by Jo Cotterill
Mari lay back and closed her eyes. ‘This is the life,’ she said contentedly.
Fliss lay back too and smiled. ‘It’s pretty good, isn’t it?’
‘When the weather’s like this, I almost feel sorry we spend so much time in rehearsals indoors,’ said Mari. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love acting. And this play is going to be awesome. But it takes up a lot of lazing-around time.’
Fliss laughed. ‘You seem to be fitting in as much as possible.’
‘I’d do more of nothing if I could,’ said Mari drily. ‘Though my mum’s pleased I’m in the play because it gets me out of the house.’
‘I like having something to work on,’ mused Fliss. ‘I like having something to think about; get excited about.’
Mari rolled over onto one arm and looked at Fliss. ‘Are we talking about the play or about Tom?’
Fliss felt that strange pain that always shot through her when she heard his name, but she kept her expression neutral. ‘I don’t know what you mean. He’s still going out with Samantha.’ She tried to sound as though she didn’t care. ‘It’s got nothing to do with me.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Mari snorted. ‘You can’t fool me.’
‘No, really.’ Fliss rolled onto her side so she could face Mari. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said. When he asked me out and I said no. You said maybe it was because my subconscious was trying to tell me we weren’t meant to be together.’
‘You don’t want to listen to me!’ said Mari in alarm. ‘I was just trying to make you feel better!’
‘And you did,’ said Fliss, smiling. ‘I’m OK with it. There’s no point wasting my time thinking about him. And look at it this way . . .’ She settled herself more comfortably on one arm. ‘If he goes for girls like Samantha, then he wouldn’t suit me anyway. We are so totally different.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Mari, ‘you’re nice and she’s a—’
‘Model,’ said Fliss firmly. ‘She’s tall, I’m short.’
‘Petite.’
‘She’s blonde and I’m brunette. She’s glamorous and I’m not.’ Fliss shook her head. ‘We couldn’t be more different. So if there’s something about Samantha he really likes – then he wouldn’t like me.’
Mari was staring at her. ‘You’ve got this all worked out, haven’t you? Well, have you thought about the text thing?’
Fliss looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know when he got that text from her in rehearsal? Did you see him text her back?’ asked Mari. ‘Have you ever seen him text or ring her?’
‘No, but that doesn’t mean—’
‘What it does mean,’ interrupted Mari, ‘is that she’s doing all the running. She’s got her claws into Tom and she’s hanging onto him. I bet he’s not even really that interested.’
‘You said he looked pretty interested when you saw them snogging,’ contradicted Fliss.
‘That was ages ago,’ said Mari.
‘But they’re still going out, Mari. You can’t get away from that.’ Fliss sighed. ‘I know you’re trying to be helpful, but really, it would be easier if we didn’t talk about him.’ Mari hesitated.‘Please,’ said Fliss.
Mari’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘Of course. Let’s talk about something else instead. How about the likelihood of Victoria’s costume being all black again?’
‘Sssh!’ Fliss looked up. ‘Here she comes!’
Victoria looked mutinous. ‘Typical,’ she was muttering. ‘Just typical.’
‘You OK?’ asked Mari innocently.
‘Black!’ said Victoria furiously. ‘Black top, black skirt, black tights, black shoes. Honestly! You’d have thought they could spare me some kind of tunic. But no! And I have to get all the stuff myself. I don’t own a black skirt!’
Fliss and Mari caught each other’s eye and burst out giggling.
‘What’s so funny?’ demanded Victoria.
‘Mari just said she bet your costume would be all black again,’ said Fliss, trying to stop laughing.
‘Well that’s hilarious,’ said Victoria sarcastically. ‘I’m so pleased you find it so amusing.’
‘Sorry,’ said Fliss, giving Mari a nudge. ‘I know you wanted something nice this time.’
‘It’s only because I had all blacks last time,’ said Victoria. ‘That’s the trouble with being the narrator, or the chorus, or somebody who isn’t a real character. They think you don’t need a costume.’ She sat down with a thump. ‘I’ve seen yours,’ she added to Fliss. Her face looked wistful. ‘It’s so pretty. I wish I had something like that.’
‘Does Mrs Carstairs want me yet?’ asked Mari.
Victoria nodded. ‘She’s running a bit late. She said would you both go in together so she can do you at the same time.’
