How to Get Famous

by Pete Johnson

  'I just know this is your big chance,' cried Georgia. 'So get famous, Tobey.'

  Chapter Nine

  FRIDAY APRIL 2ND

  5.15 p.m.

  Mum and Misery Chops were both in the kitchen. So I strolled in and said, ever so casually, 'By the way, Sue Wallace is visiting families in the area and chatting about their problems. And she's dropping in on us about seven o'clock. She hopes that's cool.'

  Both my parents were speechless with shock at first. 'Why exactly is Sue Wallace visiting us?' asked my mum at last, speaking very slowly.

  'Because she just wants to chat to certain selected families,' I said vaguely and quickly. But she said not to worry; it's very friendly and informal. And you don't need to feed her either, as she'll have eaten already, so that's all right, isn't it?'

  Dad growled. 'I suppose the school has arranged this,' and before I could answer he snarled at Mum, 'It's your fault for going up to the school and telling that Miss Lytton far too much.'

  'I didn't just go up to the school, they sent for me,' replied Mum. 'And I merely answered Miss Lytton's questions.'

  'She was far too nosy if you ask me,' replied Dad. 'And now she is putting us forward for this imposition.'

  They both seemed so agitated I felt just a glimmer of sympathy for them. 'Look, don't worry, I bet you'll really enjoy yourselves . . . and it could help us.'

  Dad gave a disbelieving grunt. 'And for how long will this uninvited guest be inflicting herself on us?'

  'Well, she'd really like to stay the night.' Then, seeing my parents' appalled faces I grinned. 'That was my little joke. No, she'll only be here for an hour or two and I'm sure the time will just fly by.'

  Dad shook his gnarled, ancient head and then wheezed at Mum, 'I hope you've learned a hard lesson from all this. I said you were telling that teacher too much.'

  'For goodness' sake, you can't blame me for this,' cried Mum.

  'Oh, I certainly can,' replied Dad.

  I left them happily hissing insults at each other. But you will observe, I never actually said Sue was anything to do with my school. They just assumed that.

  So that's Phase One successfully dealt with. Bring on Phase Two.

  8.15 p.m.

  Sue's just left. This is exactly what happened.

  She arrived, bright and smiley, despite Dad – who opened the door in his usual grumpy fashion. 'Hi, I'm Sue,' she said.

  'And I'm Mr Tyler,' replied Dad. He doesn't approve of people telling you their first names right away.

  'Pleased to meet you, Mr Tyler,' said Sue, and she flashed him this card saying where she was from. But luckily, Misery Chops just squinted at it for a second – and he's pretty short-sighted anyway.

  'Thank you so much for agreeing to be interviewed by me,' she said.

  'I wasn't aware we had any choice in the matter,' replied Dad.

  Sue laughed rather uncertainly and I laughed too, as if Dad had just made this cracking joke. Then Mum burst out of the kitchen, offered Sue a coffee and we all sat round the dining-room table.

  'Well now, I hope you don't mind if I tape-record our little chat,' said Sue

  'I had no idea we were so fascinating,' said Dad dryly.

  Sue laughed again and then said, 'I feel I know you both already. Heard so much about you.'

  Dad swallowed hard. 'What exactly have you heard?'

  'Well, I know you have strong views about television, for instance,' said Sue. 'You don't watch it yourself, do you?'

  'From time to time, we do,' said Dad.

  'The weather forecast,' I cut in.

  'No, no, we look at other things,' cried Mum.

  'Like men walking on the moon,' I said. 'When was that now – 1966?'

  'We've watched other programmes since then,' said Mum.

  'Name three, apart from the weather,' I demanded. Sue was listening to all this, absolutely fascinated.

  'I admit most of the time we just have better things to do,' said Mum.

  'And do you ration what Tobey can watch?' asked Sue with a darting, little smile.

  'They certainly do. Every time I want to even switch on the telly I have this major interrogation from them,' I said. 'Make me fill in forms and then be interviewed about my choice . . .'

  'You're exaggerating now,' said Mum.

  'But this does cause tension in the household?' said Sue.

  'A certain amount, yes,' said Dad. 'But you see, when we were growing up, we had tremendous fun outside.'

