by Jean Ure
“Then he hit him.”
Indy said, “No, Josh hit him.”
“Josh hit Lance?”
“Yes, and everybody cheered! So then Lance got really mad and hit him back, and next thing we know Mr Cotton’s arrived and they’re being put on report.”
“Both of them? That’s not fair!”
“Josh did hit him first,” said Indy.
“But he gave Josh a black eye!”
Indy giggled. “You should see Lance – he’s all blubber-lipped! I think one of his teeth got broken.”
“Wow!” I couldn’t help feeling pleased, even though I strongly disapprove of violence. I think that boys punching each other is truly pathetic. Like boxing. It is just so barbaric. But I still felt pleased!
“So what you gonna do ’bout the old woman?” said Indy.
I sighed. “Guess I’ll have to go and see her.”
“Seems only right.”
I knew that it was – and not just because I felt guilty. Because I owed it to her. And because I really cared. I’d sort of grown fond of her, in an odd kind of way.
“Look, there’s Arvid,” I said. “I’d better be going.”
“You don’t have to,” said Indy; but I knew she wouldn’t want me hanging around. Not on her first date.
I told her to have fun, and quickly made myself scarce. I still didn’t feel like going home. I felt like it even less now than I had before. The thought of Josh going off to see his nan, and Indy going off with her new boyfriend, made me all tearful and self-pitying. I am never tearful! And I do try very hard not to give way to self-pity. If ever I am tempted, I quickly look round for something to take my mind off it. Something positive that I can do. Something that will distract me.
I decided that I would pluck up my courage and visit Mrs P. I would do it right now. I would find out from her neighbour which hospital she was in, and I would go there that very afternoon. I just hoped it wasn’t the same hospital where Nan had been, cos that was a place I didn’t ever want to go back to.
I wasn’t absolutely certain which flat the neighbour had come from, but while I was dithering in the hallway she suddenly appeared – from Mrs P’s! And there was Mrs P, right behind her.
“Oh!” I said. “You’re back!” I knew I must have sounded relieved; I just hoped I sounded happy. Cos I was happy. “Are you feeling better?”
“She’s been badly shaken up,” said the neighbour. “I’ve told her she ought to be in bed, taking it easy.”
“Nonsense!” said Mrs P. She sounded almost like her old self, but I could hear that her voice was a bit cracked and crumbly. “I’m perfectly all right! It takes more than some young hoodlum to put me out.”
“I was going to come and visit you in hospital,” I said.
“Well, now you can come and visit me at home… come in, come in!”
“She ought to be in bed,” said the neighbour.
Mrs P waved a hand. “Go away, Betty, and stop fussing over me! Carmen, get inside. What are you dillying about for?”
Me and the neighbour looked at each other and pulled faces.
“In, in! Come along, I don’t want to be standing here all day. Have you had any lunch?”
I suddenly realised that I hadn’t. I hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast, and I hadn’t even noticed! Mrs P told me to go into the kitchen and forage. “You’ll find stuff in the fridge. I’ll just have a cup of tea.”
I thought that really she should eat something, so I did some bread and butter, all daintily cut into triangles and laid out on a plate, and opened a jar of peaches in brandy. I’d never had peaches in brandy, but they looked tempting. At first Mrs P said she didn’t want anything, but I was stern with her.
“You’ve got to eat,” I said. “You need to keep your strength up.”
“My dear girl,” she said, “you sound like someone’s mother!” But she ate two triangles of bread and butter and one whole peach, so I felt that I had been right to bully her.
“I’m terribly sorry,” I said, “about what happened. It must have been really frightening!”
She dismissed it, airily. “Just one of those things. One of the hazards of modern living.”
“I should have gone with you,” I said. “They mightn’t have done it if there’d been two of us.”
