by Ann Bryant
Chapter Seven
“Hi, Mum, it’s me!”
“Hi, you! You certainly sound excited! And no wonder! Dad and I were so excited when we got your text last night. It’s brilliant that you got through, Mia! Come on, tell me more about the contest. I want every detail!”
“I’m so happy!” I squeaked. Then I tried to calm down a bit so Mum could actually hear what I was saying. “Well, there were seven of us out of eleven who got through. And I’ve got to write another song in only a week, but I’ve already written quite a lot of it, and it’s a bit more upbeat than the last one, and I know I’ll be nervous all over again, but not half so much as last time because I think I’ve finally got over my big block about performing in public.”
“Oh, Mia, that’s wonderful, love. You must have had to be so brave, but well done for managing it. We’re so proud of you.”
I smiled and smiled on my end of the phone.
“And if you get through the second round will you have to write another song?”
“No, because the final round takes place on the same evening, only it’s in the second half, and you can sing either one of your two songs. But there’s no way I’ll get through to the final,” I quickly added.
Then Mum wanted to know what the various bands and soloists had sung and I told her in big detail about the other acts in the contest, and how the winner will go through to the auditions for the big concert in London, which Miss York has told us is called Stars in the Wings. “It’s so exciting, Mum, because you can only audition for Stars in the Wings through your school and Miss York says that the schools will only put forward their very best talent.”
Mum said she thought that sounded wonderful, then she came back to what I’d said about having to write another song in such a short time. “I know you said you’d done lots already, but…is there much still left to do? I’m just a bit anxious that it’s taking time away from your proper practice.”
There was that irritating word again – proper – the word Mrs. Roach had used in my piano lesson. I couldn’t help snapping this time. “It is proper practice when I’m composing and trying out my own songs.”
There was a pause and I knew exactly what was coming next. “Yes, but you won’t let the work you have to do for Mrs. Roach suffer, Mia, will you?”
I snapped again. I couldn’t help it. “Well it might suffer a bit, but it’s only for one more week.”
“And if you won the contest, would you have to write something else for the London show?”
I hadn’t been expecting Mum to consider that question in a million years, and I stopped being annoyed with her immediately because I felt so pleased that she even thought I stood a chance of winning the contest.
“Oh, Mum, I’d absolutely love to win, but there’s no way I could ever do that. I mean, I probably only just scraped a place in the second round. The bands were fantastic, and it’s a really high standard all round, but the very best act is a solo singer from Year Eight. She’s called Bella and it’s obvious she’s going to win the whole thing. Everyone’s saying it.”
Mum tried to soften her voice a bit. “You will make sure you explain to Mrs. Roach that you’ll practise properly as soon as the competition is over, won’t you? It’s great that you’ve managed to perform but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, darling, the school made it very clear that your scholarship really does depend on you excelling in your piano lessons.”
I didn’t say anything, but I could feel my hackles rising, and I wasn’t exactly sure why.
“You see, the thing is,” she went on, “you can’t show your talent in any other way, as you don’t play an orchestral instrument…”
And then I got it. That’s what was making me mad. Not only was writing songs not “proper” music, but apparently it didn’t show any talent. All the effort I put into creating words and music and arranging them together into something that people enjoyed enough to vote for didn’t count for anything in Mum’s and Mrs. Roach’s eyes.
“I know,” I mumbled, thinking how often I’d had that fact drilled into me.
“And you know that without the help with the fees that we get from the scholarship, we wouldn’t be able to afford to…to keep you at Silver Spires?”
I swallowed and nodded, then realized Mum couldn’t hear me nod. “Yes, I know that too,” I said a bit snappily.
I hated sounding all stressy like this but I couldn’t help it. I probably should have just told Mum why I was cross, but I didn’t have the energy, so we talked for a few more minutes about my friends, and how my schoolwork was, and how my little brother had come first in a fancy-dress competition, and how Mum was going on a jewellery-making course the next weekend. And then we rang off and I folded my arms and sighed noisily.
“What’s up?” came Georgie’s bright voice. She was walking towards me from Hazeldean. It was Sunday afternoon and we were just chilling. She knew where to find me because whenever I phone home, I always walk up and down the main Silver Spires drive as I’m talking, unless it’s raining.
“Mum’s been reminding me about my music scholarship,” I told Georgie glumly.
“What about it?”
“You know…how important it is that I’ve got to keep making progress on piano so I don’t lose my scholarship.”
“But you are making progress. Playing all sorts of different pop stuff and jazzy stuff and musicals and things. You never used to take any interest in those kinds of things before. You should tell her, Mia, that you’re – what’s the expression? – broadening your horizons. That’s what you’re doing!” She beamed at me. “I’m quite proud of that actually!”
“You’re proud of me broadening my horizons?” I felt really touched. “Hey, thanks, Georgie.”
“No – well, yes, I am proud of you doing that, but I mean I’m proud of myself for thinking of the expression.”
I couldn’t help laughing. But I was also grateful to Georgie. She’d come up with such a good phrase and I would make sure I used it next time I spoke to Mum. I might even dare to say it to Mrs. Roach.