Fliss gathered up her bag. ‘We’d better go,’ she told Mari. Now that both Sarah and Victoria had mentioned her costume, she felt excited about seeing it for herself.
‘Really sorry,’ said Mari to Victoria, but she spoiled the sincerity by snorting with laughter.
‘Yes, ha ha,’ said Victoria. ‘I just hope your costume is even worse.’
Fliss and Mari hurried indoors. Fliss felt some relief at getting in out of the hot sun, but that relief evaporated when they tramped down to the basement. The temperature rose with every step down, and when she opened the door to the costume store they were hit by a wave of heat.
The room was stuffed full to bursting with costumes of every colour and material possible. Rails of costumes on hangers took up most of the space, whilst pairs of Victorian boots mingled with ballet pumps and plimsolls on the floor. Perched on top of the rails and in the cupboards lining the walls were top hats, feather boas, bonnets, lace fans, gloves, fake-fur stoles, alongside all sorts of unidentifiable objects. ‘Whoa,’ said Mari. ‘There’s twice as much stuff as the last time I was in here.’
Fliss felt a tingle of excitement. It might have been shabby and cramped, but she felt as though this room was where the magic of performance began.
‘No windows in here,’ called a voice. Mrs Carstairs was on her knees underneath a clothing rail, retrieving a dress that had fallen on the floor. ‘Sorry it’s so hot.’
Mari wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s not just the heat . . .’
Fliss knew what she meant. There was a strong smell of – what? Sweat? Dust? Feet? It wasn’t pleasant, at any rate. But Mrs Carstairs was crawling out from the rail and Fliss remembered what Sarah had said. ‘Don’t mention the smell,’ she whispered to Mari.
Mrs Carstairs stood up and brushed the greying hair out of her eyes. She was a plump woman, with a permanently harassed look. ‘I’m sorry, we’re running a bit behind. Fliss, I’ll just pull out your three costumes . . .’ She clattered some hangers together.
‘Three?’ asked Fliss in some surprise.
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Carstairs. ‘You can’t wear the same dress all the way through. Unfortunately for me. You’ve got a simple dress for most of your scenes . . .’ She lifted out something long and silky, made of dark red fabric. ‘You die in this one too,’ she added matter-of-factly. ‘Then you’ve got a nightdress . . .’ This one was more like a tent of white cotton. ‘Not very authentic, I’m afraid. We couldn’t get quite the right thing. If you make it with the real stuff, it doesn’t last. Anyway. You can try them on in a minute. The one I really want to check is along here . . .’ She rustled along the rack. ‘This is the one we borrowed from the BBC.’ She lifted it out almost reverently. ‘And you must take special care of it. They’re all dry-clean only.’
‘Oh, Fliss,’ said Mari in a whisper. ‘It’s beautiful.’
Fliss was speechless. The dress was a deep midnight blue. The skirts were full and made of velvet. The top part of the dress was a satiny fabric, with tiny pearls embroidered all over it in a diamond pattern. There were little puffed sleeves too, made of the same satin fabric.
‘Come on then,’ said Mrs Carstairs practically, ‘let’s get you into it.’
; Quickly, Fliss took off her shorts and slipped into the dress. The back was open right to the waist. ‘How does it do up?’
‘It’s a laced corset,’ said Mrs Carstairs. She held up two ends of a piece of string. ‘It takes some practice to do, but I’m expecting to be in the dressing room with you girls during the performance, so I should be able to do it up for you.’ She began lacing the string through the little holes and pulling them tight.
‘Oof!’ Fliss gasped. ‘Is it meant to be that tight?’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Carstairs firmly. ‘It can’t jiggle around. Besides, it was the fashion. And it’ll help you get into character. Juliet would have been taught how to stand properly. How to hold herself.’
‘She wouldn’t need to hold herself at all in this dress,’ said Fliss, finding it harder and harder to breathe. ‘It holds you up, not the other way around.’
‘There,’ said Mrs Carstairs, pulling the final loop tight and tying the strings at the back. ‘Let’s have a look at you.’
‘She looks gorgeous,’ said Mari enthusiastically.
Mrs Carstairs nodded critically. ‘Yes, it’s a good fit.’
