by Anna Carey
THURSDAY
Show tomorrow! We had a dress rehearsal this evening with the band, and tomorrow all us musical people have the morning off, then we have one last run-through in the afternoon and a few hours off before going back for the actual show.
Vanessa is going to spend tomorrow morning getting a blow dry from some ridiculously posh salon in town.
‘I have to look my best,’ she says, even though she’s going to be wearing a hat for the entire show. She’s as mad as ever. She’s still convinced that the Irish Times are going to send a critic. She was going on about this today, so I tried to tell her that my mum has lots of friends who are journalists and they do not review school shows, but she doesn’t care.
‘You don’t understand, Rebecca,’ she said snootily. ‘I’ve sent all the arts writers invitations. I got them printed up specially.’
I didn’t bother telling her this wouldn’t make any difference. From the way she carries on you’d think we were going on stage in the Abbey, not appearing in the St Dominic’s school hall on a stage that usually doubles as the music room. I was going to write that she’ll get a terrible shock when she realises there isn’t, like, a giant press section but if the last few months have taught me anything it’s that nothing shocks or bothers Vanessa for long. She always lands on her feet. Even though she doesn’t deserve it. I’m just not going to tell her about Daisy coming. There’s no way she’ll believe a critic is coming just because she’s my godmother.
I didn’t see John properly after the rehearsal today because it’s his dad’s birthday so he had to rush off and get a bus to town for the birthday dinner. His parents thought it would be good for him to go out the night before the performance rather than sitting at home brooding about it, but he didn’t want to go at all. It’s in some posh restaurant, which he didn’t approve of.
‘I can’t believe I’m going to have to spend, like, two hours in that tacky hell hole, surrounded by fawning waiters,’ he said gloomily. ‘Restaurants like that are just temples to greed! And my parents keep acting like it’s such a great treat for me.’ He put on a silly voice. ‘“Oh John, it’ll be so relaxing for you on the night before the show!” They’re always fussing over me; it’s tormenting me.’
‘You could protest,’ I suggested. ‘Only eat bread and drink water. Or eat nothing! ‘
‘Well, I don’t know’ said John slowly. ‘I feel I can challenge the system more by ostentatiously eating as much as possible.’
I am not sure exactly what he means by this. I have a feeling he is just going to eat a lot. I have to admit that John’s parents don’t actually sound that bad. Much less embarrassing than mine. His only real problem seems to be that they’re too nice to him. Still, I suppose they don’t understand his artistic temperament.
Actually, I was glad I got to just amble down the road with Cass, messing about like in the olden days. John is very exciting, but all those intense conversations can be a bit exhausting, especially when I’m all worked up about the show tomorrow. Cass and I spent the walk doing impersonations of various teachers singing the songs from Mary Poppins. I think my version of Miss Kelly doing ‘Let’s Go Fly a Kite’ was pretty good, but Cass’s portrayal of Mrs Harrington singing ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’ was even better. She got the facial expressions just right. Anyway, I can’t remember when I laughed so much. It was quite nice to be all trivial again.
FRIDAY
I can’t believe what happened today. I am in a rage. I hate John Kowalski!
Well, maybe I don’t entirely hate him. But I am very, very angry with him. He is a stupid selfish baby and he’s wrecked the entire musical.
What happened is this. We met up as planned this morning and walked down to the café place for breakfast. He still didn’t hold my hand on the way, but to be honest, I don’t care now because I don’t want my hand held by a TRAITOR. Which he is.
Anyway, we got there and ordered our breakfasts and then he took a deep breath and said, ‘Rafferty, I have something to tell you.’
Of course, I immediately felt sick because I thought he was going to break up with me. Or tell me he had a secret other girlfriend. Oh God, maybe he was secretly having an affair with Vanessa. I mean, I know I’d been a bit annoyed with him, but I didn’t want him running off with someone else. But he didn’t do either of those things.
‘You know that short play? That got into the final? Well, there’s going to be an awards ceremony in Cork and they’ve asked me to go,’ he said.
