by Holly Webb
“You’ve been lying to us all this time.” Emily sounded indignant, but also intrigued.
“I tried not to. But it was horrible, not being able to have you all over to my house. Especially after you invited me to yours, Poppy. I felt really mean.”
Emily giggled. “We just thought you had a deep, dark secret. Like me. Except Toby and James and Sukie aren’t that secret, unfortunately…”
“Well, I sort of did,” Maya agreed.
“What did your mum’s … publicist say to the paper?” Izzy asked. “And did you really mean it about the TV news?”
“Uh-huh. She told them that Mum was supporting a Fairtrade fashion show, organised by children at a local school. She didn’t exactly say it was because I was doing it, but they’ll probably work it out. They were really keen, they said they’d put something in this week’s paper to say it’s happening, and then a big article afterwards too. Oh and Cara, she’s the publicist, she called Mum this morning and said she was working on getting it on the radio as well. That would be good, because they’d advertise it on the day, I think. The TV news won’t be much good for getting people to come.”
“Yeah, we should tell them we’re not interested.” Emily giggled.
Izzy snorted with laughter, and then Poppy and Maya caught it too. They couldn’t stop laughing, even when the bell went. They were sitting waiting for Mr Finlay to do the register, sniggering every so often. If they stopped, it only took Emily muttering, “Not interested,” and they all started off again.
Mr Finlay looked at them a couple of times, and Miss Grace was definitely glaring, but they couldn’t help themselves.
“That table over there needs to – yes, Mrs Brooker?” Mr Finlay glanced up as the classroom door opened, and the school secretary hurried in. She looked quite flustered, and she kept glancing over at Maya and the others.
“What have we done?” Poppy murmured.
“Maya?” Emily nudged her.
“Ummm… It might be something to do with Mum.” Maya shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Maya, Emily, Poppy and Izzy, can you go with Mrs Brooker, please?” Mr Finlay called. “And try and make it quick, girls!” But he was grinning.
“Mrs Brooker, what’s happening?” Maya called after her, as she hurried back down the corridor.
“I’ve got a man from the local paper in the office, and I’ve already had someone from the radio, and the BBC on the phone. What have you girls been doing?”
“Can I go and brush my hair?” Poppy wailed. “Does he want to take photos?”
Emily sighed. “It would be the day I’ve got this dress on, it’s way too tight. Oh well.”
“You all look lovely. Come on, he says he’s got to go and see a giant fish afterwards or something, so he’s in a hurry. I’ve already called all your parents to ask if you can be in the paper. Well, not yours, Maya, obviously.”
Maya was about to ask why not, when they got to the office and she saw her mum leaning against the wall by the door, chatting to the man from the paper. Maya saw her smile at a girl Maya knew from Year Four. She’d obviously arrived late, and was waiting for Mrs Brooker to sign her in. The girl was standing in reception staring at Maya’s mum, her mouth open in astonishment, as though she wasn’t sure she was real.
“Oh, Olivia, you had a doctor’s appointment, didn’t you? Go on into your class then.” Mrs Brooker shooed her down the corridor.
“Look who that is!” Olivia muttered to Maya and the others as she went past, and she turned back about six times before she reluctantly disappeared round the corner.
Maya’s mum looked at her daughter uncertainly, as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say anything.
“Hey, Mum.” Maya smiled at her.
The man from the paper glanced from Maya to her mum and back again, and muttered, “Wow.” And then, “I didn’t realise your daughter was at this school.”
“We’ve been keeping it quiet, for Maya’s sake,” her mum explained. “But when she and her friends came up with the fashion-show idea, and their Fairtrade uniform campaign, we decided to make use of some publicity, since it’s such an amazing cause. They were having trouble getting a response from your paper,” she added, very sweetly.
“Oh … really?” He looked slightly embarrassed. “We are very busy.”
“So where would you like to take the photos?” Maya’s mum asked helpfully. “Perhaps in front of the poster for the show?”
The photographer nodded – Maya had a feeling he was just doing what he was told now – and posed them round the poster. He did have a go at suggesting one of just Maya and her mum, but stopped when he got glared at.
