Phoebe Finds Her Voice Read online

  She shook her head, still chuckling to herself. “So, what are we going to add, girls? What’s our secret ingredient going to be?”

  As far as I was concerned there was no point doing it – not this year when only Mum would be guessing – and no one would feel like celebrating anyway. But in the end we added molasses, a sort of sticky black treacle, and we all made a wish. I closed my eyes and concentrated really hard. I wished with every bit of strength in my body. I didn’t really think it would bring Mum and Dad back together or make Polly Carter disappear in a puff of smoke or help me to sing my solo – but what else could I do?

  I still hadn’t come up with an answer by the time I went to drama on Saturday, but I had decided that I was going to sing my solo. The very last part of Donny’s Rise to Fame article was all about believing in yourself – and I was absolutely determined to show everyone how good I could be. I might not be able to get Mum and Dad back together or sort out Polly Carter – but surely I could sing five lines of a song without having a total nervous breakdown.

  As I walked up the stairs, my determination began to drain away a little with each step. Believing in myself was a whole lot easier when I was on my own in my bedroom! Ellie was waiting for me at the top, hopping up and down.

  “Quick, Phoebs, you’ll never guess what!” she squealed, pulling me into the hall. “Remember last week when Arthur said he had something to tell Mandy, but he couldn’t remember what it was? Well, look! It was a fair!”

  She was right. The entire hall was crammed full of people; most of them very old ladies with scarves on their heads and those shopping trolleys on wheels. There were loads of stalls piled high with clothes and toys and food – and some rather droopy paper-chain decorations hanging from the ceiling – a bit like the kind we used to make ourselves at primary school.

  “There’s no way we’ll able to rehearse today, is there,” I said, secretly relieved. “Not with all this going on. Where’s Miss Howell anyway?”

  We looked across the hall. The turquoise wall at the back was covered in a huge poster announcing The Annual Church Christmas Fair and Miss Howell was standing in front of it, right next to a brightly coloured clownfish. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest and she looked as if she might explode, or kill someone, at any moment.

  We fought our way through the crowds and shopping trolleys to ask her what was going on and as we got nearer I noticed a smaller poster stuck right underneath the big one. It said:

  Star Makers

  Children’s Drama Club

  present their

  Christmas Carol Concert…

  …Saturday 18th December at 11a.m.

  Come and hear the voices of angels!

  In each corner of the poster there was a picture of a holly leaf and right at the bottom there was a drawing of an angel with musical notes coming out of its mouth.

  Ellie read the poster and looked at me, shrugging. “We haven’t been practising carols. Why didn’t Mandy tell us we were doing a concert?”

  “I didn’t tell you,” Miss Howell yelled above the din, “because I didn’t know. I didn’t know because Arthur failed to mention that there was a Christmas fair in here today, let alone the fact that we were supposed to be providing the entertainment. Okay? I didn’t know we were supposed to be singing, and I truly didn’t know I could hate someone as much as I hate The Great Arthur McDermott at this precise moment in time! Any other questions?”

  Her hair was jet black to match her mood and it suddenly seemed so funny, the thought of us singing carols, that I started to giggle – or maybe it was just the sheer relief that I wouldn’t have to sing my solo.

  “Phoebe, stop it,” said Ellie, as Mandy stormed off muttering to herself. But then she looked at my face and a minute later we were holding onto each other in hysterics, just like we used to before Sam came along.

  “Come on,” Ellie gasped, tears running down her face, “I spotted some delicious-looking chocolate brownies and I’ve got to get one before they all go. Let’s see if we can find the others and tell them what’s going on.”

  We pushed our way back through the crowds and had just about reached the chocolate brownie stall when Sam appeared.

  “Hi, Ellie, hi, Phoebe, have you heard? Apparently we’re angels and we’re putting on a concert. Anyway, Mandy wants us all on the stage straight away and she’s mad as hell.”

  “We know,” said Ellie and they raced off together, laughing about something, while I tagged along behind, trying not to feel left out. On the stage, Monty B was telling Miss Howell about how he’d always wanted to be an angel.

