Olivia's First Term (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

When they arrived back at the Swan after the theatre, Sebastian pressed a copy of
Romeo and
Juliet
into Olivia's hand, telling her it was a present, before he made his goodbyes and left to walk around the corner to his flat.

Olivia stood alone in the large foyer of the Swan. She liked the school best at night when it was empty, so different from the hustle and bustle of the day. Then it was full of people and energy, and a different noise – from choral speaking to tap-dancing – drifted from behind every door. It felt so peaceful at night.

She headed up the wide sweeping staircase towards the upper floor where Alicia had her flat. But when she reached the first floor, she stopped and turned back and, leaning over the balcony,
she opened the play. She started to speak: 

If her grandmother or Sebastian Shaw had been watching, they would have sworn they were seeing a ghost.

The next day Tom and Olivia were practising in the room at the top of the school.

“That's epic, you're coming on brilliantly,” said Olivia, watching Tom walk the wire to the point where it touched the ledge of the open window in the upper rehearsal room. He leapt gracefully to the ground and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

Olivia suddenly spun round quickly to face the little observation window, but there was nobody there.

“What's up?” asked Tom.

“I sometimes get the feeling we're being spied on by somebody,” said Olivia. “We should
be more careful about pulling the blind right down.”

“Are Katie and her coven still bothering you?” asked Tom.

Olivia ignored the question and quickly changed the subject. “You're getting so good, I was wondering whether we might work up a little double act. Nothing too complicated.”

“Whoa, Olivia Marvell. I'm just a beginner. I'm nowhere near your league.”

“You're improving every day. My dad would say you're a complete natural. You really are making amazing progress,” said Olivia.

“That's because I've got a brilliant teacher, who also happens to be a slave driver,” grinned Tom.

Olivia blushed with pleasure. Since she had been at the Swan, she had forgotten what it was like to be praised. Then she said casually, “Have you read
Romeo and Julie
t
?”

“Bits. We don't do it in acting class until we're in Year Eleven. But I've seen the movie. It's fantastic, and I saw the Royal Shakespeare Company do it on stage and that was wonderful too.” He looked at Olivia's expectant face. “Why do you want to know?”

Olivia suddenly felt impossibly shy. Her words came out in a rush.

“It's just I went to the theatre last night to see it with Mr Shaw, and when I came home I read some of the speeches; acting it out made me feel just like I feel inside when I'm on the tightrope and doing something really difficult really well. It's as if nothing else in the world matters except the moment that you're caught up in and I just wondered … I just wondered—” Olivia broke off, embarrassed. “No, it's a silly idea…”

“You can't stop now,” said Tom, “but if it really sucks, I'll tell you.”

“Well,” said Olivia nervously, “when I was thinking about the play, I thought that the feelings Romeo and Juliet have, and the feeling of being on a tightrope, are rather similar. It's all risky and dangerous, scary and off-kilter, as if you're wobbling about and yet perfectly balanced at the same time, and I just thought…” Olivia faltered again.

“Spit it out, Liv!” said Tom impatiently.

“I just wondered what it would be like to act out the moment when they first meet at the masked ball, or the balcony scene, or something,
on the tightrope.”

Olivia looked up at Tom from under her hair, wondering nervously what he was going to think, but Tom looked interested. “With the words or without?”

“Whichever way works best. Maybe some words, but not all of them. It'd have to be a perfect mix of words and movement. I don't know, we'd have to try it and see.”

“But that means we'd both have to tightrope-walk, speak and act all at the same time,” said Tom slowly.

“Yes,” said Olivia. “We would.” Then she added enthusiastically, “I don't think it's ever been done before. At least, not in the circus.”

“I can see why not,” said Tom. “Doing one of those things well is hard enough; trying to do all three is insane.”

Olivia's face fell.

Tom spoke gently. “Look, Liv, I can probably do the Shakespeare bit OK. Just about. Speaking Shakespeare's really hard. But I can still barely tightrope-walk. And although you can do the tightrope-walking and acrobatics brilliantly, I've yet to hear you open your mouth in acting class, though I've always thought it
requires an immense talent to make yourself appear as invisible as you manage every lesson. And aren't you the girl who not so long ago told us all that acting was silly?”

Olivia glared at him, and said, “Well, it can be. When it's done badly. But Mr Shaw's got a point. Circus and acting have got a lot in common. Actually, I've decided I quite like acting.” She paused, and then added, “I just don't like doing it in front of other people.” Tom started to laugh, but he stopped when he saw Olivia's serious face. “Trying to act in front of other people makes me feel as if there's nowhere to hide, that the people watching can see right inside me.”

