by Lyn Gardner
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
An extract from Olivia Flies High
Chapter One
Olivia Marvell stood on the pavement in the pouring London rain. She screwed up her eyes as she lifted her face to the sky and the rain lashed down so hard it was like hundreds of tiny pinpricks. Olivia sighed. Even the weather had a grudge against her. She glanced at her dad, Jack, who since they had left the Tube station had been wrestling with an umbrella that kept being caught by the wind and turning itself inside out. The umbrella was clearly going to win. Jack looked as cold, wet and miserable on the outside as Olivia felt inside. She shivered. She hated London already; she had only been here for a few hours, and longed for the Italian late-summer sunshine that made you want to arch your back and stretch like a cat.
In one hand Olivia held a battered, bulging suitcase out of which poked a sodden, slightly muddy pyjama leg and the end of a thick wire; in the other she was holding the hand of Eel, her little sister. Eel hadn’t been christened Eel, of course, but had acquired the nickname soon after birth because she was such a wriggly little thing, never still for a minute. She was jiggling around now, pulling on Olivia’s hand, but Olivia only held on tighter.
“Cut it out, Eel! Anyone would think you were seven months old, not seven years,” said Olivia irritably.
A few passers-by eyed them curiously, and one smartly dressed woman crossed over the road as if to avoid the raggle-taggle group.
“Bet she thinks that we’re going to beg for money or mug her,” muttered Olivia fiercely.
“You can’t blame her,” said Eel sadly, shaking her chestnut curls like a dog and spraying Olivia’s face with more water. “We look rubbish. We probably pong too,” she said, sniffing herself like a bloodhound. She was wrong about that, but they did look a mess. Olivia’s hair was stuck damply to her face while Eel had a big smudge on her forehead and her skirt was torn after an unfortunate encounter with the ticket barriers at the Tube station. Eel had never seen ticket barriers before and had decided she never wanted to see them again. They had appeared determined to gobble her up.
“Come on, girls,” said Jack, abandoning his tussle with the umbrella. “We’ll be soaked through if we stand here any longer. Let’s just walk fast. It’s not very far.” They set off at a brisk pace, even though it made Jack limp badly, and as they turned the corner of the street, an imposing red-brick building came into view. At the front of the building a sign written in large black letters declared “The Swan Academy of Theatre and Dance”. In smaller letters below it said “An academic and performing arts education for talented children aged 7–16”. Underneath that was written in italics: “Proprietor: Alicia Swan”.
“Here we are,” said Jack, coming to a halt opposite the building and dragging them into a shop doorway for shelter.
Olivia’s mouth fell open as she read the sign, and then she turned to her father and said accusingly, “It’s a stage school. You said that we were going to stay with our grandmother and go to her school. You didn’t tell us that she runs a stage school.” Olivia spat out the words “stage school” as if they had a nasty taste.
Jack looked like a small boy who had just been caught with his fingers in the sweet jar. “Didn’t I? I must have forgotten to mention it.”
Olivia glared at him. “But you’ve always said that you hate all that fake theatre stuff, and so do we.”
“Not me,” piped up Eel. “I’ve always wanted to learn to dance but we’ve never stayed anywhere long enough to have lessons.” She tried to do a little twirl and got tangled up with Olivia, who was still gripping her hand. “I’ll be a great dancer. The bestest.”
“You can’t say bestest,” said Olivia witheringly.
“I can if I want,” said Eel, but she looked as if she might cry.
“I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic dancer,” said Jack soothingly, but Olivia detected a note of false cheerfulness in his tone.
“But what about me?” demanded Olivia. “I can’t dance and I won’t dance, and I don’t want to go to stage school either. I want to stay with you and carry on walking the high-wire. I’m a circus artist, not a stage-school brat.”
Jack looked at his elder daughter, at her determined mouth and flashing eyes, and for a moment thought that his beloved wife, Toni, had suddenly come back to life. He shook his head sadly before swallowing hard and declaring a little too heartily, “Well, there is a choice. It’s stage school or the orphanage run by a wicked old witch who eats children for breakfast.”
“Well, I vote for stage school,” said Eel, hopping from one leg to another, “and Livy will have to come too because she’s superglued herself to me and is holding my hand so hard it hurts.”
“That’s because you can’t be trusted!” said Olivia, the words exploding out of her mouth like a stuck cork suddenly released from the neck of a bottle. “It’s all your fault that we’re in this situation. If you hadn’t…” She tailed off as she saw Eel and Jack’s faces, white with shock. Olivia’s anger evaporated as quickly as it had materialised and she burst into loud, guilty tears.
“Oh Eel, I didn’t mean it! I’m really, really sorry,” she sobbed. “I know it was an accident. It’s just everything feels so miserable, and I’m tired of pretending everything is all right when it’s not.”