  'No saucy stories now, Dad,' I teased.

  But Dad, who has a sense of humour which a table would compete for, said crossly, 'I mean, we made dens and played conkers and studied maps.'

  'We just feel,' said Mum, 'that children today are missing out on so much, spending all their time stuck in front of a television or computer screen.'

  'Or walking round with those wretched mobiles clamped to their ears,' said Dad. 'Children are so indulged today and fussed over. You can't even have an egg and spoon race unless everyone wins. What's happening to this country?'

  'Now you see what I have to put up with,' I cried. 'Every time I come home, I feel like a time traveller living back in the 1950s.'

  'Oh, but this is fascinating,' beamed Sue, and she'd been watching Dad absolutely entranced. 'I'm sure our four experts will have lots to say about your case.'

  'Did you say four experts?' asked Mum.

  'Yes, each looking at your dilemma from a different angle. Then when you come up to London . . . '

  'We've got to go to London?' wailed Dad.

  'Oh yes, you have to do that,' said Sue, looking surprised at the question.

  'Do we indeed?' murmured Dad, and then he shot a glance at Mum and muttered, 'It just shows how much trouble one conversation can cause.'

  Sue was looking puzzled now, so I just grinned and wiggled my eyebrows about at her to remind her that my dad was a loony, and said, 'Well, I can't wait to go to London.'

  'It's great fun,' said Sue. 'We'll give you a nice meal, then our experts discuss your situation in front of an audience.'

  'An audience?' squeaked Mum.

  'Oh yes, and afterwards both parents and children are very positive about the whole experience . . . they say they've learned so much about themselves and that helps' – she lowered her voice – 'to heal the tensions.'

  Dad was mopping his brow with a handkerchief now. 'And how long will this take?'

  'Oh, just one afternoon for the London discussion and another afternoon to film here,' said Sue brightly.

  'You're going to film us?' cried Mum and Dad together.

  'Oh yes, but don't worry,' said Sue. 'It's quite painless . . . and then you'll have the pleasure of seeing yourselves on television. We'll let you know in good time when it is being screened so you can ring up all your family and friends.'

  She started to smile yet again, but this time it faded somewhere on her lips. She'd noticed Dad had turned a deep, unhealthy purple colour, while Mum's face was frozen in a look of total shock. Finally, Mum said weakly, 'And you have arranged all this through Miss Lytton?'

  Now it was Sue's turn to look completely bewildered. 'And who's Miss Lytton?' she asked.

  'She's Tobey's teacher,' said Dad.

  'Ah, right,' said Sue vaguely. 'I see.'

  'She didn't send you here?' asked Mum.

  'I'm afraid I've never heard of her,' said Sue.

  Dad suddenly jumped to his feet. 'Who exactly are you, madam?'

  'I'm Sue Wallace from Fighting Families,' she said.

  'And we're certainly a fighting family, fighting all the time,' I cried. 'Still, you know what they say: a fight a day stops the world getting grey . . . '

  Yes, I was talking gibberish now. But I was desperate to try and relax the tension which was boiling up in our little dining room.

  But my efforts were useless. Dad's eyes were now jumping out of their sockets in horror. 'So you are in fact from a . . . television programme?' and he said those last two words the way yo
u might say 'dog poo'.

  'Yes, that's right,' Sue gasped. 'I spoke to your son yesterday, and he said it would be all right to drop in tonight.'

  'It's not your fault,' began Mum. Then she stared ominously at me. 'But there's been a misunderstanding.'

  'Yes I can see that,' said Sue. 'But really, I think this family would make a great television programme.'

  'Did you hear that?' I said eagerly.

  'And our experts would try and help you resolve any issues . . . '

  'And we do need all the help we can get,' I said desperately.

  But Mum and Dad had both got to their feet. 'I'm afraid,' said Dad, 'it is totally out of the question.'

  Sue left about two seconds later looking really disappointed. For as well as me, she had two mad people . . . who always make great television. Then Misery Chops let out this really massive sigh, like a minitornado. 'I don't know what to say to you.'

  'Oh don't worry about it,' I said kindly. 'You're just having what they call a senior moment.'