“Yes,” said Tom, “that's exactly what it's like. Acting's scary, but after a while you just forget that people are watching you and it's like shedding one layer of skin after another until you're completely naked.”

“Like a snake,” said Olivia.

“Yes,” said Tom, “although not the poisonous kind, unless you're Katie
Wilkes-Cox.
” He grinned. “Come on, dark horse, let's give it a whirl. Maybe we'll be better together than we are alone.”

“That's what a double act is. By trusting each other completely and doing what you do best, but also by being generous, you make the other person look even better. In a true double act, one and one doesn't make two, it makes three.”

“I believe you,” said Tom, “but I'm very gullible.” He grinned. “All right, then, let's give it a go.”

Olivia beamed at him. Then, from somewhere at the bottom of the school, came the distant sound of excited screams and shouts of congratulation.

“The results for the Children's Royal Spectacular auditions must be up on the notice board,” said Tom. “Come on, let's go have a look.”

Olivia shook her head. “I didn't audition for the silly show, remember. I'm not interested.”

Tom caught her hand. “But I did, and now we're a double act, you've got to support me in everything I do.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

There was quite a crowd around the notice board, peering at the list of names. Eel was dancing a little jig, and when she saw Olivia, she rushed to hug her sister.

“I'm going to dance on TV and in front of the Queen!” she said excitedly.

“So am I!” said Tom, with a whoop. “Well, the TV bit's certain; we've just got to be so royally good that the public votes for us as the act the Queen most wants to see.”

“Congrats, I'm really pleased for both of you,” said Olivia, and she was, but she couldn't help feeling a bit lonely, an outsider at these celebrations.

“We must tell Dad; he won't want to miss seeing me dance,” cried Eel. 

“No, he won't,” agreed Olivia, and she hugged Eel again. “Dad will be very proud of you, Eel, and…” she paused, “…and if Mum was still alive she would be too.”

They rushed upstairs to Alicia's flat and dialled the mobile number that Jack had left them. But instead of hearing his cheery, “Hello, girls,” all they heard was an impersonal voice telling them: “The number you have dialled has not been recognised. Please check and try again.”

Eel burst into tears. “His phone's been cut off because he can't pay the bill.”

“I'm sure it's just a mistake and we'll hear from him soon,” said Olivia soothingly. But the knot of anxiety in her stomach tightened. She remembered listening to Jack talk to some of the other circus performers around the fire late one evening. He had been describing his preparations for his dangerous stunts, and how in the few weeks before a stunt you had to close down the rest of your life and concentrate on nothing but the stunt ahead of you. She recalled his face, contorted with fear, the last time he tried to walk the high-wire, and she shivered.

“Are you OK, Livy?” asked Eel anxiously. 

“Yep,” said Olivia. “Let's go find Tom.”

Alicia walked into the room at that moment. “What are you up to with Tom?” she asked with interest, pleased to think that Olivia might at last be settling down.

“Nothing. We're not doing anything,” said Olivia, turning pink and glaring at her grandmother stonily in the hope of preventing further questioning. If her gran found out about the high-wire walking, Olivia felt certain she would ban it.

Alicia took a deep breath and counted to five. “Olivia, my dear, I wasn't trying to pry. I'm just glad that you've made a friend.”

“Oh,” said Olivia, embarrassed at her overreaction. “I'm sorry, Gran, but I've got to go.”

“Why don't you just tell her about the tightrope-walking?” asked Eel as they headed down the stairs.

“Because she'd never understand in a million years,” replied Olivia.

Georgia stood all alone by the notice board, biting her lip. Everyone else had drifted away to celebrate or to commiserate. She peered again at
the list pinned to the wall. There was her name in black letters. It wasn't a mistake.

Miss Swan had taken her to one of the rehearsal rooms alone and coaxed a performance out of her. Georgia didn't think she'd been very good but clearly Miss Swan had taken a chance on her again. This time she vowed she would make her proud.

But she didn't feel as thrilled as she would have done just a few weeks ago. Then she would have been delighted that all her hard work, and her mum's, was starting to pay off. She would have loved to see her mum's tired face light up with pride. But instead she just felt completely numb, because there at the bottom of the list was another name: Katie Wilkes-Cox.