Eel hugged her and said tearfully, “It’s OK, Livy. But we’ve got to make the best of things.” She moved her head close to Olivia’s and whispered, “We’ve got to be as brave as llamas and very cheerful. For Dad’s sake, cos he hardly ever smiles now.”
“I think you mean lions, Eel. Llamas probably aren’t that brave. But you’re right, Dad is so sad and defeated all the time.” And, as if somebody had turned on a hosepipe, Olivia’s tears started flowing again.
“He looks just like my teddy bear looked after he accidentally got put in the washing machine on an extra-hot wash,” replied Eel sadly. “If it was an accident,” she added ominously.
“It’s nobody’s fault,” said Jack firmly. “We’ve just had some bad luck, my lovelies, but our luck will change.”
“Look,” said Eel, sniffing and pointing at the sky, “it’s changing already. It’s stopped raining and the sun has come out. I might even dry out if Livy would only stop crying all over me.” Olivia gave a wan smile and hiccupped.
“So, Liv, what’s it to be: the orphanage or stage school?” asked her father.
Olivia looked at Eel and Jack’s expectant faces and felt more ashamed of her outburst than ever. She took a deep breath and whispered, “Stage school.”
“That’s lucky,” said Eel with a grin, “because Dad is too old for an orphanage.”
“I’m far too ancient for stage school, too,” said Jack with a boyish laugh, but when Olivia caught his eye, he looked away guiltily.
Chapter Two
“What time is Granny Alicia expecting us all?” asked Olivia, licking the icing off a chocolate and raspberry cupcake.
“We’ll be going across to the Swan soon, very soon,” said Jack, looking at his watch.
“Why does it matter if we’re a bit early?” asked Olivia, shrugging her shoulders.
“Your gran’s a very busy woman,” said Jack evasively. They were sitting in a café across the road from the Swan and opposite a large, boarded-up building that was next door to the stage school. Jack had produced a tattered five-pound note and some loose change from his pocket and suggested that they use the last of their money to go to the café to get warm. They were 10p short for the food and drinks but the café owner was so charmed by Jack, and Eel’s cheeky grin, that she even threw in a free espresso. Jack rewarded her with a dazzling smile that made him look young and carefree for a second.
Olivia had taken her little sister to the toilet to smarten up a bit. They still looked extremely shabby, but no longer quite so disreputable. Olivia had even managed to disguise the hole in Eel’s skirt with a craftily placed safety pin.
The girls both had lemonade and cupcakes and Jack had positioned himself so he could watch out the window. A succession of cars were pulling up outside the Swan and dropping children off. The door of the café jangled and Olivia watched as a mother and daughter – who she thought looked like two blonde peas in a pod – came in, ordered hot chocolate and tea, and sat down. The girl, with fair hair, rosebud mouth, a tilt-tipped nose and startling blue eyes, was wearing leg warmers and a leotard with a short skirt on top. A pair of worn jazz shoes lay on top of some clothes in an open bag. Eel eyed the shoes with interest and hoped that she’d soon have a pair just like them, only newer and shinier.
Olivia glanced shyly at the girl, who she guessed was probably around twelve, the same age as her. The girl gave her a quick smile. She looked nice, thought Olivia, a bit like a doll she had loved when she was little. The girl was clearly a Swan pupil and Olivia wondered whether they might be in the same class and become friends. The girl’s mother kept glancing at her watch so anxiously that she made Olivia think of the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.
“I’m terribly sorry, Georgia darling, but I really do have to go soon.” The girl’s mouth tightened as if she was struggling not to cry. The woman fumbled in her bag and brought out a small box, simply but beautifully wrapped. She pushed it towards her daughter. Eel nudged Olivia, and both of them watched what was going on at the next table while pretending that they were deeply engrossed in nibbling the remaining icing off their cakes.
“This is for you, Georgia.” The girl’s eyes widened in surprise. Eel craned her neck to get a better look.
“For me? It’s not my birthday.”
The woman smiled. “I know it’s not, but it is an important day for you. Your first solo performance. I’m so proud of you and I wanted you to have something to remember it by.”
“You shouldn’t go round buying me things; you’re always telling me we haven’t got any money. We don’t even have enough for any new jazz shoes.”
“I didn’t buy it, Georgia,” said the woman with a sigh. “Open it,” she coaxed.
The girl picked up the little package and carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a small box. She opened it and held a Victorian posy ring aloft, an arrangement of topaz and garnet that sparkled when it caught the light. Olivia thought the ring was beautiful; it reminded her of the ruby and emerald engagement ring that her mum had always worn when she was alive. Jack kept it safe in a box and had told Olivia it would one day belong to her.
“It’s Granny’s ring, the one she gave to you,” said Georgia to her mum, wonderingly.
