by Pete Johnson
But then he begins to change. He and Mary become friendly. And she tells him that with the help of a robin she's found the key to a mysterious, walled-up garden. It was all gloomy and overgrown, but she and Dickon have totally transformed it. And then Colin wants to visit it too, because he thinks there's magic in the secret garden, which will help him get well again.
The scenes when Colin hangs out in the garden are the best in the book. I'd just love to act out those. In fact, I really would give up my right arm to play Colin. And that's no exaggeration.
So it's all sorted – practically. I've just got to think of an amazing audition piece now.
11.57 p.m.
Had a thought about that already. How about if I whip off my clothes to reveal pyjamas underneath? That would show I'd done my research and know about Colin not walking and having to be in bed all the time. I bet no one else thinks about doing that.
I'm convinced now that I've found that lucky break which every superstar needs. But I shall work night and day and then some more to make the most of this chance. For I want this so badly.
Overall, this has been an incredible day – and very likely an historic one too.
Chapter Five
SUNDAY MARCH 14TH
Been working on my audition piece all day. Thought I'd act out the part where Colin first sees Mary standing in his room in the middle of the night and cries out, 'Who are you? Are you a ghost?'
Then this evening I slipped round to Georgia's house, all set to display my acting talent. I said to her, 'You've got to imagine me doing this scene in pyjamas.'
'Oh, I'd rather not,' she replied, giggling.
'This is a scene of raw power I'm about to perform for you, so show some respect,' I cried. I went out of the room and got myself all psyched up. Then I burst inside, my eyes all wide and staring and Georgia's face went so red I thought it was going to burst.
'You want to laugh, don't you?' I said.
Georgia nodded and then this laugh just exploded out of her. 'I'm sorry, it's just the way you were rolling your eyes,' she said.
'It's called acting, Georgia,' I replied.
'Do it again . . . I promise I won't laugh.'
'No, I tell you what, I'll watch you instead this time.'
Georgia began acting out a scene in which she's looking round the secret garden for the first time. And then her shoulders began to shake and she was howling with laughter again. 'I'm sorry, but I can't be serious with you watching.'
Then her mum came in and said with a frown, 'There's a lot of hilarity in here . . . you haven't got much time, you know. Other children will probably have been working on this for weeks. Also, I think you need to be more original than just acting out a scene from the book. You want to stun those judges with your pieces. So may I make a suggestion?'
Before either of us could reply she swept on, 'I really think you'll concentrate much better if you both work on this completely on your own. Don't even tell each other what you're going to do. Let it be a secret until the day.'
I must have looked a bit shocked by this, because Georgia's mum said a bit more kindly, 'It'll only be a few days, but I'm certain you'll both work harder – alone.'
Georgia smiled a bit sadly. 'I suppose Mum is right, really. If we work together, all we'll do is mess about.'
I wasn't really convinced, and somewhere in a dim, dark corner of my heart I was even a bit hurt. But I didn't say anything and slunk off home again.
MONDAY MARCH 15TH
I have just had a brainwave. I was reclining on my bed pondering yet again what I could do for The Secret Garden audition. Something fresh and different was what I needed. Then, out of nowhere this genius idea flashed through my head.
Here it is: I shall perform Colin's story in rap. I'll write a rap poem, learn it off by heart, and then on the day those judges will be so impressed they'll yell: 'That boy is so original, what's his name? Tobey Tyler. But we must sign him up right away, for he is, without doubt, the best hot new talent we've seen in centuries.'
TUESDAY MARCH 16TH
I was working on my rap poem when Georgia rang. But I didn't breathe a word – even to her – of my audacious plan. I want it to be an incredible surprise for everyone.
WEDNESDAY MARCH 17TH
It's finished and I'm just calling it: 'The Secret Garden rap.' I think there's a beguiling simplicity about that.
THURSDAY MARCH 18TH
A bombshell.
