by Jo Cotterill
‘You’ve got goosebumps,’ said Mari, who was standing next to her. ‘You all right?’
‘Just a bit cold,’ said Fliss, rubbing her arms. ‘I’m sure when I get started I’ll warm up. And this costume is thinner than it looks.’
‘I guess we had to do a run-through outside at some point,’ said Mari. ‘It’s good they let us try out the costumes too. And the final dress rehearsal is only six days away!’ She gulped.
Fliss nodded. ‘It was time we got on the set. I’m fed up of pretending to be standing on a balcony. It’s great to see the real thing.’ She looked around. ‘It’s weird to be doing a proper run-through outside with everyone though. I’d almost forgotten there were other people in the play, I’ve been so wrapped up in my scenes! I can’t wait to see the sword fights.’
‘Thank goodness Victoria didn’t get a sword after all,’ said Mari. ‘Have you seen them practising? Those swords are scary!’
The whole cast was gathered in the town park. The park was large, with a long sweeping lawn surrounded by beautifully arranged flowerbeds. There was a wooded area, a wooden bandstand in need of redecorating, and a boating lake. The Romeo and Juliet set had been built at one end of the lawn, with an imposing frontage and beautifully painted balcony. There were even billowing curtains in the windows. Before they had got into costume, Candy had shown everyone around the set. The balcony was accessed by a ladder behind the stage, and there were also two trapdoors in the raised wooden floor. Three hidden exits led through the flowerbeds to the wooded area, which hid two large tents that acted as dressing rooms – one for the girls and one for the boys. There was even a small gazebo that housed five musicians, who were to accompany the scene changes.
‘This is way more impressive than Match Girl,’ said Mari. ‘I mean, this is proper staging and everything.’ She took a step forward and then realized someone was standing on her costume. ‘Doug, get off my dress.’
A short boy with glasses grinned. ‘Sorry, Mrs Carstairs.’
Mari made an exasperated noise. ‘Will you all stop doing that! It’s not funny any more!’
Fliss hid a smile. Sean had told everyone about Mari’s amplified underclothing, and how he had mistaken her for the costume lady. Since then, several members of the cast had taken to calling Mari ‘Mrs Carstairs’, much to her annoyance.
Mari glared at Doug until he moved. Then she nodded towards the balcony. ‘You sure you’re going to be safe up there, Fliss?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Fliss. ‘I’ve been up there a couple of times now. Candy said I should try going up and down to make sure I was really comfortable with it. She showed me how to hold the ladder properly – at the sides, not on the rungs. It makes everything much easier, and I can hold my skirt up at the same time. It all feels very solid, and actually there’s a bit more space at the top than I was expecting. Though the balcony rail is quite low.’
‘Just don’t go headlong over the top,’ said Mari. ‘That would put a dampener on the whole thing.’ She brightened. ‘Though maybe Tom could catch you?’
Fliss waved a hand airily. ‘I am so over him,’ she declared. ‘He’s still going out with Samantha. It’s never going to happen for me. It’s fine.’ Maybe if I keep saying it, she thought, I’ll believe it too.
‘Yeah, right,’ muttered Mari. ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’
The music started up, and the cast behind the set fell silent. Fliss felt a familiar jolt of excitement. She knew it wasn’t the real thing – opening night was still a week away – but there was something about the magic of theatre that got to her every time. It was like a tiny thrill that ran up and down her back and made her goosebumps even worse. Mari mistook her arm-rubbing as another sign she was cold. ‘Here,’ she said, holding out her costume like a tent, ‘share this. There’s enough of it to go round.’
Fliss and Mari saw Victoria run onto the stage with the other narrators, and heard her begin the famous lines: ‘Two households, both alike in dignity . . .’
‘Ssh!’ said Samantha, glaring at them, even though they hadn’t been talking. Mari threw her a disgusted look. Samantha was dressed head-to-toe in black and was carrying a small radio so that she could talk to Candy from backstage. She also had a pencil-thin torch stuck in one back pocket and a hairbrush in the other. Her glossy blonde hair was neatly caught into a long plait. As the opening speech went on, she bit one of her nails and began to look bored.