“I just talked to my mum and dad too,” Georgie carried on brightly. “They said it was a horrible day and they were sitting around indoors doing nothing much. Isn’t it amazing how the weather can be so different a hundred kilometres away? I mean it’s hot and gorgeous here. I’m going to change into a short skirt. See you round the back, yeah?”
She rushed off and I was left there full of thoughts. Something Georgie had said had shot me straight back to thinking about Bella’s beautiful song. What was it?
I walked back down the drive towards the gate, and found myself humming a bit of it. It was amazing that I’d remembered it so well. And immediately I thought about Mum and Dad and me and my little brother sitting round the fire. Yes, that’s why I’d been reminded of Bella’s song in the first place. Georgie was talking about her mum and dad sitting around doing nothing much because of the weather being bad, and I’d imagined them in their living room with some music on in the background, because that’s what my family used to do at home on gloomy days. And even when Bella had been singing in the theatre the evening before, I’d been taken right back to those cosy times around the fire at home.
But why? Why had Bella’s song made me think of that? It was weird. I hummed the tune again, but this time I managed to carry on to the next part too. And then I stopped walking and stared at the ground. Some words were coming into my head. You paint a golden circle round your dreams to keep them safe inside… But those weren’t the words that Bella had sung, were they? No, I was sure she hadn’t sung anything about golden circles and dreams. And yet, in my head, those were the words that went with that tune.
I started walking again and something clicked so sharply that I froze. The reason I was singing those different words to Bella’s music was because I’d heard them before. I’d heard Bella’s melody but with those words on one of Dad’s CDs that we used to sometimes have on in the background when we were
sitting round together on rainy days. So…was it just a coincidence? Or…or did Bella write new words to an old song?
The hairs on my arms stood on end. If she did, then…she cheated, because the one and only rule of the contest, the rule that stopped so many people from entering who might have entered otherwise, was that you had to write whatever you sang yourself. Could Bella have cheated? No, it was a ridiculous thought. She wouldn’t have dared. The rule was so strict and clear that no one would have dared. I must have made a mistake. I must have. I wasn’t going to think about that stupid song on Dad’s CD any more. It was obviously nothing more than a big coincidence that her song had sounded a bit the same in places. I mean there are only so many notes to play around with, and only so many different rhythms, so it’s not surprising that sometimes music comes out sounding similar to other music.
All the same, I felt like someone sleepwalking as I set off to meet Georgie on the lawn at the back of the main building, and as I got nearer, instead of going round the side of the main building I found myself going off in the other direction, towards the music block. I wanted to be on my own a bit longer, and, more than that, I wanted to sit at a piano and just play. It might calm me down.
I couldn’t get my worry out of my head and I was searching my brain to try and remember more about the song from Dad’s CD. His collection of CDs is so enormous and full of different music and artists that nobody’s ever heard of. Mum always laughs when the subject of Dad’s CDs comes up. “Your dad’s taste is totally and utterly individual,” she says. “I think there must be a category in the music shops called WEIRD where he goes to buy his music!”
I stopped walking and made a decision. I would phone Dad and ask him what the song was called. What did Bella say the title was? “Is Anyone There?” Yes, that was it. Usually Mum hands the phone to Dad after she and I have been talking together, but this time we both forgot, probably because we’d wound each other up about my scholarship.
My heart raced as I listened to the ringtone.
“Oh hi, Dad.”
“Hello, Mee.” Dad’s always called me Mee for as long as I can remember. “Glad you phoned back. Thought I must have done something wrong when Mum rang off without passing you over.”
“Sorry, Dad. I don’t know why we both forgot. Mum said you got my text about me getting through to the next round of the Star contest.”
“Yes, we certainly did! I was just about to text you actually, but you know what I’m like with texting. Takes me half an hour to write two words! Yes, well done for the contest. What a star!”
I laughed, then swallowed and took a quick breath. “Dad, I was just trying to remember a song on one of your CDs.”
“Oh good! I’m glad someone appreciates my taste in music.”
“I can’t remember who the singer is, but I think the song’s called ‘Is Anyone There?’”
“‘Is Anyone There?’” he repeated slowly, and I could practically hear his brain ticking over. “Hang on, I’ll have a look. Not so many to look through now, though. I went a bit mad clearing out when we had the living room redecorated, and I took quite a few CDs down to the Oxfam shop… Let’s see… Tell you what, I’ll ring you back. It’ll be quicker if I’ve got both hands free.”
My heart was beating really quickly and I felt all tense and anxious while I was waiting for Dad to phone back. What if he found the song? What would I do? Who would I tell? I couldn’t find any answers because the questions were too big.
In the little practice room I started playing my own song, the more upbeat one I’d started to write when I thought it was going to be me and Georgie singing together. I’d spent ages working on it earlier in the day, changing loads of the words. I’d called it ‘My Best Friend and Me’. Georgie had come tiptoeing into the practice room after about an hour to bring me a hot chocolate, and she’d dramatically whispered, “Don’t speak, Mamma Mia,” as she’d put it on the cupboard by the piano. “Don’t even say thank you. It’ll break your concentration!”
