by Jean Ure
“And a boyfriend?” said Chantelle. “Where would she get a boyfriend from?”
“She bumped into him in a shop,” I said. “She knocked some stuff over and he helped pick it up and they got talking.”
“About what, for goodness’ sake?” That was Fawn again. “What does Daffy possibly have to talk about? To a boy?”
I was at a bit of a loss myself. It was hard to think of Rachel and a boy – any ordinary sort of boy – having anything very much to say to each other.
“I wonder what he’s like?” said Tabs.
“Some kind of nerd.” Fawn said it scornfully. “Have to be, if he’s going out with Daffy.”
“To be fair,” said Dodie, in an apologetic tone, “she is quite pretty, now she’s had her hair cut.”
“Yes, but she’s totally loopy.”
“Talking of boyfriends,” said Tabs, “how’s yours?”
“Jax?” Fawn brightened. She told us how she and Chantelle had been to a party at half term with Jax and his friend from school. “Crispin. He really fancies Chantelle!”
The talk swung on. I was left wondering what Nat and Dad would have to say about someone that was called Crispin. But then, what would they say about someone that was called Fawn? I reminded myself that you couldn’t condemn people solely on account of what they were called. Fawn had been a bit of a shock when I first met her, but up until just a few days ago I had thought she was really nice, if a bit full of herself.
I did understand how important it was, the Daisies putting on a good show. Fawn was hugely competitive. If anyone was a drama queen, it was her! But more than that, she had gone to such trouble. And she had made sure that everyone had a real part, even those of us that couldn’t act. It wasn’t like she’d hogged all the best lines for herself.
And I really couldn’t blame her for feeling sore now, any more than I could blame the others for taking her side. After all, they’d been friends for ages before Rachel and I had come along. But I did so wish I could tell them her story! Surely then they would understand and make allowances?
I tried talking to Dodie, just like hinting why Rachel couldn’t help being the way she was, but Dodie said Fawn didn’t mind her being all weird and peculiar, just so long as she was willing to be part of the team and do her bit to beat the Buttercups.
“It’s a question of loyalty,” she said. And then, being Dodie and really soft-hearted, she added, “I know you say she can’t help it, and I’m really sorry if she’s unhappy, but it’s not fair to blame Fawn! She wouldn’t ever let anyone down.”
I gave up after that. I’d done what I could! Even Mum couldn’t expect me to do any more.
What with one thing and another, mainly to do with the play, I saw hardly anything of Rachel except in class and at mealtimes. We didn’t even travel back on the train together at the weekend, because Fawn wanted extra rehearsals and Mum had agreed I could stay over. I was so deliriously happy that just for a while I almost forgot about Rachel and her problems. I did ask her, as she left on Friday, whether she’d be seeing Danny and she said, “Yes, we’re going to spend all day together.”
I said, “All day? Wow!”
I should probably have asked her what they were going to do, but I was eager to get back to the others. Fawn wanted us to discuss costumes, and especially mine. Should we try making a real proper head or was it OK to just have a mask?
“See you Sunday,” I said to Rachel. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”
With that I went rushing off, comforting myself with the thought that Rachel was obviously going to have a good time and that things were going well with her and Danny. Maybe it would be OK if I stopped worrying about her for a bit.
I have to say that rehearsals were a lot of fun! Fawn was an excellent director, in spite of being so demanding and bossy – which maybe she had to be – and I really loved my role as Bottom.
“We are absolutely going to thrash those Buttercups!” said Tabs.
Rachel came back from her weekend looking mysteriously pleased with herself. Every now and again she would burst into sudden and unexplained giggles, little trills of laughter which she tried to stifle by clapping a hand to her mouth. Everyone but me pointedly ignored her.
“What happened?” I whispered. “Did something happen?”
She shook her head. “Can’t say.”
“Did he kiss you?”
Another burst of giggles. “Can’t say!”
“Drama queen.” Fawn mouthed the words at me, over Rachel’s head.
