The Perfect Fit

by Mary Jayne Baker

  ‘Thanks to you bloody getting me up.’ He sighed. ‘All right.’

  ‘Get your script ready.’

  I was so excited I didn’t even get dressed. Just jumped straight in the car in my ladybird pyjamas and burned it over to Marc’s flat.

  I beamed at him when he answered the door, topless in just a pair of lounge pants.

  ‘Nice,’ he said, taking in my PJs.

  ‘Thanks.’ I bounced past him into the flat.

  ‘Come in the bedroom and tell me this brilliant idea then.’

  I followed him into his room and jumped on the bed. Marc sat cross-legged opposite.

  ‘Right. You ready for this?’ I said.

  ‘If it’ll get me back to sleep faster, yes.’

  ‘Ok. So here’s what we do.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Cinderella.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We change pantos to Cinderella. The Hyperion can hardly complain, when we’ve gone out of our way to accommodate them. Plus I checked on my phone and no theatres in the area are doing that one.’

  ‘But we talked about this. Writing a whole new script, getting everyone to learn new lines, starting again with the props – it’d be practically impossible.’

  ‘That’s why this is such a great idea.’ I leaned forward eagerly. ‘Because it wouldn’t be a whole new script, Marc! What’s Jack and the Beanstalk about? Hero trapped in poverty, looking for a better life. And what’s Cinderella about? Heroine trapped in poverty, looking for a better life. Instead of a comedy sidekick brother she’s got a comedy sidekick mate, Buttons. Instead of a bullying mum in drag she’s got a couple of stepsisters. With a few tweaks we can use nearly all the existing material, plus most of the props. Everyone’s roles switch to the nearest equivalent, then we just need to write a couple of new scenes.’

  He looked thoughtful. ‘So I’d be Buttons?’

  ‘Yeah, but you can use nearly all Sleepy Steve’s material.’

  ‘Hmm. We’d be a dame short though. There’re two ugly sisters. And we had enough trouble getting the one we’ve got.’

  ‘Let’s not worry about that for now,’ I said. ‘If we really can’t find anyone, we can always pass it off as a budgeting joke. Pogley are doing Snow White and the One Dwarf this year. And he’s six-three.’

  ‘Be better if we can get someone. The sisters work best as a double act.’

  ‘Well, we can try.’

  ‘So Maisie would be – what, the prince?’

  ‘Guess so.’ I brightened. ‘And that fixes another problem, doesn’t it? The prince gets less stage time than Jack. People might not notice how awful she is.’

  ‘And you’d have more stage time. Assuming you’re Cinders.’

  ‘S’pose I would.’

  ‘’Fess up, Becks. Was this whole thing a stunt to build up your part?’

  I laughed. ‘Busted.’

  He passed me his script from the bedside table. ‘So talk me through it. How would we adapt the scenes to fit the new story?’

  I flicked through, looking for a good example. ‘Ok, so the Tomorrow scene, where Jill comforts Jack about being poor and they do a duet.’

  ‘I don’t see how that could that be adapted for Cinders and the prince.’

  ‘She could do it with Buttons though. And that stops Maisie having to sing.’

  ‘But it’s a love scene.’

  ‘It can still be a sort-of love scene. There is that whole subplot of Buttons being in love with Cinders. We just make it so that instead of them kissing at the end, he tries to kiss her and she lets him down gently.’

  Marcus laughed. ‘Poor old Buttons. You know, I used to get really upset about that panto when I was a kid. I could never get why Cinders didn’t go for Buttons rather than the prince.’ He started counting on his fingers. ‘They’re best mates, he makes her laugh, he obviously cares about her. And she rejects the poor bugger in favour of some rich, handsome knobhead she met for five minutes at a party.’

  ‘Yeah. She is a bit of a golddigger, isn’t she?’

  ‘She wants out of her miserable life,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Understandable. Still, seems a bit hard on Buttons.’

  I smiled. ‘You put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?’

  ‘I was an emotionally sensitive child.’

  I gave his knee a pat. ‘Well, if it makes you feel better, I’d pick Buttons over Prince Charming every time.’

  ‘Sweet of you.’

  ‘So you think it’s a plan?’

  ‘It’ll be a lot of work, Becks. We’ll have to go back to weekly scripting sessions.’