Fliss’s first scene went well, though she was surprised how difficult it was to speak loudly. It was almost as though any sound she made just disappeared into the air. She was also rather distracted when a plane flew low overhead.
After their scene, Mari and Fliss made their way into the dressing tent. ‘I haven’t got long,’ said Fliss, pulling her red dress over her head. ‘I’m meant to be back in a minute for the party scene.’ Mrs Carstairs bustled over and started lacing her into the blue dress.
‘Did you hear that plane?’ said Mari. ‘I hope that doesn’t happen on the night.’
‘Day,’ said Mrs Carstairs. ‘Afternoon performance.’ She pulled the laces tight.
Mari rolled her eyes. Fliss didn’t try to explain how the performance was always referred to as ‘on the night’ even when it wasn’t night-time. She took an experimental breath and felt the corset press against her. ‘I was more worried about my voice,’ she admitted.
‘Your voice?’
‘Didn’t it sound really thin and reedy to you?’
Mari frowned. ‘No, I don’t think so. You sound the same to me. Bit quieter maybe.’
‘That’s the problem,’ said Fliss. ‘It’s almost like—’
Samantha came rustling through the bushes. ‘Fliss!’ she snapped. ‘You’re on!’
‘I am?’ Fliss gasped. Mrs Carstairs made a noise of annoyance and tied the laces in double-quick time. Fliss ran back to the stage, but Mercutio was still in the middle of his Queen Mab speech. She felt annoyed. Samantha had made her panic for no reason. It wasn’t even her cue yet!
There wasn’t any point heading back to the tent. She only had a minute or two before she had to be on stage. Fliss let her eyes wander over the back of the set. It really was a wonderfully put-together balcony. It must have taken hours to paint. Fliss wondered who Candy had persuaded to do it. Candy seemed to have friends in every theatrical company in the county. From the stage Fliss could hear Tom interrupting Mercutio, saying ‘Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!’ Her stomach flipped. Even just hearing his voice made her feel funny! Fliss twisted her fingers together in annoyance. She was really trying to forget him. There was no point mooning over a boy who was already taken. And if Tom was attracted to girls like Samantha, then he’d never notice her anyway. It was just impossible!
A low rumble overhead made Fliss look up, frowning, but it wasn’t a plane this time. The sky was turning grey. She hoped the rain would hold off until they finished the play.
Mari came stumbling through the undergrowth, saying a rude word as her long skirts tripped her up. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘didn’t you hear the cue?’
Fliss blinked, startled, and realized the music for the party scene had just started. She had been thinking about Tom again – why did he do this to her? Why was he so different from the other boys? And it wasn’t even as though he was making life difficult for her. In their most recent rehearsals he couldn’t have been nicer to her! Though, Fliss reflected, in some ways that just made things harder, not easier. Mari took her hand and tugged her onto the stage, and Fliss dragged her mind back to the play. She must concentrate!
By the end of the party scene, the clouds were definitely gathering, and Fliss wasn’t the only one to be looking anxiously up at the sky. Mari nudged her. ‘Ready to make a run for it if the heavens open?’
‘Where to?’ whispered Fliss. ‘We can’t all fit in the tents, can we?’
‘Bandstand,’ said Mari. ‘The one round the corner. It’s closer than the tents, and has a better roof. If the wind gets
up, those tents will blow away. I’m heading for the bandstand if it does rain.’
Fliss nodded. ‘Good idea.’
The rehearsal was going well. There were some minor slip-ups when people forgot their lines. Sean came on from the wrong side twice and stopped in confusion. Mari pointed him in the right direction and he thanked her, blushing. Fliss nudged her. ‘Asked him yet?’
‘I’m picking my moment, OK?’ said Mari with a grin.
By the end of the scene in which Mercutio and Tybalt were killed, a few drops of rain were starting to fall. Fliss could see Candy sitting in a plastic chair out front, anxiously looking at her watch. Candy wouldn’t want to get all the costumes wet, Fliss supposed, but on the other hand they would only have one other run-through before the dress rehearsal the following Friday. There were still some problems that needed sorting. Candy wouldn’t want to abandon the rehearsal unless absolutely necessary . . .
The rain stopped and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they would get through the whole thing after all?
