How to Get Famous (7 page)

I know what's happened. There's been a
mistake.

Meanwhile, Giles was saying, 'I know
it's disappointing for those of you who
haven't been picked this time. But there
will be many more opportunities, I'm
sure. And think what you've achieved
today.'

He talked on and on trying to make us
feel less like rejects. But there was no
getting away from it – we were the ones
who'd been given the big raspberry: only
not me, I'm just the victim of a mistake,
I'm certain of it.

Then the parents of the winning
children were invited up onto the stage. So
they all clomped on, looking like a small
conquering army. And Georgia gave me
this shocked look. I know she was
devastated for me. But I smiled as if to say,
'Don't worry, I'll soon be back up there
with you.'

Then all the winning children went into
a huddle with Alicia Kay and Giles, while
the losers were supposed to shuffle off
into the night (or early afternoon to be
strictly accurate). Some of the losing girls
started crying, and even the boys looked
as if they wanted to crawl away into a
dustbin. But I was just impatient for the
error to be discovered.

Any moment now Giles would notice
someone was missing and cry, 'But where's
the lad who did
The Secret Garden
rap
which moved us so much we couldn't
speak afterwards? How on earth did his
name get missed off the list?' Then he'd
yell at someone – probably Moth-man – to
tear after me. And he'd race out of the
building and jump in front of our car, just
as Dad was driving away . . .

That's what should have happened. And
as we were leaving I really strained my
eyes to check there wasn't a figure charging
over the horizon and yelling: 'Stop
your car! We want that boy.'

But I saw no one.

That's when I started shrinking again.
By the time I got home I was so small and
scrunched up my parents didn't give me as
much aggro as I'd expected. They just sent me
to my room.

Where I continued to get smaller and smaller.
I'd better stop now before I disappear altogether.
Bye.

THURSDAY APRIL 1ST

4.30 p.m.

Yeah, I'm back at last.

I bet you've been worrying about me and
wondering why I crossed out all those
days? Well, thank you for your concern.
The truth is I've been in no mood to gibber
away to you in my usual fashion. And I
thought I'd wait until I had something
I was keen to tell you about.

Besides, I knew you wouldn't want to
hear about me feeling totally fed-up.
That's all I had to tell you, apart from how
many Easter eggs I wolfed down. And you
only want to hear the important stuff,
don't you – and quite right too.

So here are the headlines: first of all, an
old, but still completely brilliant piece of
news – Georgia is playing the role of Mary
Lennox in
The Secret Garden
. That is
fantastic, although I'm not surprised. She
also said she doesn't think the boy chosen
to portray Colin – Ross Hope, would you
believe – is a patch on me.

She also reckons my rap piece was just
too original for the judges. 'This is the
trouble,' she said, 'when you're ahead of
your time, it takes a while for the world to
catch up with you.'

While I'm waiting for the world to catch
up, I've at least been able to enjoy
Georgia's success. Each night she rings me
after rehearsals. She says she so wishes it
was me on stage with her as Ross does
disgusting things, like picking his nose
and then gobbling up the snot. Now I'd
never do anything like that – well, not in
public anyway.

I really am chuffed for Georgia that she
was picked, but I can't help worrying that
she's soaring off now, leaving me far, far
behind. And while I'm being depressing,
Cloud Nine
has started on the telly. I
didn't mean to watch it, but I did, fuming
of course at all the children who were
chosen over me. So yeah, I've been a total
gloom-bucket lately. But all that could be
about to change.

Here's the BIG NEWS. For I have something
VERY IMPORTANT to tell you, so
pull back your eyeballs (no, don't, that
sounds disgusting).

I was just casually leafing through the
local rag when up popped something
incredible: It said: 'Major new television
show,
Fighting Families
, hits the airwaves
soon. Researchers will be in the area on
FRIDAY APRIL 2nd. So if you have a
family dispute you would like aired on
television, call Sue now on . . . ' And there
was a mobile number.

I just couldn't believe it. A TV show
coming to my town! And being on TV is
even better than acting in a play. It's
better than anything actually. And
Fighting
Families
sounded perfect, as you couldn't
have a family more in conflict than mine.

So I'd better ring Sue, hadn't I? I don't
want to gabble though, which I do when I
get all worked up.

5.45 p.m.

Actually, Sue was so easy to talk to and
she kept laughing at the stuff I uttered
about my parents. I said, 'You just wait
until you meet them.'