  We’d cut back to meeting once a fortnight now rehearsals were advanced, just to see if there was anything that could be fine-tuned.

  ‘Fine by me.’

  He smiled. ‘All right. But I’m letting you break it to the cast.’

  Chapter 23

  Switching pantos at this stage was no small thing. As well as a new version of the script, there was the dame problem. We needed another ugly sister, and as Marc had pointed out, finding the one we’d got had been hard enough. Apparently the menfolk of Egglethwaite were not big on frocks.

  Not only that, we needed another principal boy. Cinderella had two – Prince Charming and his right-hand man, Dandini. But every girl who’d tried out for Jack had been nearly as hopeless as Maisie. We couldn’t have two abysmal principals.

  Finally, there was the baddie issue. In Jack and the Beanstalk the giant was only ever a foot and a voice, a cameo for Harper Brady. But Harper couldn’t do the Wicked Stepmother part. We needed a lady who could cackle and scheme, who’d be booed and hissed with a good grace.

  I broke the news to everyone next day. There was the predictable grumbling about the months we’d wasted on a panto that’d never be performed, but they grudgingly accepted it was the best plan we had. I suggested a two-week hiatus while me and Marc turned our Jack script, pumpkin-like, into a Cinders script, then we’d get back on the pantomime horse.

  The first rehearsal after the switch, there was drama as soon as I walked through the door.

  ‘Ok, Becky, what the hell happened to all my lines?’ Maisie demanded, waving a copy of the new script. ‘I’ve got half as many, and you’ve got loads!’

  ‘That’s just the story. Cinderella’s the focus. Sorry, Mais.’

  ‘Then I want to be Cinderella. I’m the star.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Tell her, Harper.’

  Harper looked embarrassed. ‘Thing is, babe, this is all kind of my fault,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I don’t think you should be too high-handed.’

  ‘High-handed?’ Maisie said, her voice getting shriller. ‘I’m never high-handed. Everyone loves me because I’m so bloody… low-handed!’ She glared at me. ‘You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Couldn’t bear me stealing the limelight.’

  ‘I didn’t, honestly! I hate limelight.’

  ‘Right, then give me your part. I’ll learn all the new lines, I don’t mind.’

  I exchanged a look with Harper. Cinders had even more lines than Jack, not to mention a load of song numbers, and even Harper, much as he kept trying to convince himself his wife had hidden talents, seemed to recognise there was no way she could carry the part.

  ‘You don’t want to be Cinderella,’ he said soothingly. ‘She’s a drudge. If you’re the prince you get to –’

  ‘– show my legs, I know. That’s all I am to you people, isn’t it? A nice pair of legs.’

  Harper glanced at her chest. ‘No. Not just that.’

  Yolanda stormed into the hall, brandishing her own copy of the script. ‘What’s all this, Rebecca? Where are all my lines?’

  I groaned. ‘Oh God, another one.’

  ‘What’s going on, Becks?’ Deano said, strolling over with Marcus.

  ‘Maisie and Yo-yo have got issue
s with their parts.’

  ‘What’s wrong with them?’ Marcus asked,

  ‘I’ve got hardly any lines!’ the two women said, practically in unison.

  Deano shrugged. ‘Sorry, ladies, that’s just the story. The Fairy Godmother only has one big scene, getting Cinders ready for the ball. And the prince –’

  ‘– has got about five lines in the whole thing!’ Maisie snapped.

  ‘Rubbish. It’s one of the biggest parts.’

  ‘Not as big as Jack. Or Cinders.’ She folded her arms. ‘If I can’t play her, I won’t do it.’

  ‘Don’t be hasty, Mais,’ Harper whispered. ‘You need this.’

  ‘Look, you talked me into this. Well now I’m having my say, and I bloody well want a decent part or I’m out.’

  Yolanda shot her a sideways glance, a smidgeon of admiration thrown in with the dislike. ‘Er, yes. Me too,’ she said, folding her arms. The pair of them faced off against us side by side.

  Marcus glanced at me, and I nodded.

  ‘Actually, Yo-yo, we were hoping you might play another part,’ Marc said with a winning smile. ‘One with loads of lines.’

  ‘But I’m the fairy. I’m always the fairy.’

