The Time of Your Life (12 page)

Cat: Jodie Foster's Attitude

Cat felt like a despicable slug as she hung up the phone.
She knew she'd bulldozed Holly into something she
really didn't want to do. But she was fighting for her
theatrical life here.
There was no other option.

The assistant called the next name. The
Tallulah-wannabe next to Cat exchanged excited
fingers-crossed gestures with her mother, and teetered
through the door in her sequinned dress and silver
heels, swinging her hips and working her feather boa
for all she was worth.

Cat was now at the front of the queue, standing
at the theatre door. 'Nearly there,' Mum whispered.
'Puff your hair up, dear. And put my shoes on,' she
said, bending to take off her stilettos. 'You've got to
have heels!'

'I don't want heels, Mum.'

'Of course you do. And stop sulking! You're
Tallulah,
a nightclub singer, remember. Now, when you get
in there,
flirt
with the casting panel,
enchant
them . . .'

Something about the concept of
flirting
with Seth
Martinez was the final straw. Suddenly Cat had an
out-of-body experience. She was looking down at
herself, waiting around for hours for the chance to
enchant
a casting director into giving her a
ludicrous
role that she didn't even
want,
while her chance of
playing one of the very finest Shakespearean characters
was hanging by a thread.

What had she been thinking? No one was going to
be fooled by Holly-in-a-cloak for a second!

She would lose her part in the play. And worst of
all, her hare-brained plan was going to land Holly
and Belle in a whole swamp of trouble too.

There
was
another option!

'I'm
not doing this!'
Cat shouted, flinging Mum's
shoes onto the floor.
'It's all wrong!'

'Cat, please, calm down,' her mum said
soothingly.

'I don't want to play flipping stupid, flirting
Tallulah—'

'But Tallulah's a lovely part—'

'Well, if you think it's so great,
you
go in and
audition.
I'm out of here!'
Cat stormed.

'You could be the next Jodie Foster!'

'I don't want to be Jodie Foster. I want to be . . .
Catrin Wickham!'

'And right now "Catrin Wickham" is going to stay here
and stop making an exhibition of herself!'
Mum bellowed,
drawing herself up to her full four-foot-three and
stamping her foot.

'No, Catrin Wickham is going back to the Garrick.
Which is where she belongs – playing a
real
part in a
proper
play!'

'Well, I bet Jodie Foster never gave
her
mother
this kind of attitude!' Mum wailed, looking to the
other mothers in the foyer for support. There was an
embarrassed silence.

'Goodbye,' Cat said firmly, marching towards the
exit.

'We'll see Catrin Wickham now, please . .
.' called the
assistant.

Oh, no you won't!
Cat thought as she ran into the
street and hailed a taxi.

As the taxi pulled away, she noticed that Mum's car
had been clamped. She felt sorry about that, but at least
it meant her mum wouldn't be able to give chase
through the streets of London.

'To the Garrick School of the Performing Arts,
please,' Cat panted.
'It's an emergency!'

Holly: Some Kind of Medieval Bag Lady

In the Redgrave Holly was preparing for the biggest
acting challenge of her life. Playing Lady Macbeth
would be bad enough, but playing Catrin Wickham
playing Lady Macbeth was in super-advanced
don't-try-this-at-home
territory.

And Holly was the first to admit that classical acting
was not her strong point. She could dance, of course.
And she could sing. She could even dance and sing at
the same time. In fact, she would make a perfect Tallulah!

If only I could swap places with Cat right now!
she
thought.

'Arms up,' Belle ordered. 'Quickly!'

Belle had taken charge of Operation Fake Lady
Macbeth and had somehow managed to convince
herself they could actually make it work. Holly wasn't
so sure, but she did as she was told and slid into the
long red dress. It was several sizes too large and pooled
around her feet.

'We need to cover every inch of your skin,' Belle
muttered as she rummaged among the costumes on the
rail. 'A long tunic . . . and gloves. Put these on.'

Obediently Holly piled on the layers.

'And you need to be taller,' Belle said, running back
from her dressing room with the strappy sandals she'd
removed when she put on her Messenger-costume
boots. 'Wear these – they've got high heels.'

