Charm School (13 page)

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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—