I felt relief wash over me. He wasn’t breaking up with me! Or going out with Vanessa!
‘Wow, that’s brilliant,’ I said, in a very enthusiastic voice. Because I am a very good sort-of-girlfriend. Or I WAS.
‘Yeah,’ said John. ‘The thing is, there was a mix-up with the invitation and I should have been told about the ceremony when they told me I was on the shortlist. It turns out it’s on tonight.’
‘Oh,’ I said. Then it struck me what meant. ‘Oh, no, you’ll miss it! Oh, that’s awful. But if you win they’ll send up your trophy and whatever, won’t they?’
‘Well, they won’t have to,’ said John. ‘I mean, I’m going down to the ceremony. I’ve already bought my train ticket. My aunt and uncle live in Cork so I can stay with them. I can’t miss this!’ He kind of laughed, like he knew I would agree with him. But of course I didn’t. I just stared at him like a loon. I couldn’t believe what he was saying.
‘But … the musical,’ I spluttered. ‘You can’t miss the musical!’
But he just laughed. Laughed! Like it wasn’t a big deal!
‘Oh come on, Rafferty,’ he said. ‘It’s just a silly secondary school show. It’s kids’ stuff. It’s Mary Poppins, for God’s sake! You can’t seriously think I’d put that over a prestigious writing award ceremony, do you?’
‘Yes!’ I said. ‘I do! Because loads and loads of people have been slaving away at it for weeks and weeks! And if you drop out, it’ll be wrecked! You don’t have an understudy!’
‘Oh, they can get Sam to read my lines from a script,’ said John dismissively. ‘He can pick up the songs easily enough. We don’t have any scenes together. It’s not a big deal.’
I was so angry, I was nearly shaking.
‘It’s a huge deal!’ I cried. ‘Sam is far too nervous to do it properly! He’s so clumsy! He was covered in ink on Saturday! We’ve worked so hard on this, and now you’re going to wreck it! And at the last minute, too!’
‘God, Rafferty, I thought you’d understand,’ said John. He looked absolutely sullen. A tiny part of me thought how good-looking he was when he was all serious, but most of me was on fire with rage. I am sure I looked absolutely hideous because unlike John, who looks even more attractive when he is annoyed, I always go bright red in the face whenever I get angry. I will never have a moment like in a film where people are arguing and it’s all sexy. But I don’t care. You can’t bother about what you look like all the time.
‘What I do understand,’ I said, ‘is that you just put yourself first and you don’t care about how anyone else feels!’
And as I said it I realised it was true. Not just about the musical, but other things too. Like when he criticised my mum’s books to me. Or when he didn’t listen when I was talking about books I like. Or when he told me not to bother telling Cass and Alice when we were leaving. He has ALWAYS been a big selfish, cigarette-stinking baby and I just didn’t want to notice it. But I do now. It was like a lightbulb going on inside me.
‘Oh for God’s sake, Rafferty, don’t be so bloody childish,’ said John. He didn’t even sound that angry now. He sounded bored.
‘I’m not being childish!’ I hissed. ‘You’re the one who’s … shirking his responsibility! What about all the work all of us have put in? Cathy! Ms Byrne! Even Vanessa! We’ve been doing this for weeks and now you’re going to drop out because you’ve found something better to do!’
‘I can’t believe you’re having a bloody tantrum about this,’ said John. �
��I’m a writer. An artist. I’d do anything for my art. I thought you understood that. But you’re acting just like my parents. They gave me a big lecture this morning about this rubbish too. They were acting like doing this stupid show was more important than my literary career.’
‘Well, maybe they were right. Doing anything for your art shouldn’t mean letting everyone else down,’ I said. All of a sudden I knew I was going to burst into tears of rage so I got up and grabbed my coat and bag.
‘I’m going home,’ I said. ‘And I never want to see you again, you selfish smelly beast.’
And I marched out. I was in a sort of rage trance. It was like a red mist had descended over my eyes. I barely knew where I was going until I arrived at my front door a few minutes ago.
