DRRIIINNNNGGGG!
Va-a-a-lerieee!
Cat dropped the alarm clock and grabbed her mobile phone. Her heart was hammering. No one called at this time unless it was an emergency!
'Hello,' she gasped.
DRIINNNGG!
'Oh good, you're up, dear,' Mum said.
'What's wrong? Has something happened to Fiona?' Cat panted, imagining her little sister in hospital – or worse.
'Nothing's wrong. Whatever is that noise?'
'Alarm clock,' Cat said, turning it off.
'I've got some wonderful news for you!' Mum gushed.
Cat sighed, slumping down on the edge of the bed. If it wasn't a 999-situation, she dreaded to think why Mum was calling her with a dawn alert.
'You remember Seth Martinez?' Mum asked. 'No? Well, he's an old friend from my Star Wars days, and he's a casting agent now, and he's just given me the tip-off that they're casting for a new production of Bugsy Malone . . .'
Cat stared out of the window at the rain. She had a horrible feeling she knew where this was going.
'. . . and wait till you hear this!' Mum crowed. 'They're auditioning for Tallulah – by invitation only! Your clever mother has only managed to wangle you an invitation – and it's this afternoon!'
'Mum, I've got a Macbeth rehearsal at five. It's a full run-through. If I'm late this time, I'll be thrown out!'
'Oh, Macbeth, Schmacbeth!' Mum breezed. 'I'll have you back in plenty of time. This is big-time, Cat, a career-maker. You could be the next Tallulah!'
Cat wanted to be many things, but the next Tallulah – a gangster's moll in a kids' musical about black-market custard pies – was definitely not one of them.
But there was no arguing with Mum; she was like quicksand – the more you struggled, the faster you sank.
After lunch Cat called at Mrs Butterworth's desk to sign out for the afternoon. 'Oh yes' – Mrs B smiled, scooting out from her office – 'your mum phoned to let us know. Good luck, dear – break a leg!'
'Auditioning for West End shows, Catrin?' Mr Fortune remarked as he passed on his way to his office. 'I'm not entirely sure that's a good idea with all your other commitments.'
'You try telling my mum that,' Cat muttered grimly.
'Ah, yes, your mother – a force to be reckoned with!' he said with a trace of a grin. He'd only met Mum once, when Cat came for interview, but she'd clearly made an impression.
Cat heard the horn starting to blare outside. 'You could say that,' she replied, smiling weakly.
Cat timed the journey. With Mum's rally-driver technique of 'nipping' into bus lanes and jumping amber lights along Piccadilly, it took exactly half an hour through the lashing rain. 'Promise me we'll leave by quarter past four at the latest,' Cat pleaded, 'so I won't be late for the rehearsal.'
'Yes, yes, dear,' Mum replied vaguely as she did a high-speed U-turn across three lanes of traffic and parked on a double yellow line. 'Now, I've got a lovely costume for you in the back of the car.'
Cat followed her mother into the theatre. They found Seth Martinez in the brightly lit foyer, swigging from a bucket-sized cappuccino and barking orders to a fleet of assistants. A mountain of a man, wearing a suntan the shade of a ginger biscuit and a white linen suit, he air-kissed a spot two feet above Mum's head. 'Terri, Terri, Terri, great to see ya,' he drawled. 'This Bugsy's gonna fly, baby. We're going to Broadway with this!'
Cat thought he was kind of smarmy, but he was Mum's friend so she smiled politely. Mum looked as if she would implode with excitement.
Cat made her way across the foyer, which was swarming with girls dressed up as 1920s nightclub singers, and signed in with one of the assistants at a makeshift desk, trying not to panic about the long list of names ahead of her own, before taking Mum's costume bag and setting off for the ladies to get changed.
She pulled the apricot chiffon dress out of the bag. Mum was right. It was lovely.
Lovely for someone six foot tall with the figure of a drainpipe.
Who didn't have red hair.
Cat stuffed the dress back in the bag. Mum had been playing the audition song on the way in the car. Cat actually quite liked it. She would stand up and sing it, just to keep Mum happy, but there was no way she was going to look like a giant peach while she was doing it.
She trailed back out into the foyer, which was still full of mini-molls sending texts, drinking bottled water and flicking their feather boas.
