‘A little pastry man for me!’ Maudie whispered.
‘Want to see what they’ll look like?’ said Robbie. ‘Here’re some I made earlier!’
He couldn’t have made them earlier, because he was with us, but he walked confidently to a table spread with a plate of chocolate crispies, an iced sponge cake, another plate of fruity jam tarts – and a cute little pastry man.
‘Mine!’ said Maudie, and she broke free of our grip and went running on to the set. ‘Mine, Robbie, my munchy man!’
‘It’s little Polly-Wally-Doodle!’ the television crew muttered, laughing, as Robbie gave Maudie her pastry man and she bit off his head. The signature tune played and Robbie waved to the camera. Maudie waved too, munching happily.
‘Brilliant!’ said the director, clapping Robbie on the back. ‘And a perfect ending, though you’d better scoot to the studios next door, little Polly-Wally. You’re being interviewed on the Start-at-Six Show.’
‘Why do they keep calling Maudie Polly? And why is she on the Start-at-Six Show and not me?’ said Smash. ‘It’s not fair. All you lot are having a chance to be rich and famous and I’m being totally left out. I’m sure that Psammead fixed it this way on purpose.’
‘You really were brilliant, Robs,’ I said, clapping him on the back. ‘The way you carried on, natural as anything, with all the patter! I couldn’t have done that in a million years.’
‘I’m sure you could, Rosalind,’ said Robbie. ‘You’ve made chocolate crispie cakes hundreds of times – and sponge cake. Still, you think it went all right? I didn’t sound too much of a fool?’
‘You were wonderful!’ I said.
‘Well, you were pretty special with all those girls wanting you to sign their books,’ Robbie said generously.
‘For heaven’s sake, pass the sick bucket,’ said Smash.
‘You feeling sick, Smash?’ said Maudie.
Smash sighed, but gave her a cuddle. She looked at Naomi.
‘Is Maudie really on the Start-at-Six Show?’ she asked. ‘She’s only a baby.’
‘It’s just a tiny five-minute interview, with several film clips from the show,’ said Naomi. ‘Come on then, you lot. We have to swap studios, sharpish. Thank goodness Bulldog’s looking after the animals for us.’
We all helped ourselves to one of Robbie’s cakes and then dashed off to the Start-at-Six Show studio. Naomi let Maudie finish her pastry man in the green room, then wiped her hands and face carefully and brushed her blonde hair.
‘Good luck, Maudie!’ we all whispered as we crept into the studio.
The new director saw us and fanned his face in a pantomime of relief. Another man tickled Maudie under the chin and fixed a little microphone to the front of her dress.
‘Now, no prizes for guessing the show just voted the most popular television sitcom,’ said the presenter. ‘The ratings have gone through the roof, and no wonder. We all love the Doodle Family, don’t we? And there’s no question who’s stolen the show too. It isn’t Mum or Dad or crusty old Grandpa. It’s isn’t Paul or Primrose, the two schoolkids. No, it’s pint-size Polly-Wally Doodle, the little girl who’s captured all our hearts. Just take a look at this clip.’
They showed an excerpt from a TV show where the family are all on a day’s outing to the zoo, and the trip is going horribly wrong. Mum and Dad are arguing, Grandpa is crochety, the teenage girl is sulking and the boy is scowling too – but Polly (our Maudie!) is skipping along happily. She waves to each and every animal in the cages and with a bit of trick photography the animals all wave their front paws back at her.
‘I just love that clip,’ said the female presenter. ‘And I love Polly-Wally Doodle – expertly played by little Maudie Hartlepool. Come and wave at us, Maudie.’
Maudie was gently led along to their sofa. The two adults waved at her – and Maudie politely waved back, though she looked a little bemused.
‘It’s a delight to have you with us, Maudie,’ said the man. ‘Did you like making that little film at the zoo?’
Maudie nodded.
‘Which animal did you like best, Maudie?’ the woman asked.
‘Monkey!’ said Maudie. ‘Funny monkey in the sand.’
‘In the sand, Maudie?’ said the man presenter doubtfully.
‘I know! Maudie means the meerkats!’ said the lady. ‘I like them too, Maudie, they’re very cute.’