  “Honestly, Mandy, if I’d known about the concert, I would have brought my fairy wings. And in case you’re wondering, because I know you are, the reason I’ve got fairy wings in the first place is because—”

  “Sit down, everyone,” Miss Howell said, interrupting Monty B. “For those of you who haven’t read the posters stuck up all over this room and outside at the front of the building, Arthur has invited us to sing Christmas carols to the masses without actually bothering to let us know. So, any ideas? Do you all know Silent Night? Away In a Manger? The Murder of Arthur McDermott?”

  “Well, we could sing some songs from The Dream Factory,” said Tara. “It’ll be great practice for us, Mandy. Some of us have never sung in front of an audience before and it might stop us feeling so nervous when it comes to the real thing.”

  Sam shook her head. “It’s not very seasonal, though, is it? I mean people don’t go round singing songs about nightmares and bed-bugs at Christmas.”

  “Oh my God, yeah, it was a nightmare for Mary!” cried Neesha. “She couldn’t find anywhere to have her baby and she nearly had it on the side of the road without any of those midwife people, or magazines to read, or anything. And she probably did get bed-bugs lying down on that manky straw – I bet it was minging!”

  “Well I was nearly born on a hill in France,” said Monty B. “That’s why I’m called Montgomery, because mont means hill in French.”

  “Why didn’t they just call you Mont then?” said Neesha. “Or Hill?”

  Miss Howell shook her head, smiling for the first time. “How do we end up having these crazy conversations?” she said. “Although I actually think that might be quite a good idea to sing some songs from the show.”

  “But not my solo,” I said, quickly. “We’ve never practised my solo before so there’s no way I could sing it today in front of all these strangers.”

  Miss Howell laughed. “Don’t worry, Phoebe, not your solo. But perhaps you’d like to introduce us at the beginning?”

  I looked at her like she was mad. Me? Stand up and speak in front of a room full of strangers? By myself?

  “I mean you did so well when you introduced Polly the other week, remember?”

  “I’ll do it with her,” said Monty B leaping up. “Come on, Frankie, it’ll be a laugh.”

  “Right then,” said Miss Howell as if it was all settled. “We’ll just consider this a bonus – an unexpected chance to sing in front of an audience. We’ll sing Mixing a Dream, Doing the Sweet-Dream Rap, Don’t Let The Bed-Bugs Bite and Scream!

  Scream! is easily the best song in the show. It’s about what happens when the Jelly-Skulls mess around with the Sweet-Dreamers’ potions, causing children all over the world to have nightmares. One of the nightmares is about this boy who finds out he’s got to be a fairy in the school play and that his costume is a frilly pink tutu.

  Monty B is playing the part of the boy. He doesn’t actually say anything; he just wakes up wearing the tutu, looks down at himself, and then screams in horror, while the Jelly-Skulls surround him chanting:

  Michael’s Joseph, Priyanka’s Mary

  But you my dear are the Christmas fairy.

  It’s not a dream, it’s really true,

  Here’s your costume, a pink tutu!

  Yes a pink tutu! Let’s spread the news,

  And some lovely, satin ballet shoes.
r />   You can’t wake up – it’s not a dream,

  You can’t wake up – don’t try to scream.

  You can’t wake up – no it’s not a dream,

  You can’t wake up – so don’t try to

  SCREAM!

  The chant builds up, getting louder and louder and ends with all of us letting out this huge scream. Monty B is brilliant. He makes this “horrified” face and it’s so funny I have to hold my breath to stop myself from laughing every time he does it. I didn’t feel like laughing now, though. I felt like running straight off the stage and out of the hall, but I was too terrified to move.

  Arthur appeared about ten minutes later wearing a Father Christmas costume that was about three sizes too small and carrying a huge sack of toys over his shoulder. He rang a heavy-looking gold bell to get everyone’s attention and the room fell silent.

