Spud - Learning to Fly

by John van de Ruit

  ‘Sure,’ I said.

  ‘Thanks, Spuddy, you’re a good man.’ Fatty looked like an old man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  Vern refused to follow me to Mr Owen’s office. The cretin seemed to think that I was trying to lure him into some sort of sinister trap and ran away from me when I tried to catch him. Our detention punishment is to straighten the high jump mats during sports day next Wednesday. Hardly the most brutal punishment I’ve ever faced – in fact I’m quite looking forward to it.

  On the way back to the house after rehearsal, I asked Rambo how he had organised the smoking shed escapade. He shrugged and said, ‘I didn’t.’

  In the old days he would always brag about his plans and successes. Nowadays he pretends to know nothing when he clearly knows everything. He even walks mysteriously, like he could be holding back world changing information.

  Sunday 6th September

  Had yet another dream about the smoking shed. Suddenly had a thought: what if Wrexham, like Rambo, isn’t revealing the full truth? Perhaps all these well-mannered ladies in white are also carrying dark secrets?

  Monday 7th September

  19:00 The anticipated move into the new theatre didn’t materialise. The builders wouldn’t let us in because there were live wires on the stage and somebody was certain to be electrocuted.

  ‘I have understudies!’ roared the director and threw his arms in the air like the universe was against him.

  ‘Very poor form,’ agreed The Guv as we made the long walk back up the hill towards the school hall. ‘Dastardly place this, Milton!’ He looked aggrieved. ‘I’ve discovered that I’m not very fond of women.’

  ‘I know what you mean, sir,’ I told him.

  The Guv glanced at me out the corner of his eye and said, ‘If only I’d discovered that before buying three hideously expensive wedding rings.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I said and we walked together the rest of the way in a contented silence.

  Tuesday 8th September

  19:00 The new theatre is dark and foreboding, but full of creative energy and reeking of varnish and wood shavings. There still aren’t any chairs in the auditorium but everything else is perfect, ready and waiting. Boggo was pleased to report a number of dark nooks and crannies backstage that he said were perfect places to get down and dirty with VPH. The great crimson velvet curtain that drapes the stage can swing in just about any direction by remote control from the lighting box. Up on the roof, row upon row of specialist lights wait impatiently like cannons on a navy ship to blast their beams in our faces. The stage is made of light coloured wood and feels slippery underfoot. Viking says there will eventually be 300 seats in the auditorium, although it seems smaller than that. Perhaps they’re just very thin seats?

  ‘This is your one week call, ladies and gentlemen,’ boomed Viking, once we were all seated on the front lip of the stage. ‘We’ve been landed in this terrible predicament by sheer inefficiency and incompetence, but there’s nothing to be done besides clench one’s anus and plunder on!’

  Viking prowled around the auditorium searching for his words with his hands clenched at his sides like he was holding two large grapefruit. ‘Now I’ve been around long enough to know that the first run through in the theatre is always an abomination,’ he said, ‘but this is the initiation for this theatre and we shouldn’t forget that tonight we aren’t just actors – we’re pioneers!’ He glared balefully at the cast. ‘Right!’ he shouted, snapping up his clipboard. ‘From the top with gusto! And if we overrun, I’ll make you little bastards do it all again!’ Viking then settled himself down in a large armchair in the middle of the empty auditorium. Beside him on a stool were his cigarettes, a glass of wine, a notepad, and four pens.

  ‘Houselights!’ he shouted, and then the angry Viking slowly disappeared into the darkness.

  ‘And … curtain up!’

  22:30 The Dream’s running time is down to 2h 35mins. Viking said it was still too slow and blamed it all on Smith’s insufferable egomania. ‘I could have driven a bus through those pauses!’ he shouted as Smith shrank away into the wings and disappeared behind the curtains.

  ‘Tomorrow I want it down to 120 minutes maximum!’ hollered Viking to nobody in particular. ‘Or we’ll do it again and again and again!’

