Sweet Hearts

by Jo Cotterill

  Thinking so much about her future career had almost pushed thoughts of Tom out of Fliss’s head, but when she saw him at the extra rehearsal, her stomach did that strange wibbly thing it always did. ‘It’s just the three of us,’ said Candy. She glanced at the two of them. ‘No Samantha today.’

  ‘What scene are we doing?’ asked Tom, script in hand.

  ‘We’re not,’ said Candy. ‘We’re doing improvisation.’

  Fliss’s stomach wibbled even more.

  Tom looked puzzled. ‘What for?’

  ‘I think the two of you need to get back to basics,’ said Candy. ‘When rehearsals started, there was a real chemistry between you onstage. But recently other things seem to have got in the way.’ Fliss glanced sideways at Tom, who caught her eye and then looked away quickly. ‘I think we need to recapture that feeling you had to start with,’ Candy went on. ‘So we’re going to do some improvisation without scripts. Just two people meeting and falling in love.’

  Oh no, thought Fliss. This was far too close to her real feelings!

  ‘I think we need to keep it in the Shakespearean setting,’ said Candy, ‘rather than making it too contemporary. So you’re still Romeo and Juliet, and you’re still meeting at a party, but this time I want you to make it up as you go along. You don’t have to stick to the style of the script or even what happens in the original scene. Just go with the flow.’

  Fliss felt panicked. ‘Just go straight into it?’

  Candy smiled at her. ‘You want to do some warm-ups first, Fliss?’

  ‘Uh . . .’ Fliss looked at Tom. ‘Well, I don’t know . . .’

  Tom caught her eye. ‘Maybe we should just go for it,’ he said. Then he grinned. ‘Besides, it’s meant to be awkward. We’ve never met. And it’s a party. I’m always awkward at parties.’

  Fliss smiled in relief, though she didn’t believe him for a minute. ‘Me too.’

  ‘Save it for the scene,’ said Candy. ‘Right. Off you go.’

  Fliss closed her eyes briefly. The room disappeared and re-formed itself. There was a band in the corner, playing something cheerful. Some people were dancing, but she was the daughter of the household and no one had asked her yet. She opened her eyes, and Juliet carefully sat down on a chair, arranging her skirts around her.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said a voice.

  Juliet looked up to see a tall boy with dark hair and bewitching eyes. She felt her face redden. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is this seat taken?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Great,’ said the boy. ‘Then you won’t mind if I take it.’ He picked it up and turned away.

  Juliet’s mouth fell open. The boy looked over his shoulder at her and laughed. ‘Sorry. Just kidding.’ He sat down next to her. ‘I like your mask.’

  Juliet touched her face; of course, she was wearing a little mask decorated with peacock feathers that just covered the upper part of her face. ‘Thank you. I made it myself.’

  ‘Are you as pretty as that underneath?’ teased the boy.

  Juliet felt embarrassed. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sure you’re even prettier,’ said the boy.

  ‘Well, now I can’t possibly take off the mask,’ said Juliet, ‘in case I disappoint you.’

  The boy laughed, a genuine sound of merriment. Juliet felt her own mouth curve up in response. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  Behind her mask, Juliet felt bold. ‘Can’t you guess?’

  ‘Hmm.’ The boy stared at her in mock solemnity. ‘Something ravishing, I expect. Columbine? Rosamund?’

  Juliet giggled. ‘Nothing so fancy.’

  ‘Nothing fancy,’ said the boy. ‘Right. Peggy? Susan? Kate?’

  Juliet laughed again. This boy was so amusing! And so good-looking too! ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That last one. That sounds about right.’

  ‘Kate?’ said the boy. ‘Are you sure?’

  Juliet considered for a moment. ‘It’ll do for now.’

  ‘Methinks you are jesting,’ said the boy, but his blue eyes were sparkling. ‘Fair enough. Kate it is. See if you can guess my name.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly.’

  ‘Oh, go on. I just made a fool of myself over your name. Guess at least one.’

  Juliet bit her lip for a moment, and then said, ‘Percival.’

  ‘Ha! Wrong.’

  ‘Rupert.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Paris.’

  ‘I should hope not. That’s a ludicrous name.’