So basically, I have to go to school in an hour and do the last rehearsal even though the musical is wrecked. I don’t care if John is a great artist or not. Decent human beings don’t let other people down. They don’t basically wreck something loads of other people have worked hard on just so they can go off to Cork and MAYBE get a prize for some stupid play. I know his writing is important, but so is the musical! So are all of us! And now all our practising will go to waste because the best we can do for one of the lead parts is Sam shuffling around the stage with a script in his hand trying to sing ‘Let’s Go Fly a Kite’. The whole show will be a disaster. I mean, there’s just one rehearsal left, and it’s not like there’s anyone else who knows how to play Mr Banks properly.
Oh my God. I have an idea. An amazing idea. Maybe the musical is not wrecked after all.
I am going to ring Jane. I just hope she takes her phone to school and puts it on at morning break.
LATER
Jane is a heroine!
She has saved the show. Well, I hope she’s saved the show. I mean, she could, like, fall off the stage tonight and wreck everything, but she’s been doing this sort of thing for years so I think she’ll be okay. I rang her and THANK GOD she had her phone on during break even though no one’s meant to have their phone on at school, and I told her about evil stinky John.
‘I know it’s a while since you were Mr Banks,’ I said. ‘But is there any way you could step in? We’ve got one last rehearsal this afternoon, but I know you get a half-day on Fridays …’
‘Wow,’ said Jane. ‘It’s very short notice. But of course I’ll help. Imagine him leaving you all in the lurch at the last minute! What a fool.’
I told you she was a heroine (she is also right about John being a fool). I told her I’d meet her at my school gates at two for the run through.
Cass and Alice were very surprised to see me walk into the hall with Jane. But they were even more surprised when I told them about John being an evil selfish traitor. Even Alice, who never gets panicky, went a bit wobbly.
‘Are you sure you want to do it, Jane?’ she said.
‘Oh, totally sure,’ said Jane. ‘I mean, it’s not like I’m not used to performing with Vanessa. And Mr Banks is sort of Mary Poppins’s enemy for most of it, so that’ll be fun.’
I didn’t catch John’s eye when he turned up. In fairness to him he didn’t faff around. He went straight up to Cathy and Ms Byrne, who had just walked in, and a minute later I heard Cathy say, ‘Oh my God, John, I don’t believe this. It’s incredibly unprofessional!’
Ha! I have to admit it was great hearing a grown-up tell him that he wasn’t acting like a sophisticated great artist after all. Anyway, John looked a bit ashamed for a second, but then he sort of tossed his hair back and said, loud enough for us to hear, ‘I’m sorry, Cathy, but my writing will always come first.’ And then he stalked out of the room. I have to admit that he did look very moody and dramatic. But that is not enough for me now.
Anyway, everyone realised what was going on and the whole room went mental. Everyone was totally freaking out.
‘Sam, come here,’ said Ms Byrne in a very harassed way. ‘You’re going to have to do Mr Banks.’
‘But I don’t know half the words!’ said poor Sam, who had gone white with fear. ‘More than half!’
‘Well, you’ll just have to carry a script,’ said Ms Byrne. ‘Now then …’
‘Um, Ms Byrne?’ I said. Well, actually, I had to kind of shriek to be heard over the din because of everyone going a bit mad. ‘There’s someone else who can do it.’
‘Miss Rafferty, please don’t say you can do it because you can’t. At least Sam’s been taking part in the principals’ rehearsals.’
I was very annoyed by this, but because I have become so noble as a result of sticking to my rules I didn’t say anything about it. I just said, ‘No, here’s my friend Jane Park. She’s in a music and drama class and she played Mr Banks in her school musical last year.’
‘Hello!’ said Jane, and gave Ms Byrne a cheery wave.
Ms Byrne froze. So did most people in the hall. Things got very quiet.
‘Come here,’ she said. Jane went.
‘Do you really know all the lines?’ said Ms Byrne.
‘Well, I’m a bit rusty, but more or less,’ said Jane. ‘I’ll have a quick look over the script, but I know they’ll come back to me.’
‘Sing a few bars of, um, “Let’s Go Fly A Kite”,’ said Ms Byrne.