'I'm not wearing that dress. End of story,' Cat stated as she sat down.
Mum wrinkled her nose at Cat's short black dress and leather jacket. 'We'll see about that. Oh, and Seth says it's going to be at least an hour before they can see you.'
Cat groaned. She looked at her watch. It was now 2.45. If she was seen in one hour, and it took fifteen minutes to belt through My Name Is Tallulah and answer a few questions, they'd be out of there by four o'clock. That should be OK. Just! She pulled out her Macbeth script and tried to focus.
An hour passed. Cat checked her watch for the millionth time. They were still in the foyer and only a few names had been called. There had been a flurry of excitement when one of the Tallulahs fainted on stage and was stretchered out. As a result, the casting panel were now behind schedule, the assistant explained, and there was very little chance that Cat would be seen before 4.15.
Cat felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, with the ground starting to crumble away beneath her feet. She was going to be dashed to pieces on the rocks far below! If she was late for the Macbeth rehearsal, Mr Sharpe would definitely throw her off the production. Mayu would gleefully take over her role and Cat would lose her chance to play Lady Macbeth in her first ever Garrick Shakespeare production – and to wow all the important theatrical agents and reviewers in the audience with her acting skills.
Macbeth was the first step towards her most-talented-young-actress big dream and she couldn't let it slip away.
I need a backup plan, and I need it fast! she thought.
She took out her mobile phone and started writing a text message.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Holly: Improvise!
Meanwhile, Holly was in a core jazz dance class, working on sequences of turns, kicks and jumps inspired by dance numbers from the musical Chicago.
'. . . and take a break!' Miss LeClair shouted, halfway through the lesson. Holly sank down onto the bench, then leaped up as something buzzed underneath her like a giant bumblebee. She was sitting on her sweatshirt, and her mobile phone was in the pocket. Students weren't allowed to use phones in class, but Holly couldn't resist a quick peek to see who was texting her.
URGENT – POSS NT BACK 4 MACB. NEED U GO 2 REDGRAVE @ 5 & B ME 4 FEW MINS, CAT X
Holly was worried. This sounded like trouble.
'Excuse me, Miss LeClair,' she called, hopping . . .'
She ran into the nearest bathroom and dialled Cat's number. 'What's up?'
'I'm stuck here,' Cat groaned. 'If I'm not back by five, can you go and sign in for me and shut yourself in my dressing room. Just make a lot of noise so it sounds like I'm getting ready. Lady Macbeth isn't on stage until near the end of Act One – I'll be back by then—'
'But what if you're not back?' Holly asked. 'There's no way I'm going on stage or anything!'
'I will be, I promise. Please, Hols. If Mr Sharpe suspects I'm even a second late, my days as Lady Macbeth will be over.'
Holly really didn't want to see that happen to her friend. 'Well . . . OK then,' she agreed reluctantly.
The class ended at four thirty. Holly couldn't tell Belle about Cat's message in the changing room in case she was overheard, but as soon as they emerged into the courtyard, she pulled Belle into a corner behind a large shrub and hurriedly explained the dilemma. As she was doing so, another text appeared on her phone: Still here! Do it plse!
'Sign in for her?' Belle gasped. 'It's a bit risky. If Mr Sharpe finds out, Cat'll be in even more trouble than if she just showed up late.'
<
br /> Holly nodded. Belle had a point. 'Perhaps Cat could just phone Mr Sharpe and explain the problem . . .' she suggested.
But Belle shook her head. 'No! I saw Mr Sharpe's reaction last time she was late. Explaining won't do her any good!'
'So we'll just have to go through with this sign-in-and-pretend-to-be-Cat scheme then,' Holly said, trying her best to sound upbeat. 'I'm sure she'll be back in a few minutes anyway.'
'I guess so,' Belle agreed. 'We can't let her be thrown out of the play.'
Holly smiled at her. She knew how much Belle hated breaking the rules, but neither of them wanted to let Cat down. 'All for one!' she proclaimed, in her best Three Musketeers voice.
'And one for all!' Belle rallied, with a swashbuckling flourish as they stepped out from behind the bush, nearly crashing into Nick and Lettie, who were hurrying past on their way to the Redgrave.
'Whoa! You two been at the blue Smarties again?' Nick joked.