  'What?' roared Dad.

  'I think it's best you march up to your room right now,' said Mum.

  I hastily took her advice.

  But I can't let my best-ever chance of getting on television slip away, can I? That's why I whispered to Sue just before she left, 'Don't worry, I'll talk them round. Leave it all to me.'

  I just have to find a way of persuading them. So here's what I think I'll do. I'll leave them to calm down for a bit longer to get over the shock. Then I shall go downstairs, conducting myself like the serious son they've always wanted, after which . . . that's when I get a bit stuck actually.

  9.30 p.m.

  I've just slunk downstairs. They were both in the lounge, Dad wearing a ferocious scowl.

  'Greetings,' I said. 'I wish to apologize most deeply for any inconvenience my rash action tonight has caused you.'

  Dad only stared at me, his eyes glinting furiously. But Mum put down her steaming cup of cocoa and said, 'What were you thinking of, Tobey?'

  'I just want to get on television, Mum – and this was a good way to do it.'

  Mum shook her head. 'Look, I know you enjoy – well I won't say showing off – you like performing, don't you?'

  'It's what I'm born to do, Mum, perform on the telly and my life won't be complete until I do it. It's my dream.'

  Dad gave a loud snort. But Mum, to my surprise said, 'When you're twelve, you have lots of dreams . . . I know I did.' She looked at me suddenly. 'I even dreamed of being an actress when I was younger. My friends and I would put on all these plays,' she smiled at the memory. 'And we'd charge the adults two pence to see it. We had such fun acting for our friends and families. And I loved it, actually. But I knew . . . well it was just a bit of makebelieve. And we never ever thought about television.'

  'Yeah, but TV hadn't been invented then . . . well, I know it had,' I added hastily, seeing Mum's face. 'But it wasn't the big thing it is now. Times have changed.'

  'For the worse,' grunted Dad. 'And how dare you let us think Miss Lytton had told that lady to visit us tonight.'

  'Yeah,' I said, 'I'm sorry about that tiny deception, but it was in a very good cause.'

  Dad grunted again.

  'No, really it was. Now look, just hear me out, please.' I looked around and saw I actually had my parents' attention, so I plunged on.

  'You see, a very important thing has just happened here. Tonight, Dad and Mum, our lives have been touched by the world of television. And we were told that we would make a great programme. I want you both now to pause in your cocoadrinking to appreciate the enormity of that. Someone wants us to appear on the telly. Well, you'd be mad to refuse. It would be like hurling money into a bin: crazy. So will you please ring Sue now – I've got her number right here – and say on reflection, you've reconsidered her wonderful offer—'

  'No!' shouted Mum and Dad so loudly they made the windows vibrate.

  Desperate now, I tried a different approach. 'Dad, you're always moaning – I mean, talking – about money and how it doesn't go anywhere these days.'

  Dad raised two weary eyebrows at me.

  'Don't look like that. You're going to like this. You see, I've got a business offer for you. If you agree to go on the telly with me on this one show, I shan't ask for any Christmas presents this year. No, you haven't misheard: you needn't give me a single one. And you haven't got to give me any birthday presents next February either: a whole year without having the expense of a single present for me. A oncein- a-lifetime offer, I'd say. So I'd advise you to say "yes" now to avoid future disappointment.'

  I suddenly noticed Dad had closed both his eyes. 'Ah, you're dreaming about all the tons of money you're going to save, aren't you?'

  Dad's eyes opened wide. 'I'm dreaming about the moment you leave me alone.' I persisted. 'I'll sign a proper contract; you can even get a solicitor to look at it to check it's legal and binding. No presents for—'

  'I can't listen to another second of this rubbish,' roared Dad. 'Just go back up to your room, Tobey,' said Mum wearily. 'And don't ask us any more about this television show, because the answer will always be no.'

  I cried, 'Well, I only hope you two can sleep tonight because I know I shan't be able to.'

  I left them to think about that and tore back upstairs.

  A few minutes later Georgia rang up to hear what had happened. I related the evening's sorry events. 'I was so close, Georgia, I mean, that woman from TV actually wanted me and my two relics to go on her show. She looked really crushed when Dad chucked her out. I bet that's never happened to her before.'