When she had run towards the notice board, she had silently been begging: “Please, please, let my name be there and please, please, let Katie's not.” But she wasn't surprised at what she found; for the last few hours, Katie had been wandering around with her cat's-got-the-cream smile, making Georgia suspect that somehow Katie already knew she had a place in the cast. Katie hadn't even bothered to come and look at the list.

Georgia rested her hot forehead against the notice board. She realised that Katie made her feel like a helpless little mouse caught between a cat's paws and she was beginning to hate her for it. She couldn't think why she had ever wanted to be her friend. She supposed that she must have been seduced by Katie's pretty face, long golden hair and air of easy entitlement. How she had longed to be the chosen one, how she had savoured every smile tossed in her direction and every conspiratorial giggle. Georgia had never felt like the sort of person who belonged anywhere, so being part of Katie's gang had made her feel special.

But Georgia increasingly felt that being Katie's friend was like being under a curse. And it was all her own fault. If she had never bragged and made up that silly, thoughtless lie about New York, a lie that had somehow led to another lie and then another, she wouldn't have Katie on her back now, constantly testing her and nagging her to bring in the topaz ring to prove how rich she was. The only good thing, thought Georgia, was that although Katie obviously had her suspicions that Georgia had been lying about being rich, she clearly wasn't
entirely certain of the truth and Georgia was doing her best to keep her guessing – only yesterday she had raided her piggy bank for the last few pounds that she had been saving to buy a Christmas present for her mum and used it to get everyone ice creams in the park after school. Ones with chocolate flakes too, as if money was no object!

She heard a noise behind her and spun round. Katie was standing there, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Hello, little Miss Georgia Jones,” she said, in a voice that dripped with menace.

Georgia stared at her feet.

“It's very rude not to answer when someone says hello to you, Georgia – even when you're a multi-billionaire. Anyone would think you didn't like me. But I
luurve
you, Georgia Jones, and your mummy seems to like me very much.”

“What are you talking about, Katie?” asked Georgia hotly.

“We were having a lovely cosy chat this morning, just outside Miss Swan's office.”

Georgia's heart sank right down into her toes. So her mum must have come to give notice. She would have to leave the Swan! Her throat
felt as if something hard was lodged there. “What did my mum say?” she whispered.

“Oh, nothing much,” said Katie, airily. “Just that she was so poor you were going to have to leave unless old Swan gave you a scholarship, and we all know that she's never going to do that. Not in a million years.” Katie looked at her watch. “Oh, look! I'm going to be late to meet the others. I'm really looking forward to telling everyone your mum's sob story about being so poor. It'll rock.”

“You don't have to tell them,” said Georgia. “Please don't be nasty, Katie.”

“What will you do for me, if I don't?” asked the other girl.

“Whatever you want,” whispered Georgia, refusing to meet Katie's eye.

“All right,” said Katie with a smile. “I won't tell everyone that little Miss Georgia Jones is a compulsive fibber and really,
really
poor. But you'll have to do some things for me, and you can start with my maths homework.”

When Georgia got home that evening her mum was waiting for her, clearly bursting with excitement. She had cooked Georgia's favourite
food: shepherd's pie with green peas, and toffee cheesecake for pudding.

“Guess what?” said Mrs Jones. Georgia said nothing; she wasn't in the mood for playing games.

“Are you tired, darling?” asked her mum. “Sometimes I think the Swan school day is far too long. But I've got news, great news, that will perk you up!”

Georgia still said nothing, but her mother didn't notice. She rushed on. “I went to see Miss Swan today and she's very kindly awarded you a full scholarship. Isn't it wonderful! You can stay on at the Swan with all your friends and carry on your training. I thought maybe you'd like to invite a friend over for a sleepover at the weekend to celebrate. Maybe Katie? She's so lovely. She told me you confided in her. She sounds like a real friend.”

To her puzzlement, Georgia burst into tears and rushed upstairs, refusing to come down to eat her supper. Later Mrs Jones went upstairs and sat on the edge of Georgia's bed, stroking her hair gently.

“Georgia, is everything all right at school? You would tell me, darling, if you were unhappy
at the Swan or being bullied, wouldn't you? We could sort it out, whatever it is that's going on.”

For a moment, Georgia wanted to sit up and fling her arms around her mum and tell her everything that was happening and how unhappy Katie was making her. But she knew her mother had enough on her plate with her job and her money worries. Besides, it would also mean telling her mum about how she had lied about them going to New York and being rich, and she couldn't bear the thought of her mum being disappointed in her. So she said nothing and just curled up into a miserable little ball instead.