Holly smiled weakly. I have a bad feeling about this, she thought.
At the theatre, Belle signed in on the line marked BELLE MADISON: CASTLE MESSENGER while Holly scrawled something vaguely like Cat's signature next to CATRIN WICKHAM: LADY M. Then they ducked into Cat's dressing room – luckily, playing the female lead, Cat had her own private room. Holly slammed the door and leaned back against it.
'Now what?' Belle asked.
'You go and change into your Messenger costume,' Holly whispered. 'I'll stay here and clatter about a bit until you get back.'
Belle slipped out of the door. 'See you later, Cat!' she yelled over her shoulder.
Holly tried Cat's mobile number to see how much longer she would be, but it went straight to voicemail. 'Help!' she squeaked to it before hanging up. She rattled coat hangers along the rail for a few minutes, then pressed her ear to the door, just as Belle opened it and slipped in.
'They're starting in a few minutes,' she whispered, wide-eyed with panic. 'Duncan wants everyone who's in Act One to go to the wings. Have you heard from Cat yet?'
Holly grimaced. 'No!'
Belle opened the door a crack and peeped out. Holly held her breath as she heard Mayu's little-girl voice. 'Is something wrong with Cat?' she simpered. 'Duncan's looking for her. If there's a problem, I don't mind standing in—'
'Nope, no problem at all,' Belle replied breezily. 'She's just having a few issues with her costume. How are you getting on in there, Cat?' she shouted as she slammed the door shut. 'It's starting to get messy out there,' she whispered urgently, turning back to Holly. 'What are we going to do?'
'We could set off the fire alarm,' Holly suggested.
Belle shook her head. 'Won't work! As soon as we get to the assembly point they'd count us and find Cat missing.'
'Oh, no,' Holly groaned, clutching her head in her hands. 'Think!'
'What about flooding the toilets?' Belle said.
'It'd take too long—'
'I've got it!' Belle exclaimed, jumping up and down on the spot. 'I'll ask Nick to help – he could pretend there's a problem with the sound system. It could buy us some time . . .'
'Genius!' Holly grinned. 'I'll keep trying Cat's mobile.'
'See you in the wings in a moment, Cat!' Belle yelled as she ran out of the dressing room.
'All cast for Act One on stage immediately,' the tannoy blared.
A few moments later, the air was torn apart by a deafening electronic screech. 'Arggh!' Holly yelped, clapping her hands over her ears. By the sound of it, Nick had agreed to Belle's plan.
A few moments later, Belle reappeared, grinning. 'OK, Nick's on board. Now we just have to wait for Ca— Arggh!' She screamed as the sound system produced another high-pitched squeal, followed by a series of booms, a clap of thunder and a swirl of bagpipes.
Still Cat didn't arrive or answer her phone.
The chaotic noises finally stopped. Holly and Belle looked at each other bleakly. They were running out of ideas. And time.
Then there was a knock at the door. Holly's heart leaped into her mouth.
'Cat, Belle, hurry up!' Nathan shouted. 'Mr Sharpe's given up on the sound system and he's going to start Act One now!' He sounded desperate. He obviously had no idea what was going on, but there was no time to explain.
'We'll be there in a minute!' Belle called.
Holly and Belle both jumped as Holly's phone rang. 'Cat, where are you?' she hissed, switching to speaker-phone so that Belle could hear. 'Please tell us you're back!'
'I'm next in line to audition . . .'
'This is crazy!' Belle groaned. 'We can't stall any longer!'
'You'll have to go on stage and pretend to be me,' Cat said.
'No-o-o,' Holly whimpered. 'I can't!'
'Belle can't do it – she's a Messenger and we're in the same scene together. You're my only chance, Hols—'
'Cat, have you completely lost your mind?' Belle snapped. 'Do you think people won't notice? Holly's got a completely different accent, she's about a foot shorter, she's black and you're white . . .'
'. . . and I can't even act . . .' Holly added sorrowfully.
'Improvise! You could wrap my big cloak round you, wear high heels, pretend you've got a cold. And you've helped me practise so much, you know all the lines!'
'I know all the words to Thriller – it doesn't mean I'm Michael Jackson!' Holly snorted.
'Look, I've got to go,' Cat said. 'You'll be brilliant, Hols.'
