The Time of Your Life (14 page)

Holly: The Tragic Tale of Little Foo-Foo

By Monday lunch time, Holly was completely fed up
with Bianca Hayford.

Before, Bianca had merely been velcroed to Jack's
side; now she seemed to have applied the hot-glue gun
and bonded herself permanently in place.

She passed notes to Jack all through the science
lesson.

In art, Bianca smudged Madonna's teeth, and was
only brought back from the brink of emotional collapse
by sitting next to Jack and copying his Nelson Mandela.

In English, when Jack mentioned that his favourite
book was
Nineteen Eighty-Four,
Bianca told him that it
just happened to be
her
favourite too, and insisted they
should write their book review together.

Jack smiled and nodded in response to Bianca's
attention-seeking tactics, but he seemed preoccupied,
Holly thought, and he kept glancing uncertainly at Belle.

Holly could see that Belle was trying to
rise above it
– but it was clear from the deep frown lines between
her eyebrows that she was beginning to
sink beneath it.

At lunch, Cat grabbed a sandwich and headed off to
a
Macbeth
meeting and Belle disappeared to the music
library. Holly queued at the baked potato counter in
the dining room, mulling over the problem.
It was so
frustrating!
Holly was sure Jack and Belle were made for
each other, but it was starting to look as if they were
doomed
never
to get together. It wasn't Jack's fault – he
had
tried to talk to Belle several times, but she was so
embarrassed about the whole affair, she just mumbled
excuses and scuttled away whenever he came near. And
then, before he had a chance to try again, Bianca would
ambush him. Holly didn't blame Jack for being friendly
with Bianca either; she
was
the first person he'd met
at Superstar High, and he was probably being extra
kind to her right now because he thought she was
devastated by the death of her little dog.

But,
Holly thought,
surely Jack will feel differently if he
finds out that Bianca has never even
owned
a dog.

Holly wasn't
naturally
a suspicious person. But she
was convinced that little Foo-Foo was an entirely
mythical beast,
invented by Bianca to dupe Jack into The
Kiss and put an end to his romance with Belle.

Bianca didn't even
like
animals – she wouldn't let
poor Shreddie near her!

But, without
proof
that Bianca was lying, Holly
couldn't say anything to Jack. She had to just stand by
and watch Bianca dig her claws deeper into him, while
Belle missed out on her chance of the perfect date!

But as she scanned the dining room for a place to sit,
she spied Lettie Atkins at a table by herself and a Great
Idea flashed into Holly's mind. Lettie had been friends
with Bianca
for ever.
Surely she would know if Bianca
had a little canine companion.

Holly sat down next to Lettie. 'Does the name
Foo-Foo mean anything to you?' she asked, getting
straight to the point with a line she'd picked up from
an episode of
The Bill.

Lettie looked up with a bemused expression, but
before she could answer, Bianca, Jack and Mayu joined
them – and Bianca immediately started telling them all
about what she was planning to wear to the party after
Macbeth
on Saturday night, which totally put paid to
Holly's investigations.

The afternoon's singing class with Mr Garcia was
just as bad. Or rather, the class was fine, but Bianca
continued to cling to Jack's side – like an FBI
bodyguard prepared to leap out and take a bullet for
him at any moment. And as they left the class, Bianca
foiled Holly's second attempt to interrogate Lettie by
dragging her (and Jack, of course) off to the library on
some supposedly urgent book-returning errand.

Later, Holly was in her room, flicking through a new
dancewear catalogue and chatting with Gemma
about the thrilling prospect of the
Nutcracker Sweeties
production next term. They were both wearing their
pointe
shoes under thick socks; following Miss Morgan's
advice to wear them as slippers to soften the glue and
help shape them to their feet.

'I feel like a penguin in wellies in these!' Gemma
said as she hobbled across the room.

Holly giggled, and then jumped up as she heard the
door across the corridor banging shut. Lettie must be
setting off for her six-o'clock piano practice.

At last – a chance to speak to her alone!

But when Holly peeped out, Lettie was disappearing
down the corridor, hand-in-hand with Nick
Taggart.
'Piano practice' seems to be taking on a whole
new meaning these days,
she thought. She was about
to go and share this latest snippet of gossip with Cat
and Belle . . .

. . . but then she had a radical idea.

She would confront Bianca directly.

Before she could change her mind, Holly knocked
on Bianca's door and marched – or rather
waddled –
in.
Her stomach knotted with anxiety as she entered the
room she had once shared with Bianca.

'What do
you
want?' Bianca snapped, barely looking
up from writing a text message. 'Not your room any
more, in case you'd forgotten.'

OK, here goes,
Holly told herself. 'Bianca, your
dog . . . '

'Foo-Foo? What about him?'

'It's just that I didn't even know you
had
a dog . . .'