When I arrived home, Dad didn't say anything to me, just sat there in the kitchen looking like a frostbitten sprout. But then that's his normal expression, so I wasn't too perturbed until Mum waltzed in.
She had such an odd little smile on her face I thought: Hold onto your teeth, something bad's coming up.
And it was.
Guess where Mum had been earlier today: only up at my school. Miss Lytton had asked to see her. She'd told Mum all about the message I'd added to the Johnny Depp autograph. Cheers, Miss Lytton. The only time I'd impressed my parents – well, my mum – and she had to spoil it.
Then Miss Lytton went on to tell her I was getting picked on as a result of my alleged forgery. Mum had come home and passed all this on to Dad, of course, and now my parents were looking dead serious and it was all going horribly, so I thought, I'll slip in a funny comment here.
I said, 'When you're the local superstar, which I am, you know you're going to get some jealousy, but it doesn't bother me at all. It's the price of fame really.' I grinned around then – but no one was smiling back. In fact, Dad had actually closed both his eyes.
Then he said in this voice crackling with weariness, 'All this play-acting has got to stop. It's not helping you. In fact, it's making you unpopular.'
Actually, this wasn't true as I've always been seen as something of an oddity. But I didn't argue, as then came the bombshell which I alluded to earlier.
My parents have only banned me from going to the audition on Saturday. My big chance – my only big chance so far – and they want to stop me! They don't feel this is the right time for me to be doing this. 'There'll be other chances later,' said Mum, 'but right now we want you to keep your mind free from fame and celebrity, and focus on other things. To help you, your father's bought you a little present.'
Dad then handed me – are you ready for this? – a giant book of crosswords! He said, 'When I was your age, I was already doing at least one crossword a night. And I've never stopped since. It clears my mind and helps me focus on what's important. And if it gives half as much pleasure to you as it has me, then I'll be extremely happy.' He acted as if he was handing me the Holy Grail. And I pretended I was really pleased to receive this.
'I can see I'll be having a lot of fun now,' I said. But actually, I was already hatching a simple but superb plan.
I decided there was absolutely no point in arguing with them about going to the audition. They'd definitely made up their minds and nothing I could say was going to change them. So instead, I shall sneak out of the house before they're awake. When they realize I've gone I shall be well on my way (Georgia and I need to leave pretty early on Saturday anyway). And after I've got the part, well, surely my parents wouldn't dare stand in my way then.
For this plan to work I must first of all do nothing to arouse my parents' suspicions in any way. And secondly, I have to leave my house in a totally silent way on Saturday. This will not be easy as I'm naturally noisy and so clumsy you wouldn't believe it.
But I shall perform The Secret Garden rap. Have no fear about that.
Chapter Six
FRIDAY MARCH 19TH
10.15 p.m.
Today it was vital I didn't arouse my parents' suspicions in any way, so I had to act normal, which is harder than you might think. But I fooled them all right.
I even went and asked them if they had any second thoughts and would allow me to go the audition after all. Mum's eyes went a bit misty before she shook her head. 'I'm very sorry, Tobey, but we really don't think this is what yo
u should be concentrating on right now.'
I swallowed hard in a tragic sort of way and Mum's eyes became even mistier.
Then I left without uttering another word.
Upstairs I tried to practise my poem very quietly. This wasn't easy as rap just isn't meant to be whispered. Then my mobile rang. It was Georgia.
'So how are you feeling?' she asked.
'Absolutely fantastic.'
'Really!' she cried.
'Well, fairly fantastic . . . the old nerves do creep in from time to time.'
She said, 'I've been shaking tonight, but I'm sure I'll be all right when I get there.'
'You'll be more than all right,' I said. 'You'll be superb.'
'Say that to me again tomorrow just before I'm going on.'
'I'll whisper it right down your earhole,' I said.
'While you're whispering . . . tell me what you're going to do tomorrow.'
'All right, I shall be performing The Secret Garden rap.'
There was quite a long pause.
'Are you still there?' I asked.