I shrugged my shoulders; at least she was happy. I refused to do any more worrying.
On Tuesday she had another letter. A large one, this time. We all watched – pretending not to – as she peeled back the flap and slid out what looked like a photograph. She didn’t do her squeaking thing, or press it to her lips; she simply sat there, like, transfixed, with this smile of pure bliss on her face. I couldn’t help it: I had to ask.
“What is it?” I said.
“It’s a photo,” said Rachel.
“Of him?”
She nodded, ecstatically. “You said why hadn’t I got any so I asked him and he promised to send me one. He must have done it the minute we said goodbye!”
Now even Fawn couldn’t resist.
“So let’s have a look!”
We all craned forward. With shy pride, Rachel held up her photograph. It was black and white, big and glossy. The head shot of a boy, smiling out at us. Dark hair, big melty eyes and the words Rachel with love from Danny xx scrawled across it in Day-Glo yellow.
We all fell silent. I think we were a bit taken aback. In the end Fawn said, “Hm!” and rather pointedly started talking to Chantelle in this loud, penetrating voice about something else.
It was Dodie who said, “Nice!”
Rachel glowed, bashfully.
“Not bad,” agreed Tabs.
The boy in the photo was more than not bad. He was what Debs, one of my friends at my old school, would have called swoon material. Seriously good-looking! But Fawn was obviously determined to put an end to any discussion before it could even get started.
“Me and Chantelle have decided,” she said, “we’re going to have a special costume fitting at four-thirty. OK?”
I didn’t honestly think that a special costume fitting was necessary, but it was Fawn’s show so you couldn’t argue. We all agreed that we would be there.
“I’ve been having new ideas,” said Fawn. “What I thought was …”
The conversation moved on, with Rachel and her photograph abruptly forgotten. She was left there, sighing over it, by herself. I felt bad, but every time I so much as glanced in her direction or leaned forward to say something, Fawn hauled me straight back in.
“What does Zoe think?” she would say. Or, “How does Zoe feel?”
After a while, I noticed that Rachel had quietly disappeared.
When we went up to the dorm later on, we found that she had stuck her photo on the wall above her bed, using lumps of Blu-Tack. It hit you in the face as soon as you came through the door.
“Well, that’s stylish,” said Fawn.
She wouldn’t have said it if Rachel had been there. It was Fawn’s policy now to act like Rachel didn’t even exist. But the photo niggled at her, you could tell. She kept shooting these irritable glances at it when she thought people weren’t watching. I knew what her problem was: she couldn’t believe that the despised Daffy had managed to acquire a boyfriend better looking than hers. I’d seen pictures of Fawn’s boyfriend. He might go to a posh school, but he wasn’t anywhere near as gorgeous as Rachel’s Danny.
I confess that I was a bit surprised myself. Like the others, I’d been expecting some kind of nerd, all goofy and dim, with glasses and sticking-out teeth. I know that is not the sort of thing you are supposed to say. Just because someone happens to wear glasses and has teeth that stick out doesn’t mean they are any less worthy as a human being. I know this! But in spite of being transforme
d after her haircut, there was no denying Rachel was still … Well! Socially challenged is how I would put it. It wasn’t her fault, but I really just couldn’t see her getting on with a boy. I sometimes found it difficult enough myself and I’d been around them all my life.
That Friday after school, because Fawn had given us the night off from rehearsing, Rachel and I travelled back together. It was the first time we’d really had a chance to talk in days. Rachel had been subdued all week, but she perked up a bit when I started questioning her about Danny. It was obvious that she loved to talk about him. I asked her how old he was and she said sixteen. She said it like going out with a boy of sixteen was something to be proud of. Maybe it was. John Arthur had been in Year Seven, same as me, and Fawn’s boyfriend, I knew, was only fifteen.
I said, “Which school does he go to?”
“Starlight Academy,” said Rachel.
I blinked. “Where’s that?”
“It’s in Ipswich,” she said. And then, with an air of suppressed importance, “It’s a stage school.”
