The Time of Your Life

by Isabella Cass

  Obediently Holly piled on the layers.

  'And you need to be taller,' Belle said, running back from her dressing room with the strappy sandals she'd removed when she put on her Messenger-costume boots. 'Wear these – they've got high heels.'

  Holly's hands were trembling so much she could hardly buckle the straps. The sandals were far too big and she had to do them up extra tight to keep them on.

  'And this . . . ' Belle handed her a thick black cloak, complete with hood.

  Holly pulled the hood up around her face. She was so nervous she thought she might be sick. 'Remind me of my lines again?'

  'First you read that long letter from Macbeth that starts, They met me in the day of success . . . blah blah,' Belle said, 'and then I come in and give you the message that King Duncan's on his way. Here, you need more up front to look like Cat. Use these!'

  'No, not my Lady Macbeth lines, my cover story!' Holly took the wadded tissues Belle was offering and stuffed them into her sports bra for an instant boob-boost. 'About why I'm dressed like' – she looked at herself in the mirror – 'some kind of medieval bag lady . . .'

  'You've had an allergic reaction to a new skin-cream. The school nurse told you to keep your skin covered at all times,' Belle recited.

  Holly groaned. This was the best story they could come up with at such short notice.

  'Repeat it back to me in Cat's voice,' Belle commanded.

  'I've had an allergic skin reaction . . .' Holly said. Her Irish accent was beyond bad. It was awful.

  Belle cringed. 'OK, and remember, it's affected your sinuses as well. You can't talk properly.'

  'Lady M to the stage this instant!' the tannoy announcer said, sounding extremely bad-tempered.

  'OK, this is it,' Belle stated. 'No turning back!'

  Holly swallowed. She was petrified! 'I can't even walk in these shoes,' she muttered as she tottered to the door. 'It's worse than being en pointe . . . Belle – are you laughing at me?'

  'Sorry!' Belle snorted. 'I know this isn't funny, but you look . . .'

  'Idiotic? Clinically insane? I had noticed!' Holly growled, opening the door – and bumping into Jack, who was hurrying along the passageway, dressed in his Messenger costume.

  'Ooops, sorry,' he said. 'Er, who is that under there anyway?'

  'It's Cat,' Holly said, pulling the hood down over her face.

  'Hey, Cat!' Jack laughed. 'Why all the extra clothes?'

  'I've had an allergic skin reaction . . .' Holly mumbled in an accent somewhere between Darth Vader and an Irish leprechaun.

  'Come on, Cat!' Belle snapped, taking Holly by the arm. 'You're needed on stage. We haven't got time to stand around nattering to random people!'

  Even through her panic and her black hood, Holly couldn't help noticing Jack's hurt look as Belle referred to him as a random person.

  Standing in the wings, Holly felt like a prisoner in the Tower of London about to be led out to the chopping block. Scene Four was ending and the stage hands were preparing to roll on the castle interior scenery for Scene Five, which opened with a twenty-nine-line monologue by Lady Macbeth.

  Holly's internal organs were turning to jelly – not the nice kind but the horrible transparent kind that you find inside a pork pie – as she stepped out onto the stage.

  She caught sight of Mr Sharpe in the front row, his glasses glinting menacingly. He's going to go ballistic when he finds out, she thought.

  'And cue Lady M,' said Duncan Gillespie, tapping her on the shoulder.

  This is it! Holly could just about make out a scroll lying on a table centre stage and teetered towards it, keeping the cloak pulled tightly around her. That must be the letter I'm meant to read. She could hardly see anything from under the hood, but she could hear people grumbling suspiciously all around the theatre. Here goes nothing! She picked up the scroll, took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak. But her tongue felt as if it had been coated in sand.

  There was a silence.

  'They met me in the day of success . . .' the prompter read out.

  'They—' Holly rasped.

  THUD! CRASH! ARGGGHHH!

  Some kind of commotion was coming from the wings.

  'Oh my God, Jack's dead!' Bianca screamed.

  'He's not dead! Looks like he's passed out,' Duncan Gillespie replied calmly.

  Holly stood there, fixed to the spot, as Mr Sharpe vaulted onto stage and ran through to the wings, yelling, 'Call the nurse!' Then she crept offstage and tried to peep through the mass of people crouched around Jack, who had now been placed in the recovery position.

  'Where am I?' he murmured. 'The lights . . . the heat . . . dizzy . . . spinning . . .'