‘I think our Maudie is the very definition of cute,’ said the man presenter. ‘Do you like acting in the Doodle Family Show, Maudie?’
‘It’s fun,’ said Maudie.
‘How ever do you remember all your lines?’ asked the man.
Maudie thought hard.
‘I just say stuff,’ she said.
‘Well, we think you say your stuff brilliantly, Maudie. Do you think you’ll carry on acting when you’re a big girl?’
Maudie nodded.
‘Let’s hope it stays fun for you, sweetheart. Well, it was lovely to talk to you, Maudie. Shall we wave goodbye too?’
They both waved, grinning away, and Maudie smiled sweetly and waved both her hands to be extra polite.
‘Aaah!’ said the presenters as Maudie skipped out of view.
We all gave Maudie a proud hug.
‘Well done, Maudie!’ said Naomi. ‘You were a little star.’ Then she looked at Smash. ‘Time for our big star to start twinkling,’ she said.
We went down to the private car park where Bulldog was taking Robbie’s puppy, Giant, for a little walk. My kitten, Tina, and Maudie’s chinchilla, Monkey, were both curled up asleep in the cages in the car, but Gobby-Bird the parrot was wide awake and squawking away.
‘That blessed bird sings even louder than you, Smash,’ said Bulldog. ‘It’s been doing my head in sat in the car with it.’
‘I sing loudly, do I?’ said Smash.
‘I reckon you don’t even need your microphone to give the whole O2 arena an earful,’ said Bulldog, laughing.
‘We’d better set off there straight away. It’s a really tight schedule today,’ said Naomi.
‘We’re going to the O2 – that huge great arena where all the stars sing?’ said Smash.
Naomi and Bulldog laughed as if she was joking.
‘And – and I’m singing there?’ said Smash.
Naomi took a flyer out of her handbag. It had the word Smash in big jagged letters and a photo of a girl in an extraordinary silver costume with silver high heels. She was clutching a microphone and singing her heart out, her head thrown back.
Smash stared at it. We’d never seen her speechless before.
‘Your concert starts at half past seven tonight,’ said Naomi.
‘Have they sold a lot of tickets?’ Smash whispered.
‘It’s a sell-out. Twelve thousand.’
We all blinked.
‘Twelve thousand people, all coming to see me!’ said Smash. ‘Then I must be rich and famous! More famous than Rosalind and Robbie and Maudie! Oh wow!’
It was extraordinary driving to the O2 arena, seeing the crowds milling around, all of them there to see our Smash. They started chanting when they spotted our car: ‘Smash! Smash! We love Smash!’
Bob the chauffeur had a very hard job driving us up to the stage door, and Bulldog and yet more security men had an even harder time getting us – and all the animals – safely out of the car and into the building. They escorted us along a maze of corridors, O2 staff in special T-shirts smiling and nodding and saying, ‘Good luck, Smash!’ as we went.
We were led into a large dressing room with a huge mirror and a rack of glorious stage costumes, silver and shocking pink and canary yellow and scarlet, and black lace, all with matching high heels.
‘My costumes!’ said Smash, stroking each one, and trying on the shoes.
There was a table laid with elaborate cupcakes with buttercream to match the costumes: some vanilla cream with silver balls, some pink with raspberries, some pineapple yellow with cherries, some studded with little scarlet strawberries, and some deep bla
ckcurrant with rainbow sprinkles.
‘Yummy!’ said Smash, and ate one in three quick bites.
There were soft leather sofas and a special large pen for Maudie’s chinchilla. My little kitten and Robbie’s puppy roamed freely, playing tag with each other. Gobby-Bird the parrot had an enormous gilded cage at one end. It hopped on its perch and started squawking, ‘Smash! Smash! We love Smash!’
‘He loves me,’ Smash giggled. ‘They all love me.’
‘Time’s getting on, Smash. Better start getting ready,’ said Naomi.
Smash sat down in front of the big mirror and a make-up lady in a blue overall came and worked on her face, outlining her eyes, putting sparkles on her cheeks and giving her a bright red Cupid’s-bow mouth. We were fascinated, watching Smash being transformed. Even Robbie had his mouth open, staring.