'Yeah, well,
newsflash
for you,' Bianca said sarcastically.
'I don't tell
you
all my personal secrets!'

'Er, a dog's not exactly a
personal secret,'
Holly pointed
out. 'How did Foo-Foo die?'

Bianca stared at her hands for a long moment, as if
mustering the strength to talk about it. Then she took
a deep breath. 'Well, if you must know,' she gulped, 'it
was c-c-can—' And with that her face crumpled and
she burst into tears, unable to finish the terrible word.

'Cancer?' Holly whispered.

Bianca nodded. 'The vet tried everything,' she
sniffed, 'but they couldn't save him, and Mum said it
was better for him not to suffer, and . . . and
. . . and . . .' Tears were flowing down her face now.

Holly felt dreadful for doubting her. Surely even
Bianca couldn't just produce tears like turning on a
tap – unless she happened to have a pile of chopped
onions stashed under her pillow. And
no one
would lie
about something as serious as cancer, would they?
Holly realized, with a terrible pang of guilt, that
Bianca must have been telling the truth about Foo-Foo
all along.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to
put her arm round Bianca's heaving shoulders, but
Bianca shrugged her away.

'I'm so sorry, I – I didn't mean to upset you . . .'
Holly stammered.

'Well, you've brought on one of my headaches,'
Bianca complained, kneading her temples.

'Would you like some water?' Holly offered. 'I could
ask Miss Candlemas for some paracetamol.'

'Are you trying to kill me now? You
know
I'm
allergic to paracetamol!'

'Sorry, I forgot,' Holly muttered, backing out of the
door. Bianca was allergic to so many things, it was hard
to keep track. But one thing Holly hadn't forgotten
from her time as Bianca's room-mate – it was not a
good idea to stick around when Bianca had a headache.

Holly fled straight to Cat and Belle's room and told
them what had just happened. 'So I was wrong,' she
said. 'Little Foo-Foo really
did
die!'

'I still don't buy it,' Cat insisted, folding her arms
resolutely.

Holly shook her head. 'If you'd seen her, you'd
believe it.'

'OK, I believe
you,'
Cat conceded. 'But it doesn't
change the fact that she made the most of it by
snuggling up to Jack, just where she knew Belle was
going to see them. If anything happened to my dog,
Duffy, I'd be on the next train home, not weeping in
the arms of the nearest gorgeous boy.'

'And you're sure it wasn't just another of Bianca's
acts?' Belle asked suspiciously.

'Sure!' Holly replied.

No one could be
that
good an actress . . .

Could they?

Cat: Cappuccino and the Meaning of Life

At last it was Saturday, the Big Day – the day of the
Macbeth
performance.

The final dress rehearsal had gone smoothly. No
one forgot their lines or missed their cue. The music and
sound-effects, scenery and costumes were perfect.

Duncan Gillespie hugged them all. 'The curse has
finally lifted!' He laughed. 'As long as no one says the
M-word again!'

Even Mr Sharpe was smiling as he gathered
everyone on stage – actors, stage crew, wardrobe and
props managers, lighting and sound engineers – for a
final team talk. 'If William Shakespeare were here
today . . .'

'He'd be a very smelly four-hundred-year-old
corpse,' Nick whispered. Cat suppressed a giggle: this
was
serious.

'He'd be
proud,'
Mr Sharpe continued, the light
on his glasses more a kindly twinkle than a blinding
flash today. 'Well done, everyone!'

'Indubitably,' Mr Grampian added. 'An auspicious
beginning to a momentous occasion . . .'

'And remember, the Shakespeare production is
one of the most important events in our entire
calendar,' Mr Sharpe reminded them. 'The reputation
of the Garrick is in
your
hands tonight . . .'

So,
Cat thought,
no pressure then!

After checking that her costumes were ready for
the evening's performance, she wandered across the
courtyard with Nathan. Distant shouts drifted over from
a football match on the sports field. Holly would be there
watching Ethan play. Belle had gone to help Serena print
out the
Macbeth
programmes. The sun was shining in a
pale blue winter sky, but Cat was uneasy. Of course she
was nervous about tonight, but it was more than that.
A strange sensation was gnawing at her stomach.

'Café Roma for lunch?' Nathan suggested.

Cat knew that the gnawing feeling was definitely
not hunger – she was far too nervous to eat – but a
coffee would be perfect . . .

'What's wrong?' Nathan asked, when they'd been
sitting at a corner table in the warm café for
several minutes. 'You've been staring into that
cappuccino as if it holds the key to the Meaning
of Life!'

'Oh, sorry, Nate,' Cat murmured. She'd finally
identified the gnawing feeling. 'I feel ashamed of
myself,' she said quietly.

Nathan's eyes widened behind his glasses.

'It's OK.' Cat smiled at his shocked expression. 'I've
not stolen the Crown Jewels or anything!'