  ‘My cousin is called Paris,’ said Juliet, trying to sound offended.

  ‘Is he ludicrous?’

  ‘No, actually,’ said Juliet. ‘He’s very nice.’

  ‘I bet he fancies you,’ said the boy.

  ‘No he doesn’t,’ said Juliet. ‘He’s a friend.’

  ‘Boys and girls can’t be friends,’ said the boy.

  ‘Of course they can,’ said Juliet.

  ‘Keep guessing.’

  Juliet sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Is it something really silly?’

  The boy nodded. ‘You couldn’t get sillier.’

  ‘Oh – I don’t know – Humperdink,’ said Juliet.

  The boy stared for a moment, and then nodded. ‘That’s it! How did you guess?’

  There was a short pause, and then they both fell about laughing. ‘You’re not serious,’ said Juliet through her giggles.

  ‘No,’ said the boy, ‘but then neither are you, right, Kate?’ His laughter suddenly stopped and he reached out a hand to touch her mask. ‘Show me. Please. Take it off.’

  Juliet felt the heat rise to her face again. ‘Oh, I don’t think—’ she started to say, but the boy put his hand over hers unexpectedly.

  ‘Please,’ he said simply.

  Juliet reached up to her mask and slid the ribbon over the back of her head. It slipped easily over her silky hair. Then she lifted off the mask.

  ‘But you’re beautiful,’ said the boy softly. ‘Why are you hiding under a mask?’

  ‘It’s a masked ball, remember?’ she replied.

  The boy shook his head. ‘You should never wear a mask. You’re far too pretty.’ He reached out a hand and gently touched her cheek. ‘So soft. And if your cousin Paris isn’t in love with you then he’s as blind as a bat.’

  Juliet tried to speak, but no words came. She was mesmerized by his eyes, drawing her in. The music around her faded, and there was only him – the boy. They stared at each other for what felt like hours, and Juliet felt herself begin to lean towards him. But he stayed where he was, and after a moment she stopped. Maybe he didn’t want to kiss her after all?

  ‘Lovely,’ came Candy’s voice, breaking the spell.

  Fliss blinked. The room dissolved around her into the bare walls of the studio.

  ‘Some really good work going on there,’ said Candy. ‘How did it feel?’

  Like he loved me, thought Fliss, but even the idea made her blush.

  ‘It felt good,’ said Tom. ‘Like it was just us and no one else.’

  Fliss was startled. ‘That’s what I felt too.’

  He smiled at her. ‘Your face completely changed too. It was like you suddenly came alive or something.’

  ‘Really?’ She felt embarrassed but pleased.

  ‘How did you feel about the way the scene ended?’ asked Candy.

  Fliss shifted position on her chair. ‘All right.’

  Tom flushed. ‘It was fine.’

  Candy looked from one to the other and then she smiled. ‘Really? It felt to me like you should have kissed.’

  Tom rubbed his hand through his hair. ‘Oh?’ he said casually.

  Fliss took a deep breath. ‘I thought that too.’

  ‘I saw you lean in,’ said Candy. ‘Tom, were you holding back for some reason? Remember you were being Romeo, not Tom. Romeo is impulsive, he takes the bull by the horns. Or Juliet, in this case.’

  Tom rubbed his head again. ‘Maybe I’m just not as good as Fliss.’

&n
bsp; Fliss turned to him, surprised. ‘But you are really good. I really believed you were Romeo.’

  ‘So did I,’ agreed Candy.

  Tom shrugged. ‘I don’t know then. It wasn’t that

  I . . .’ he faltered slightly. ‘It wasn’t that I didn’t want to . . .’ His gaze swept up and caught Fliss’s for a moment. She felt a sudden thump in her chest, and her breath stopped in her throat.

  There was a slight beeping noise from the corner of the room.

  ‘Sorry, that’s my phone,’ said Tom.

  Candy frowned. ‘You know they’re meant to be switched off during rehearsals.’

  ‘I know. Sorry. I’ll do it now.’ Tom went over to his jacket and pulled out his mobile. He read the message, raised his eyebrows slightly and then switched off the phone.

  ‘Problem?’ asked Candy, watching him.

  ‘No,’ said Tom. ‘Just Sam. She wants me to meet her later.’