  My heart was beating so fast, I thought I was going to pass out. I looked over at Miss Howell to try and make her realize I couldn’t do it, but before I could catch her eye Monty B dragged me forward.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said, doing this ridiculous bow. “Prepare to be dazzled – and delighted – and de…well just prepare yourselves for…” He put his hand out to me, grinning and nodding, and somehow, I really don’t know how, I opened my mouth and said:

  “Star Makers – Children’s Drama Club!”

  There was a massive cheer and Catharine walked to the front of the stage to sing Sabine’s main song, Mixing a Dream.

  She sang the first verse by herself, her voice ringing out around the hall like a real angel, and then the rest of us joined in with the chorus. After Mixing a Dream we sang Doing the Sweet-Dream Rap, Don’t Let the Bed-Bugs Bite, and then Scream!

  By the end of the song everyone in the hall was hysterical and Monty B got the loudest cheer. He started bowing and blowing kisses at all the old ladies and getting totally carried away until Miss Howell rushed on the stage and grabbed him.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” she said, turning to give us all a clap. “Now don’t forget to come and see The Dream Factory, our fantastic show, on the 21st of February. And a very happy Christmas to everyone.”

  Monty B started blowing kisses again and Miss Howell pulled him off the stage, laughing. “Monty B! You’re a liability,” she gasped. “I swear I’ll be grey by the time we’ve finished this production!”

  “What does liability mean? Is it a compliment?”

  Catharine threw her arms round him. “It means you’re bad news,” she cried, “but we all love you anyway!”

  “Fantastic, Phoebe!” said Miss Howell, coming over to give me a hug. “I knew you could do it.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mandy,” I said, without thinking, and then rushed to the back of the stage before she could see that my face was roughly the same colour as Monty B’s hair.

  It was probably stupid to get so excited about speaking in front of a bunch of strangers and singing a few songs from the show, but when everyone cheered at the end my arms went all goose-pimply and I couldn’t stop grinning.

  “How cool was that, Frankie?” said Monty B.

  “Really cool,” I said, and smiled at him. A proper smile; not twisted up or anything.

  I looked around at everyone on the stage; at Ellie and Sam and Neesha and Catharine and Tara. A few months ago, when I first joined Star Makers, I didn’t know what I was doing there, or how I was ever going to fit in. These days I couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world that I’d rather be.

  The holiday seemed to drag on for ever and it was such a relief when it was finally over. Christmas was just as awful as I thought it was going to be; Mum was in the worst mood ever and Dad spent all his time at the Life centre. I was so desperate to get out of the house that I didn’t even feel too bad about going back to school. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it – but it had to be better than staying at home.

  I was really excited about going back to drama but I still didn’t know what I was going to do about my solo. Donny made it sound so simple in the self-belief section of his article. All you had to do was repeat this special mantra about 150 times a day and success would be yours. It went something like: I am truly gifted. I can be anything that I want to be. Nothing can stand in my way.

  I had planned to say it every morning before I went down for breakfast but then the first day I actually tried it Sara walked past my room and nearly wet herself laughing.

  “You are truly gifted,” she shouted out, banging on the door. “Truly gifted at being truly stupid!” And then I remembered, way too late, that I wasn’t going to follow Donny’s advice any more.

  “I hope you all had a fantastic break,” Mandy greeted us on our first Saturday back, “but after today I don’t want to see anyone using a script.”

  “Oh my God, Mandy! You’re having a laugh,” groaned Neesha.

  “No, Neesha, I’m not having a laugh, as you put it. It’s not funny! There are only four more Saturdays until the dress rehearsal, and the best way to feel really secure about your part is to stop relying on your script.

  “Anyway,” she added, with a twinkly smile, “I’m sure you all spent heaps of time during the holidays going over your lines so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

  “I just don’t know what happened to my script, Mandy,” Ellie cried suddenly, ripping open her bag and chucking everything up in the air. “I lost it right at the beginning of the holidays so I haven’t been able to learn my lines at all.”

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” said Mandy. “Have you checked the hamster cage?”

  “I know all my lines, in Act One and Act Two,” said Sam, smugly.

  I knew all of mine as well, but I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t going to be much use if I was too scared to sing my solo at the end.

