“You’re such a good girl, Phoebs,” she whispered into my hair. “I love you so much.”
Later on in bed, wide awake, clutching my special shell, I realized that there was only one person who could get Mum and Dad talking again.
“They don’t call me Phoebe Franks Super-Sorter for nothing,” I whispered into the darkness. Of course they don’t call me Phoebe Franks Super-Sorter at all, whoever they are, but I wasn’t about to let a little thing like that stop me!
When we arrived at drama for the dress rehearsal the following Saturday, the hall was full of people getting ready for an evening performance of The Ocean Deep or whatever Arthur’s play was called.
Arthur himself was nowhere in sight and Mandy was trying to explain to one of the guys there, as patiently as she could, that this was our one and only opportunity for a dress rehearsal. We started to get changed anyway. Tara Perkins’s mum and Catharine’s older sister had arrived early to help with hair and make-up.
The Sweet-Dreamers had to wear foundation, eyeliner and some red face paint to make their cheeks rosy. But the Jelly-Skulls had to look really scary, so they were having the outline of a skull drawn on their faces, and their hair back-combed with loads of hairspray to make it stand on end.
I hardly recognized myself in the mirror when Tara’s mum had finished with me. My freckles were all covered up for a start and I wondered if there was some magic cream or operation I could have to get rid of them for ever.
“You look great, Frankie,” said Monty B, coming over. “But not as good as me in my tutu! And don’t forget,” he whispered, “if Polly gives you any more trouble – I’m your man!”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, giggling. “She’ll be dead scared of you wearing that!”
Eventually, Mandy and the stage manager of Arthur’s play, whose name was Julian, came to some sort of agreement; he and his crew needed to get the stage ready for their play, but Julian promised Mandy that he would come in during the week and help get the hall ready for ours. He went off to have a chat with Ellie’s dad who was busy rigging up lights, and Mandy grabbed some chairs to mark out an area on the floor to be our makeshift stage.
“Oh my God, yeah, did you see how Mandy was looking at that guy, Julian?” Neesha said suddenly. “You can tell she really fancies him.”
“But how do you know she hasn’t got a boyfriend already?” said Ellie, who was looking through her script for one final, last-minute practice.
“Because,” Neesha went on, in the loudest voice, “I actually heard him ask her out for a drink, and she said yes. And anyway, yeah, it’s obvious she fancies him or else why would she let him use the stage when it’s supposed to be our dress rehearsal?”
“Right, you lot, we’re starting,” Mandy called out, putting an end to the conversation. “Now, I want everyone to sit down for a second and listen. First of all, I don’t want ANY talking while we’re rehearsing. I know we’re not on the stage, but you’ve got to treat this as if it’s the real thing. There’s no time to muck about. This is our very last opportunity to practise before opening night, and we’ve got to use it properly.”
It started off so well. We did the opening scene better than we’d ever done it, but in the next scene it all fell apart. First of all Ellie couldn’t remember any of her lines, and then when she did remember them, she kept saying them in the wrong place. Like at one point Catharine said, “How did you sleep last night, Fizz-Wiz? Any nightmares?” And Ellie said, “Three teaspoons of honey, and a good squeeze of sunshine, Sabine, that’s what the dream recipe says.” And then they just stood there staring at each other, totally confused.
We sang Scream! but it was awful; really quiet and weedy. Mandy stopped us three times to do it again and again and then again, and I could see she was getting more and more hacked off by the minute. And then at one point, Monty B came in on the wrong side, and Mandy screamed, “NO, MONTY! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU? IT’S THAT SIDE!” She sounded so cross, Monty B didn’t even say anything back – which was a first. He just scuttled off and came back on the other side.
Julian and the guys setting up the stage for the play were making loads of noise so it was hard to concentrate, and by the time we’d finished Act One everyone was fed up and stressed. We had a quick break and then it was straight on to Act Two.