“Now, please,” said Mrs P, “don’t start blaming yourself. It was entirely my own fault – at least, so my friend Betty informs me. Old women of my age ought not to go gallivanting at that time of night. Besides, you didn’t want to come with me. I can understand that; opera’s not a young person’s thing. There’s no reason you should be expected to play nursemaid to an old lady. And besides, it wasn’t the reason I asked you. You know why I asked you. Don’t you?” She looked at me, sharply; obviously expecting some kind of reply. I grunted.
“Did you go away and think about it, as I told you?”
I made another grunting sound.
“Well? Don’t sit there snuffling and honking like some kind of animal! What conclusion did you come to?”
I breathed, very deeply. “I s’pose… I’ll have to do what you want.”
“It’s not about what I want! It’s about what you want. Do you want to be a singer, or don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, “I do!”
“Right, well, there you are, then. That’s settled. We obviously have a lot of work ahead of us. We should get started as soon as possible! You had better come round tomorrow.”
I thought, Why is she so nice to me when I have been so horrid to her?
“About midday. Is that all right?”
I said, “Yes!” And then, before I could stop my great clacking mouth I came bursting out with it: “Why are you being so nice to me?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you not expect people to be nice to you?”
“Only if I’m nice to them. I’ve been really rude to you, haven’t I?”
“A natural reaction. I’d probably have been rude to some interfering old baggage who kept nagging at me. But the answer to your question is quite simple. It’s not that I’m a sweet old lady – well, you’ve probably noticed that for yourself. It’s your voice I’m after! I can’t bear the thought of a promising voice going to waste. I should like to think that one of these days I might be known as the teacher of Carmen Bell!”
I smiled, a bit uncertainly. She had to be joking, right?
“My dear,” she said, “I’m perfectly serious. You surely don’t imagine I’d waste my time and energy on some rude, sullen girl if she didn’t have a voice?”
I grinned at that.
“Smirk as much as you like,” she said. “We’ll have no more sulks! Now, you’d better be off and leave me to get some rest. I’ve just been mugged, you know. I ought to be in bed! Don’t forget your guitar.”
Mrs P came into the hall to let me out. Right at the very last moment I got brave and said, “Did you… actually… see the person that attacked you?”
I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know the answer, but I knew I had to ask. Mrs P gave a little snort. (But very ladylike.)
“See? How could I see? They smashed the light bulb!”
“So you wouldn’t be able to recognise them?”
“My dear girl, if you had been hit over the head by some young thug late at night I doubt you would be able to recognise them, either. All I was able to tell the police was that it was a black thug rather than a white thug, and I can’t really see that is going to be of much help, considering there are countless young thugs of both shades roaming the streets.”
I agreed that there were, and that it simply wasn’t safe to be out after dark – well, not if you were as old and fragile as Mrs P – but I went on my way feeling a huge surge of relief. I was sorry it had been a black thug cos of Indy being black and people tending to say “Oh, them again,” which is totally unfair when you think of guys like Lance Stapleton, who has to be just about one of the biggest thugs of all time. On the other hand, I couldn’
t help being glad that it wasn’t Lance; I would have hated to feel that I was responsible for what had happened.
When I got home I sent a text message to Josh telling him OK U win, and that I would see him on Monday. Since he’d got a black eye defending my honour, it seemed the least I could do. And I owed it to Mrs P. And to Nan. It would have broken her heart to think I’d let myself be bullied into giving up on my ambitions. Our ambitions! Nan wanted me to be a star just as much as I did.
I went to bed that night feeling happier and stronger than I had for ages.
CHAPTER TEN
Come Monday morning, I wasn’t feeling quite so brave. I desperately didn’t want to go and face everybody. Not just Marigold and her mob – all the others, as well. Marigold would be her usual jeering, sneering self, but the others might be feeling sorry for me, and that was even worse.
If it hadn’t been for a text message from Josh, and a call from Indy before I was even out of bed – “You are coming back today, aren’t you?” – I might have chickened out. But how could I, when they’d shown how much they cared? I couldn’t let them down!