  Georgia made agreeing noises.

  'One thing I asked my parents to do but they can't be bothered. No, they'd rather just continue leading their dull, obscure lives without any concern for me.'

  'They're incredibly selfish,' agreed Georgia.

  1.30 a.m.

  Still awake, just as I'd predicted. But it's impossible to sleep when, once again, all your dreams have been shattered.

  SATURDAY APRIL 3RD

  No words can convey to you the horror of the last few minutes.

  Sue rang me. And she's so great. I mean, she wasn't at all insulted by the shabby treatment she received from my parents yesterday. No, she just brushed that aside and then asked if I'd succeeded in changing their minds.

  And I wanted to say 'Yes' so badly. In fact, I very nearly did. But I somehow I restrained myself and told her the stinky, rotten truth. She said she knew how disappointed I must be and she was too, as she thinks me and my relics would have made wonderful television.

  So there you have it: someone from television is dead keen for me to appear on it, actually placing a golden ticket in my hand, only for my parents to hurl it away because they couldn't put themselves through the tiny inconvenience of being filmed.

  Sue's off meeting some other families now. By next week she'll have planned out the whole series. So that's it, my chance is snatched away from me, for ever.

  I won't give up though.

  I won't.

  Chapter Ten

  TUESDAY APRIL 6TH

  Georgia's just back from yet another Secret Garden rehearsal. I tell you, since she got the part of Mary her feet haven't touched the ground. First of all she had to do all these improvisation exercises – some at the weekends, as well. In fact, one Saturday morning Georgia told me this girl burst into a rehearsal saying she'd run away from home, and they had to hide her. Whole drama group was in uproar, until it turned out this was just another improvisation exercise. 'Acting needs energy, courage and split-second thinking,' said Giles. 'That's what I was testing today.'

  He sounds off his head to me. Anyway, after all that carry-on, Georgia had to learn the whole script before the first proper rehearsal. Since then she's gone over every little scene so many blooming times. Personally, I think all this rehearsing is a load of old balderdash and they're just trying to make acting as boring as school. But what do I know?

  Tonight, though,
Georgia was well upset. 'I don't think I can act at all,' she announced.

  'Oh, you daft sausage, of course you can,' I replied.

  'No, Giles was all smiles to the other actors tonight, but then he looked at me and he said wearily, "I know you've got more to give this part, Georgia, but we're just not seeing it." I agree with him actually, I'm rubbish. And I think I'm going to resign.'

  'If you do, I will personally come along to your house and scalp you,' I cried, 'because you've got a chance here to get famous. So you're very lucky. And now you're going to give it all up just because Giles has got the grumps. Well, if you do, you deserve to rot in obscurity – like I'm doing right now – for all the days of your life.'

  She was silent for a few thoughtful seconds before saying, 'It's just I'm getting so confused with all the advice he's giving me and then my mum keeps throwing all these suggestions at me as well.'

  'Oh come on, stop being so pathetic,' I cried, 'and seize your chance. Get famous, Georgia!'

  THURSDAY APRIL 8TH

  Georgia's rung again. And she's been sobbing down the phone this time.

  At tonight's rehearsal Giles got very cross with her acting and took her aside afterwards. He hissed, 'Georgia, you're letting me down. You're holding back all the time.'

  I said, 'But that's people in the theatre for you. They get all worked up if someone hasn't stirred their coffee the right way.'

  'No,' said Georgia, 'it's me. I know how the words ought to come out, but somehow they don't. And I'm so flat and awkward and terrible. Then Giles tells me to try it again, and I've got so many thoughts spinning around in my head that I'm even worse than before. Oh, Tobey, what am I going to do?'

  'Do you know what I recommend?' I cried suddenly.

  'No, tell me.'

  Right, listen to your mum's advice, listen to old Giles, and let all their ideas ferment in your head. But just before you go on stage say, I'm going to forget all that now and just – fly.'

  'Fly?' she echoed.

  'Yeah, say to yourself it's time to fly and see what happens.'

  'All right, I will,' said Georgia.