Bryony Bell Tops the Bill (4 page)

‘
Cla
…'

‘
Ris
…'

     ‘
Sa
…'

        ‘
Bell!
'

As they held the notes, Clarissa would make her entrance, swaying luxuriously from side to side, and in a voice husky with emotion and deep with mystery, would sing …

‘The minute you walked in the joint…'

and the little 'uns would chorus,
‘Boom! Boom!'
Then Clarissa would heave her hips to right and left, and when the last line rang out,

‘Hey! Big Spender… s-p-e-n-d a little time with me!'
they would all join in and swing their little hips
in time with hers.

When they sang the
Devoted Sisters
song, the little ‘uns did a special dance, which Bryony had helped to choreograph and which involved a lot of arm-linking and leg-kicking, and they tried very hard to sway exactly in time with the music. It had been coming along very nicely, and every time they finished Big Bob had to take out his handkerchief and say, ‘Bring a tear to a glass eye, that would', and dab his, just to prove it.

Bryony smiled as she made out the first words:

Who's always there when you're feeling blue?

When life gets tough, who sees you through?

Who is the one who's d-e-v-o-t-e-d to you?

Your sister — that's who!

Melody and Melissa were about to go into the chorus, which listed the many ways they had of showing their sisterly devotion, when Bryony opened the front door. As soon as it clicked shut the singing stopped, and the twins thundered through into the hall, followed by the other two devoted sisters. When they saw Bryony they all stopped and glared malevolently at her.

Bryony stopped in her tracks. What now?

Angelina stepped forward, her hands on her hips. ‘We can't get nice glitzy stage costumes for
TV Family Star Turns
and it's all because of you!' she shrieked. She was shaking with anger, and the beads on her long braids flew about and clinked together, making her look like a snake-headed gorgon.

‘It's just not fair!' screamed Melody, linking arms with Melissa.

‘And another thing — Melody and me need hair extensions,' Melissa added, in a particularly whiney voice. ‘Now that's down the tube too!'

‘You have snatched fame from beneath our feet, Bryony Bell,' Angelina said grimly, slipping her arm round Melody's waist. Emmy-Lou, two fat tears poised to pop out of her huge blue eyes, clung to the straps of Angelina's octopus jeans.

Then they all clung silently together like a small, furious, chorus-line, almost spitting venom at Bryony.

‘Hang on, hang on,' Bryony said, putting her hand on Emmy-Lou's curly little head. ‘Let's not jump to conclusions.'

‘Mum told us,' Melissa whined. Melissa had a very long fringe which always hung in front of her eyes. When she put on her whiny face — which she quite often did — Big Bob said she looked like a Cairn terrier with distemper.

‘She said she found out when she went to the bank to withdraw money from the Special Expenses Account and there was …' Melissa inhaled deeply and wetly, but before she had sucked in enough air to go on Emmy-Lou concluded, in a voice choked with tears,

‘… not a sodding brass farthing!'

‘That's what Mum said,' Melody put in. ‘So don't dare deny it!'

‘It's downright criminal,' Angelina went on. ‘Here we all are, bursting with talent, destined to become the stars of the future; and now that destiny is hanging in the balance -and why?' She pressed her forefinger against Bryony's chest and prodded her hard in time with each syllable: ‘Your sel-fish-ness, Bry-o-ny Bell!'

‘Mum says you can twist Dad round your little finger,' Melissa whined.

‘So?' said Bryony, removing Angelina's finger and trying to push past them all. ‘Why shouldn't I get new skates? My old ones are nipping my
toes and the ball-bearings have gone and the wheel stops sometimes don't. Just because you're going to be big TV stars. Just because I can't sing…'

Bryony stopped as Clarissa swept downstairs with Little Bob in her arms. Immediately, everyone except Emmy-Lou straightened up and tried to look innocent.

‘Sure Bryony's to give the skates back this very minute, Mum?' Emmy-Lou said, reaching up to clasp Clarissa's hand. ‘Sure she is?'

Bryony gasped in utter horror. They couldn't. They simply couldn't.

A terrible silence descended. Even Little Bob stopped gurgling and pointed a chubby, wet and accusing little finger at her. Bryony appealed to Clarissa.

‘Dad said I could keep them for another week. Oh Mum, please …'

But Clarissa shook her head, clamped her lips tightly together, and sucked all the air out of her cheeks. Bryony's heart plummeted. This did not auger at all well.

‘I'm sorry, Bryony,' Clarissa said at last, her voice shaky. ‘It's a question of priorities. If we win
TV Family Star Turns
, the first thing we'll do is buy you the Viper 3000s again. But we have to have costumes, Bryony. We need to match, and we need to look glamorous. You know what
the telly's like — it's all image.' She sighed. ‘It's a real shame, love, I know.'

‘But Mum,' Bryony tried again, ‘I need the Vipers. I've got an idea and without the Vipers it just won't work. Just one more week …'

Clarissa was not to be moved.

‘I know you, Bryony. You'll say you won't scuff them, but you will. Fetch them,' she said, kindly but firmly. ‘With the box. Your father will take them to the post office first thing tomorrow morning.'

Then she turned to the other children, her eyebrows high and her emerald green eyeshadow flashing a warning. ‘And if I hear one more word about this from you lot, I'm warning you — there'll be hell to pay. This is not easy for Bryony. Understood?'

Angelina and Melody blushed deeply and looked at their toes contritely. Melissa opened her mouth to whine and had her foot stepped on by Melody. Emmy-Lou nodded sagely and said, ‘We hear you, Mum.' Then they all muttered their apologies and trailed back into the living room to rekindle the flames of sisterly devotion.