This is why you need your friends. You know that they’ll support you and stand by you, no matter what. They know that you’d do the same for them.
I don’t think I’d have survived without Josh and Indy. Marigold started on at me almost the minute I showed up.
“Well, look who it isn’t! Have you come to cross your name off the Top Spot list?”
I wanted so much to say something smart and cutting in return, but I couldn’t think of a single solitary thing.
“Marigold reckons you won’t be going in for it.” Abi Walters, that was. Gloating. “Will you?”
Coldly I said, “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Oh! No reason. Anyone can enter, I suppose.”
“Why don’t you just shut up?” said Indy.
“Why don’t you, squit face?”
“Pleeeese, guys! Don’t let’s get personal,” said Marigold. “She obviously thinks she’s going to be another Beth Ditto.”
There was a bit of a silence. I concentrated very hard on unpacking my bag. Then a voice said, “Who’s Beth Ditto?”
“She’s this big gross singer… weighs fifteen stone. Plus she’s a lesbian.” Marigold smiled, sweetly. I felt like hitting her. “Guess that’s who you’re modelling yourself on?”
I said, “I don’t model myself on anybody.”
“Really?” said Marigold. “You could have fooled me!”
At that point the door opened and Josh came in. Guess what? Marigold clammed right up. It was like she’d suddenly been struck dumb. She slunk away to her desk and started busily rummaging about inside it, with her head stuck under the lid. She didn’t say another word. But at the end of class, as I was packing stuff back into my bag, Ashlee came up to me and said, “I’ve seen Beth Ditto… She’s cool!”
Ashlee, of all people. One of Marigold’s best mates!
Indy squeezed my arm and whispered, “See?”
I didn’t ask her what she meant; I knew what she meant. I’d plucked up the courage to come back, and that one remark of Ashlee’s had made it all worthwhile. I didn’t give a toss any more for Marigold Johnson!
Rather to my surprise, I settled in again at school like I’d never been away. I’d only really missed three days, but what with half term it felt like a lot more. If there was anyone thought I’d bunked off cos of all the stuff with Marigold, they didn’t dare to say so. I’m sure lots of them did think it, but it was like Josh had become my minder and they were all scared of making any remarks which might get back to him. Which was fine by me! I liked having a minder.
One or two people actually came up to me and said they were glad I was still going in for the contest. They said things like, “You don’t want to let her put you off.” (Meaning Marigold.) A girl called Julianna that I’d hardly ever spoken to before said, “You ought to have a go! Why shouldn’t you?”
Ashlee said, “Yes, why shouldn’t she? It takes all sorts.”
I wasn’t quite sure whether she was being sarcastic or supportive. One minute she seemed to be on my side, the next she was back being Marigold’s doormat. It was hard to tell. Anyway, I didn’t really care any more. Josh and Indy were there, and they were my friends, and that was all that mattered.
Every now and again I went to see Mrs P, just for an hour. This meant I had to tell Mum. I didn’t tell her that I’d bunked off school – I wasn’t about to commit harakiri, or whatever it is they call it when people plunge swords into themselves. I just said vaguely that I’d “been singing” and Mrs P had heard me.
“And now she’s coaching me, Mum! She used to be an opera singer. She used to be famous! She’s got all these pictures of herself, all dressed up, and all these programmes with her name in. She said I had a good voice and she’d like to be my teacher and—”
“Hang about, hang about!” said Mum. “How much is all this going to cost?”
I said proudly that it wasn’t going to cost anything. “She’s doing it cos she thinks that one day I’ll be a big star and she’ll be known as my teacher. If she lives that long. I hope she does! But she’s very old. Older than Nan.”
“And you say she’s coaching you?”
“Yes! She’s teaching me all about scales and breathing and voice production.”
“But what is she coaching you for?” said Mum.
“For the talent contest!”
Mum looked confused. “What talent contest?”
