Moon Pie (21 page)

‘Knowing they’re safe has made everything else possible,’ he said. ‘And I’m very grateful.’

He told them, in a quiet manner, about his alcohol counselling course, and the sessions with the ‘Children in Need’ team, and he explained that he had re-applied for visiting rights. ‘Obviously, you’ll be consulted,’ he said.

Grandpa sighed. ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ he said, ‘you’re welcome to them. You’ve changed, I can tell. Besides,’ he added, ‘I’ve never been so tired in all my life as I have been this last year.’

Grandma gave Grandpa a sour look. ‘I’m pleased to hear of your progress with your treatment,’ she said to Dad. ‘But now,’ she added briskly, ‘we really must go. Come along, Christopher.’

Tug frowned and looked at Dad.

‘Off you go,’ Dad said. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘Can’t I stay here with you?’

‘Not yet.’

‘When?’

‘As soon as I’m allowed. Your room’s ready for you. Did you see?’

Tug nodded.

‘But for now you have to go back with Grandma and Grandpa. And I want you to promise me something.’

‘What thing?’

‘That you’ll be good.’

Tug looked shifty.

‘Tug!’

‘All right.’

Dad saw them all out.

‘Oh, I nearly forgot,’ he said at the door. ‘I’ve got a new job.’

‘Is it with pets?’ Martha asked anxiously.

‘No. The poodles of the world can breathe easy. I’m going to be a cinematographer again. Different television company. Same sort of job.’

‘With cameras?’ Tug asked.

‘With cameras.’

‘And a canteen?’

‘With a canteen too.’

They all wished him luck.

‘And Marcus will be pleased,’ Martha said.

Grandma turned to her. ‘Marcus Brown? Marcus Brown is a very strange boy.’

‘I used to think that,’ Dad said. ‘But it’s odd. The better you get to know him the more normal he seems.’

S
pring turned to summer. June began with a blaze of sunshine. Old men in cardigans came out to sail their model boats on the pond in the park, and the rowing club took over the lake again. Joggers went round and round, and the tennis courts were full all afternoon and evening. People walked their dogs, and pushed pushchairs, and wheeled bikes, and some even sunbathed on the lawns.

While they waited for Dad’s visiting rights to be granted, their lives were the same as before at Grandma and Grandpa’s. At first Tug was good, as he had promised, but as the weeks went by he found it harder, and by the middle of June he was tired and fretful. Although he hadn’t broken any more Swarovski figurines, it was noticeable that Grandma was stricter with him since he’d run away. His daily tasks were closely monitored, and any misdemeanour, no matter how trivial, was followed by an interview with Grandma and a period alone in his room in order
for him to focus his mind on Manners and How to Mind Them, Biscuits and Why it is Wrong to Steal Them, and Spit and Why it Should be Kept in the Mouth.

‘But
when
will Dad’s visiting rights be ready?’ he kept asking Martha.

Eventually she began to feel fretful too. It was taking a long time for Dad to sort out his visiting rights. And she still felt unsure about him. He puzzled her. In many ways she still thought of him as a stranger, a man with unfamiliar mannerisms, who peered at her as if trying to read her mind, and left a pause before answering a question, and spoke slowly, sometimes hesitantly, and did a dozen other things that Dad had never done before. Despite her uncertainty, however, she was beginning to like him. He didn’t look like the sort of man who would start drinking again. He was thoughtful too. He had bought a Swarovski flamingo for Grandma and decorated the house for them to come back to. The photograph of Mum playing tennis in her new room made her think of Dad teaching her to play when she was little, the safe feel of his arm round her and the warm rasp of his cheek against hers, and the smell of pear drops. As the days passed, she began to feel
friendlier towards him, and at last, even though she didn’t know him any better, she told herself that she would trust him.