  ‘And you can still be the fairy,’ I said. ‘But there’s another part we need to cast. It doesn’t share scenes with the Fairy Godmother so you can do both.’

  She looked suspicious. ‘What part?’

  I tried not to flinch. ‘We, er… we were hoping you’d be the stepmother.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You want me to play the witch?’

  Maisie snorted.

  ‘She’s not a witch, Yo-yo,’ Deano said soothingly. ‘And you’d be great. Just channel that inner bitch we all know and love.’

  ‘I will not. I’m the fairy. I’m not the witch.’ She jerked her head towards Maisie. ‘Let her be the witch, since she’s so desperate for lines.’

  ‘Maisie can’t be the witch.’

  ‘Why?’ Yolanda demanded. ‘Because she’s young and I’m – less young?’

  Deano took her by the elbow. ‘Don’t get upset, love. Here, let’s talk in private.’

  He guided her out of earshot, over by the stage. We saw them talking, Deano at his most charming, smiling and squeezing her arm; Yolanda’s black expression gradually lifting until she was smiling too. Finally she gave him a hug and disappeared backstage.

  ‘Sorted,’ Deano said when he came back. ‘She’ll do both parts.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ I said. ‘What did you say to her?’

  He shrugged. ‘I told her she’s the best actress we’ve got and it was too important to let anyone else play that part. That she’d get more stage time than in any panto since she was a principal boy. That we’d get her a sexy black dress for her wicked stepmother costume. Oh, and I reminded her about all the times I did that thing she likes.’

  Marcus shook his head. ‘TMI, Deano.’

  He grinned. ‘All right. Let’s just say she owes me a few favours.’

  ‘And what about me?’ Maisie demanded. ‘Because that thing I like is more bloody lines.’

  ‘Well, and that other thing,’ Harper said.

  ‘Ok, and that other thing. But you can’t buy me off with that.’

  I shot a panicked glance at Marcus. We hadn’t planned for this.

  ‘What if… ok, what if we wrote the prince another scene?’ I said.

  She narrowed one eye. ‘What scene?’

  ‘Maybe you could be, um…’

  ‘Having dancing lessons,’ Harper said brightly. ‘Ready for the ball.’

  I shot him a grateful look.

  ‘Hmm.’ Maisie didn’t look convinced.

  ‘It’d be just like Strictly,’ Harper said. ‘You’ve always wanted to go on that.’

  ‘Who would I dance with?’

  ‘Well, me. I could play the dance instructor. I need a new part.’

  ‘We were hoping you’d play Baron Hardup though, Cinders’ dad,’ Marcus said.

  ‘He could give the lessons, couldn’t he?’ Harper was warming to his theme now. ‘It’s a great idea, Mais! You get a bigger part but you still get to wear the sexy costumes, and you can show off your best skill. Maybe the Strictly people’ll be watching our show.’ He looked at me and Marcus. ‘Mais is a great dancer.’

  ‘Are you?’ I asked her.

  She shrugged. ‘I’ve had some training. I was in this girl band for a bit. Slut Drop.’

  ‘You were in a band?’ I wasn’t sure how that could’ve happened, given she was practically tone-deaf. On the other hand, with a name like Slut Drop it didn’t sound like it had selected its members for their musical talent.

  ‘No need to sound so surprised, honey.’ She drew herself up proudly. ‘We made the top 100 in Ukraine, you know. I swear, we were this close to getting picked for Eurovision.’

  ‘Show them,’ Harper said.

  ‘All right. This was our signature move.’

  She performed a stripperesque dance move, dropping to the floor and writhing sensuously.

  ‘That’s… er, great, Mais,’ Marcus said. ‘But you couldn’t do that with kids in the audience. You look like you’re trying to pick up a penny between your buttocks.’

  She giggled. ‘Funnily enough, that’s what they used to tell us to think of when we were practising.’

  ‘He’s right, that’s not for pre-watershed,’ I said. ‘Have you got anything else?’

  ‘Oh, I can do loads of stuff. I can even waltz. Tango, salsa…’ She did a few ballroom steps for us. ‘When the band split I made it part of my exercise routine.’

  ‘Great,’ I said, relieved we’d found something she was good at. ‘So we’ll write a dancing scene, then everyone’s happy.’