Good old Georgie.
I’d changed the style of the original song to make it slower and gentler than before, but it was still more upbeat than ‘Time to Say Goodbye’ and although I knew the speedier tempo would probably add to my nervousness when I came to perform it, I definitely wanted it like that. I just didn’t seem to be able to stop giving myself new challenges.
There was a lot more left to do with the song though. I had to improve the arrangement until I felt completely happy with it, and then sing it over and over until I could do it in my sleep, because that was the only way I’d be confident enough to perform it the next Saturday. Thinking about that now made a big twang of nervousness ping through me, but it vibrated with excitement too and I knew it was a good kind of nervousness.
I was so into singing the song that I completely forgot about Dad phoning, so it gave me a massive jump when my phone suddenly started to ring.
“Hi, Dad.” My heart was racing again.
“Hiya, Mee. No luck, I’m afraid. Can’t find that title anywhere. Can you give me any other clues? Was it a solo artist or a band or what?”
I frowned as something struck me. Maybe “Is Anyone There?” wasn’t the real title. If Bella had changed the words to the song, she might have changed the title too.
“Not Gordon Lightfoot, the folk singer?” Dad was saying.
“I really don’t know, Dad.”
“What do you want to know for anyway?”
“Oh…I just heard something which sounded really similar, and it reminded me of when we used to sit round the fire on rainy weekends.”
Dad didn’t say anything and I knew he’d be imagining the scene I was painting.
“Shall I…sing you a bit, Dad?”
“Go on then.”
So I sang the bit I remembered as best I could, but it wasn’t very much to go on.
“Yes, I think I know which one you mean…I’m not a hundred per cent, mind… What’s his name? Oh…I’d forget my head if I didn’t have it screwed on… Yes…is it Jed Jarrow? That’s the only one that springs to mind. I chucked that CD out, Mee, I’m afraid.”
“It’s okay, don’t worry, Dad. I was just wondering…that was all.”
“Mum says you’re making up another song this week.” Dad changed the subject a bit.
I didn’t want to get back to talking about scholarships, so I pretended somebody had come into the music room and I had to go.
I’d hardly disconnected when there was a tap at the door and I looked up at the small window in the top of the door and saw Bella’s smiling face, which gave me such a shock. Immediately my cheeks went pink. She couldn’t possibly have heard what I’d been saying, because the rooms are soundproofed, but I still felt guilty.
She mouthed, “Okay to come in?” and I nodded and tried to smile.
“Spotted you through the window,” she began, then she let a giggle out. “Thought I’d come and say congrats and all that!”
“Oh thanks! S-same to you!”
“Thanks!” She giggled again and leaned her elbow on the top of the piano, propping her chin on her hand. “It was exciting, wasn’t it? I’d never have guessed there were going to be that many people there! And everyone was so supportive, the way they clapped and cheered and made us all feel good about ourselves.”
Bella sounded really friendly and warm. It was nice of her to come and talk to me, but I knew I wasn’t acting naturally, because all the time she was talking I was trying not to stare at her, and half wishing I dared to ask her where she’d got the idea for her song from, or something like that. But I didn’t have the courage. My voice would have come out all croaky or I’d have gone bright red.
“I was so nervous,” I managed to say quietly, biting my lip.
“Me too. Terrified!”
I tried to act a bit more normally. “You’d never have guessed. You looked completely calm!”
She giggled again. “I was like a duck actually, all smooth and serene on
the surface, but underneath, paddling like mad!”
I laughed. It was such a good way of describing how you somehow manage to keep terrible nervousness inside. “Have you…started your next song yet, Bella?”
“Yes, I’d already got the idea for another song ages ago so I was crossing my fingers like mad that I’d get through. What about you?”
I nodded and immediately felt uncomfortable again, because my mind just wouldn’t seem to let go of the idea that maybe Bella cheated.
“Oh well, I’d better be going. See you on Saturday!” She put on a sort of yikes face and we both laughed nervously. Then she was gone, and I was left with my horrible thoughts.
But I shook them away as hard as I could. They were winding me up too much. Bella was lovely. It didn’t make any sense. She’d never cheat.
Would she?
Chapter Eight
“Don’t forget what I told you,” Georgie said for the millionth time. “You’ve been prioritizing, right?”
I nodded and sucked my lips in to stop them feeling so dry. Georgie and I were walking past the tennis courts. She was about to go to a play rehearsal and I was going to my piano lesson, feeling more nervous than I’d ever felt before about one. Until just recently I’d always been bursting to show Mrs. Roach how much work I’ve done. Not today though.
The lesson always starts with scales and I usually rattle up and down them, feeling my fingers loosening up ready for my set pieces. But today I was dreading playing scales, even though I had actually done them quite a lot to keep my hands supple for playing my song. The reason I was dreading them was because my heart would be sinking more and more with each one, waiting for the awful moment when I had to play my Debussy. And I didn’t know what on earth Mrs. Roach would have to say about that, as I’d only practised it for about an hour in the whole week, instead of my usual four hours, and if I was honest, I hadn’t enjoyed it particularly because I so wanted to work on my song.