Fliss wasn’t sure she agreed with that. The dress felt far too tight for her liking, but then Mrs Carstairs pointed at a full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Fliss felt a thrill pass through her. She looked – well – like a princess. Her petite frame was enhanced by the corset, which pulled in her waist and gave her more shape. And the dark blue richness of the dress set off her dark hair and eyes perfectly. Fliss ran her fingers gently over her skirt, marvelling at its softness. Suddenly the tightness of the corset didn’t matter any more.
‘Good,’ said Mrs Carstairs, though her voice had lost its sharp edge and there was a slight mistiness to her eyes as she looked at Fliss. ‘That’s a relief. Nothing to alter there.’ She glanced down. ‘Even the length is perfect.’ She took a breath, and the harassed look was back in her face. ‘Take it off then.’
Fliss felt rather disappointed to be wriggling out of the dress, but she consoled herself with the thought that she’d be able to wear it in rehearsals soon. Her other two outfits fitted with room to spare, but Mrs Carstairs thought she could get away without altering them. ‘It’s good to have a bit of extra give here and there. Speaking of which . . .’ She turned to Mari. ‘Let me dig out your costume, Mari.’
Fliss had the nightdress over her head when she heard Mari gulp, so it wasn’t until she had taken the costume off that she saw what had caused Mari’s reaction.
‘This is the Nurse’s costume,’ said Mrs Carstairs. She was holding up something that could only be described as a tent. It was a shapeless mass of brown and white fabric that didn’t even seem to have recognizable sleeves. ‘Arms up,’ said Mrs Carstairs to Mari, who hadn’t even taken off her strappy top and shorts. The voluminous material settled down over Mari, making her look like a small round cake with a head sticking out the top. She looked absolutely horrified.
Fliss wanted to laugh but she sensed Mari wouldn’t respond well to this at all, so she bit her lip as hard as she could. ‘Oh. My. God,’ Mari mouthed when Mrs Carstairs’s back was turned. ‘I look like a Christmas pudding.’
‘And here’s the headscarf,’ said Mrs Carstairs, producing a large white square which she tied around Mari’s head like a nun’s wimple.
‘You are kidding,’ said Mari in a strangled voice.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Mrs Carstairs, absorbed in her task. ‘This is how the Nurse is traditionally seen, Mari. Your costume is from the BBC too, you know. We were lucky to get it.’
Mari didn’t look as though she agreed. ‘I’m drowning in it,’ she said.
Mrs Carstairs stood back and looked her up and down. ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Yes. You are rather.’ Mari looked relieved, but her face dropped when Mrs Carstairs said, ‘We’ll just have to find you some padding. Hang on a minute.’ She opened a cupboard door and a whole box of vests and underwear toppled out. ‘Oops. I do wish we had more room . . . Now, where did I put . . .? Ah!’ She turned round. ‘Here it is.’
There was a stunned silence. Then Mari whispered, ‘That? You want me to wear . . . that?’
The laughter that had been bubbling in Fliss overflowed. She let out a gigantic snort and then collapsed into hysterical giggles.
‘It’s a perfectly practical solution,’ said Mrs Carstairs, holding the enormous padded bra and looking a little annoyed. ‘You’re behaving like children. Fliss, if you’ve finished, you can get dressed and go.’
Fliss, almost crying with laughter, hastily pulled on her shorts. It would probably be best if she left, since Mari looked as though she was about to explode with anger. As she closed the door behind her, she heard Mrs Carstairs say to Mari, ‘Right, let me show you how to put it on . . .’
‘I hate you,’ said Mari to Fliss ten minutes later when she had rejoined the others on the lawn. ‘You have three really gorgeous dresses and what do I have? A brown tent that makes me look like a giant dog poo!’
‘How’s the bra?’ asked Victoria with a straight face, before her lip wobbled and she started to laugh.
‘Oh, very funny.’ Mari glared. ‘Your black outfit doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?’
‘I can’t wait to see you in it,’ said Victoria.
‘Yeah, yeah, you and the rest of the cast,’ grumbled Mari. ‘It makes me look like some dumpy old woman. Sean came in just as I was finishing my fitting and he thought I was Mrs Carstairs for a minute.’
‘He didn’t!’ giggled Fliss. ‘What happened?’
‘Started saying did she have anything that wouldn’t make his legs look too skinny and that he didn’t want lace because it was girly.’