To stop herself being fretful while she waited, she decided to take her acting more seriously. She got help at school. With her Drama teacher she learned about body language, with her Music teacher she trained her voice, and with her PE teacher she practised her movement. In the school library she found some books about acting techniques, and studied them in breaks and at lunchtime. She learned new things, like how to stand and how to be silent, how to follow the frame of the camera, how to breathe properly and control the volume and tone of her voice, and how to show emotion: to suffer pain, and laugh with joy, and have a fit, and be in love. On Wednesday evenings she discussed camerawork and lighting with Laura, and costumes and make-up with Marcus, and together they worked out different ways of playing her scenes in
Brief Encounter
. The harder she worked at her acting, the more she liked it. When she stood in front of the camera – as Alec Harvey (mackintosh collar turned up, hat brim turned down) or Laura Jesson (with demurely-waved hair and
tightly-buttoned wool jacket) or Myrtle Bagot (sporting floral blouse and over-bright lipstick) – she felt most truly herself, and forgot to be fretful.

But a strange thing happened. Marcus became fretful instead. It was very unlike him. When they finished
Brief Encounter –
the longest and best film they had ever made – he couldn’t decide what they should do next.

‘I can’t explain it,’ he said, ‘but I feel as if we should be doing
more
. Speed films were all very well when we were young. But look at us now. Outstanding first and second grips, one of Europe’s leading costume designers’ – turning to modestly acknowledge his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door – ‘and, of course, the Greatest Movie Star of her Generation. But we can’t afford to delay. I’m twelve already.’

It was vital, he said, to move to the next level.

‘Keep your hair on,’ Laura said. ‘Just tell us what it is.’

‘I don’t know!’ he cried, and went to stand in front of the mirror, making strange faces at himself.

‘Bloody good job he’s only Costumes,’ Laura said.

But as the days went by, and they still couldn’t decide what to do next, they all found it hard not to be fretful.

T
hen one day Dad was waiting for them again at the gates.

It had been over a month since they had seen him. They went into the playground and sat together on the swings.

He looked nervous. ‘I shouldn’t be here,’ he said. ‘Visiting rights haven’t been granted yet, and I’m still not meant to see you.’

Martha and Tug groaned.

‘I don’t know what’s holding them up. But I’ve got something else to tell you. About something that’s happening at work.’

He told them that a film of
Anne of Green Gables
was being made. ‘Do you know the book? It’s about a little orphan girl in Canada. It’s a classic.’

Martha had read it. ‘I liked it,’ she said. ‘It’s funny, but it’s also sad.’

There had been films of it before, Dad said, but they were doing a new one, with a lot of Hollywood
money behind it. ‘It’s going to be a big deal.’ He paused. ‘I thought of you, Martha.’

Martha was pleased. ‘I’d like to see it. Can we go and see it together? When you get your visiting rights, of course.’

‘I mean, I wondered if you wanted to be in it.’

Martha looked at him blankly. ‘In it?’

‘As Anne. They’re auditioning for the part now.’

‘Audition?
Me
?’

‘Why not? It’s just right for you. Anne’s a girl about your age, with red hair and pale skin.’

‘I’m not Canadian.’

‘You can do accents.’

‘But, Dad, you said it’s a Hollywood film. I can’t go over to Hollywood to audition.’

‘They’re having difficulty filling the part. Auditions are being held in lots of different places.’

‘Like where?’

‘Like in our studio here.’

There was silence.

Tug said, ‘When you get the part, can I come with you to Hollywood?’ He frowned. ‘Will Grandma and Grandpa have to come too?’

Martha took hold of Dad’s hand, and smiled. ‘Thank you for thinking of me,’ she said. ‘But I don’t
think I can do it. You have to be really special to act in a Hollywood film.’

Without smiling, Dad took her other hand as well, and looked at her steadily. ‘And I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you were special.’

There was another silence.

‘There’s only one other person I’ve seen who was as good as you, and you know who that was. Besides, it’s exactly the sort of old-fashioned thing you’ve been doing with Marcus. Honestly, you’d be perfect.’

Martha thought about it. ‘Can anyone audition then?’

Dad looked shifty all of a sudden. ‘Actually, it’s by invitation only. You have to submit a DVD portfolio first. But,’ he added quickly, ‘you have lots of good stuff on film.’

‘I don’t know whether I want to send it in, though.’

Dad looked even shiftier. ‘I already did.’

‘What?’