  Sam. Samantha. Fliss felt her breath sink out of her like a deflating balloon. It wouldn’t matter, she thought, if he believed I was the best and most beautiful actress in the world. He’s still going out with someone else. And it’s my own fault for saying no to him in the first place. You don’t get a second chance for that kind of thing.

  But then Fliss caught Candy’s eye, and she remembered what Candy had said. Off-stage, Tom might be going out with Samantha, but onstage she still had to play Juliet to his Romeo. It might just be acting, but maybe it was better to have that pretend love onstage than not at all.

  Even if he was being someone else when he kissed her. Wasn’t that better than not being kissed at all?

  Chapter 10

  it sounds so romantic

  ‘I CAN’T BELIEVE it’s so hot,’ said Mari, trying to rub sun cream into her back. ‘Vic, give me a hand, would you? I can’t reach the bit between my straps.’

  ‘Do you think it’s a good idea to put lotion on just before you go in for your costume fitting?’ asked Fliss. ‘What if you get your costume all greasy?’

  Mari stuck out her tongue. ‘It’s either that or move into the shade, Little Miss Sensible. Or burn and look like a tomato.’

  Fliss grinned. ‘Fair enough.’ The three girls were stretched out in the hot midday sun on the lawn outside the Arts Centre.

  ‘Typical that we try on costumes on the hottest day of the year,’ remarked Mari. ‘I’d much rather be lying out here – or preferably in your back garden, Vic – eating ice cream.’

  Victoria took the bottle from her and squirted some lotion into her hand. ‘We can do that later,’ she said. ‘When we’ve finished here.’

  Fliss glanced lazily over to the main entrance, where cast members were coming and going. ‘Sarah doesn’t look very pleased,’ she commented, as the girl playing Lady Capulet came out of the doors.

  ‘Hey, Sarah!’ called Mari. ‘What’s yours like?’

  Sarah, a tall dark girl with big hands and feet, wandered over, scowling. ‘Awful,’ she said. ‘Mrs Carstairs said they borrowed some costumes from the BBC or something. Candy’s got a friend in the wardrobe department there. And Mrs C got all over-excited about it; kept saying we were so lucky to have such authentic clothes.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘With such authentic smells. And it must be strong if I can smell it, because my nose is still stuffed up with hayfever.’ She sneezed.

  The girls laughed. ‘Ew,’ said Victoria. ‘That sounds disgusting.’

  ‘What’s it like to look at though?’ asked Fliss. ‘Does it look good?’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘It’s OK, I suppose. I was hoping for one of those tall hat things – you know, like in medieval times? But instead I’ve got something that looks like a blue doughnut to wear on my head.’ She looked round at the three girls. ‘None of you been in yet?’ They shook their heads. ‘Well, you’re in for a right treat. Just don’t say anything to Mrs Carstairs about the smell. She gets all defensive.’

  ‘Thanks for the tip,’ said Mari.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ said Sarah. ‘Ooh, Fliss – I think I saw your costume while I was in there. It looks really pretty.’

  ‘Really?’ said Fliss, pleased.

  Sarah nodded. ‘Looks like it’s got a tiny waist though. Wish I was as petite as you.’ She looked ruefully down at herself. ‘Being tall is no good if you look like your arms and legs don’t fit the rest of you.’ She brightened up. ‘Still, my costume is so long, you won’t be able to see most of me anyway. Bye!’

  Victoria finished rubbing cream into Mari’s back and snapped the cap onto the bottle. ‘Will one of you test me on my lines?’

  ‘You only have six,’ said Mari, rolling her eyes. ‘Do you still not know them?’

  ‘Eight, actually,’ said Victoria, ‘and of course I know them, but I’m not sure I know them know them, if you know what I mean.’

  Fliss laughed at Mari’s expression. ‘I know what you mean, Victoria. Give me the script. I’ll test you.’ She found the page and looked up expectantly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t you have the first line?’

  ‘Oh!’ Victoria looked startled. ‘Oh yes, that’s right.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Two households, both alike in dignity.’

  ‘You’ve got the very first line of the whole thing?’ interrupted Mari. ‘Good grief!’