“A stage school?” That took me by surprise. “You mean – he’s an actor?”
She nodded, her cheeks all puffed and pink with happiness.
“I didn’t say anything before, cos of not wanting to make Fawn jealous.”
Excuse me? Fawn? Jealous of Rachel?
“He’s in this series,” said Rachel. “Gangbusters.”
“What, on TV?” I shook my head. I’d never heard of it.
“He’s only just finished it,” said Rachel.
“So when’s it going to be shown?”
“I’m not sure, but soon as it is I’m going round to Auntie Helen’s to watch it. Auntie Helen,” said Rachel, “has a television set. Gran won’t have one cos she says they’re a tool of the devil. But Auntie Helen doesn’t take any notice of what Gran says. She does her own thing.”
“Tell me more about the series,” I said. “What part does he play? What’s it about?”
“I don’t know,” said Rachel. “It’s a secret.”
“So what’s his surname?”
“Vitullo. Danny Vitullo.”
“Has he done other things?”
“He’s been in a show called Peter Pan. In London.”
“Oh,” I said, “I know Peter Pan! What part did he play?”
“Something called a Lost Boy?”
“Wow.”
I was impressed! But I couldn’t help feeling, as I got off the train, that it was just as well Rachel hadn’t mentioned anything to Fawn. It might not have made her jealous, but it would certainly have upset her. The thought of Rachel, of all people, having a boyfriend that was an actor. I could just hear her.
She can’t take part in my play, but she’s going out with someone at stage school?
For once, I thought, Rachel had shown a bit of discretion.
It wasn’t till Dad had met me at the station and driven me back home that I discovered Gran was there.
“She’s staying for a fortnight,” announced Nat, all self-important because she’d known about it and I hadn’t.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I wailed.
“We wanted it to be a surprise,” said Mum.
“Like a surprise party,” added Nat.
Gran held out her arms. “I just hope it’s a nice one.”
It couldn’t have been nicer! I always love it when Gran is with us. She lives down south, in Dorset, and is very independent. We don’t get to see her that often.
She gave me this big hug and I thought how different she was from the sour old woman that was Rachel’s gran. I knew Rachel’s gran had been crushed and squashed by her horrible husband, but after all she had chosen him. And she didn’t have to let him treat her that way. I wouldn’t ever let anyone!
“So how is school?” said Gran. “St Thingummy, or whatever it is.”
“Beefburga!” chortled Nat.
Gran said, “Beefburger?”
“She thinks she’s being funny,” I said.
“Beefburga, Cheeseburga—”
“It’s her idea of a joke.”
“Hamburga, veggieburg—”
“Natalie, just be quiet,” said Mum. “You’re going to have your gran all week. Zoe’s only got her at weekends.”
“So whose fault’s that?” said Nat. “Gran, did I tell you Lottie’s got a new trick?”
“Show it to me later,” said Gran. “We’ll have plenty of time.”
Nat went off in a bit of a huff. “Just have to hope she still remembers it!”
Gran said, “Well! What was that about?”
“It’s all right,” said Mum. “She’s still not too sure how she feels about Zoe deserting her and going to what she calls ‘a posh school’.”
“Is it posh?” said Gran. “I suppose it has to be, if it’s boarding.”
Why did all my family have this hang-up about posh? All except Mum. She was the only one that was relaxed about it. She knew I wasn’t going to get all snooty.
“I don’t think your friend Rachel’s particularly posh, is she?” Mum looked at me, enquiringly.
“Rachel’s not posh at all,” I said.
“How is she doing, anyway?”
I said, “She’s got a boyfriend!”
“Who has?” That was Nat, trundling back with Lottie in her arms. She sank down next to Gran on the sofa. “Who’s got a boyfriend?”
“Rachel,” I said.
“Your funny-looking friend?”
I snapped, “She’s not funny-looking!”
Nat leaned in close to Gran. “She’s got white hair,” she whispered.
“Yes, she’s also got a boyfriend,” I said. “More than you’re ever likely to have!”