  ‘Hmm. I’d still rather play Cinderella.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘You better not have done this to get the best part, Becky.’

  ‘I honestly didn’t.’

  Still, there was a distinctly frosty atmosphere as we started rehearsing. Yolanda had been appeased by Deano and that thing he used to do, but Maisie was glaring daggers at me the whole time.

  Deano sighed, for the umpteenth time, as we made a total hash of the new ballroom scene.

  ‘Maisie, you’ve just seen your true love for the first time. Can you not glare at her like she’s spilt your pint?’

  ‘I wasn’t!’

  ‘Yes you were. Look, we decided all this. You’re the prince, Becky’s Cinders, I’m in charge, deal with it. Now try again.’

  ‘Fine.’ She nudged Lana, who was filling in as Dandini until we had chance to recruit someone. ‘Who is that mysterious stranger, Dandini?’

  ‘I couldn’t say, sire,’ Lana said, reading from her script. ‘She must be a young lady of quality to carry herself with such grace.’

  ‘She’s a great beauty.’ The way Maisie put the emphasis on ‘great’ made the line sound more than a little sarcastic, and she accompanied it with a look that suggested she found me as beautiful as a damp slug.

  Deano groaned. ‘Ok, cut.’ He walked over to Maisie and grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Look, love. I don’t know where the chip on your shoulder’s coming from and I don’t care. Get rid of it.’ He nodded to me. ‘When you’re on my stage, that lass is the love of your bloody life and I don’t expect you to forget it. Get it sorted for the next rehearsal.’

  ‘Yes, Chef,’ Maisie muttered.

  ‘All right.’ He patted her arm as she made her way backstage. ‘Just keep practising.’

  When Maisie had gone, he turned to Lana. ‘You were pretty good. Don’t suppose you fancy the part, do you?’

  ‘Me? I’m just supply Dandini.’

  ‘He’s right, you were better than anyone at auditions. Even Tilly Stanbury,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you? We can rehearse together, it
’ll be a laugh.’

  ‘Dunno, guys. I’d get nervous in front of an audience.’

  I snorted. ‘Who, you?’

  ‘Hey. I’m a delicate little blossom.’

  ‘Course you are.’

  ‘Come on, treacle,’ Deano said. ‘You spent years as a medieval tavern wench, didn’t you?’

  ‘It might be nice to have a Donati in the cast,’ I said. ‘I mean, with your dad being such a favourite back in the day. Sort of like Egglethwaite Players: The Next Generation.’

  ‘Well… for Dad’s sake then,’ she said. ‘But I reserve the right to drop out if I’m awful.’

  ‘That’s ok,’ Deano said. ‘If you’re awful, I’ll kick you out.’

  ‘Ta, mate. I bet you would as well.’

  ‘Ok, great. Another problem solved,’ I said. ‘So all we need now is a dame. Again.’

  Chapter 24

  The chalkboard had been up outside the Fox for a fortnight. Teenage Kicks, LIVE!!! 7.30pm, Saturday 8th September. Don’t miss this exciting new band!!!! I couldn’t walk past it without wincing.

  Now the night had finally arrived. The first, and quite possibly last, performance of my dad’s new band.

  ‘Who’s in the lineup?’ I asked Cameron as I walked to the pub with him, Tom and Cynthia.

  ‘Dad’s on lead vocals, there’s Mr Page on guitar, Billy on bass, and Brad from the butcher’s on keyboard. Oh, and I think they’ve got Dave Grohl on drums.’

  Lana and Stew were babysitting so the four of us could go to the gig. Cyn wanted the family to put on a united front, ready to lie through our teeth if necessary about how fantastic they were.

  Cole had offered to come too, but I’d begged him not to. Having his face hovering in my peripheral vision, filled with excruciating embarrassment, would make the whole thing ten times harder.

  ‘You never know,’ Tom said. ‘They might be good.’

  ‘What do you think?’ I asked Cynthia.

  ‘I think I love your father very much and if he says they’re going to be good, they’re going to be good.’

  ‘So it’s total denial for you then, is it?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  When we got to the pub, Dad was with Billy, getting the equipment set up. We bought drinks and went to join Yolanda, sitting up front near the speakers.