  By the time the school nurse, Miss Patel, ran in a few moments later, he was sitting up, sipping from a glass of water. She shooed Duncan Gillespie and Mr Sharpe away. 'Give the boy some space. It's far too hot under these stage lights! I'm surprised you've not had more students passing out.'

  'I'm so sorry,' Jack groaned. 'I'll be fine in a moment. The show must go on . . . '

  Mr Sharpe clapped his hands. 'OK, people, we'll take a thirty-minute break to cool down!'

  Holly couldn't believe her luck! Surely Cat – the real Lady Macbeth – would be back in half an hour.

  'Cursed! We're cursed!'

  Holly spun round to see Duncan standing behind her, holding his head in his hands.

  'Someone must have said the M-word in the theatre today. That's why we've had all these problems – first the sound system and now people collapsing.'

  'That's just a ridiculous superstition!' Mr Sharpe said. 'It doesn't matter how many times we say Macb—'

  'No-o-o, don't say it!' Duncan wailed. 'I've got to walk three times round the theatre to undo the curse,' he called as he ran towards the door.

  Holly blushed. It was me, she realized. I said the M-word in the dressing room. She felt terrible. It was her fault that Jack had fainted. And even worse, she thought guiltily, she'd been busy congratulating herself on her brilliant luck when the poor boy could be really ill. She looked around and found Belle huddled at the back of the wings, her face pale and anxious. 'It was me. I said the M-word,' Belle mumbled miserably. 'Jack Thorne is a two-timing creep, but I don't want anything bad to happen to him . . .'

  Holly smiled weakly. 'Snap!' she said.

  'You boys! Take Jack out for some fresh air,' Miss Patel shouted.

  Holly shrank back into the shadows with Belle as Jack staggered towards the stage door, supported by Nick and Nathan. As he passed, he turned and looked at Holly, and – to her utter amazement – he winked.

  A slow, deliberate wink. That's when Holly realized: The curse of the M-word didn't have anything to do with it! Jack had seen right through the cloak and the allergic reaction. He'd known she wasn't Cat all along, and he'd faked the 'faint' to cause a delay.

  Jack Stinking-slimebeast Thorne had just saved the day!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Cat: Emotionally Unstable Psycho-chicks

  Cat thrust some money at the taxi driver and raced through the school, her heart pumping as if it would burst. She had to get to the Redgrave Theatre – even though she dreaded what she would find when she got there. There was no way Holly could have got through the opening speech without someone noticing that she was . . . well, that she was Holly.

  Cat was expecting to find Mr Sharpe and Duncan Gillespie waiting to frogmarch her to Mr Fortune's office.

  She was expecting to find Belle and Holly vowing never to speak to her again.

  She wouldn't even have been surprised to find a police SWAT team waiting to haul her off to prison in handcuffs.

  The one thing Cat wasn't expecting as she peeped in through the stage door was . . . nothing. Where was the wailing and the yelling and the gnashing of teeth? Where was Mayu, dancing a victory jig in her Lady Macbeth costume?

  All was quiet!

  Luke Morgan, alias Macbeth, emerged from his dressing room, sipping from a can of
Coke. 'You been out for some fresh air?' he called to Cat as he spotted her coming through the door. 'Good idea – you look a bit hot.'

  Fresh air? Cat wondered. In the middle of a rehearsal? She tiptoed along the corridor – past the Three Witches buying packets of Monster Munch from the vending machine – and pushed open the door of her dressing room.

  'Caaaaaaat!' Holly screamed, leaping up to hug her – although it was a hug that bordered on grievous bodily harm, as she gripped Cat's shoulders and shook her.

  'What took you so long?' Belle gasped, pulling Cat further into the room. 'It's been a nightmare here . . .'

  'I'm so sorry . . . I couldn't get away . . .' Cat stammered. 'But what's happening?'

  'The rehearsal got postponed by half an hour' – Holly laughed – 'thanks to Jack Thorne and his Fabulous Fainting Fit—'

  'Holly thinks Jack fainted deliberately to help us,' Belle interrupted, 'but I don't believe it!'

  'Belle thinks it was just coincidence that he passed out at the precise second I was about to start the speech and make a total twit of myself . . .'

  Cat felt as if she might faint herself. The raw panic that had propelled her back to the Redgrave began to seep away. Relief was kicking in. She sank down into a chair. She had no idea what Belle and Holly were talking about, but somehow she'd got away with it – even if she had lost another of her nine lives.