‘I got it from Marcus. He didn’t know what it was for, so don’t blame him.’

‘Dad!’

‘They liked what they saw. They’ve invited you to audition.’

Martha stared at him. Now she understood. She
stood there, not knowing what to say. What unexpectedly came into her mind was the photograph of Mum in Grandpa’s study, dressed up for
My Fair Lady
, with her hair braided, smiling at her – and for an instant she dared to smile herself.

‘Think about it anyway,’ Dad said. He told her the date and time of the audition, and what she would have to do, and who the director of the film was (he had met him once in California), and lots of other details she was too excited to take in.

‘If you decide to do it, you’ll have to tell Grandma and Grandpa,’ he said. ‘They’ll need to fill in forms for you, and take you to the studio, and so on. Although,’ he added, wistfully, ‘I could help, if they want me to. But best not to mention me at first. As I say, I’m not meant to see you.’

He looked at his watch. ‘Look for me at the gates the day after tomorrow, and tell me what you’re going to do.’

Then he went.

I
t was ridiculous to think about auditioning for a Hollywood film. But all the next day she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

In the school library she found a copy of
Anne of Green Gables
, and as she read it she kept imagining what it would be like to play the part. She could hear Anne’s voice in her head and see herself acting the scenes.

At lunch time she went to find Marcus, who spent all his breaks nowadays in the Art room experimenting with fabrics, and there, among the tubes of paint and unidentifiable papier-mâché sculptures and half-finished self-portraits, she asked him what he thought – and he was so excited he nearly cross-stitched his thumb to a pair of lilac suede pants he was making.

‘You think it’s a good idea?’

‘Not just a good idea. It’s the next level! Martha, you’re a genius, you’ve solved all our problems. I’ll draw up a rehearsal schedule immediately.’

She frowned. ‘You’d better wait a bit. I haven’t made up my mind yet.’

‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘And, of course, there’ll be the audition costume to make. And what about your own brochure?’

‘Marcus!’

He promised to wait.

That evening, after finishing her homework, Martha sat in her room reading
Anne of Green Gables
, and, without meaning to, often found herself acting out bits in front of the mirror. But every time she thought of auditioning she felt hot and breathless. She wished there was someone else she could talk to before deciding. Tug was too small.

Putting the book down, she wandered through the house with the same thoughts going round in her head. Did she dare audition? Did she dare do something just because she wanted to?

In every room there were photographs of Mum. Mum in her hockey kit. Mum in her school uniform. Mum standing on the stage dressed up for a show. Mum sitting in a chair. She had seen them all many times before, but now she found herself stopping to look at them again. If Mum were alive, what advice would she give her now?

Studying the pictures, she noticed that Mum nearly always had the same expression on her face. It was a curious expression, not just determined, as Grandma had said. She looked more closely. It looked as if Mum was smiling for the camera at the same time as thinking about something completely different. As if she had a secret. As if she knew something wonderful and important which she would tell you if only you asked.

Martha stared at the pictures.
What was it?

She would never know.

But it was at that moment that she decided to go for the audition.

When she went upstairs to Tug’s room and told him, he began at once to empty out all his drawers and boxes, and pile everything onto his bed.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Packing,’ he said.

Martha explained about auditions, and helped him put everything back where it belonged. Then she went downstairs to find Grandma.

She had a fluttery feeling in her stomach. Although she didn’t know what would happen at the audition – she didn’t imagine she would get the part – she did allow herself to feel that perhaps her life was
changing. Even more fluttery was the strange notion that she could try to
make
it change.

‘No,’ Grandma said. ‘You may not.’

She sat upright at the kitchen table and spoke firmly.

Martha began again to talk about the audition, but Grandma interrupted her.

‘It’s out of the question.’

‘But why, Grandma?’

‘You’re far too young. I don’t approve of child actors in professional films.’

‘Mum acted when she was a child.’

‘Never professionally. I did not allow it.’

‘Later she did.’

‘Much later. As I’ve said before, I don’t believe the film and television world was good for her. It is full of untrustworthy people.’

Martha began to talk about Mum again, but Grandma didn’t soften as she usually did. She remained stern and disapproving.