Eyes burning, Bryony climbed the stairs. Never had the clouds above her head seemed so dark. When she got to her bedroom she knelt down and slid out the Viper 3000s box, lifted the
lid for the last time and watched her tears fall at last, to lie sparkling like diamonds on the white fibreglass composite uppers.

‘Sorry, Abid,' she whispered as she laid the rollerskates to rest, covered them over with tissue paper, and said goodbye.

When she plodded back down to hand them over, Clarissa took the box with a reassuring smile. ‘Chin up, Bryony,' she said. ‘We're bound to win, and then you'll get them back.'

‘Is Dad home yet?' Bryony asked.

‘I believe he is,' said Clarissa frostily. ‘I'd check the potting shed, if I were you. And tell him his dinner's on, though I'm blowed if he deserves it.'

‘Oh Dad…'

Big Bob was sitting in the shed on a tea-chest padded with faded gold cushions, polishing his big brown boots. When he saw her, he gave Bryony such a sympathetic look that she nearly burst into tears all over again. Putting the shoe brush back in the box by his side, he wiped his dungarees and patted his knee. Bryony perched precariously on it, leaning on his shiny little bald patch to balance herself.

Talk about being in the doghouse, Bryony,' Big Bob sighed. ‘Didn't expect your mum to go looking at the Special Expenses Account this week.'

‘Do I really twist you round my little finger, Dad?' Bryony asked suddenly, hooking her pinkie under Big Bob's shirt collar and tugging. ‘Did I really wheedle at you till you got me the Vipers?'

Big Bob patted Bryony's back and smiled.

‘Not a bit of it, lass,' he assured her. Then he
lowered his voice. ‘Just between you and me and the potting compost,' he whispered, ‘I sometimes think
The Singing Bells
go a bit over the score, so to speak.

‘The little ‘uns are really mad at me, Dad,' Bryony said. ‘It's like they think I'm a traitor.' She gave a long sigh. ‘Well, maybe I am. Maybe we both are — not thinking they'd need costumes.'

‘There's more to life than being able to sing, Bryony,' Big Bob said comfortingly. ‘When God was giving out vocal chords, you and me weren't too far up the queue. So, singing's just not in our genes and that's all there is to it. But that doesn't mean you can't be a star — you mark my words!'

‘I think you're a star,' Bryony said, smiling bravely. ‘But Dad,' she went on, ‘there's another problem. The Vipers are vital for the success of a plan I've got, and now Mum says they've got to go back tomorrow.'

‘A plan, Bryony, love?'

Bryony slipped off Big Bob's knee, shifted the box of shoe-cleaning materials, and knelt at his feet.

‘It's my pal Abid Ashraf. You know — the big shy quiet one? Got asthma and a lovely singing voice and doesn't like being looked at?'

Big Bob nodded. “Course I know Abid,' he
said. ‘Heart of gold, that boy, and clever with it. So what's up, Bryony?'

‘He's got to play the swan part in the school play and it's making him really miserable, and I had this idea that I could do it — on skates! You know — really smooth ‘n' elegant, balancing on one leg a lot and with loads of arabesques. And Abid could still sing, but he'd be offstage so no one could see, so he wouldn't feel embarrassed.

‘If only Mrs Quigg had seen the Viper 3000s,' she sighed. ‘That would have clinched it. The swan costume's white, you see.'

‘Sure, Bryony,' said Big Bob thoughtfully. ‘I get the picture.'

He put his hands on his knees and rocked to and fro, whistling through the gap in his front teeth. He always did that when he was thinking, and Bryony sat silently, hopefully, waiting. Sure enough, after a few moments the whistling stopped and Big Bob leapt to his feet, gave his thigh a swipe, and said ‘Yeeee-hah!' — which was what he always did when inspiration struck.

‘Actions speak louder than words — that's the key to it!' he beamed. ‘Like when I was courting your mother. Flipping terrified, I was, to ask her to marry me — she being a singer, you know, and me just a humble joiner. So, guess what I did?'

‘What?' said Bryony, eyes sparkling.

Big Bob glanced at the shed door and lowered
his voice. ‘Went out and spent half my wage packet on a bouquet of red roses, then got down on one knee and presented her with them!'

And he lowered himself down on his right knee to demonstrate.

‘So a bunch of flowers did it?' Bryony asked. ‘As easy as that?'

‘Well … not just a bunch of flowers,' Big Bob told her with a wink. ‘Right in the middle of the roses, I hid a box. And when your mum opened it, what do you think there was inside but a ruby ring, winking up at her from the black velvet lining. Like a tiny beating heartful of love, that ruby was. Cleaned me out for years Bryony, but it did the trick!'

Bryony gazed dreamily at her father. ‘That is so romantic, Dad. But what's it got to do with me and old Mrs Quigg? Sure as anything I'm not marrying her!'

‘What I said, Bryony: actions speak louder than words. You have to do the dance for her, never mind telling her about it. Catch her off her guard then dazzle her — bowl her over — like I did with your mother! OK?'

‘Without the Viper 3000s, though?'

Big Bob rummaged about among the shoe-cleaning materials and took out a tube.

‘Fetch your old skates, lass,' he told her. ‘Your dad'll fix it!'

* * *

After four coats of shoe whitener, the black skates looked marginally better. Big Bob held them up hopefully.

‘Well…' said Bryony, ‘I suppose they'll have to do. Oh — by the way, Dad — dinner must be ready. We'd better not be late.'