'Yes, of course, well that certainly sounds very different.' Then, as if hastily changing the subject, she said, 'By the way, there's no need to come round our house tomorrow. Mum said she'll pick you up.'
'No, she can't do that,' I blurted out.
'Why?'
'Because . . . ' And I just couldn't think of a single excuse so I put on some loud music and told Georgia the truth.
Her voice shook with horror as she cried, 'I can't believe your parents can be so barbaric!'
'The tragedy is, my mum and dad really think they're helping me. Poor deluded fools. Now don't tell your mum about this,' I added.
'Of course I won't,' she cried indignantly. 'But what about if they catch you leaving tomorrow?'
'They won't,' I said. 'But if they do . . .'
'Yes?'
'Then I'll just have to . . . hypnotise them.'
She laughed. 'Oh, I'll be keeping everything crossed at six o'clock tomorrow morning.'
'You won't even be awake then.'
'Oh yes I will,' she cried. 'I've been awake long before six o'clock every morning this week. And by the way, Mum said we mustn't wish each other good luck because that's bad luck.'
'Bit confusing.'
'I know, but Mum said no one in the theatre ever says that. They say: "Break a leg".'
'OK, Georgia, break a leg. No, break two legs and all your toes as well.'
'You too, and Tobey, break all your legs, toes and thumbs at six o'clock tomorrow.'
After Georgia had rung off I had yet another brainwave. Tomorrow, when my parents discover I've gone away . . . why don't I send them on a totally false trail and let them think I've run away rather than just gone to the audition? So I wrote this note:
Hi, Mum and Dad,
I am going away, possibly on a train or a bus. I may be gone sometime – or I may not. Anyway, please do not try and find me. I will ring you one day soon. So don't panic.
Have a great weekend.
Your son and heir,
Tobey.
So my highly mysterious running-away letter is written, my clothes for tomorrow are hanging over the chair, and my rapping Secret Garden piece is learned by heart.
GOODBYE, OBSCURITY. HELLO, CELEBRITY.
11.46 p.m.
The curtains are drawn, but the rest of the furniture is real. VERY BAD JOKE, I know – sorry. But I just can't sleep. It's blowing a gale outside my window; well, that's what it sounds like. The wind and rain are certainly making a fine old racket.
But even if it was deathly still outside I'd still be awake. This could be – no, be positive, it will be – the major turning point of my life.
Still, I'm bound to drift off to sleep soon.
SATURDAY MARCH 20TH
5.50 a.m.
Guess what. I've been awake all night. My eyes have only shut when I blinked. But I don't feel at all tired. In fact I just can't wait to get started.
8.30 a.m.
At precisely half past six I slipped out of bed and got dressed. It was too risky to journey into the bathroom (not that I frequent that place very much anyway), so I gave my face a quick wipe with my sleeve and swirled some stinging toothpaste around in my mouth. My hairbrush was in the bathroom but actually I thought an 'I can't be bothered to brush my hair vibe' might help my performance. For if Colin's lolling about in bed all of the time, he's not going to be bothered about styling his locks, is he?
Then came the riskiest part of the whole operation. I had to creep downstairs and out of the front door without waking up Mum and Dad. So ever so carefully I stood on the middle of the first stair (usually the least creaky part). Not a sound. Others were a little noisier, but none gave those deep groans which our stairs can perform. Then, like a shadow, I was at the front door. I undid the chain and turned the key in the lock. This was indeed a perilous moment. But nothing was heard from upstairs.
After which, I closed the door with great skill – not the whisper of a sound – and went sprinting furiously down my road. The pavements were still wet from all the rain in the night. And cherry blossom was stuck all over them; was that a good omen? I thought so. Then, when I was safe from my parents' prying eyes, I stopped and punched the air. Anyone watching me would have thought I'd gone mad. But I didn't care; in fact I punched the air a second time before resuming my flight to freedom.
Georgia grinned at me when she opened the door. 'I'm so glad you made it – but Tobey, your hair's awful, and it looks great when you make an effort.' And despite my protests she insisted on brushing and styling it.