“At school. On Charity Fun Day! We’re having a talent contest and I’m going to sing this song that I’ve wrote with Josh.”
“Written,” said Mum.
“Whatever! It’s called Star Crazy Me and—”
“You’re going in for a talent contest? With Josh?”
“No. Just me. Josh is too shy!”
“Certainly not something which could ever be said about you,” agreed Mum. “You’ve always been a show-off! Even as a toddler. Your nan used to encourage you something rotten. God, it used to embarrass me!”
I said, “Why? Cos I was bad?”
“No, because your nan was shameless! She even used to get you standing up in front of total strangers. Even waiting at the check-out in Tesco… Come on, give us a bit of a song! Some of the looks we got, I can’t tell you.”
I didn’t remember that. I could see that it must have been embarrassing; I felt quite embarrassed myself.
“Well, anyway, never mind now,” said Mum. “What’s more to the point, how many tickets can you get?”
I said, “You want tickets?”
“Well, of course I do,” said Mum. “What do you think? I’d like a couple, if you can… one for me, one for Maureen. I’m always telling her about you. My daughter with the big voice… She likes your kind of music.”
I couldn’t believe it! Maureen is the owner of the beauty salon where Mum works. I never thought Mum talked about me at all.
“Mind, it’s a pity about Josh,” she said. “It would have been nice to have the two of you.”
I wondered if she was only saying it because Josh looked good and I didn’t. I told her again that he was too shy. It’s true! He is bold in all kinds of ways, like defending me against Marigold and standing up to Lance Stapleton. There aren’t many boys I know would do that. Lance is not only a vicious thug, he is hulking. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him! But I can stand up on stage in front of an audience, no problem. I am a bit of a show-off, I suppose. Josh is quite a modest sort of person. The idea of appearing on stage just totally makes him squirm.
After what Mum said, I did have another go at him. I said, “Pleeeeze, Josh! Pleeeeze do it with me!” But he wouldn’t budge.
He said, “You’re the performer. What d’you need me for? All those lessons you’re having… you’re practically a professional!”
“But we’re a team,” I said. “It’s our song I’m singing! How can I sing it without you?” And then I p
ulled a really mean stunt. “I s’pose what it is,” I said, “you’re ashamed of being seen with me.”
He told me later that I was lucky we were still talking.
“For that,” he said, “I am certainly not getting up on stage. But I’ll lay down a track for you, if you like.”
“Oh, Josh, would you?” I flew at him and hugged him. “That is such a brilliant idea! Why didn’t we think of it before?”
“We didn’t think of it,” said Josh. “I thought of it. And I might’ve thought of it sooner if you hadn’t gone flouncing about like some great prima donna, having hysterics all over the place.”
I said, “Huh! Well, anyway, I’ll tell everyone we wrote the song together. You can’t stop me doing that!”
“Wouldn’t want to,” said Josh.
“Couldn’t even if you did, cos I shall be on stage and I can say whatever I like!”
Josh said, “Honestly, you can be so childish at times,” but I knew that he had really and truly forgiven me and that everything was all right between us.
A week before the contest we learned how the voting was going to be organised. There was going to be a popular vote from the audience, with a separate vote from a specially invited panel of experts. The experts were: a man from one of the big music stores in the shopping centre, a man from local radio, and…
TOPAZE! Omigod, I couldn’t believe it, I was just so excited. My all-time favourite female singer! And just about the most famous person ever to have gone to our school. Well, the only famous person to have gone to our school unless you count a boy called Gary Mason that grew up to be some big-time criminal that was all over the TV news just a few years ago. Mostly people didn’t talk about him. But they talked about Topaze!
Indy was just as thrilled as I was. She is not quite such a big rock fan as me, but Topaze is like a sort of role model for her.
“Imagine! You’ll actually meet her,” she said. “You’ll talk to her!”
“Dunno ’bout that,” I said. “Person that wins might get to.”
“You’ll win,” said Indy.