  “Right, let’s make a start,” said Mandy. “Everyone turn to Act Two, Scene One and I want all of you on the stage.”

  We ran through the scene a few times, ending with the Sweet-Dreamers singing, Don’t Let the Bed-Bugs Bite, the song we’d practised over at Ellie’s house weeks and weeks ago.

  “Sing up,” Mandy called out. “I can’t believe that’s the loudest sound you can make. Come on Ellie, open your mouth! All of you – sing from your bellies. Tara! What are you doing? You keep turning the opposite way to everyone else!”

  “It’s no use, Mandy,” Tara wailed. “I can’t do it. The message from my brain doesn’t reach my feet. I know I should be turning one way, but my feet keep turning me round the other way.” She glared down at her disobedient feet through her small, round glasses.

  “Phoebe, why don’t you stand next to Tara and help her? You seem to know all the dances really well.”

  My face started to burn up. Me help Tara? How was I supposed to help Tara – brains of the class – Perkins?

  “Come on, quickly, Phoebe. Show her which way to turn.”

  I shuffled over to Tara and stood to her right.

  “Erm, it’s quite easy really,” I said, as if I knew what I was talking about. “All you have to do is to make sure that every time you turn, you turn towards me. And make sure your left shoulder turns towards the audience first.”

  “Gosh, thanks, Phoebe,” she said after we’d tried it out a few times. “I wish I was as good at dancing as you are, but I’m completely useless. Did you have dance lessons before you joined Star Makers?”

  “No, of course not. I never did anything before I joined Star Makers. I don’t mean I didn’t do anything…of course I did things like go to school and brush my teeth and stuff…just not singing or dancing or anything like that…” I trailed off blushing again.

  Tara started to giggle, but I thought she looked a bit alarmed. Go to school and brush my teeth? I was the one who needed help!

  At break time Mandy called us over one at a time to measure us for costumes. She’d made the Sweet-Dreamer girls these dingy-looking old dresses with patches on but she needed to sort out the differen
t lengths.

  “How was your holiday, Phoebe?” she asked, as she measured me from the back of my shoulder down to my knee. Then she turned me round and looked at me more closely. “Are you okay, sweetheart? You look exhausted. Look at those bags under your eyes. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” I lied.

  “What about Christmas Day? Did you do anything special?”

  “No, nothing that special really.”

  What would I say anyway? That my dad who’s now called Eagle Dust, had lunch with a load of people I’ve never even met – and that my mum stayed in her dressing gown for most of the day, moping around like she was at a funeral. It was so much easier to keep quiet.

  I went back over to the others, but when it was time to start again I couldn’t find my script anywhere. I knew I’d left it in my bag, I could remember putting it in there when Mandy called me over – but it definitely wasn’t there now. I asked Ellie and Sam if they’d seen it and Ellie helped me hunt around a bit – but it had completely disappeared.

  I was just about to ask Mandy what I should do when Monty B came bounding over. “I’ll help you find it, Frankie,” he cried, pulling me across the hall.

  And then Polly called out in like The Loudest Voice Ever, “Oh Frankie, off to practise your kissing scenes?”

  I yanked my arm away from Monty B and ran out to the toilets. I could hear Polly making kissing noises behind me as I fled – and my face was on fire. I stayed in the loo for ages thinking about how much I hated Polly Carter and about how obvious it was that she’d taken my script and hidden it somewhere, but there was no way I could prove it. I walked round and round the tiny toilet cubicle trying to work out what I should do. I really didn’t want to go back inside – but there didn’t seem to be any alternative.

  “Look, I’ve found your script, Phoebs,” said Ellie the second I walked through the doors. “It was stuffed right down behind the radiator.”

  I looked across the hall at Polly sniggering with her friends. I knew I should tell Mandy, but the thought of her making a big thing out of it in front of everyone, asking if anyone knew anything, was even worse. And anyway, it’s not as if Polly was going to come clean. I mean there was more chance of me singing my solo than of her owning up and saying she did it. I managed to stay out of her way for the rest of the session but I knew I’d have to face up to the situation sooner or later.