  0:14 Vern was making weird breathing noises in his sleep. I thought he might be on the verge of dying so I stayed awake just to keep an eye on him. Suddenly Vern gasped desperately and his whole body shuddered like he was having a fit. I sat up in bed ready to sound the alarm. But then I heard Rain Man letting out a long and satisfied sigh, followed by a firm sniff. That’s when the grim realisation dawned that I’d just spent the last ten minutes listening to Rain Man yank his chain! I plunged my head under the blankets and waited for the sheer horror to pass. It did eventually, but by then I was wide awake and my brain was racing along like a roller coaster on different intersecting tracks that looped high into the night sky and threatened to launch me into space before plunging me back down to earth again.

  Wednesday 9th September

  6:00 ‘Here’s your tea, Spud!’ said Brenda in an un-necessarily loud voice. I hoped that once she’d plonked down Vern’s hot water on the bedside table, she might have disappeared. Alas, she sat on my bed and continued jabbering on about all the homework she’d completed yesterday.

  ‘Um … Does Fatty like Penny?’ she then said out of the blue.

  ‘Don’t know,’ I mumbled, still caught up in my dream.

  ‘Oh,’ she replied. ‘By the way, there’s a rumour going around that Boggo’s together with Victoria Perez Hamilton.’

  ‘That’s because Boggo started the rumour,’ I replied, and in that instant I felt myself come back from the edge of dreamland into cold hard reality in white.

  SPORTS DAY

  Now that’s the kind of punishment that makes you want to sin again! Watching pretty girls in tight shorts and vests arching their backs and leaping over the high jump bar is a rather splendid way to spend one’s afternoon. Vern and I had a great routine going. I would help the girl off the mat once she had landed and Vern would scurry around pushing the mats back together for the next jumper.

  The highlight of the afternoon was watching VPH soaring over the bar and through the air towards me. Further good news was that when I helped her off the mat she smiled broadly and said, ‘Thanks, Spud.’ I was completely overwhelmed that she even knew my name and forgot to reply, and by the time I could regain control of my on-board computer, she was already back at her mark.

  On her second attempt I was ready with a charming compliment but she knocked the bar off, and this time she launched herself off the mats and stormed back to her mark. I hung back, sensing it wasn’t a good time for spading and patiently bided my time for her third and final attempt.

  She landed on the mats with a tender thump. The horizontal bar bounced a little but remained fixed in position.

  ‘Perfect jump, Victoria,’ I said.

  ‘Not quite perfect,’ she replied.

  And that was that.

  PM Found it very difficult to concentrate on my homework. My mind was whirling with the thought of VPH, illicit midnight activities in the maintenance shed and the mystery of women.

  Fatty still hasn’t returned for his chat about Penny. In fact he seems to be avoiding me. Perhaps he’s changed his mind, or no longer trusts me for some unknown reason.

  21:00 I asked Rambo if we were skulking out to the smoking shed but he said two weeks in a row was suicide. He looked at me dismissively and asked, ‘What – you addicted or something?’

  I laughed and made a quick exit but couldn’t help feeling disappointed. It wasn’t the pipe, or the danger, or even the girls; more like feeling alive and the exhilaration of being touched by a stranger in the darkness.

  Friday 11th September

  6:05 ‘My oath to God I didn’t write it!’ protested Boggo, waving a white envelope in the air.

  Fatty saw me
emerging from my room and shouted, ‘Hey, Spud. Boggo got fan mail!’

  Fatty snatched the envelope from Boggo and handed it to me. ‘Check it out. It was slid under the common room door sometime in the night.’

  Inside the envelope was a card with Winnie the Pooh’s grinning face on the cover. Inside the card read:

  Dear Boggo (Alan)

  Roses are red,

  Violets are blue,

  Sugar is sweet,

  And I like you …

  It definitely wasn’t Boggo’s handwriting, and if he had sent the card to himself it would have been pornographic.

  ‘It’s somebody from the cast,’ announced Boggo with absolute conviction.

  ‘It could be anyone,’ reasoned Fatty.

  ‘I reckon its VPH,’ said Boggo rather confidently. ‘I’ve been sensing an animalistic attraction between us since the first rehearsal.’

  ‘Between you and VPH?’ said Fatty in disbelief.