Holly's hands were trembling so much she could
hardly buckle the straps. The sandals were far too big
and she had to do them up extra tight to keep them on.

'And this . . . ' Belle handed her a thick black cloak,
complete with hood.

Holly pulled the hood up around her face. She was
so nervous she thought she might be sick. 'Remind me
of my lines again?'

'First you read that long letter from Macbeth that
starts,
They met me in the day of success . . . blah blah,'
Belle
said, 'and then I come in and give you the message that
King Duncan's on his way. Here, you need more
up
front
to look like Cat. Use these!'

'No, not my Lady Macbeth lines, my
cover story!'
Holly took the wadded tissues Belle was offering
and stuffed them into her sports bra for an instant
boob-boost. 'About why I'm dressed like' – she looked
at herself in the mirror – 'some kind of medieval
bag lady . . .'

'You've had an allergic reaction to a new skin-cream.
The school nurse told you to keep your skin covered
at all times,' Belle recited.

Holly groaned. This was the best story they could
come up with at such short notice.

'Repeat it back to me in Cat's voice,' Belle
commanded.

'I've had an allergic skin reaction . . .' Holly said.
Her Irish accent was beyond bad. It was awful.

Belle cringed. 'OK, and remember, it's affected your
sinuses as well. You can't talk properly.'

'Lady M to the stage this instant!'
the tannoy
announcer said, sounding extremely bad-tempered.

'OK, this is it,' Belle stated.
'No turning back!'

Holly swallowed.
She was petrified!
'I can't even walk
in these shoes,' she muttered as she tottered to the door.
'It's worse than being
en pointe . . .
Belle – are you
laughing at me?'

'Sorry!' Belle snorted. 'I know this isn't funny, but
you look . . .'

'Idiotic? Clinically insane? I
had
noticed!' Holly
growled, opening the door – and bumping into Jack,
who was hurrying along the passageway, dressed in his
Messenger costume.

'Ooops, sorry,' he said. 'Er, who is that under
there anyway?'

'It's Cat,' Holly said, pulling the hood down over
her face.

'Hey, Cat!' Jack laughed. 'Why all the extra clothes?'

'I've had an allergic skin reaction . . .' Holly
mumbled in an accent somewhere between Darth
Vader and an Irish leprechaun.

'Come on,
Cat!'
Belle snapped, taking Holly by the
arm. 'You're needed on stage. We haven't got time to
stand around nattering to random people!'

Even through her panic and her black hood, Holly
couldn't help noticing Jack's hurt look as Belle referred
to him as a
random person.

Standing in the wings, Holly felt like a prisoner in the
Tower of London about to be led out to the chopping
block. Scene Four was ending and the stage hands were
preparing to roll on the castle interior scenery for
Scene Five, which opened with a twenty-nine-line
monologue by Lady Macbeth.

Holly's internal organs were turning to jelly – not
the nice kind but the horrible transparent kind
that you find inside a pork pie – as she stepped out
onto the stage.

She caught sight of Mr Sharpe in the front row, his
glasses glinting menacingly.
He's going to go
ballistic
when
he finds out,
she thought.

'And cue Lady M,' said Duncan Gillespie, tapping
her on the shoulder.

This is it!
Holly could just about make out a scroll
lying on a table centre stage and teetered towards it,
keeping the cloak pulled tightly around her.
That must
be the letter I'm meant to read.
She could hardly see
anything from under the hood, but she could hear
people grumbling suspiciously all around the theatre.
Here goes nothing!
She picked up the scroll, took a deep
breath and opened her mouth to speak. But her tongue
felt as if it had been coated in sand.

There was a silence.

'
They met me in the day of success . .
.' the prompter
read out.

'They—' Holly rasped.

THUD! CRASH! ARGGGHHH!

Some kind of commotion was coming from
the wings.

'Oh my God, Jack's dead!'
Bianca screamed.

'He's not dead! Looks like he's passed out,' Duncan
Gillespie replied calmly.

Holly stood there, fixed to the spot, as Mr Sharpe
vaulted onto stage and ran through to the wings, yelling,
'Call the nurse!' Then
she crept offstage and tried to peep
through the mass of people crouched around Jack, who
had now been placed in the recovery position.