“And now you’d like the girls to tell you about the show,” Maya’s mum told him firmly, and Maya tried not to laugh. She didn’t see her mum in full superstar mode very often – it was amazing the way people just nodded and did as she said.
“We can email it to you if you like,” Maya suggested. “All the details.”
“Er, yes. Thanks.”
“I’m really sorry,” Maya’s mum told Mrs Brooker, when he’d gone. “I thought they’d arranged it all with you, when they asked if I’d come over here. I didn’t realise he was just turning up!”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” Mrs Brooker looked more flustered than ever, and Maya realised that her mum made the school secretary nervous. She smiled secretively at her feet. Mrs Brooker was usually so scary – it was funny seeing her in a flap.
They had caught the local paper on just the right day – it came out a couple of days later, on the Friday.
“Just ready for everyone to read it over the weekend, and ring up for their tickets on Monday morning,” Izzy said happily. She’d got her dad to stop at the newsagents that morning, and she’d brought two copies to school. She and Poppy had raced over to Maya and Emily, waving them at their friends as they got off the school bus.
“Did they get all the details right?” Maya asked anxiously. They were on the front page, which was great, but it was no good if they’d put the wrong date, or anything like that.
“No, it’s all fine, I checked,” Izzy said. “And they put in about it all being in aid of building a school in Bangladesh.” She giggled. “Actually I think they nicked some of it straight from what you wrote, Maya.”
“Not this bit,” Maya muttered, reading what the article said about her and her mum. Maya Knight, 10, shares her mother’s famous looks, with waist-length red hair. “I’m cutting it off…” Maya and her friends are also campaigning for Park Road School to change to a Fairtrade school uniform, after a school project helped them to discover the shocking truth behind many of the items we wear. “Ooh, they must have rung up Mr Finlay,” Maya muttered. The girls’ teacher, Paul Finlay, told The Post, ‘The class were shocked by the images of child workers. It’s great that the project has given them such enthusiasm for helping children like themselves.’
“No one’s said anything to you about it?” Maya asked Poppy and Izzy uncomfortably. “About – you know – my mum?”
“No. But I think Ali’s seen it. She keeps looking at you.” Poppy moved closer to Maya, protectively. “She does not look happy.”
“I haven’t done anything to her…” Maya murmured, glancing behind her. Poppy was right. Ali was glaring at them.
“You know what she’s like, she can take offence at anything,” Emily said, shaking her head.
Maya, Izzy and Poppy looked at her meaningfully, and Emily scowled. “What? I’m not that bad. Not as bad as Ali, come on! That’s so unfair!” She went pink, and added, “OK. Sorry.”
Maya hugged her. “You can have a go at Ali when she storms over here and accuses me of making it all up. I bet she will.”
Actually, she waited until they were in class. By that time the news had spread around, and quite a few people were gathered around Maya, asking about her mum and why she hadn’t told anyone before.
“It’s really sad when people are so boring they have to
go on and on about their parents,” Ali said loudly, and Maya sighed.
Emily was just about to start telling Ali where to get off when Nick Drayton, of all people, waded in instead. “Shut up, Ali. You’re just jealous. If you had a famous mum, we’d never hear the end of it. Maya, do you think your mum would sign an autograph for my mum? Your mum’s her favourite singer, she’s got all her CDs.”
“Ooh, and mine!” Loads more people were asking now, and Ali sat down, seething.
“Maya’s mum’s coming to the fashion show.” Izzy had her business head on. “If your mum comes too, Maya’s mum could sign her CDs.”
“And she’ll do photos. But you’d better tell your mum to get a ticket quick, they’ve almost sold out,” Maya added.
“You liar!” Emily whispered admiringly, as Mr Finlay yelled at everyone to sit down, and half the class muttered to each other about making their mums buy tickets at the end of school.
“I know, but it’s nearly true.” Maya smiled. “They will be almost sold out.”
“It’s just marketing,” Izzy said approvingly. “But you realise if we sell out, that means a hundred and twenty people coming to watch this show.”