But it was not to be. Fliss and Tom were on stage, performing Act III Scene 5. Fliss had just begun her speech, ‘Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day,’ when the whole sky seemed to empty itself all at once. Enormous raindrops splattered the stage, drenching it in seconds. Fliss found herself wet through before she had even realized it was raining. In the audience, Candy abandoned her chair and ran for it. ‘Get under cover!’ she called. Fliss found it hard even to see Tom, the rain was so heavy.
‘Let’s go!’ yelled Tom, and headed for one of the exits.
‘No!’ shouted Fliss. ‘Bandstand!’ She jabbed her arm towards it. ‘More room!’
Tom hesitated for a moment, then nodded, and the two of them dashed off the stage and round the flowerbeds to the large wooden bandstand. The rain was thumping down on the metal roof, but there was little wind, so the middle of the bandstand floor was perfectly dry. Tom and Fliss ran up the steps and stopped, shivering, in the middle of the floor. All the way round them, water thundered down in sheets, almost as though the bandstand had walls after all. The noise from the rain on the roof was terrific.
Fliss looked around, but there was no sign of Mari. In fact, there was no sign of anyone else at all. ‘Where are the others?’ she yelled to Tom.
Streams of water were running down the sides of his face from his flattened dark curls. He rubbed his nose with a damp sleeve. ‘No idea!’ he yelled back. ‘Maybe they’re all in the tents, like I suggested!’
Fliss felt guilty. ‘Sorry!’ she shouted. ‘I thought this would be a better place to shelter.’
Tom shrugged and looked out across the park. Fliss glanced out too and felt quite astonished at the sight. The rain was so heavy, it was washing away parts of the flowerbeds before their eyes. Mud streamed across the tarmac paths, and the carefully planted flowers were being crushed under the weight of rain. Fliss looked automatically towards the stage set, but it couldn’t be seen from the bandstand. She hoped it would stand up all right. The curtains at the windows would be completely sodden, of course, but hopefully the rest of the set would dry out eventually.
‘Guess that means the rehearsal’s over,’ Tom called to her.
‘What?’
‘I said, guess the rehearsal’s over then,’ he shouted again.
‘Oh.’ Fliss nodded. ‘Yes.’ A chill swept over her. Just her luck she was in the flimsy nightdress and not the heavy velvet party costume! In fact . . . Fliss glanced down in quick panic but was relieved to see that her wet nightdress had not become see-through. Nevertheless, it was clinging to her very closely, and she crossed her arms in a vain attempt to cover herself up a bit.
‘You OK?’ Tom asked. The rain had eased slightly, and they could at least hear themselves think. ‘Are you cold?’
‘A bit,’ admitted Fliss. A sudden flash lit the sky and she jumped.
‘It’s only lightning,’ said Tom.
‘Yeah, and we’re only under a metal roof,’ snapped Fliss, trying to stop her teeth from chattering.
Tom looked puzzled, but suddenly he remembered. ‘You’re scared of thunderstorms,’ he said.
‘No need to rub it in.’
Tom laughed. ‘You’re OK standing on a wooden floor. Just don’t touch the metal posts, that’s all.’
She glared at him.
‘I’m joking,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine. Unless you want to make a run for it?’
Fliss looked out at the park, but at that moment the thunder crashed overhead, making the floor tremble beneath them. She let out an involuntary yelp.
In a couple of steps, Tom was standing next to her. ‘It’s OK, Fliss. Don’t panic.’
‘I hate thunder,’ said Fliss.
‘What?’ He bent closer to hear her.
‘I hate thunder! And lightning! People die from being hit by lightning, you know!’ There was another flash and Fliss flinched.
‘Here,’ said Tom, and he put his arms around her as though it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘It’s all right. It’ll be over soon.’
There was another huge crash, and Fliss felt like she wanted to cry. ‘It just gets right inside me – you know, the noise. I hate it.’
Tom’s arms tightened around her. ‘It won’t last long.’ He was silent for a moment and then said, ‘You’re scared of quite a lot of things, aren’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’ Fliss was momentarily distracted. ‘What sorts of things?’
Tom gave a half-shrug. ‘I don’t know. Confrontation. People who speak up for themselves. Loud noises. It seems weird how on stage you know exactly what you’re doing, but off-stage you’re a bit like – well – a mouse.’