'Where am I?' he murmured. 'The lights . . . the
heat . . . dizzy . . . spinning . . .'

By the time the school nurse, Miss Patel, ran in a few
moments later, he was sitting up, sipping from a glass of
water. She shooed Duncan Gillespie and Mr Sharpe
away. 'Give the boy some space. It's far too hot under
these stage lights! I'm surprised you've not had more
students passing out.'

'I'm so sorry,' Jack groaned. 'I'll be fine in a moment.
The show must go on . . . '

Mr Sharpe clapped his hands. 'OK, people, we'll take
a thirty-minute break to cool down!'

Holly couldn't believe her luck! Surely Cat – the
real Lady Macbeth – would be back in half an hour.

'Cursed! We're cursed!'

Holly spun round to see Duncan standing behind
her, holding his head in his hands.

'Someone must have said the
M-word
in the theatre
today. That's why we've had all these problems – first
the sound system and now people collapsing.'

'That's just a ridiculous superstition!' Mr Sharpe said.
'It doesn't matter how many times we say
Macb
—'

'No-o-o, don't say it!'
Duncan wailed. 'I've got to walk
three times round the theatre to undo the curse,' he
called as he ran towards the door.

Holly blushed.
It was me,
she realized.
I said the
M-word in the dressing room.
She felt terrible. It was
her
fault that Jack had fainted. And even worse, she thought
guiltily, she'd been busy congratulating herself on her
brilliant luck when the poor boy could be
really ill.
She
looked around and found Belle huddled at the back of
the wings, her face pale and anxious. 'It was me.
I
said
the M-word,' Belle mumbled miserably. 'Jack Thorne is
a two-timing creep, but I don't want anything
bad
to
happen to him . . .'

Holly smiled weakly. 'Snap!' she said.

'You boys! Take Jack out for some fresh air,' Miss
Patel shouted.

Holly shrank back into the shadows with Belle as
Jack staggered towards the stage door, supported by
Nick and Nathan. As he passed, he turned and looked
at Holly, and – to her utter amazement – he winked.

A slow, deliberate wink.
That's when Holly realized:
The curse of the M-word
didn't have anything to do with it!
Jack had seen right
through the cloak
and
the allergic reaction. He'd
known she wasn't Cat all along, and he'd faked the
'faint' to cause a delay.

Jack Stinking-slimebeast Thorne had just saved
the day!

Cat: Emotionally Unstable Psycho-chicks

Cat thrust some money at the taxi driver and
raced through the school, her heart pumping as
if it would burst. She
had
to get to the Redgrave
Theatre – even though she
dreaded
what she would
find when she got there. There was
no way
Holly
could have got through the opening speech
without someone noticing that she was . . . well, that
she was Holly.

Cat was expecting to find Mr Sharpe and Duncan
Gillespie waiting to frogmarch her to Mr Fortune's
office.

She was expecting to find Belle and Holly vowing
never to speak to her again.

She wouldn't even have been surprised to find a
police SWAT team waiting to haul her off to prison in
handcuffs.

The one thing Cat
wasn't
expecting as she peeped in
through the stage door was . . .
nothing. Where
was the
wailing and the yelling and the gnashing of teeth?
Where was Mayu, dancing a victory jig in her Lady
Macbeth costume?

All was quiet!

Luke Morgan, alias Macbeth, emerged from his
dressing room, sipping from a can of Coke. 'You been
out for some fresh air?' he called to Cat as he spotted
her coming through the door. 'Good idea – you look a
bit hot.'

Fresh air?
Cat wondered.
In the middle of a rehearsal?
She tiptoed along the corridor – past the Three
Witches buying packets of Monster Munch from the
vending machine – and pushed open the door of her
dressing room.

'Caaaaaaat!'
Holly screamed, leaping up to hug her –
although it was a hug that bordered on grievous bodily
harm, as she gripped Cat's shoulders and shook her.

'What took you so long?' Belle gasped, pulling Cat
further into the room. 'It's been a nightmare here . . .'