And she's coming round to my house
tomorrow night for a 'friendly and very
informal chat'. Then she'll do a little
report on what she's seen, and if her
bosses like the sound of us – WE'LL BE
ON THE GOOD OLD TELLY!

Who'd have thought I'd make my TV
debut with two ghouls, (also known as my
parents)? But I'm certain that, once I'm
spotted on television, that'll be the start of
a glittering career. For TV is definitely
what I'm meant for.

There is one tiny problem though: my
mum and dad. They don't realize what an
accolade it is to be considered for
Fighting
Families
. And they're even barmy enough
to say they don't want to be on it. So, I'll
have to be very careful how I tell them
about Sue. It will need great cunning.

8.45 p.m.

Told Georgia my news. And she was
thrilled.

'You'll be sensational,' she cried.

'Yes, I probably will,' I agreed.

Then I told her about my little problem.

'Well, I don't think you should tell your
parents right off who Sue is,' said Georgia.
'Just let them think she's doing some
research. Then your parents will get
pulled in more and more and before they
know it, they'll be on the telly.'

'And they needn't be on very much,' I
went on. 'I'll do practically all the talking.
I only need them in the background really.'

'I just know this is your big chance,'
cried Georgia. 'So get famous, Tobey.'

FRIDAY APRIL 2ND

5.15 p.m.

Mum and Misery Chops were both in the
kitchen. So I strolled in and said, ever so
casually, 'By the way, Sue Wallace is
visiting families in the area and chatting
about their problems. And she's dropping
in on us about seven o'clock. She hopes
that's cool.'

Both my parents were speechless with
shock at first. 'Why exactly is Sue Wallace
visiting us?' asked my mum at last, speaking
very slowly.

'Because she just wants to chat to
certain selected families,' I said vaguely
and quickly. But she said not to worry; it's
very friendly and informal. And you don't
need to feed her either, as she'll have
eaten already, so that's all right, isn't it?'

Dad growled. 'I suppose the school has
arranged this,' and before I could answer
he snarled at Mum, 'It's your fault for
going up to the school and telling that
Miss Lytton far too much.'

'I didn't just go up to the school, they
sent for me,' replied Mum. 'And I merely
answered Miss Lytton's questions.'

'She was far too nosy if you ask me,'
replied Dad. 'And now she is putting us
forward for this imposition.'

They both seemed so agitated I felt just
a glimmer of sympathy for them. 'Look,
don't worry, I bet you'll really enjoy yourselves
. . . and it could help us.'

Dad gave a disbelieving grunt. 'And for
how long will this uninvited guest be
inflicting herself on us?'

'Well, she'd really like to stay the night.'
Then, seeing my parents' appalled faces I
grinned. 'That was my little joke. No, she'll
only be here for an hour or two and I'm
sure the time will just fly by.'

Dad shook his gnarled, ancient head
and then wheezed at Mum, 'I hope you've
learned a hard lesson from all this. I said
you were telling that teacher too much.'

'For goodness' sake, you can't blame me
for this,' cried Mum.

'Oh, I certainly can,' replied Dad.

I left them happily hissing insults at
each other. But you will observe, I never
actually said Sue was anything to do with
my school. They just assumed that.

So that's Phase One successfully dealt
with. Bring on Phase Two.

8.15 p.m.

Sue's just left. This is exactly what
happened.

She arrived, bright and smiley, despite
Dad – who opened the door in his usual
grumpy fashion. 'Hi, I'm Sue,' she said.

'And I'm Mr Tyler,' replied Dad. He
doesn't approve of people telling you their
first names right away.

'Pleased to meet you, Mr Tyler,' said
Sue, and she flashed him this card
saying where she was from. But luckily,
Misery Chops just squinted at it for a
second – and he's pretty short-sighted anyway.

'Thank you so much for agreeing to be
interviewed by me,' she said.

'I wasn't aware we had any choice in the
matter,' replied Dad.

Sue laughed rather uncertainly and I
laughed too, as if Dad had just made
this cracking joke. Then Mum burst out of
the kitchen, offered Sue a coffee and we all
sat round the dining-room table.

'Well now, I hope you don't mind if I
tape-record our little chat,' said Sue

'I had no idea we were so fascinating,'
said Dad dryly.

Sue laughed again and then said, 'I feel
I know you both already. Heard so much
about you.'