“Yes, it is. But I want you to have it. To mark today.” Olivia was surprised to see Georgia’s lips tremble and her eyes well with tears.
“It’s beautiful, but I can’t take it. It’s yours and I know how much it means to you. It’s the only thing that you’ve got to remember her by,” she said, pushing the ring back towards her mum. Eel nudged Olivia again, but the entire café was now transfixed by the unfolding drama.
“But it’s your special day, your big moment,” said her mother. Georgia stood up suddenly, knocking over her chair. Hot chocolate splattered over Olivia’s skirt. But Georgia didn’t notice; she was too upset. The tears, a bottomless dark lake behind her eyes, spilled over as she shouted, “If it’s such a special day, then why won’t you be there? If you really wanted to give me something that mattered, you would come and watch me.” She gave a little sob. “But maybe I’m not as important as your horrible job.”
“Georgia, you know there are going to be two redundancies in the department. I’ve got to go in today or I’ll be the first for the chop…” cried the woman, but Georgia was gone, already out of the door, her bag in hand, and scurrying across the road towards the Swan, only just avoiding a red bus and several large puddles in her blind rush. She disappeared into the throng of people making their way through the front gate.
Nobody in the café said anything; there was just a terrible embarrassed silence. The woman gathered up her belongings and put the ring back into its box in her pocket. She looked sad and tired, thought Olivia, as if her daughter’s words had punched her in the stomach and knocked all the stuffing out of her. Olivia gave her a little smile, but the woman just shook her head wearily and hurried out of the door.
“Right,” said Jack, watching the people making their way up the steps towards the sliding glass door of the Swan. “Time we got this circus on the road, chicks.” They stepped out on to the pavement, moving towards the kerb, and as they did so a large black four-by-four with tinted windows drew up right in front of them, splashing straight through a puddle. Muddy water spattered all over them. The driver of the car, a big man in a shiny sleek suit, leapt out. For a moment Olivia thought he was going to apologise to them, but instead he ignored them entirely, strode round to the other side of the car and opened the door.
“Come along, kitten, or you’re going to be late, and that would never do.” A pretty girl, dressed like a dancer, with long blonde hair so sleek and straight it looked as if every single strand had been individually ironed, emerged from the car holding a large red vanity case.
“She looks like a princess,” whispered Eel, deeply impressed.
“Have you got everything, Katie?” asked the man.
The girl raised her eyebrows to the heavens. “Course I have, Dad.”
“Good girl,” said her father. “Off you go. Your mum and I will be in the front row, cheering our little star on.”
The girl looked pensive. “I’ve told you before, Dad, I’m in the chorus; I haven’t got a solo.”
“Well, it’s a crime. You should have a solo, kitten. My girl is the best. You know, I might even have a word with the old Swan. What was she thinking of, choosing that mousy Georgia Jones over you?”
“Don’t say anything, Dad,” said Katie. “It won’t help, you know what she’s like.” She put on a prissy voice and said, “Success in this business is not just about talent, Katie, it’s about dedication, hard work and learning to be part of a team.”
“But she’s got to be made to understand that you’re special, Katie. You’re not just any old Swan pupil. My Katie isn’t one of the team. You’re a star and you’re going to shine.” He looked hard at his daughter. “What are you, Katie?”
“I’m a star, Dad,” said Katie.
“That’s right, you’re a star. And what are you going to do, kitten?”
“I’m going to shine, Dad, shine,
” said his daughter, and she tossed her hair and arched her back and gave a little smile that made her look like a pampered cat.
“That’s my girl,” said the man. “Off you go now, and remember show business is a cut-throat business. All those other girls in your class, they aren’t your friends, they’re your rivals. I didn’t get where I am today by being nice, and you won’t get to be a star unless you beat the competition.”
“I know that, Dad,” said Katie. “I’ve wanted to be famous since the day I was born and I’m not going to let anything stop me.”
The man watched his daughter approvingly as she entered the Swan and then went to get back into his car. He looked at Olivia, Eel and Jack, who were still wiping away the splattered mud.
“What do you think you’re staring at?” he said aggressively, before roaring away and sending spray flying again.
Olivia, Eel and Jack looked at each other, shocked, then they all burst out laughing.
“Stage-school brat,” said Eel.
“Stage-school dad,” said Jack.
“Well, if either of you turn out like that,” said Olivia, “I’ll refuse to speak to you ever again.”
Chapter Three
Georgia peered through the crack in the red velvet curtains and out into the auditorium of the Swan Academy theatre. It was slowly beginning to fill with people. She knew that she shouldn’t be doing it, and Miss Swan would be furious, but she couldn’t resist watching as the audience came in. It stopped her thinking about the hurt look on her mum’s face for a second.