'I'm so sorry . . . I couldn't get away . . .' Cat
stammered. 'But what's happening?'

'The rehearsal got postponed by half an hour' –
Holly laughed – 'thanks to Jack Thorne and his
Fabulous Fainting Fit—'

'Holly thinks Jack fainted deliberately to help us,'
Belle interrupted, 'but I don't believe it!'

'Belle thinks it was just
coincidence
that he passed out
at the precise second I was about to start the speech
and make a total twit of myself . . .'

Cat felt as if she might faint herself. The raw panic
that had propelled her back to the Redgrave began to
seep away. Relief was kicking in. She sank down into a
chair. She had no idea what Belle and Holly were
talking about, but somehow
she'd got away with it –
even
if she
had
lost another of her nine lives.

Then she looked at Holly, still wearing the black
cloak with the hood pulled up, and couldn't help
laughing.

'I think it's time for Lady M to get an
extreme
make-over!'
Belle giggled, and they both helped Holly
out of her motley collection of ill-fitting garments.
Cat put on the red dress, black velvet cloak and ruby
necklace.

'So, how did you get on as Tallulah?' Holly asked,
looking like her usual self again in jeans and T-shirt.

Cat squinted into the mirror and applied her Lady
Macbeth black eyeliner. 'Er, I didn't. I had an attack of
artistic temperament and stormed out.' She laughed,
but was suddenly sideswiped by a major guilttrip.
Although Mum would be furious, Cat knew
she'd be worried about her too. She pulled out her
phone and sent a quick text to say she'd arrived
safely back at school – but couldn't
quite
bring herself
to add an apology. She
wasn't
sorry she'd left; she
knew that saving her part in
Macbeth
was the right
thing to do.

'I'm going to find Jack and thank him,' Holly was
saying. 'I
know
he helped us on purpose – even if Belle
thinks I'm imagining it!'

'I'll come with you,' Cat said, finishing her make-up.
There were a few minutes to spare before the rehearsal
re-started and she was dying to get to the bottom of
this weird fainting story.

'I think I'll hang on here,' Belle said. 'I can't face
Jack right now – even if he did help us out for
some reason.'

Cat and Holly found him sitting in the large dressing
room he shared with the other boys playing minor
parts in the play. Unfortunately Bianca was there too,
mopping his brow with a cold flannel, a pious Florence
Nightingale expression on her face.

Cat was about to leave, but Holly suddenly piped
up, 'Oh, Bianca, Mr Sharpe's looking for you. He
wants a word with all the Witches about their timing
or something.'

Wow, that was impressive,
Cat thought.
Holly
can
act
when she wants to!

Bianca sighed. 'I suppose I'd better go. They'll only
mess it up if I'm not there!' She blew a kiss to Jack and
flounced out.

'Thank you,' Holly said to Jack after Bianca had
gone, 'for the fainting thing.'

'No problem!' Jack said with a grin. 'I guessed
something had happened to Cat. No offence, Holly, but
you didn't look or sound
anything
like her. Or like Lady
M for that matter . . . So where were you, Cat?'

'Er, long story.' Cat laughed. 'I'll tell you when we've
got a couple of hours to spare!' She was trying her best
to dislike Jack on Belle's behalf, but he was, she realized,
very, very charming. And those dangerous hazel eyes
were gorgeous. What a shame he was such a sneaking
cheat-monster! It just went to show that you could
never tell with boys . . . 'Anyway, thanks again. You're
the
man of the moment,
Jack!' she added.

'I wish Belle thought so,' Jack sighed. 'I just don't get
it. One minute we were going on a date, the next she
can't even bear to look at me.'

Cat couldn't believe the
nerve
of the boy. What did
he expect?
'Hel-lo – Earth calling!'
she snorted. 'Do you
think it might just be something to do with the
luurvve-thing
you've got going with Bianca? Most girls
find two-timing a bit of a turn-off, you know!'

'The what-thing?' Jack spluttered. 'I don't have
any
kind of thing going with Bianca!'

'Oh, so Belle just
imagined
that cosy little snog-scene,
did she?' Cat fumed.

'What
snog-scene?'
Jack demanded, looking utterly
baffled.