  Then she looked at Holly, still wearing the black cloak with the hood pulled up, and couldn't help laughing.

  'I think it's time for Lady M to get an extreme make-over!' Belle giggled, and they both helped Holly out of her motley collection of ill-fitting garments. Cat put on the red dress, black velvet cloak and ruby necklace.

  'So, how did you get on as Tallulah?' Holly asked, looking like her usual self again in jeans and T-shirt.

  Cat squinted into the mirror and applied her Lady Macbeth black eyeliner. 'Er, I didn't. I had an attack of artistic temperament and stormed out.' She laughed, but was suddenly sideswiped by a major guilttrip. Although Mum would be furious, Cat knew she'd be worried about her too. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to say she'd arrived safely back at school – but couldn't quite bring herself to add an apology. She wasn't sorry she'd left; she knew that saving her part in Macbeth was the right thing to do.

  'I'm going to find Jack and thank him,' Holly was saying. 'I know he helped us on purpose – even if Belle thinks I'm imagining it!'

  'I'll come with you,' Cat said, finishing her make-up. There were a few minutes to spare before the rehearsal re-started and she was dying to get to the bottom of this weird fainting story.

  'I think I'll hang on here,' Belle said. 'I can't face Jack right now – even if he did help us out for some reason.'

  Cat and Holly found him sitting in the large dressing room he shared with the other boys playing minor parts in the play. Unfortunately Bianca was there too, mopping his brow with a cold flannel, a pious Florence Nightingale expression on her face.

  Cat was about to leave, but Holly suddenly piped up, 'Oh, Bianca, Mr Sharpe's looking for you. He wants a word with all the Witches about their timing or something.'

  Wow, that was impressive, Cat thought. Holly can act when she wants to!

  Bianca sighed. 'I suppose I'd better go. They'll only mess it up if I'm not there!' She blew a kiss to Jack and flounced out.

  'Thank you,' Holly said to Jack after Bianca had gone, 'for the fainting thing.'

  'No problem!' Jack said with a grin. 'I guessed something had happened to Cat. No offence, Holly, but you didn't look or sound anything like her. Or like Lady M for that matter . . . So where were you, Cat?'

  'Er, long story.' Cat laughed. 'I'll tell you when we've got a couple of hours to spare!' She was trying her best to dislike Jack on Belle's behalf, but he was, she realized, very, very charming. And those dangerous hazel eyes were gorgeous. What a shame he was such a sneaking cheat-monster! It just went to show that you could never tell with boys . . . 'Anyway, thanks again. You're the man of the moment, Jack!' she added.

  'I wish Belle thought so,' Jack sighed. 'I just don't get it. One minute we were going on a date, the next she can't even bear to look at me.'

  Cat couldn't believe the nerve of the boy. What did he expect? 'Hel-lo – Earth calling!' she snorted. 'Do you think it might just be something to do with the luurvve-thing you've got going with Bianca? Most girls find two-timing a bit of a turn-off, you know!'

  'The what-thing?' Jack spluttered. 'I don't have any kind of thing going with Bianca!'

  'Oh, so Belle just imagined that cosy little snog-scene, did she?' Cat fumed.

  'What snog-scene?' Jack demanded, looking utterly baffled.

  'You know, in the practice room?' Holly prompted. 'Last Wednesday?'

  Jack frowned in thought and then clapped his hand to his forehead. 'Oh, that!' he exclaimed, eyes widening as the truth dawned.

  'Hah! Now it all comes back to him!' Cat scoffed. What a weasel this boy is!

  'It wasn't a snog-scene!' Jack protested indignantly. 'Bianca asked me to meet her there. Her little dog, Foo-Foo, had just died and she was in bits about it. I was just letting her cry on my shoulder, that's all. She's been really helpful – showing me the ropes and stuff since I got here . . .'

  Cat gulped. She turned to see Holly's reaction to this revelation and almost laughed out loud. Holly was as wide-eyed as a baby owl, her mouth agape in a perfect O of astonishment. She caught Cat's eye and they both grinned at each other. Jack was obviously telling the truth. Maybe he wasn't such a slimebeast after all!

  'What did—?' Jack started to ask, but he was interrupted by Nathan rushing into the dressing room.