Dad swallowed hard. 'What exactly have
you heard?'

'Well, I know you have strong views
about television, for instance,' said Sue.
'You don't watch it yourself, do you?'

'From time to time, we do,' said Dad.

'The weather forecast,' I cut in.

'No, no, we look at other things,' cried
Mum.

'Like men walking on the moon,' I said.
'When was that now – 1966?'

'We've watched other programmes since
then,' said Mum.

'Name three, apart from the weather,' I
demanded. Sue was listening to all this,
absolutely fascinated.

'I admit most of the time we just have
better things to do,' said Mum.

'And do you ration what Tobey can
watch?' asked Sue with a darting, little
smile.

'They certainly do. Every time I want to
even switch on the telly I have this major
interrogation from them,' I said. 'Make me
fill in forms and then be interviewed about
my choice . . .'

'You're exaggerating now,' said Mum.

'But this does cause tension in the
household?' said Sue.

'A certain amount, yes,' said Dad. 'But
you see, when
we
were growing up, we had
tremendous fun outside.'

'No saucy stories now, Dad,' I teased.

But Dad, who has a sense of humour
which a table would compete for, said
crossly, 'I mean, we made dens and played
conkers and studied maps.'

'We just feel,' said Mum, 'that children
today are missing out on so much, spending
all their time stuck in front of a
television or computer screen.'

'Or walking round with those wretched
mobiles clamped to their ears,' said Dad.
'Children are so indulged today and fussed
over. You can't even have an egg and spoon
race unless everyone wins. What's
happening to this country?'

'Now you see what I have to put up
with,' I cried. 'Every time I come home, I
feel like a time traveller living back in the
1950s.'

'Oh, but this is fascinating,' beamed Sue,
and she'd been watching Dad absolutely
entranced. 'I'm sure our four experts will
have lots to say about your case.'

'Did you say
four
experts?' asked Mum.

'Yes, each looking at your dilemma from
a different angle. Then when you come up
to London . . . '

'We've got to go to London?' wailed Dad.

'Oh yes, you have to do that,' said Sue,
looking surprised at the question.

'Do we indeed?' murmured Dad, and
then he shot a glance at Mum and
muttered, 'It just shows how much trouble
one conversation can cause.'

Sue was looking puzzled now, so I just
grinned and wiggled my eyebrows about at
her to remind her that my dad was a loony,
and said, 'Well, I can't wait to go to
London.'

'It's great fun,' said Sue. 'We'll give you a
nice meal, then our experts discuss your
situation in front of an audience.'

'An audience?' squeaked Mum.

'Oh yes, and afterwards both parents
and children are very positive about the
whole experience . . . they say they've
learned so much about themselves and
that helps' – she lowered her voice – 'to
heal the tensions.'

Dad was mopping his brow with a
handkerchief now. 'And how long will this
take?'

'Oh, just one afternoon for the London
discussion and another afternoon to film
here,' said Sue brightly.

'You're going to film us?' cried Mum and
Dad together.

'Oh yes, but don't worry,' said Sue. 'It's
quite painless . . . and then you'll have the
pleasure of seeing yourselves on television.
We'll let you know in good time
when it is being screened so you can ring
up all your family and friends.'

She started to smile yet again, but this
time it faded somewhere on her lips. She'd
noticed Dad had turned a deep, unhealthy
purple colour, while Mum's face was frozen
in a look of total shock. Finally, Mum said
weakly, 'And you have arranged all this
through Miss Lytton?'

Now it was Sue's turn to look completely
bewildered. 'And who's Miss Lytton?' she
asked.

'She's Tobey's teacher,' said Dad.

'Ah, right,' said Sue vaguely. 'I see.'

'She didn't send you here?' asked Mum.

'I'm afraid I've never heard of her,' said
Sue.

Dad suddenly jumped to his feet. 'Who
exactly
are
you, madam?'

'I'm Sue Wallace from
Fighting
Families
,' she said.

'And we're certainly a fighting family,
fighting all the time,' I cried. 'Still, you
know what they say: a fight a day stops
the world getting grey . . . '

Yes, I was talking gibberish now. But I
was desperate to try and relax the tension
which was boiling up in our little dining
room.

But my efforts were useless. Dad's eyes
were now jumping out of their sockets in
horror. 'So you are in fact from a . . . television
programme?' and he said those last
two words the way you might say 'dog poo'.