'You know, in the practice room?' Holly prompted.
'Last Wednesday?'

Jack frowned in thought and then clapped his hand
to his forehead. 'Oh,
that!'
he exclaimed, eyes widening
as the truth dawned.

'Hah! Now it all comes back to him!' Cat scoffed.
What a weasel this boy is!

'It wasn't a
snog-scene!'
Jack protested indignantly.
'Bianca asked me to meet her there. Her little dog,
Foo-Foo, had just died and she was in bits about it. I
was just letting her cry on my shoulder, that's all. She's
been really helpful – showing me the ropes and stuff
since I got here . . .'

Cat gulped. She turned to see Holly's reaction to
this revelation and almost laughed out loud. Holly was
as wide-eyed as a baby owl, her mouth agape in a
perfect O of astonishment. She caught Cat's eye and
they both grinned at each other. Jack was obviously
telling the truth. Maybe he wasn't such a slimebeast
after all!

'What did—?' Jack started to ask, but he was interrupted
by Nathan rushing into the dressing room.

'Oh, there you are, Cat!' he cried. 'There's a rumour
flying around that you've got some hideous skin
disease. Mayu thinks it's her lucky day!'

'Sorry to disappoint Mayu, but it's all better now.'
Cat grinned. 'It was just one of those stress-related
things, you know.'

'Stress-related? You can say that again!' Holly
muttered.

'Come on, guys,' Nathan said anxiously. 'Rehearsal's
starting again. Mr Sharpe's going to hit the roof if
anything else goes wrong.'

Cat hurried off to the wings, where Belle was
already waiting. She was
bursting
to tell her the great
news, but it would have to wait. There were too many
people around. And anyway, right now she was Lady
Macbeth again – and she had a murder to organize.

Later that evening the three friends gathered in Cat
and Belle's room. Cat's ear was feeling bruised from a
ten-minute phone-lecture from her mum about her
disappointing behaviour –
which had apparently been
ungrateful, rude, disrespectful, stubborn, hot-headed and
childish . . .
Cat had tried to explain, but Mum
wouldn't let her get a word in.

It had been a long, complicated sort of day, and
now they were flopped on the beds and beanbags like
a collection of rag dolls. 'So, what's this
big news
you two have been hinting at all through supper?'
Belle asked.

'Well . . . when we spoke to Jack at the rehearsal—'
Holly began.

'Turns out he
wasn't
kissing Bianca when you saw
them together in the practice room!' Cat butted in, too
impatient for Holly's feature-length version. 'He was
just
comforting
her because her dog had died.'

'What? Are you sure?' Belle gasped.

'One million per cent,' Holly confirmed.

'He wasn't . . . she didn't . . . how could
. . . ?' Belle was
so surprised her words jolted out in fragments.

Holly and Cat nodded.

For a moment Belle's face was illuminated by a huge
smile of relief, but then she groaned and threw herself
back on her bed.

'What's wrong?' Cat asked. 'Get yourself over to his
room right now and tell him he
can
take you to the
Tower of London after all!'

'I can't,' Belle mumbled from under the cushion she
was holding over her face. 'I feel like such a
dope!'

'It's obvious when you think about it. I bet Bianca
set the whole thing up so Belle would see them and get
the wrong idea,' Holly said. 'I've never even heard her
mention
a dog before!'

'And what kind of a name is Foo-Foo, anyway?' Cat
snorted.

'I've really blown it, haven't I?' Belle sniffed. 'Jack
won't want to know me now that I've freaked out over
nothing.
He'll think I'm some kind of emotionally
unstable psycho-chick!'

'Hey, he's friends with Bianca,' Cat joked. 'I think
he
likes
emotionally unstable psycho-chicks!'

Belle whimpered and pulled the duvet over her
head. 'I need to sleep on this,' she sighed.

Cat suddenly felt extraordinarily tired herself. She
was lying on her bed and it was very, very comfortable.
'Thanks again for saving me today, both of you. I owe
you,' she said drowsily.

Holly grinned. 'Yeah, you do. Big time!'

But Cat hardly heard her.

She was drifting off to sleep . . .