Act Two ran more smoothly than Act One and I could see we were going to get to the end, which meant I was going to have to sing my solo. I actually love the last scene because I get to grab Gobstopper and hand him over to the dream-police! But once he’s been taken away, the Sweet-Dreamers run off the stage to celebrate, and I have to stay behind to sing my five lines about how scared I am that Sabine will forget me. That’s it! Five lousy lines!
I was fine until the Sweet-Dreamers ran off but then my brain started to go all peculiar. I forced myself to walk forward, but my legs felt like jelly and as Mandy played the introduction, I knew it was going to be a disaster. I swallowed hard, cleared my throat and opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Nothing! I just stood there, opening and closing my mouth like some sort of moronic fish. All those times I’d sung it in my bedroom and it had sounded brilliant – all that believing in myself – and now this.
“Oh, Mandy, I think Phoebe’s upset,” said Catharine. She put her arm round me and walked me over to the piano.
“Thank you, Catharine. Sit down for a minute,” Mandy called across to the others, and then she led me outside.
Standing in the corridor, Mandy leaned down and made me look at her.
“Hey, Phoebe, what’s all this? Everyone gets stage fright sometimes – even me, believe it or not.”
I started to cry, I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just the song, it was Mum and Dad and Polly and everything.
“Don’t you know that old saying? Bad dress rehearsal, great opening night! You’re going to be absolutely fine.”
“No, I’m not, you don’t understand,” I spluttered. “I really, really can’t do it. I know I can sing. I sing all the time at home, but as soon as other people are watching me my voice gets stuck and I just can’t get it out.”
“Listen, Phoebe, you thought you couldn’t get up on the stage and talk in front of the group that time, but you did. And you were sure you’d never be able to introduce us at our unexpected Christmas concert, but you were great.”
I shook my head, still crying. I was crying so much I knew my make-up would be streaked right down my face and my freckles would be showing again. So much for my Great New Look!
“Remember what the very first leaflet said, Phoebe?”
I nodded. Of course I remembered. Star Makers – is it your time to shine?
“Well, it’s your time to shine now, sweetheart. Just keep telling yourself that and you’ll find your voice, I know you will.” Mandy handed me a tissue and smoothed back my hair. “Come on, we’re going to go back inside and work out the bows and encore. You’ll enjoy that – it’s the best bit.” She gave me a big hug and wiped my eyes with her sleeve.
It was horrible walking back in. I was sure Polly gave me a funny look – like a cross between a smirk and a smile – and then it seemed to take for ever to sort out the finale. We had to come on and bow a few at a time, but for some reason it kept going wrong. Finally, when everyone was on we made a big semicircle and sang, Don’t Let the Bed-Bugs Bite for an encore. I stood on the edge of the semicircle, wishing I was in a different country or on another planet. I wondered if I could somehow fake a really deadly illness so that I didn’t have to do the show at all, but then I thought about Sara and felt even worse than ever.
Once we’d changed out of our costumes and hung everything up we sat down for a chat.
“Not bad,” Mandy started. “Not brilliant, but not bad. There are bits that are awesome, but I know the whole show could be like that if everyone just concentrates and gives it their all. And sorry if I was a bit ratty,” she said, looking over at Monty B, “it’s just that my stress levels were off the scale! Now, are there a
ny questions?”
There seemed to be about a million questions, but finally Mandy said it was time to go and everyone charged out of the hall.
“What am I going to do, Ellie?” I groaned, while Mandy talked to Ellie’s dad about the lights and stuff. “I’m going to ruin the whole show.”
“What about me? I got all my lines wrong – every one!” She flopped down on a chair. “I mean did you hear me? It was a total joke.”
“Yeah, but you sang your solo part brilliantly, and I bet you only got your lines mixed up because your dad was watching. I didn’t sing at all!”
She pulled me down next to her. “You’re going to be wicked, Phoebs. Everyone gets nervous before a show. I actually had this dream last night that I was in a school production; I think there were toads again – I don’t know what that’s about. Anyway, I was so nervous before I went on that I threw up over everyone – like projectile vomiting – I totally ruined all the toad costumes, but as soon as I got on the stage I was fine.”