  ‘Trust me,’ said Boggo. ‘She’s sordid.’

  Rambo sat back in his chair and smiled smugly, like he was way ahead of the rest of us. Penny fussed about in the kitchen and Brenda was making a lame attempt at cleaning the windows with a small dishcloth.

  ‘Okay, let’s say it is VPH,’ said Boggo, continuing on his express train of thought. ‘How do I let her know that I know it’s her?’

  ‘It’s not VPH, Boggo,’ said Rambo casually sipping his tea.

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Fatty.

  ‘Three reasons really,’ said Rambo suavely. ‘Firstly, VPH is madly in love with me. Secondly, she told me that she finds you repulsive. And thirdly, the misguided idiot who sent you that note is in this very room as we speak.’

  Fatty’s head whipped around to where Penny stood helpless in the kitchen. A look of horror spread across his face like his life was on the verge of falling apart. But Penny was looking desperately across to where Brenda was no longer cleaning the windows and stood frozen with fear. She seemed petrified as she slowly stepped down off the stool on which she had been standing. Then she turned and fled.

  I know poor Brenda must have been mortified, but I couldn’t help laughing like a maniac. Penny just stood there and watched the rest of us howling at the bewildered Boggo and she eventually said, ‘Okay. That’s like … really embarrassing.’ Then with her head held high she flounced out of the room.

  ‘That’s so great!’ said Rambo in a mocking voice. ‘Now you two can go out on a double date.’ The grin instantly fell from Fatty’s face and Rambo cruised off to the bogs with a towel draped carefully over his left bicep.

  Sunday 13th September

  At last we have brought the play down to a far more respectable 125 minutes’ running time. Unfortunately, Viking said we were now gabbling our lines and reckoned he couldn’t hear at least three quarters of the play. The good news is that the Dream seems to be coming together at the death. It’s nowhere near perfect, but it’s nowhere near embarrassing either. Everyone tells me my female voice for Thisby is hilarious, but since we haven’t yet played to an audience and Viking has banned the cast from laughing at themselves, it’s impossible to know if they’re being honest or just being friendly. I left the theatre feeling fairly confident, with a spring in my step.

  22:45 ‘Spud!’ hissed Fatty from under a small tree in the garden to my left. ‘Over here!’

  ‘What’s up?’ I said.

  He shushed me to silence and led me through some bushes, making more noise than a marauding elephant, and out into a clearing of grass, where he collapsed onto a bench like he had just run a four-minute mile. He said we had to talk.

  ‘I’m helluva confused, Spuddy,’ he began, shaking his head and heaving for breath in the darkness.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked after a long pause.

  ‘It’s complicated,’ Fatty said. He then looked around suspiciously and whispered, ‘Your oath to God you’ll keep this quiet and not tell Boggo?’ I nodded solemnly and repeated, ‘My oath to God.’

  ‘Spuddy,’ he said, speaking quickly, ‘I know this might be a bit weird and stuff, and like it might sound like – stupid to you because you’ve had a few hot … well, you know … girls and stuff.’

  I told Fatty that I could offer him my best advice, but reminded him that all my relationships have ended in disaster. He nodded and said, ‘It’s just that there’s nobody else I can talk to.’ I nodded solemnly and Fatty nodded solemnly back at me. Then there was a long pause before he said, ‘I think I’m in love with Penny.’

  His honesty took me by surprise and a loud and terrible snigger shot out of my mouth like a machine gun and exploded into the night. I immediately covered my mouth and hoped Fatty wouldn’t have noticed.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked, a note of alarm in his voice.

  ‘Fine,’ I said to the dark shadow sitting beside me. Just a hiccup.’

  ‘Hold your breath for a minute and think of a waterfall,’ advised Fatty in a loud voice. I pretended to hold my breath and Fatty continued, ‘I think about her all the time. She’s beautiful. I can’t … I can’t …’ Fatty ran out of words to describe his feelings.

  ‘It’s like you can’t breathe properly when she’s around,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly!’ cried Fatty. ‘That’s exactly it! You see, I knew you were the right guy to talk to.’