Holly stared at the phone in dismay. Cat had hung up.
Belle laughed. 'That's the craziest plan I've ever heard!'
'Yeah, I know!' Holly sighed, rolling her eyes. 'It's totally gaga! But,' she added slowly, 'I haven't got a better one . . .'
'Me neither,' Belle agreed.
'How did we let Cat talk us into this?' Holly asked.
Belle shrugged her shoulders. 'All for one!'
'And all for a one-way ticket to Mr Fortune's office if we're not careful!' Holly said. 'Come on, we'd better get started on my disguise if we're going to have any chance of pulling this off . . .'
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Cat: Jodie Foster's Attitude
Cat felt like a despicable slug as she hung up the phone. She knew she'd bulldozed Holly into something she really didn't want to do. But she was fighting for her theatrical life here. There was no other option.
The assistant called the next name. The Tallulah-wannabe next to Cat exchanged excited fingers-crossed gestures with her mother, and teetered through the door in her sequinned dress and silver heels, swinging her hips and working her feather boa for all she was worth.
Cat was now at the front of the queue, standing at the theatre door. 'Nearly there,' Mum whispered. 'Puff your hair up, dear. And put my shoes on,' she said, bending to take off her stilettos. 'You've got to have heels!'
'I don't want heels, Mum.'
'Of course you do. And stop sulking! You're Tallulah, a nightclub singer, remember. Now, when you get in there, flirt with the casting panel, enchant them . . .'
Something about the concept of flirting with Seth Martinez was the final straw. Suddenly Cat had an out-of-body experience. She was looking down at herself, waiting around for hours for the chance to enchant a casting director into giving her a ludicrous role that she didn't even want, while her chance of playing one of the very finest Shakespearean characters was hanging by a thread.
What had she been thinking? No one was going to be fooled by Holly-in-a-cloak for a second!
She would lose her part in the play. And worst of all, her hare-brained plan was going to land Holly and Belle in a whole swamp of trouble too.
There was another option!
'I'm not doing this!' Cat shouted, flinging Mum's shoes onto the floor. 'It's all wrong!'
'Cat, please, calm down,' her mum said soothingly.
'I don't want to play flipping stupid, flirting Tallulah—'
'But Tallulah's a lovely part—'
'Well, if you think it's so great, you go in and audition. I'm out of here
!' Cat stormed.
'You could be the next Jodie Foster!'
'I don't want to be Jodie Foster. I want to be . . . Catrin Wickham!'
'And right now "Catrin Wickham" is going to stay here and stop making an exhibition of herself!' Mum bellowed, drawing herself up to her full four-foot-three and stamping her foot.
'No, Catrin Wickham is going back to the Garrick. Which is where she belongs – playing a real part in a proper play!'
'Well, I bet Jodie Foster never gave her mother this kind of attitude!' Mum wailed, looking to the other mothers in the foyer for support. There was an embarrassed silence.
'Goodbye,' Cat said firmly, marching towards the exit.
'We'll see Catrin Wickham now, please . . .' called the assistant.
Oh, no you won't! Cat thought as she ran into the street and hailed a taxi.
As the taxi pulled away, she noticed that Mum's car had been clamped. She felt sorry about that, but at least it meant her mum wouldn't be able to give chase through the streets of London.
'To the Garrick School of the Performing Arts, please,' Cat panted. 'It's an emergency!'
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Holly: Some Kind of Medieval Bag Lady
In the Redgrave Holly was preparing for the biggest acting challenge of her life. Playing Lady Macbeth would be bad enough, but playing Catrin Wickham playing Lady Macbeth was in super-advanced don't-try-this-at-home territory.
And Holly was the first to admit that classical acting was not her strong point. She could dance, of course. And she could sing. She could even dance and sing at the same time. In fact, she would make a perfect Tallulah!
If only I could swap places with Cat right now! she thought.
'Arms up,' Belle ordered. 'Quickly!'
Belle had taken charge of Operation Fake Lady Macbeth and had somehow managed to convince herself they could actually make it work. Holly wasn't so sure, but she did as she was told and slid into the long red dress. It was several sizes too large and pooled around her feet.
'We need to cover every inch of your skin,' Belle muttered as she rummaged among the costumes on the rail. 'A long tunic . . . and gloves. Put these on.'
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