I started to giggle. Ellie’s dreams just got weirder and weirder.
“Come over here a minute, Phoebe.” Mandy was standing by the piano. “Why don’t we sing through your song a couple of times before you go? I’m sure your dad won’t mind waiting for a minute.”
Ellie pulled on her coat and walked over to the door. “I’ll tell your dad on the way out, Phoebs. Text you later this evening.”
“Come on, Phoebe,” said Mandy. “Let’s get you sorted out.”
I trailed over to the piano wondering how she was going to sort me out. A complete brain-transplant, maybe?
“Remember what you said just before, Phoebe, about how you can only sing when you’re by yourself in your bedroom. Well, I don’t want you to imagine you’re in your bedroom – I want you to close your eyes and imagine you’re in the dream factory. Try to imagine that you really are Lolly, about to lose your only true friend in the world.”
I closed my eyes and concentrated as hard as I could. At first I couldn’t see anything at all, but then out of the darkness a picture did start to appear. Not Lolly in the factory, or Sabine, or anything like that. It was Donny – wearing his snazzy white suit, grinning from ear to ear and giving me the biggest thumbs up ever.
He looked so real I could practically reach out and touch him, and as Mandy played the introduction, I opened my mouth and sang just like I’d sung all those times at home in my bedroom:
She’ll be far from here, dreaming a
different dream
So far from here, forgetting how close
we’ve been.
Far from here, where are you now? I sigh.
So far from here, come back to me, I cry.
Oh, come back to me, I cry.
There was a loud burst of applause from behind the curtain and Julian popped his head through, still clapping.
“Wow, Mandy! Who on earth has got that fantastic singing voice? It was never you with the gorgeous freckles, was it?”
I’d totally forgotten that he was still on the stage. Mandy smiled up at him.
“A star in the making there, you mark my words. We’ll all be queuing up to see her one day.”
“Bye, Mandy,” I squeaked, and ran out of the hall as fast as I could. I was more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my whole life – but not in a horrible way.
“Bye, Phoebe, see you on Monday,” Mandy called after me. “And well done, sweetheart. You are a star!”
I was floating on air all week. Every time someone spoke to me I thought, I’m a star in the making, and floated right on past. On Wednesday, Polly Carter came up to me in the playground, but before she could say a word I smiled at her and turned away as though I was already a star and she was an adoring fan begging for my autograph. On Friday I floated out of school with Ellie and Sam, dreaming about my gorgeous freckles and the show and how well I was going to sing my solo, when Ellie grabbed my arm and pointed across the road.
“Your dad’s here, Phoebs,” she said. “Over there by that red car.”
I took one look at Dad’s face and came down to earth with a thump. I didn’t really mind him coming to meet me but he looked so miserable that suddenly all I wanted to do was run away in the opposite direction.
I crossed the road and walked slowly towards the car, dragging my bag and scuffing my feet along the ground. “Hey, Phoebe,” he said when I’d almost reached him. “I just wanted to catch you alone so we could have a chat about your show.”
“What about it?” I said, suspiciously. “There’s not a problem, is there?”
“No, of course not.” He tried to smile but it was hopeless, and for a second I thought he was going to cry.
I walked on ahead so that I wouldn’t have to look at him.
“Look, there’s no problem, Phoebs,” he called out, trying to catch up. “I just wanted to work out with you when I should come and see it – you know, so that it doesn’t erm…clash with when Mum’s coming to see it.”
I whipped round, furious. “Why can’t you have this conversation with Mum?” I snapped, trying not to cry myself. “I mean it’s so ridiculous. Why can’t you just pick up the phone and make the arrangements with Mum?” My tummy started to twist up. I couldn’t believe things had got so bad that they couldn’t bear to be in the same room as each other to watch their own daughter perform in a show.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, walking ahead again. “I don’t even want you to come if you can’t come together.”