‘Maudie wants some sparkle too!’ Maudie said, so the make-up lady dabbed a little on the tip of her tiny nose.
‘Which costume will you be wearing first, Smash?’ the make-up lady asked.
‘Mmm, probably the silver one,’ said Smash, barely moving her mouth because she was scared of smudging her lipstick.
The make-up lady combed Smash’s short hair back, attached a huge ponytail exactly the same dark colour, and then fixed little silver slides on either side. Then Smash went behind a curtain to try on the silver costume.
‘Oh help, it’s like wearing an elastic band!’ she said. ‘I can’t get into it!’
She tussled behind the curtain for ages – but when she emerged we all clapped. I’d worried rather, because the costume was very skimpy, not much more than a swimming costume, and there was a great deal of Smash, but it was cleverly constructed to squeeze her in the right places so that she looked almost slim. She wore astonishing fishnet tights and the silver high heels. She strutted around the dressing room, swinging her new ponytail, hands on her hips.
‘Oh, Smash, you really look a star,’ I said.
‘I am a star!’ said Smash.
‘Star, star, star!’ squawked the parrot, and Smash bowed to him.
Then there was a knock on the door.
‘You’re due onstage in five minutes, Miss Smash!’ a stagehand called.
‘Oh help!’ said Smash. She suddenly looked like a little girl again.
‘You’ll be fine,’ I said, and I reached out and took hold of her hand. It was icy cold. She gripped me fiercely.
‘You’ve read the book, Rosalind,’ she whispered. ‘Do wishes always go wrong?’
‘This one won’t go wrong for you,’ I said – though my tummy was churning and I felt sick with nerves myself.
Smash started singing little warm-up tunes, staring at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that, as if she still couldn’t believe that the silver rock star reflected was really her.
Then Bulldog and more security staff came to take her backstage. Naomi and Robbie and Maudie and I were led down a different corridor, out to our special seats in the auditorium. We caused quite a stir in the audience. We heard them saying our names excitedly, craning their necks to look at us. Then the lights went down and music started up and everyone stared at the stage expectantly. It was so dark you couldn’t see a thing – and I suddenly wondered if it was dark outside.
I clenched my fists.
‘Please don’t let it be sunset just yet!’ I whispered. ‘Please let Smash get to sing. Stay light for ages and ages, please.’
We heard a roll of drums. A great spotlight shone on the stage, and there was Smash, standing right in the middle, head tilted, one hand on her hip, smiling at everyone. There was a huge roar of approval and clapping and cheering.
Smash opened her scarlet mouth and started singing. It was a song I’d never heard before, but the audience shrieked their approval and sang along with her. Smash finished with a great flourish, and then a whole troupe of dancers came leaping onstage too, dressed in black with silver stars on their leotards. Smash started dancing along with them, singing a new song, never missing a beat, even when they seized her and whirled around the stage with her.
She danced fantastically, not wobbling once in her silver shoes. When she finished that song-and-dance number, she changed the pace and sang a soft sad ballad and all those thousands of people held their breath, not making a murmur until Smash sang the last melancholy line – and then there was another roar of applause.
Smash grinned and immediately started another song, a really shouty rock song with such an insistent beat you really couldn’t help clapping. There was dancing too – the dancers in black and bright pink this time. Smash whirled around with them for a while, but then the girl dancers did a very acrobatic routine without her until suddenly the boys came onstage again in a tight bunch, and in brilliant time to the music stepped aside, one after the other, to reveal Smash in shocking pink, with pink feathers in her hair and amazing pink platform heels. She sang, she danced, she even did a handstand, kicking her heels in the air and waggling her legs.
There was a huge surge forward from the crowd then, all of them yelling her name in unison. I was suddenly very scared, wondering if the wish was starting to go wrong now. Smash looked so small and vulnerable on that vast stage, and there were so many thousands of people. How on earth would Bulldog and his henchmen keep them away if they all ran at the stage at once? The fans didn’t want to hurt Smash, they all clearly adored her, but she could be crushed to death in seconds if they all surged at once and fought over every last little piece of her …
But Smash herself put up her hands, waving them a little, cool as a cucumber.
‘Sit down, guys,’ she said, shaking her head at them as if they were naughty toddlers – and they all did as she said and sat back sheepishly in their seats.