Maya swallowed. “Ye-es. Maybe we’d better have a production meeting at break, do you think?”
“Wow.” Maya walked further into the hall and looked around. “It looks…”
“Exactly the same as it always does, except with something that could just about be a catwalk if you look at it sideways on a good day?” Emily asked.
“Um, yeah.”
“I know. It isn’t exactly rock and roll, is it?”
Mr Finlay had given the girls the Monday afternoon out of class, so they could get the hall ready for the first rehearsal with all the models after school that evening. The stage blocks were in place – and Izzy had made a note on the List to give Mr Sampson some Fairtrade chocolate to say thank you – but otherwise, it looked (and smelled) like the place where they had PE. And assembly. And rainy lunchtimes. It wasn’t inspiring.
“It’ll look better with the lights dimmed,” Izzy said, trying to sound hopeful. “Mr Finlay’s going to put spotlights on the catwalk, remember.”
“It just looks a bit boring, though,” Poppy sighed. “We need a backdrop, or something.”
“A what?” Maya asked her.
“Like a wall decoration. And something cool to go over those screens.” Poppy nodded at the blue display screens that Mr Sampson had set up across the back of the hall, covering the staffroom door so there was a backstage area.
“Hang on. Can’t we use the back wall as the screen for the projector?” Izzy asked. “Usually it’s the other way round, because we sit that way for assembly, but there’s no reason it couldn’t go on to the wall. And then we can have Poppy’s poster design as a backdrop, when there’s nothing else on the screen.”
“That would definitely cheer it up,” Maya agreed. “Poppy…”
Poppy eyed her warily. “What?”
“Could you paint something to go over those screens? Some more things like the little birds?”
“By tomorrow?” Poppy asked.
“Yes.”
Poppy sighed. “I’m just going to ask Mr Lucas in the art room if he’s got any dust sheets. Or something.” She grinned. “Have fun moving a hundred and twenty chairs!”
Even though they’d teased Izzy about the List, Maya was grateful for it by the time all the models arrived after school. Izzy was just so organised. She’d also bullied her dad – who wasn’t all that keen on watching a fashion show – into being in charge of refreshments. Emily’s hunch had been right, and the Health Organics shop had donated Fairtrade tea and coffee and sugar in exchange for a big mention in the programme. Poppy’s mum was making six batches of biscuits at that very moment, and they’d used some of the ticket money to buy her the Fairtrade ingredients.
But the List wasn’t much help for dealing with a load of eighteen-year-olds, who were wandering around the hall, going, “Aaaawww! They’re all so little! Aren’t they cute?” And, “I wonder if Mrs Angel still goes on about polishing shoes,” and lots of other stupid stuff, instead of listening to Izzy, who was trying to get everyone’s attention and answer about six questions at the same time.
In the end Emily got fed up, and jumped on to the catwalk. “Oi! Can you all listen, please!” she yelled at the top of her voice, and for once, everyone did. Even Ali and Lucy, who’d been standing over Poppy and making rude comments about her painting. If they didn’t watch it, Maya reckoned she was about thirty seconds away from painting their shoes.
“Tara will be here with the clothes in a minute, and she’s going to put them on rails in the staffroom,” said Izzy. There was a chorus of oohs at this, as everyone, even the eighteen-year-olds, realised they were going to get to go into the staffroom. “They’re all labelled, and you’ve got to make sure everything goes back on the right hanger! Miss Grace is going to help with that, and she’ll be there tomorrow to help you do quick changes as well.”
Maya beamed gratefully at Miss Grace. She was being a total star.
“Anything else?” Emily hissed at Izzy.
“Mr Finlay’s just trying out the lights and the music, and as soon as Tara gets here, we’ll get started. Oh, you can’t leave any stuff in here – it’s all got to go in the staffroom, like it will tomorrow.”
“She’s coming!” Maya rushed over to open the doors for Tara and Leah, who were dragging two huge rails of clothes.