  Victoria stopped, annoyed. ‘What do you mean, “Good grief”?’

  ‘Well,’ said Mari, hastily making her voice sound less sarcastic. ‘You said yourself that you’re not very confident saying the lines.’

  ‘I never said that,’ objected Victoria. ‘I said when I act it sounds like I’m saying lines. When Fliss acts it sounds like she just made them up. That’s what I said.’

  ‘So you’re OK about starting the whole entire play then?’ asked Mari.

  ‘Stop it,’ said Fliss. ‘You’ll make her nervous.’

  ‘I am fine about it, actually,’ said Victoria, ‘because Candy told me my voice was the strongest and she needed someone with good projection to start the play. And the Chorus isn’t really a proper part. It’s not a character, it’s a narrator. So it doesn’t matter if I’m not very good at acting. I just have to be good at speaking. Which I am.’ She stuck out her tongue.

  Mari grinned. ‘You certainly are.’

  ‘Oh, ha ha.’

  ‘Go on then,’ said Fliss.

  ‘Go on what?’

  ‘With your lines.’

  ‘Oh! Oh, right. Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we play our scene.’

  ‘Lay,’ interrupted Fliss.

  Victoria stopped. ‘Huh?’

  ‘Where we lay our scene.’

  ‘Is it? No, it can’t be. I’m sure it’s play our scene.’

  Fliss showed her the script. Victoria’s face fell. ‘Blast. I’ve been saying it wrong all this time. Why didn’t someone tell me?’

  ‘How many of the other eight lines have you learned wrong?’ asked Mari, amused.

  Victoria flushed. ‘None of them.’

  ‘How do you know?’ teased Mari. ‘Hadn’t we better check?’

  ‘I bet you don’t know all your lines,’ Victoria retorted hotly.

  ‘Do too,’ said Mari.

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘All right.’ Mari lay back, stared at the sky, and recited very fast: ‘Now by my maidenhead at twelve year old I bade her come. What lamb! What ladybird! – God forbid! – Where’s this girl? What, Juliet! Your mother. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth—’

  ‘Stop, stop!’ said Fliss, laughing. ‘You’re saying all your lines without waiting for your cues!’

  Mari waved a hand airily. ‘Oh, cues. I know those too.’ She took a breath. ‘How now? Who calls? Your mother. Madam, I am here. What is your will? This is the matter . . . and so on and so on.’

  ‘I’m sure Shakespeare didn’t write “and so on and so on”,’ said Fliss, grinning.

  Victoria was open-mouthed. ‘How do you do that? How do
you know everyone’s lines, not just your own?’

  Mari shrugged at the sky. ‘Dunno. It just happens. Photographic memory, I guess.’

  ‘I wish I could do that. Why don’t the lines just stay in my head too?’

  ‘Mari’s always been good at learning stuff off by heart,’ said Fliss. ‘Remember that assembly we had to do at the last minute? Everyone kept looking at Mari because she was the only one who could remember what was supposed to happen next.’

  ‘It’s a burden as well as a blessing,’ said Mari dramatically.

  ‘I don’t see how,’ said Victoria. ‘I’d give my right arm to be able to remember things that easily. I can’t even remember where I’ve left my front-door key half the time.’ Mari snorted. ‘No, it’s true!’ insisted Victoria. ‘Yesterday I went out for rehearsal and when I got back I couldn’t get into the house because I’d left the key on the kitchen table. I could even see the thing from the back door!’

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Fliss, amused.

  ‘Had to get Sonja up, didn’t I?’ said Victoria. ‘Honestly, I don’t know why she wanted to be an au pair. She spends most of the day sleeping, I think. And then she’s on the internet all night, talking to her friends in goodness-knows-where.’

  ‘Wish we had an au pair,’ said Mari enviously. ‘I have to do all the washing and cleaning at home.’

  ‘She doesn’t do it very well,’ said Victoria. ‘Mum’s always complaining about her.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be going for your fitting soon?’ asked Fliss suddenly.

  Victoria sat bolt upright. ‘Oh God! What’s the time?’

  ‘Quarter to.’

  Victoria leaped to her feet. ‘She’s going to kill me! I was meant to be in at half past! See you in a minute!’ She dashed into the building.