“More than you’ve got, an’ all,” said Nat.
“You don’t know what I’ve got!”
“I c—”
“Girls, for goodness’ sake!” said Mum. “Is this really necessary?”
I said, “Yes, if she’s going to be rude about Rachel.”
“Dear, oh dear,” said Gran. “I wonder if I just ought to pack up and go home?”
That made us ashamed. We both subsided, Nat cuddling Lottie, me perched on the arm of Mum’s chair.
Mum said, “That’s better! Your gran didn’t come here to listen to you two squabbling. Zoe, I’m really pleased for Rachel. Having a boyfriend must be doing wonders for her confidence.”
“It is,” I said. “She can’t stop talking about him! He’s an actor.”
“An actor?” said Mum.
Nat made this rude honking noise down her nose. I looked at her, irritably. “What’s that in aid of?”
Nat said, “Well! Honestly.”
“Honestly what?”
“An actor.”
“So?”
“I bet you she’s just making it up!”
“Why would you say that?” wondered Mum.
“Cos it’s what this girl in my class did. Emily Harper. She told everyone her boyfriend was a pop star! Wasn’t true,” said Nat. “Just made her look stupid. She didn’t half embarrass herself!”
“Poor little thing,” said Gran. “She was obviously desperate to impress.”
“More to the point,” said Mum, “what is an eleven-year-old-girl doing with a boyfriend in the first place?”
Nat rolled her eyes.
“It’s the times we live in,” said Gran.
“I don’t know.” Mum shook her head. “How old is this boyfriend of Rachel’s?”
I said, “Sixteen. He goes to a stage school in Ipswich. Starlight Academy?”
“Never heard of it,” said Nat.
Well, and why would she? What did she know about anything?
“He’s just made a TV series,” I said.
Nat’s head jerked up pretty fast when I said that. “What TV series?”
“Something called Gangbusters.”
Nat got as far as “Never—” when Gran suddenly burst out, excitedly.
“O
h!” she cried. “Gangbusters! That was on when I was young – I used to love it. All about these three teenagers working as secret agents. I can even remember their names … Steve, Mike and Jill. They must be doing a remake! I wonder when it’s going to be shown?”
I promised that I would find out.
“Oh, please do!” said Gran. “I’ll make a point of watching.”
Later on, when we were by ourselves, Mum said, “I do hope Rachel’s not going to get herself hurt.”
“You mean because of her boyfriend?” I said.
“It sounds as if she’s really fallen for him. But if he’s a young actor …”
“You think he’s just, like, playing her along?”
“No, not necessarily, but he must lead quite an exciting sort of life, being in a television series – especially if he’s playing one of the main parts.”
Rachel hadn’t said what part he was playing.
“Maybe,” I suggested, “he’s just an extra.”
“Even so, it’s still exciting. And he’s still at stage school! It’s very different from being at an ordinary school.”
I said, “Yes, I suppose.” Except that if he was only an extra, that wasn’t anything terribly special. It wasn’t like extras had any lines to say or anything very much to do, except just rush around in a group. Thinking about it, I decided that’s what Danny would almost certainly turn out to be: just an extra. That would account for Rachel not being able to tell me what part he was playing. Cos he didn’t have a part. It didn’t mean he wasn’t an actor! Well, training to be.
Back at school, Rachel couldn’t resist the temptation to boast. Now that I knew her secret, there obviously wasn’t any reason for keeping it from the others.
“He’s an actor,” she said proudly, when she saw Fawn casting one of her glances at the photo.
I couldn’t blame her. Danny was worth boasting about! But it got Fawn really niggled. Every time we entered the dorm and saw Danny’s photo smiling down on us she went, “Actor!” in scornful tones. If Rachel was there, she mouthed it at us. Silent, but still scornful.
I said, “According to Rachel, he’s just finished making this thing for television.”
“What thing?” said Fawn.
“Something called Gangbusters? It’s a remake! My gran used to watch it when she was little.”