We carried on back in silence. It was freezing cold and the sky was full of heavy black clouds. When we got to the house I tried one more time. “Look, why don’t you come in and talk to Mum now.” I thought about the other night after we made the costumes. “She really wants to talk to you, I know she does. If you come in now and have a cup of tea you might be able to work things out.”
Dad shook his head and looked down. “It’s not as simple as that, Phoebe,” he said. “Look I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll sort something out.”
“Don’t bother!” I snapped, and banged on the door.
“Go and say hello to your gran,” said Mum as she let me in. “She’s upstairs with Sara and she’s looking forward to seeing you.”
She went into the kitchen and started to get tea ready, crashing things about in one of her moods. “I just walked home with Dad,” I said, following her in.
She carried on laying the table as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Don’t you want to know what we were talking about?”
“Not right now, Phoebe.” She sighed. “You can see how busy I am. What you talk about with your dad is your own business.”
“But I thought you said you still loved him? The other night when Mandy and the others were here, you said he was the only man you’d ever loved?” I was close to tears now. I just didn’t get why they were both so unwilling to even try.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Phoebe. One day, when you’re older, I’ll explain everything to you, but not now.”
She turned away from me, just like she always does and something inside me snapped.
“BUT WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHEN I’M OLDER?” I screamed. I was so angry I didn’t know what to do to make her understand. “IT’S LIKE I’M OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT YOU STILL LOVE DAD BUT YOU’RE TOO STUPID TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. I’M OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT THINGS HAVE GOT SO BAD YOU CAN’T EVEN HAVE A NORMAL CONVERSATION WITH EACH OTHER ANY MORE. I JUST WANT MY FAMILY BACK, MUM. DON’T YOU GET IT?”
“STOP SHOUTING, PHOEBE!” Mum slammed her hand down on the table making me jump. Her hands were trembling and she looked so old and worn out.
“Listen to me. Just listen, will you! Do you think this is what I wanted? Dad living in some grotty flat on the other side of town, you stuck in your room barely able to look at me, and Sara missing her dad so much she’s still talking to her teddies like she’s a blessed four-year-old.”
I shook my head.
“I love your dad, Phoebs, bu
t if he doesn’t want to sort things out that’s his decision. I can’t make him get a job, can I? Marrying your dad was the best thing I ever did, he’s the sweetest, gentlest man I’ve ever met, but he’s got to take some responsibility for this mess we’re in – and he doesn’t want to hear that right now.”
She turned away and leaned against the sink – as if she didn’t have the strength to stand up without support.
“Come with me, Mum,” I said, suddenly. I pulled her away from the sink. I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do but I couldn’t just stand there doing nothing. “Just come with me, will you.” I dragged her towards the front door, my heart racing.
“Stop it, Phoebe,” she snapped, pushing me away. “I’m really not in the mood for this. Let go of me.”
“No, I won’t let go! I don’t care! If marrying Dad was the best thing you ever did then you’ve got to tell him. Just come with me.”
“Stop it! I’m warning you! Let go of me!”
I yanked the front door open and pulled her out. It was stupid really – Dad was probably halfway up to the High Road by now – but I didn’t know what else to do. In The Dream Factory, Lolly saves Sabine by calling the dream-police in secret – but it’s not as if I could dial 999 and say, “Help! My mum and dad won’t talk to each other and they don’t realize how stupid they’re being!”
I looked up the street expecting it to be empty – but I should’ve realized! Dad wasn’t halfway up to the High Road at all. He was right there, stuck outside Number Four, talking to beaky-nose Burton. He had his back to us and Mrs. Burton was yakking on about something and nodding her head like one of those dogs that sits in the back of cars. I wanted to throw my arms round her and kiss her for being such a nosey-parker, head-nodding miracle worker.
“Dad!” I called out, and he jerked round. “Mum wants to talk to you.”
I thought he’d make a run for it but he didn’t. He just stood there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. I pushed Mum towards him and went back inside to Gran and Sara.