  ‘Anyway,’ continued Fatty, ‘Boggo and Rambo said I could get expelled and arrested for kissing an under age girl.’ He paused and then spoke in a low nervous whisper. ‘They said because I’m now sixteen and she’s thirteen, that would make me a paedophile.’

  ‘As long as you don’t sleep together then you’ll be fine,’ I advised in a responsible voice.

  ‘Really?’ came the astonished reply from the darkness. ‘But I don’t even want to sleep with her. I mean I do, but I’d just be honoured to hold her hand or go on a date.’

  There was a long pause before Fatty asked, ‘So you sure it’s cool, if I like make a move and maybe try … you know …?’

  ‘Look, Fatty,’ I said, ‘Boggo is just screwing around with your mind because he’s jealous, and Rambo’s just screwing around with your mind because he’s Rambo. You follow your heart and let the rest go to hell. You’ll never know if you never try.’

  Suddenly I was pulled to my feet by enormous arms that enveloped me in an embrace.

  ‘Thanks, Spuddy,’ said Fatty with an enormous sigh of relief. ‘You’re sheer class.’

  I gave him a thump on the shoulder. We then walked the long road back to the house and he never once stopped talking about his girl.

  Monday 14th September

  FINAL DRESS REHEARSAL!

  The realisation has sunk in. Wednesday is opening night and then BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! And it’s all over. Strange how this term seemed to drag out endlessly, and now it’s thundering forward so fast that soon this will be over. Then I’ll need another Dream to chase.

  This was my last chance to see the show from the auditorium. Since I’m only in four scenes, I have spent most of the time watching the lovers and the fairies and secretly thinking how I could have played their parts better.

  SELECTED CAST CRITIQUE

  PIG (Theseus The Duke)

  Confuses shouting for good acting and has a serious perspiration problem. 4/10

  VIKING (Egeus)

  Very realistic portrayal of the angry father. 8/10

  SPIKE (Lysander)

  A surprisingly good performance from Spike, who appears extremely confident and natural on stage. It pains me to say it, but he acts all the other lovers right off the stage. It’s a relief that I only have to see that smug face at rehearsals. 9/10

  LAZARUS (Demetrius)

  Although he looks like he should be a good actor, he clearly isn’t. Frequently stumbles over his lines and appears to be more terrified of Helena than in love with her. Don’t quit your day job! 3/10

  RAMBO (Oberon)

  A fairly good performance that relies too heavily on Rambo flexing
his muscles and permanently trying to act the love god. 7/10

  VICTORIA PEREZ HAMILTON (Titania)

  It’s difficult to remain objective when considering VPH. She’s good, but hardly Meryl Streep. Unfortunately, it’s almost impossible to remove your eyes from her when she’s onstage. 9/10 (Two points added for excessive beauty)

  SMITH (Puck)

  Completely over-the-top performance. His voice has also become more effeminate by the day. Despite Smith proclaiming that he’s the only thing worth watching in the show, he’s barely above mediocre. 4/10 (Three points deducted for excessive arrogance)

  THE GUV (Bottom)

  Brilliant performance, even better than his Fagin. He should be acting in the West End instead of wasting his life away trying to teach boys to appreciate poetry and literature. 10/10

  BOGGO (Peter Quince)

  Despite having to secretly carry his script around on a scroll, Boggo is genuinely funny onstage when he relaxes. His constant bickering with Bottom can be hilarious when he gets it right. 7/10

  GEOFF LAWSON (Starveling)

  As likeable a guy as Geoff is, it would be an extreme stretch to call him an actor. He speaks in a weird monotone and his movements appear robotic at times. 3/10

  FATTY (Wall)

  At 137.75kg, Fatty makes a very realistic wall. He’s good at playing dumb and should hopefully get a few laughs from the audience come tomorrow night. 7.5/10

  VERN (Snug/Lion)

  Very difficult to distinguish between Vern acting and Vern being his normal moggy self. Have no idea how the audience will react to him. Either they will laugh hysterically or be thoroughly disturbed. Everyone’s holding thumbs he doesn’t panic tomorrow night in front of a real audience and do something cretinous. 6/10