Fliss bit her lip. ‘It’s not that I’m scared,’ she objected. ‘I just don’t like people getting cross. Or angry. Or upset.’
‘You’d like everyone to be happy and get on with each other all the time,’ suggested Tom. He removed a strand of Fliss’s hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Fliss tried to sound indignant, but what he had just done with her hair made her feel strange. It was such an intimate gesture. Her ear tingled from where his hand had brushed it. She quickly reached to tuck all other strands of her hair out of the way, which was difficult with his arms still around her.
‘People don’t get on all the time though, do they?’ said Tom. He stared down at her. ‘Some people just don’t – click. And then there are others who . . .’ He trailed off.
Fliss couldn’t move. His eyes were holding hers, and she suddenly noticed what a very deep blue they were. Like looking into the sea on a summer’s day . . .
‘Are you still cold?’ asked Tom softly. ‘You’re trembling.’
Fliss opened her mouth to reply but no words came out. Tom brushed another hair away from her face, and the back of his hand stroked her cheek. ‘There are others . . .’he whispered, ‘who just seem . . . meant for each other.’
Fliss felt a strange falling sensation – almost as though the ground were melting under her feet. The rain was still coming down, but it was a background shushing noise now, a gentle musical sound. Tom’s face swam before her, and without thinking, she placed her hands on his chest. He felt so warm. So strong. Meant for each other, he’d said. Fliss’s head swam in that deep blue sea. Tom leaned towards her. Meant for each other . . .
‘What about Samantha?’ Fliss whispered, her lips barely moving.
Tom stopped, his face millimetres from hers. ‘What?’
‘Samantha.’ Fliss blinked, and a cold wave swept through her. ‘You’re going out with Samantha.’
Time stopped for a moment. Tom and Fliss stared at each other. A thousand thoughts were whirling through Fliss’s head. He was going out with Samantha. So why was he trying to kiss her? Just say, she thought, just tell me Samantha means nothing. Tell me you’re going to go out with me instead. Tell me!
Tom took a step back, and his arms dropped to his s
ides. He looked confused. ‘I – uh . . .’ he said. ‘Yes. I’m going out with Samantha.’
In an awful moment, Fliss thought she was going to cry. It was as though the ground had come crashing back up to meet her feet, and she actually staggered. Her head felt dizzy with shock. He had been about to kiss her! Why had she blurted out that thing about Samantha? Was she a complete idiot?
Tom had turned away and was staring at the rain. An awkward silence descended, and Fliss felt the chill of the rain on her body again now that Tom’s arms were no longer around her. ‘It’s stopping,’ said Tom flatly. ‘We’d better get back.’
Fliss blinked furiously and rubbed her eyes. ‘All right,’ she said in what she hoped was a normal voice.
Tom didn’t glance back at her before he stepped down to the grass and began heading for the tents. Fliss followed miserably, trying to hold back the tears. She’d done it again! For the second time she’d messed everything up!
As they rounded the corner, Fliss saw the one person she least wanted to. Samantha was standing outside the tent, peering towards them. ‘Tom!’ she cried as he approached. ‘Thank goodness! Where have you been?’ Then she caught sight of Fliss, following Tom, and her face turned to stone. ‘Have you been with her?’ she said coldly.
‘Leave it, OK?’ said Tom in a tired voice. He went to walk past her, but Samantha grabbed his arm.
‘No way,’ she hissed. ‘Where were you two? Why didn’t you go with everyone else?’
Fliss wanted nothing more than to get into the tent and out of her wet costume, but Samantha was blocking her way. Miserably, she stood on the wet grass, feeling her feet slip and squeak inside her ballet pumps.
‘Look, there’s nothing to worry about,’ said Tom to Samantha. ‘We went to the bandstand. When it stopped raining we came back. End of story. OK?’
Samantha hesitated, but then she dropped his arm. ‘Well, why didn’t you say so?’ she said brightly, and leaned forward to kiss him. Tom turned his face so that the kiss landed on his cheek.
‘I’ve got to get changed,’ he said abruptly, and walked off towards the boys’ dressing tent.