'You've not been putting rude comments about
Mrs Salmon on RateMy Teachers dot com, have you?'
Nathan joked.

Cat grinned. 'Ooh! Don't put ideas into my head!'
Then she was solemn again. 'Thing is, I've really upset
my mum . . .'

Nate nodded, sipped his coffee and waited for her
to continue.

'We've hardly spoken to each other since I
stormed out of the
Bugsy Malone
audition,' Cat sighed.
'I texted her about the play tonight, and she hasn't
even replied. She must be so angry she doesn't want
to come. I
thought
I didn't care, but I do. Mum's
always been there to support me before – I just
wish
she could see how important it is to me to be a serious
actress . . .'

'Have you got your phone with you now?'
Nathan asked.

'Yeah, of course,' Cat said, 'but I checked a minute
ago. There's no message.'

'Phone your mother,' Nathan said. 'Just speak to
her, Cat.'

'But . . . I can't!' Cat moaned. 'I feel so
guilty –
and
we'd probably end up just yelling at each other
again . . .'

Nathan stirred his coffee. 'Don't leave it too late,' he
said quietly. 'My mother died in a car crash when I was
eight years old. There are many things I wish I'd
said . . .'

Cat swallowed her mouthful of coffee. The hot
liquid burned her throat. 'Oh, Nathan, I'm so sorry,' she
said, reaching out to touch his hand. 'I had no idea.'
No wonder he was so convincing when he played
the part of Macduff finding out that his family had
been killed –
he was drawing on his own experience.
Tears
were pricking at her eyes.

Nathan smiled bravely. 'It's OK. It was a long
time ago.'

Cat felt
terrible.
There she was, whingeing on about
some pathetic little quarrel with her mum, when
Nathan didn't even
have
a mother any more –
somehow it put everything into perspective. 'You're
right, Nate,' she said, suddenly making up her mind.
'I need to get over myself and make the call!' She took
her phone out of her pocket and dialled home. Her
sister, Fiona, answered.

'Is Mum there, Fi?' Cat asked.

'Yeah, she's just coming. She's been really miserable,'
Fiona whispered. 'Says you're pushing her out of your
life . . .'

Now Cat felt even worse!

'Yes?' Mum's voice sounded unusually stiff. 'Catrin?'

'Mum,' Cat said, swallowing hard, 'I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to push you away. I just . . . need to do some
things my own way.'

There was a silence. For an awful moment
Cat thought her mum had hung up. But then she
heard a little sniffle. 'I'm sorry too, dear. I know
I've been bossy – it's just I want
so much
for
you . . .'

'I know,' Cat gulped. 'So will you come and see me
in
Macbeth
tonight?'

'I was worried you didn't really
want
me to
come—'

'Of course I want you to come,' Cat replied.
'This is
huge
for me. There'll be agents and critics in
the audience and everything. I couldn't do it without
you
there!'

Mum's voice sounded a whole lot brighter as she
replied, 'Of course I'll be there, darling!'

Cat hung up and smiled at Nathan as they got up
from their table to leave. 'Thanks, Nate. I can't tell
you how much better I feel now!' She hugged him
warmly. 'You're a truly special friend, you know,' she
whispered.

Nathan grinned and wiped a tear from her eye. 'You
too,' he mumbled.

'Uh-oh!' Cat said as she turned to see Bianca and
Mayu standing in the doorway, mouths hanging open.
'I think we've just provided next week's school gossip!

'Hello, girls! Table for two free in the corner now!'
she chirped as she and Nathan squeezed past on their
way out.

For once Bianca and Mayu were speechless.

Cat threw back her head and laughed, feeling
the delicate winter sun warm her face. She was on top
of the world again. 'Race you back to school!' she
shouted over her shoulder to Nathan, setting off across
the square.

She leaped up the steps three at a time, neck and
neck with him. As they bolted into the entrance
hall, Cat spotted Holly and Belle sitting on the big
leather sofa.

'End-of-term reports,' Holly called, waving an
envelope. 'It's only a week until the Christmas holidays!'

Cat said goodbye to Nathan, took her report from
her pigeon hole and joined the other two on the sofa.
'Your report OK?' she asked Holly.

'Yeah, fine,' Holly replied. 'Miss Morgan's given me
some really nice comments.'

'And I bet Belle's is the usual Picture of Perfection?'

Belle looked down modestly, but Holly grinned. 'Of
course – A-stars all over the place!'

Cat opened her report quickly to get it over with.
'
A mixed bag,
I think you'd call it!' Her school subjects
included some Bs and Cs, with only one A, for English,
and a rather embarrassing D for science. But Mr
Grampian had written almost an entire page of praise
for her work in acting classes and
Macbeth.

And, in the end, as far as Cat was concerned, that
was all that mattered!

That, and the fact she had a show to do tonight.

She was more nervous than she'd ever been about
anything in her life.

But she couldn't wait!