Victoria was nearly hysterical with laughter. ‘What did you say?’ she gasped.
‘Told him all the boys were wearing tights and that lace ruffs were compulsory for the time period,’ said Mari, a half-smile on her lips. ‘Then he realized I wasn’t Mrs Carstairs at all.’
‘Did he look embarrassed?’ asked Fliss. ‘I wouldn’t think so. Sean’s not the type.’
‘Actually, he did look a bit red,’ said Mari. ‘Specially when he saw my enormous – ahem – you know. Padded bra.’ She rolled her eyes.
Victoria giggled again. ‘He didn’t ask to feel it?’
‘Ew no!’ said Mari. Then she added, ‘But I did offer to let him borrow it. The bra, I mean. In case he was going to any fancy dress parties soon. He said he’d think about it.’
‘I think Sean fancies you,’ said Fliss unexpectedly. The other two looked up, startled. ‘No, really. He’s normally kind of loud and silly, but he goes all quiet if he has to talk to you, Mari. Hadn’t you noticed?’
‘No,’ said Mari, snorting in disbelief. ‘You’re making it up.’
Victoria frowned. ‘She’s not, you know. I hadn’t really thought about it, but she’s right. He does get sort of quiet and respectful if you say something. It’s weird, since you’d think he’d get louder if he wanted you to notice him.’
Mari was still looking sceptical. ‘Sean? Fancy me?’
‘He’s quite nice,’ said Fliss. ‘Underneath all that show-off act. He was really sweet to me in Match Girl when we had to do that duet.’
‘You’d make a good couple,’ said Victoria to Mari. ‘I think he’s just your type.’
Mari went pink. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t fancy me. You two are just being evil.’
‘See what it’s like to have people matchmaking you all the time?’ said Fliss maliciously.
‘Well, there’s an easy way to find out,’ said Mari decisively. ‘I’ll just ask him.’
Victoria’s mouth dropped open so wide she nearly fell over. ‘You’ll what?’
‘I’ll ask him.’ Mari shrugged. ‘Then I’ll know, won’t I?’
‘But you can’t do that!’ said Fliss, staring.
‘Why not?’
‘Because – but – aren’t you—’ Fliss spluttered. ‘Wouldn’t you be embarrassed?
’
‘Why should I?’ Mari looked at her. ‘He’s the one who fancies me, you said.’
‘Yes, but . . .’ Fliss trailed off.
‘She’s bluffing,’ said Victoria suddenly. ‘She wouldn’t really do it.’
Mari raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, wouldn’t I?’
‘Hang on, hang on,’ interrupted Fliss. ‘Aren’t we missing the point here?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, do you fancy him, Mari? I mean, if he says he does fancy you, what are you going to do about it? Do you like him?’
Mari seemed temporarily stumped. ‘I don’t know. He’s all right, I suppose. A bit tall for me.’
‘You could stand on a box to kiss him,’ suggested Victoria.
‘Oh thank you, that’s very helpful,’ said Mari sarcastically.
Fliss clapped her hands. ‘This is fab. Go on, Mari, ask him if he fancies you.’
‘I’m going to.’
‘And if he says yes, then you can ask him out!’
‘Oooh!’ said Victoria, her eyes shining. ‘Mari’s got a boyfriend, Mari’s got a boyfriend!’
‘What if he says no?’ asked Mari, waggling her finger at Victoria. ‘You haven’t thought of that one, have you?’
‘But he likes you,’ said Fliss. ‘I’m sure.’
‘Yes, but, Miss Matchmaking Felicity, even if he does, he might not actually admit it, might he? I mean mightn’t he? Or something.’
‘She’s got a point,’ said Victoria. ‘Boys never like admitting they fancy someone.’
‘Then Mari will just have to wear her padded bra all the time until he does fancy her,’ said Fliss solemnly.
There was a pause, and all three of them burst out laughing. ‘Well, I’ll tell you what, Fliss,’ said Mari, between giggles. ‘If you want to get Tom’s attention, I’ll let you borrow it. That’s one thing Samantha definitely doesn’t have – a forty double D chest!’
Chapter 11
meant for each other
FLISS SHIVERED SLIGHTLY in her red dress. It might have been the height of summer, but there was a chilly breeze today.