I smelled Georgia's mum before I saw her. She reeked with perfume. She was all dressed up too, with scarves flying everywhere.
'Well, I think the witching hour approaches,' she murmured. 'Now, I've just got one rule today: I want you both to enjoy yourselves and have fun. Will you do that?' We both nodded.
It was all going so well until the car wouldn't start. So we've all been dashing about looking for jump leads and now Georgia's mum has sped next door.
8.50 a.m.
Inside Georgia's house the phone rang. Very luckily her mum was still next door and it was Georgia who answered . . . because the caller was my dad, in an extremely foul mood.
I was dead shocked that my parents had noticed I'd gone already (at the weekends they usually sleep in past nine o'clock). But apparently I hadn't closed the front door properly and the postman rang on the bell to say the door was wide open. At first Mum and Dad thought they'd been burgled. It must have been quite a relief when they found out that only I was missing.
Of course Georgia lied and said I wasn't at her house. Then Dad asked her if she knew where I'd gone. She said she didn't, and he asked her if she was sure, and she replied that she was completely certain. After which my dad said that if I did turn up she must let him know immediately.
'Do you think my dad believed you?' I asked.
'I'm practically certain he did.'
'Well, you are a top actress,' I said.
Meanwhile, Georgia's mum, with the help of two neighbours, finally got the car to start. We jumped in and I couldn't wait to leave. But while her mum was thanking the neighbours, Georgia leaned forward and picked up a mobile phone. She switched it off and then slipped the phone into her pocket. 'That's just in case your parents should try and ring my mum. She's always forgetting her mobile and she'll think that's what she's done today.' She gave a little grin. 'Nothing must stop you from getting famous.'
At last, Georgia's mum drove off at terrifying speed. Even Georgia was telling her to slow down. But we arrived at the theatre with over ten minutes to spare.
We joined this line of children and parents. There seemed to be hundreds here, (although I'm hopeless at counting). I thought, out of all this queue, only three will leave with a magic ticket to fame and fortune. So many people are going to be disappointed. I just hope and hope I'm not one of them. And Georgia isn't either.
Then, on the dot of ten o'clock the doors opened and we had to register at this table in the foyer. We were given a card with a number on. Georgia was 31 and I was 32.
We thronged around there until this man with a moustache that looked exactly like a giant moth started bellowing at us through a loudspeaker. He snapped that we had to listen to him carefully as he wouldn't be repeating these instructions.
'He's got all the sunny charm of Dracula,' I whispered to Georgia.
Moth-man, as I'd already christened him, told us that in a few moments, children who had card numbers one to twelve would be taken backstage and eaten. No, all right, he didn't say that last bit – just looked as if he wanted to. He actually said that each person would have two minutes only (and a whistle would blow if we went over that time) to perform a piece inspired by The Secret Garden.
Then the next twelve would get their chance and so it would go on for the rest of the morning. After which, at about half past twelve, he would read out a list of names of children who would be invited to do a second audition after lunch – and by the end of today they hoped to have found their Mary, Dickon and Colin. He went off and everyone began to talk very loudly.
Georgia looked round. 'There are more girls here than boys,' she observed. 'And some of them are very pretty.' She nodded at a blonde, tanned girl texting into a tiny mobile. 'And well minted as well, I bet.'
'But Mary's supposed to be plain and miserable and poor, so you'll be all right.' I certainly hadn't meant that to sound as rude as it did. I was trying to be reassuring actually. But Georgia suddenly looked at me and burst out laughing. And soon we were both chortling away like maniacs.
11.15 a.m.
Georgia's mum said this is the worst part – the waiting to go on. I agree with her. They have set up a table with refreshments for us, but butterflies have taken over my stomach. So for once, I can't eat anything.
11.35 a.m.
Moth-man is back. Numbers 24–36 have been summoned. No time to write anything else.
WE'RE GOING IN.
Chapter Seven