'Yes, that's right,' Sue gasped. 'I spoke to
your son yesterday, and he said it would be
all right to drop in tonight.'

'It's not your fault,' began Mum. Then
she stared ominously at me. 'But there's
been a misunderstanding.'

'Yes I can see that,' said Sue. 'But really,
I think this family would make a great
television programme.'

'Did you hear that?' I said eagerly.

'And our experts would try and help you
resolve any issues . . . '

'And we do need all the help we can get,'
I said desperately.

But Mum and Dad had both got to their
feet. 'I'm afraid,' said Dad, 'it is totally out
of the question.'

Sue left about two seconds later looking
really disappointed. For as well as me, she
had two mad people . . . who always make
great television. Then Misery Chops let
out this really massive sigh, like a minitornado.
'I don't know what to say to you.'

'Oh don't worry about it,' I said kindly.
'You're just having what they call a senior
moment.'

'What?' roared Dad.

'I think it's best you march up to your
room right now,' said Mum.

I hastily took her advice.

But I can't let my best-ever chance of
getting on television slip away, can I?
That's why I whispered to Sue just before
she left, 'Don't worry, I'll talk them round.
Leave it all to me.'

I just
have
to find a way of persuading
them. So here's what I think I'll do. I'll
leave them to calm down for a bit longer to
get over the shock. Then I shall go downstairs,
conducting myself like the serious
son they've always wanted, after which
. . . that's when I get a bit stuck actually.

9.30 p.m.

I've just slunk downstairs. They were both
in the lounge, Dad wearing a ferocious
scowl.

'Greetings,' I said. 'I wish to apologize
most deeply for any inconvenience my
rash action tonight has caused you.'

Dad only stared at me, his eyes glinting
furiously. But Mum put down her steaming
cup of cocoa and said, 'What were you
thinking of, Tobey?'

'I just want to get on television, Mum –
and this was a good way to do it.'

Mum shook her head. 'Look, I know you
enjoy – well I won't say showing off – you
like performing, don't you?'

'It's what I'm born to do, Mum, perform
on the telly and my life won't be complete
until I do it. It's my dream.'

Dad gave a loud snort. But Mum, to my
surprise said, 'When you're twelve, you
have lots of dreams . . . I know I did.' She
looked at me suddenly. 'I even dreamed of
being an actress when I was younger. My
friends and I would put on all these plays,'
she smiled at the memory. 'And we'd
charge the adults two pence to see it.
We had such fun acting for our friends and
families. And I loved it, actually. But I
knew . . . well it was just a bit of makebelieve.
And we never ever thought about
television.'

'Yeah, but TV hadn't been invented then
. . . well, I know it had,' I added hastily, seeing
Mum's face. 'But it wasn't the big thing
it is now. Times have changed.'

'For the worse,' grunted Dad. 'And how
dare you let us think Miss Lytton had told
that lady to visit us tonight.'

'Yeah,' I said, 'I'm sorry about that tiny
deception, but it was in a very good cause.'

Dad grunted again.

'No, really it was. Now look, just hear
me out, please.' I looked around and saw
I actually had my parents' attention, so I
plunged on.

'You see, a very important thing has just
happened here. Tonight, Dad and Mum,
our lives have been touched by the world
of television. And we were told that we
would make a great programme. I want
you both now to pause in your cocoadrinking
to appreciate the enormity of
that. Someone wants us to appear on the
telly. Well, you'd be mad to refuse. It would
be like hurling money into a bin: crazy. So
will you please ring Sue now – I've got her
number right here – and say on reflection,
you've reconsidered her wonderful offer—'

'No!' shouted Mum and Dad so loudly
they made the windows vibrate.

Desperate now, I tried a different
approach. 'Dad, you're always moaning – I
mean, talking – about money and how it
doesn't go anywhere these days.'

Dad raised two weary eyebrows at me.

'Don't look like that. You're going to like
this. You see, I've got a business offer for
you. If you agree to go on the telly with me
on this one show, I shan't ask for any
Christmas presents this year. No, you
haven't misheard: you needn't give me a
single one. And you haven't got to give me
any birthday presents next February
either: a whole year without having the
expense of a single present for me. A oncein-
a-lifetime offer, I'd say. So I'd advise
you to say "yes" now to avoid future
disappointment.'