She did. Beautifully. And in a voice that was boomy and manly but not ridiculous (in the manner of me booming in chorus rehearsals). It just shows what a good performer she is because she has quite a high voice normally.
Ms Byrne breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘You’ll do. Thank you very much indeed.’
‘But what about the costume?’ said Jane.
Ms Byrne looked a bit worried. But before she could say anything a very grand voice rang out from the stage.
‘Do you really think I can’t alter that traitorous boy’s costume to fit this lovely young girl?’ cried Mrs Limond. I knew she was okay really. ‘Come here, child, and I’ll take your measurements. Eleanor, I urgently need your assistance!’
And Ellie immediately leapt out from the side of the stage, holding a tape measure and a pair of scissors. I suppose Mrs Limond using her as a slave has turned out to be quite useful.
Once Jane had been measured and Ellie and Mrs Limond had gone off to their scissors and sewing machines, we went through the show. Obviously Jane was a bit rusty when she came to the lines, but the more we went through them the better she got. And most of the cast were so relieved that the show was going ahead, I think they were better than ever. Even Karen didn’t annoy me too much.
The only problem was Vanessa. I think John’s walkout actually freaked her out. She realised that him being gone could damage the show which meant her own chance at stardom. She hesitated a few times and once she dropped her special Mary Poppins’s umbrella (it didn’t break, thank goodness. I think Cass would have hit her with it if it had; she’d spent ages working on it). But she wasn’t, like, a total disaster. Anyway, we’ve done our best. And in about two hours we’ll be up on that stage and the show will go on.
Despite John Kowalski. Everyone is so annoyed with him. You should have heard Cass and Alice.
‘He was never good enough for you, Bex!’ cried Alice.
‘He’s not good enough for … for … a toad,’ said Cass. ‘That came out wrong, Bex. I didn’t mean to compare you to a toad. But he’s a fool!’
A part of me thought, well, if you thought he was so bad you could have told me, but mostly I thought, well, fair enough. I wouldn’t really have listened to them if they had told me what they thought.
It’s funny, you’d think I’d be heartbroken about him being a selfish babyhead, but I’m not. It’s not like when Paperboy went or when I slowly realised he really wasn’t coming back. I don’t really know how I feel but I think it could be …
Relief?
Right, I’m off to the school now. Wish me luck …
SATURDAY
WE ARE A HIT!
I can’t believe it. We pulled it off.
&
nbsp; Jane was fantastic! You would never have guessed when she strode out on the stage last night that she had only had one rehearsal. She was a born star. And she had a magical effect on everyone else. It was like we all realised she was going to pull it off and so everyone was full of enthusiasm and did their very, very best. Cathy didn’t even have to do her scary evil-eye-glare at anyone. Alice and I sing-acted with all our might, but we made sure we didn’t go over the top. And, in fairness to Vanessa, she really pulled it out of the bag. I had my doubts yesterday, but she was really, really good. I actually believed she was lovely, clever Mary Poppins which just shows what a good actor she is. But the real surprise of the show was Sam. He’d seemed so nervous at rehearsals, but once he was on stage he was absolutely amazing − really funny and confident. The audience gave a huge round of applause after his big scene. There must have been something in the air! Or maybe he was always that good and I didn’t notice because I was gazing at John.
I think we all knew by the interval that it was going well. There was a real buzz in the room. And when we sang the last notes of the last song there was a huge, huge round of applause. Cathy and Ms Byrne were thrilled.
‘You did it, girls and boys!’ cried Cathy. ‘You took that audience on a journey into the heart of Mary Poppins and they loved it! Bravo! Bravo!’
‘You were great,’ said Ms Byrne. But she was smiling, for once. ‘Especially you, chorus. Excellent sing-acting.’ And she looked at me and Alice and winked!
Mrs Limond was marching around backstage, waving a cigarette in a long holder. No one dared tell her not to smoke indoors, even though there were so many flammable fabrics in our costumes that if she’d waved the cigarette the wrong way we’d have all gone up in flames.