Smash started singing again, this time a song that was obviously everyone’s favourite, because they all roared again after the first line. It was a great powerful ballad with a soaring chorus. Smash sang it facing square to the audience, her arms in the air, her legs braced, clearly giving it her all. She sang of once being an angry little girl that no one liked, but she’d always known she was born to fame and now here she was, on the stage, singing her heart out. She sang that it meant the world to her because we were all her friends now. Everyone in the audience reached out to her, echoing the chorus fervently – until suddenly the spotlight went out and the whole stage was plunged into darkness.
Robbie clutched me and Maudie started crying.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘Don’t like the dark!’
‘It’s okay, it’s all right, there must be some kind of power cut. They’ll put the lights back on in a minute,’ I gabbled, putting my arms round both of them. ‘Shall we try and go backstage, Naomi, or shall we sit it out?’
But Naomi didn’t answer me. She was strangely silent. Then I realized everyone was silent. The raucous people in that enormous audience were all still as statues. I felt the seat in front of me – and it was empty. I stood up, feeling frantically, able to see a little now my eyes were adjusting to the darkness. No one was there. The entire audience had vanished. Naomi was gone. So was Bulldog. We were all on our own in this vast arena.
‘Hello? Hello, what’s happened? Please, someone put the lights back on!’ It was Smash talking, her voice a mouse squeak without her microphone.
It was all over. It must be sunset. The wish had finished. We were no longer rich and famous. And we were stuck in the middle of the O2 arena in the dark by ourselves.
‘I want it all back! Listen, Psammead, wherever you are, I want to be rich and famous again!’ Smash shouted.
‘It’s no use, Smash,’ I said, hoisting Maudie up on my hip and running down the aisle to the stage. ‘The wish is over for today. It must be after sunset.’
‘But why aren’t we back in Oxshott woods?’ said Robbie, running after me.
‘I don’t know. It’s just the way the magic works. When the children in the story wished they had wings, they ended
up stuck on the top of a tall tower after sunset.’
‘Wings would be quite a cool thing to wish for,’ said Smash, holding out her arms and swooping about in the gloom, momentarily distracted. ‘Maybe I’ll wish for that next.’
‘It’s not your turn. You’ve already had your wish. And look where it’s got us,’ I said, starting to panic as the full realization hit me. ‘How are we going to get home? And what are Dad and Alice going to say? They’ll go spare. We’ve been missing for hours and hours.’
‘Let me look at my mobile,’ said Smash. ‘Oh, it’s horrible to be back in my boring old jeans – I loved that costume. Didn’t I look great in it?’ She tapped on the screen of her mobile and then sucked in her breath. ‘Whoops! Fifty-seven missed calls! And goodness knows how many texts. Where are you? We’re getting very worried, come back now! If you’re playing a silly game it’s very very naughty of you. Smash, PLEASE, answer me! Is Maudie all right? Is Maudie with you? Smash, Maudie’s only a baby. You need to bring her back right now. We’re phoning the police! Oh God, it goes on and on and on.’
‘Maybe I’m glad my mum won’t let me have my own mobile yet,’ I said. ‘You’d better phone Alice then, Smash. She sounds like she’s going frantic.’
‘She’s not frantic about me, she’s just worried about Maudie – and she is all right, isn’t she? Maudie?’ Smash called into the darkness, her voice suddenly sharp.
‘Smash-Smash,’ said Maudie sleepily, her head lolling on my shoulder.
‘It’s okay, I’m holding her. Can you get down off the stage, Smash? It’s so dark I’m worried you’ll fall,’ I said.
‘I didn’t fall in those amazing platform heels, did I? Oh, they were so glorious! Didn’t I look grown-up in them? And did you hear me singing?’
‘I think all of London heard you singing!’ I said.
‘I can remember some of the songs. Listen! I was an angry little kid.’ Her voice sounded small and scratchy, like an angry little kid’s.
‘It doesn’t work without the magic,’ said Robbie. ‘I couldn’t climb trees after, remember?’
‘Yeah, but you’re just hopeless. It does so work. It just sounds a bit weird because I haven’t got a mic on now,’ said Smash fiercely – but she sounded like she might be crying.
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