having her as a sister. I think I’d rather be an only child!”
“Don’t say that. She’s not that bad!”
“What? Did someone drop a brick on your head or something, Phoebe Franks? This is Polly Carter we’re talking about. Has your mum taken your temperature lately?” He came over and put his hand on my head. “Cool as a cucumber! So if you’re not ill you’re obviously bonkers.” Suddenly he lurched towards the door and grabbed the handle as if he was trying to escape. “Help me! Please, somebody, help me! I’m trapped in the room with a madwoman – let me out!”
He stopped when he saw my face. “Sorry, Frankie. This is serious. I get it, really.”
“It’s really serious. She’s been on my case ever since I started at Woodville but I’ve never told anyone, and then at the hospital she sort of said sorry, well not really, but she said she just did stuff to me to make her friends laugh. But there’s more to it than that, I know there is. Anyway, I don’t want you to tell anyone because since then she hasn’t actually done anything and I think deep down she feels really bad.”
I looked over at Monty B. I knew he was an idiot, but it was such a relief to tell someone about Polly after all this time.
“You really are bonkers if you think she’s sorry, Frankie, but I won’t say anything, I swear. Next time she does something, though – you tell me and I’ll sort her out for you. You can always rely on me,” he said, doing a silly salute. And in a funny sort of way I knew I could.
We went back inside with the tea and a plate of biscuits and got to work on the costumes. Mandy had arrived and she was laying everything out on the floor. Monty B and I were going to pin the patterns onto the material, Monty B’s nan was going to cut them out, and Mandy and Mum were going to do all the sewing. We worked non-stop for two hours and then took a break to have something to eat. Mum carried Sara down from her room and laid her on the couch and then ordered a Chinese takeaway from up the road.
Everyone made a huge fuss over Sara and she just loved being the centre of attention. She couldn’t stop talking to Monty B either, just went on and on telling him about the hospital and the huge injection she had in her back and about how she couldn’t wait to start drama and I could tell Monty B thought she was fantastic. Everyone always does.
Then all of a sudden, with no warning at all, Sara grabbed Monty B’s arm and said, “But I’ve got to tell you the funniest thing, Monty B. Do you remember that day when Phoebe gelled back her hair, and there were bits of tissue stuck in it, you know that day when you came round to give her a lift to drama. Well—”
“Hey, I bet you didn’t know,” I interrupted in a really loud voice. I had no idea what I was going to say next, but I knew I had to shut Sara up. “I bet you didn’t know that…that…” I searched my brain for something to say. Anything. Everyone stopped eating and looked at me. There had to be something there, some nonsense hidden away in my head that I could waffle on about.
And then suddenly I remembered this one time Donny got to meet the Queen at this special awards ceremony. In this interview he gave he said he was so nervous that he ended up saying, “Your Majesty, it’s an honour to meet you. And did you know, Ma’am, that the average person uses approximately fifty-seven sheets of toilet paper a day.”
I knew exactly how he felt. This was even worse than meeting the Queen. Everyone was waiting, and I knew that if I didn’t speak Sara was going to say something totally humiliating about me and Monty B.
“Er…I bet you didn’t know,” I said, “that it’s actually impossible to stick your elbow into your ear, hahaha, or that, er…when an armadillo digs a hole it can hold its breath for up to six whole minutes without dying.”
For a moment no one said anything at all, they just looked at me as if I’d finally cracked, but then Monty B started to laugh.
“Oh that’s brilliant, Frankie,” he spluttered, bits of sweet and sour chicken balls flying across the table. “That’s so random; I swear I’m going to choke in a minute.”
“And I bet you didn’t know,” I said, unable to stop now I’d started, “that a giraffe is the only animal that can clean its ears with its own tongue. Or that rats can’t burp.”
I thought Monty B was going to fall off his chair – he was gasping and groaning and clutching his stomach and it was so funny I started to laugh with him.