  'Oh, there you are, Cat!' he cried. 'There's a rumour flying around that you've got some hideous skin disease. Mayu thinks it's her lucky day!'

  'Sorry to disappoint Mayu, but it's all better now.' Cat grinned. 'It was just one of those stress-related things, you know.'

  'Stress-related? You can say that again!' Holly muttered.

  'Come on, guys,' Nathan said anxiously. 'Rehearsal's starting again. Mr Sharpe's going to hit the roof if anything else goes wrong.'

  Cat hurried off to the wings, where Belle was already waiting. She was bursting to tell her the great news, but it would have to wait. There were too many people around. And anyway, right now she was Lady Macbeth again – and she had a murder to organize.

  Later that evening the three friends gathered in Cat and Belle's room. Cat's ear was feeling bruised from a ten-minute phone-lecture from her mum about her disappointing behaviour – which had apparently been ungrateful, rude, disrespectful, stubborn, hot-headed and childish . . . Cat had tried to explain, but Mum wouldn't let her get a word in.

  It had been a long, complicated sort of day, and now they were flopped on the beds and beanbags like a collection of rag dolls. 'So, what's this big news you two have been hinting at all through supper?' Belle asked.

  'Well . . . when we spoke to Jack at the rehearsal—' Holly began.

  'Turns out he wasn't kissing Bianca when you saw them together in the practice room!' Cat butted in, too impatient for Holly's feature-length version. 'He was just comforting her because her dog had died.'

  'What? Are you sure?' Belle gasped.

  'One million per cent,' Holly confirmed.

  'He wasn't . . . she didn't . . . how could . . . ?' Belle was so surprised her words jolted out in fragments.

  Holly and Cat nodded.

  For a moment Belle's face was illuminated by a huge smile of relief, but then she groaned and threw herself back on her bed.

  'What's wrong?' Cat asked. 'Get yourself over to his room right now and tell him he can take you to the Tower of London after all!'

  'I can't,' Belle mumbled from under the cushion she was holding over her face. 'I feel like such a dope!'

  'It's obvious when you think about it. I bet Bianca set the whole thing up so Belle would see them and get the wrong idea,' Holly said. 'I've never even heard
her mention a dog before!'

  'And what kind of a name is Foo-Foo, anyway?' Cat snorted.

  'I've really blown it, haven't I?' Belle sniffed. 'Jack won't want to know me now that I've freaked out over nothing. He'll think I'm some kind of emotionally unstable psycho-chick!'

  'Hey, he's friends with Bianca,' Cat joked. 'I think he likes emotionally unstable psycho-chicks!'

  Belle whimpered and pulled the duvet over her head. 'I need to sleep on this,' she sighed.

  Cat suddenly felt extraordinarily tired herself. She was lying on her bed and it was very, very comfortable. 'Thanks again for saving me today, both of you. I owe you,' she said drowsily.

  Holly grinned. 'Yeah, you do. Big time!'

  But Cat hardly heard her.

  She was drifting off to sleep . . .

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Belle: The Show Must Go On

  The following Saturday was the day of the Walthamstow wedding gig.

  The girls all decided to wear black for the performance: Cat selected her 1960s mini-dress, Holly a halter top and shorts over footless tights, and Belle, her little black velvet dress from last year's Chanel collection. First thing on Saturday morning, Cat had the idea of adding piles of fake-diamond jewellery for extra glamour, and they rushed off to Oxford Street for a shopping spree in Claire's Accessories. It wasn't exactly Cartier, but Belle couldn't believe that you could buy sparkly things so cheaply – and they looked almost like the real thing. Then they piled into Belle and Cat's room, turned the James Bond theme tune CD up to jet-engine volume, and spent a blissful hour transforming themselves into superstars.

  'Dazzling!' Belle proclaimed as they admired the end result in the mirror. She smiled, starting to feel the familiar tingle of excitement shot through with nervousness that always preceded a performance.

  Belle's emotions had been in turmoil ever since she'd discovered that she'd got totally the wrong idea over the dead-dog-comforting-in-practice-room scenario. Yes, she was ecstatically happy that Jack hadn't been snogging Bianca. It was such a relief to know that he hadn't really been doing a Henry VIII on her. But at the same time she was so embarrassed about having made such a stupid mistake that there was no way she could ever bring herself to talk to him again. She was just so mad at herself for messing up her chance to go out with the first boy she'd ever known who gave her that special stomach-fluttering-butterflies feeling . . .