“Everyone find a spot to change in the staffroom!” Emily yelled, after Izzy had whispered in her ear.
“It looks amazing,” Maya whispered, half an hour later. “Ooops, where’s the next two?” Then she giggled as Ali shot out on to the catwalk, having obviously just been shoved on in a hurry by Emily. Ali turned round and glared at her, and stomped down the catwalk looking a lot less model-like than usual. Lucy, who was meant to be with her, just didn’t turn up at all. Izzy made a note on her glitches page, tutting.
But it did look good, even with the mistakes, Maya agreed. The lights and the backdrop made a huge difference, and the clothes looked gorgeous.
“Let’s just hope it goes as well tomorrow,” Izzy muttered, as all the models posed together at the very end. “Fingers crossed.”
“That’s a TV camera!” Emily squeaked. “I didn’t really believe we’d be on TV!”
A reporter in a very smart purple suit was chatting to Maya’s mum, and Maya tucked her hands behind her back to stop herself nibbling her nails. She was so nervous. The hall was filling up already, and Mrs Brooker, who’d agreed to come and take the tickets, had told her that she’d actually had to turn some people away. They’d stuck big SOLD OUT labels over the posters, but obviously people had hoped they’d be able to blag their way in.
“I wish I hadn’t said we’d do this presentation,” she muttered to Poppy.
Poppy hugged her. “You’ll be fine. I brought some of my herb tea, do you want some? It’s very good for nerves.”
Maya laughed, and felt a bit better. “No, thanks. I’ll be OK.”
“Are you two ready? It’s nearly seven,” Mr Finlay reminded them.
Maya swallowed, and nodded. It definitely wouldn’t have been a good idea to have the tea – she felt like she might throw up.
They were doing their bit from the side of the catwalk, so they didn’t have to come on from the staffroom, just hurry up the steps. They hovered close by, and then the main hall lights went down, and the backdrop changed from the Welcome to Our Fairtrade Fashion Show! slide, to one saying What’s Fairtrade All About?
Maya could see her mum and dad standing at the side of the hall – no seats left, then! Her mum blew her a kiss. Maya tried to think of all those full chairs as money for building the school, instead of people staring at her, and started to talk.
Afterwards, she was never quite sure if they actually did all of their presentation. It certainly didn’t seem to take very long, and there were bits s
he was sure she didn’t remember saying. Still, people clapped a lot, and at least it was done. She scrambled down the steps and waited anxiously next to Izzy at the edge of the hall as the music began, while Emily scowled at her little brother and whispered something in his ear that could well have been a death threat.
But he and Lara walked down the catwalk beautifully, and the audience purred at them. Maya could hear it – “Oh, aren’t they sweet!”
“It’s going so well,” Izzy whispered, her eyes glittering excitedly in a flash of the stage lights. “Everyone’s on time, even. And that’s the last of the girls – now they just have to all come back on.”
Maya nodded, and sighed with relief as the whole group paraded back down. Only the older girls to go now.
They were about halfway through when someone tapped her shoulder. “Maya! Come on! You too, Izzy.”
“What is it?” Maya’s heart thumped painfully. What had gone wrong?
“A surprise. Come on, you have to go round the back.” Maya’s mum hurried them behind the screens in the dark, and quickly stuffed them into the staffroom, which was full of people scuffling around for clothes and cursing in whispers as buttons wouldn’t do up and lipstick got smudged. Miss Grace and Tara were racing around like mad things, sorting everybody out.
“We’ve just got time, hurry up!” Tara pushed a pile of clothes into Maya’s arms. “Get changed!”
“What?”
Her mum smiled at her. “Maya, you’ve got to go on – all of you! This was all your idea. Tara’s picked out amazing clothes for you all. Emily’s already wearing hers, I told her beforehand, she couldn’t have stopped to change now. Hurry up, you’ve only got about two minutes!”
Maya pulled on the little purple flowery dress – it looked good with her silver flip-flops, luckily – and let Tara push some pink flowery clips into her hair.
The rest of the models were pouring out on to the catwalk now, all the girls from school, too, for the end of the show.