“They’re like a double act, these two are,” said Monty B’s nan, and for some reason that made me laugh even more.
I don’t even know where all that stuff came from; it must have been buried deep in my brain somewhere just waiting to come out. I laughed so much I thought I was going to throw up or wet myself or something and then when I stopped laughing I realized I was starving. I ate about three spring rolls in a row and for the first time since Sara was rushed to hospital my throat didn’t feel clogged up at all.
After tea, Mum opened a bottle of red wine for the grown-ups and we carried on cutting, pinning and sewing until about nine. The later it got, the more giggly everyone became, and at one point Mandy leaped up and did this hilarious impression of Arthur swinging his cape and pulling at his beard which had us all in stitches.
“You know what, Mandy?” Mum said, laughing so much she was almost hysterical. Her words were slurred and I think she was a bit drunk. “I really do admire you; working all week as a teacher, and then spending your weekends with kids as well. Whatever possessed you to start up the group in the first place?” She took another big swig of wine. “You are either a living saint or completely insane.”
“Oh no, there was nothing saintly about it, Maxine,” said Mandy. “More to do with the end of a bad relationship. After spending months waiting for my phone to ring, I decided it was time to get off my backside and do something for myself. So it’s the demon Declan you should be thanking, not me.”
She grabbed one of the Sweet-Dreamer dresses. “And here I am, six months later, spending my Saturday night remaking a bunch of costumes after the first lot were sold by Mrs. Beagle at a church fund-raising sale, and wondering how I could get away with murder!”
“And who says the glamour’s gone out of show business?” said Monty B’s nan, and we all burst out laughing again.
Finally, all thirteen costumes were finished. Mandy got up and stretched. “I can’t believe we’ve done it. I’ll have to sew on some patches but I can sort that out during the week. Thank you all so, so much. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help and I’m not going to let these costumes out of my sight for a second!”
When everyone had gone home Mum poured herself another glass of wine and sat down on the edge of the couch. Sara was upstairs asleep and the house was suddenly very quiet after all the laughing and mucking about.
“I’ll just clear up shall I?” I said, but Mum didn’t answer. I began to pick up the scraps of material and thread that were scattered all over the floor. I crawled around the room while Mum just sat there staring into her wine and neither of us said a word. She was so still it was creepy.
“You know I don’t think Mandy could’ve done it without you, Mum,” I said after a bit. “And it was nice t
o see Monty B’s nan again, wasn’t it?”
But she didn’t say anything. She just sat there staring into her glass. I put all the scraps into a plastic bag and I was just by the door about to go upstairs when she made this sort of horrible gasping noise, like she couldn’t breathe properly. I swung back round and she was looking right at me.
“I think I’ve lost Dad for ever, Phoebs,” she sobbed.
“No, don’t say that, Mum.” I dropped the bag and rushed across to her.
“I have. I’ve lost him for ever. And do you want to know the funniest thing? He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. I was sixteen when we met, you know; still at school. That means I’ve loved him for more than half my life. And there’s never been anyone else, not in all that time. But have you seen the way he looks at me, Phoebe? Like I’m not even there. Like I’m just some person he used to know.”
She was waving her glass about and the wine was sloshing all over her lap. I kneeled down in front of her and took the glass out of her hand. “You haven’t lost him – what are you talking about? He still loves you, Mum, I know he does. Look, why don’t you phone him? Or I could phone him if you want? I’ll try to arrange a meeting – a proper one. You just need to talk to each other.”
“I couldn’t cope with him moping around all the time. There was no money and he wouldn’t sort himself out and it went on and on while I was trying to keep everything together. It was me who had to take on extra shifts at the Co-op whilst he just kept moaning about losing his precious job.” She slumped back into the sofa, shaking her head from side to side. “I never wanted to hurt anyone, but it was like having three children instead of two. You do understand, don’t you, Phoebe?”
She held her hands out to me and I climbed onto her lap, curling myself into a ball. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d had a cuddle, not a proper one.