‘I’m really, really sorry, Mrs Quigg,’ she said. ‘I never wanted to ruin the play. I wanted to make it better. It’s a brilliant play, and I think it’s just wicked that you wrote it—’
Bryony stopped, mid-sentence, and stared. She could hardly believe her eyes. Abid, without a hint of a wheeze or a cough, was stepping boldly right up to the music teacher and putting a large hand on her shoulder.
‘We’re with you all the way, Mrs Quigg,’ he said, looking at her steadily. ‘Why don’t you come to the hall with us? Just keep an open mind — please?’
They both looked imploringly at Mrs Quigg.
‘We’ve been burning the midnight oil too,’ Bryony said, coming to stand opposite Abid. They each slipped a hand under the teacher’s arms and eased her up.
‘We’ve got artistic souls too, Bryony and me,’ Abid added unexpectedly, steering Mrs Quigg gently in the direction of the door.
Much to their surprise and relief, Mrs Quigg allowed herself to be led out of the staffroom and along the corridor to the hall, where Bryony and Abid sat her down at the piano.
‘Give us three minutes to get ready, Mrs Quigg,’ whispered Bryony. ‘Then play the introduction to the Swan Song.’
Like someone in a hypnotic trance Mrs Quigg sat, hands hovering above the piano keys, gazing up at the empty stage.
‘We’ve got a bit of a tour de force too,’ explained Abid, lifting the piano lid and setting The Ugly Duckling music in position.
‘So prepare to be blown away.’
Chapter: Ten
On the night of The Ugly Duckling show, the hall of Peachtree Primary was filled to maximum capacity. Mrs Quigg, nicely done up in a high-collared white blouse and with her curls an interesting shade of blue, played a medley of Ugly Duckling songs to get everyone in the mood as they settled into their seats.
In the front row sat Big Bob, Angelina, Melody, Melissa, Emmy-Lou, and Clarissa with Little Bob on her lap. Mrs Ashraf, looking more elegant than ever in a lavender and gold salwar kameez, was sandwiched between Clarissa and Dr Ashraf, both of whom took up rather more than one seat. Everyone was full of excited anticipation, although the little Bell girls were careful not to appear too keen. Their icy feelings had all but defrosted, but there was still a bit of a nip in the air.
From time to time, Big Bob would dab the perspiration off his brow and dart worried glances at his family. Something was weighing heavily on his mind. Alter tea that evening he had taken Bryony to one side and, without a word, had led her to the potting shed. Bryony, bewildered, had watched the door swing slowly open and when she saw what was sitting inside she had been quite unable to speak.
‘I couldn’t do it, Bryony,’ Big Bob had said at last. ‘I know it was wrong of me, but the longer I stood in the queue at the Post Office the more I thought I just couldn’t hand them over. Tonight’s your big night, and I’d never forgive myself if you didn’t have your Vipers …
‘I’ve the wrapping all ready, lass, and as soon as the show’s over they go straight back in the box and away. There’s still two days’ approval, and one performance won’t harm them.’
Bryony had not known what to say. The Viper 3000s, sitting on top of their box, looked even whiter and ligher and shinier than she remembered — and she was going to wear them, one last time, for The Swan Song! It was too much to take in.
‘Now don’t you worry, Bryony,’ Big Bob had told her as he handed her the Vipers. ‘You just do your very best — and if there’s any trouble, your Dad’ll take the flack.’
‘OK, Dad,’ Bryony had whispered at last, cradling the skates. ‘I’ll give it my all.’
* * *
The blue velvet stage curtains twitched open to reveal a very small boy wearing a shiny grey suit and red bow tie. Jeremy, who had fallen off the log so often that his mother had filed an official complaint, had had his frog suit taken from him and been given the important job of Master of Ceremonies and Narrator.
‘Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and children,’ he announced carefully, ‘and welcome to our show. It’s called The Ugly Duckling and …’ He looked down desperately.
‘We hope you …’ came Mrs Quigg’s stage-whisper.
‘We hope you will enjoy it,’ Jeremy finished with a sigh of relief. Then he side-stepped off with his right arm outstretched, and as he did the curtains swished open to reveal the first scene where the farmyard animals were telling each other about the strange egg that was about to crack.
Next came the part by the lake and the frogs’ log. Mrs Quigg played the opening bars of the Frogs’ Chorus with gusto, and they all began to sing. And when Bryony made her entrance as the Ugly Duckling and the frogs bounced up and down and laughed at her, there was no risk of anyone falling off the log, for Abid had been persuaded to don Jeremy’s green Lycra and sit at the end, acting as balast.
This part, as hoped, brought the house down, and when it was over the audience applauded with vigour. There were a number of other songs as the Ugly Duckling was made to feel more and more miserable, and at last it was time for the winter scene. The lights dimmed and a big white sheet, cunningly concealed behind the log, was carefully unrolled and draped over everything to create the impression of snow. Two little girls dressed as snowflakes tiptoed on and scattered white glitter, and above it all Jeremy’s voice told how the Ugly Duckling had hidden itself away, unable to bear the constant humiliation. It was all very poignant.
‘But when the spring came, and the snow melted …’ Jeremy went on, pausing to let the snowflakes skip back in and remove the sheet, ‘… something very strange, and very wonderful, happened …’
One by one all the frogs except Abid hopped back onstage and repositioned themselves on the log. Then the lights came on, bathing everyone in a beautiful rosy light. Mrs Quigg glanced up to make sure the stage was set, then played the rippling introduction to The Swan Song.
And then, like a smoothly shimmering dream, Bryony Bell made her entrance.
Never, as Clarissa said afterwards, was an entrance so entrancing! The whole hall seemed to take a big breath and hold it as the swan glided in balanced on one leg with the other held out behind her, straight as a die. The huge swan costume had been well and truly redesigned by Abid’s mother who, happily accepting the challenge, had removed its feathers and had attached them to a sparkling-white bodice onto which she had sewn a silver-sequined swan. The sleeves were long and tight-fitting and culminated in white feathery cuffs that wafted delicately about as Bryony sped across the stage; and in her hair there nestled a feathery silver-and-white tiara, which glistened under the lights.
More gracefully and silently than ever a swan swam, Bryony floated round the stage and past the frog log, where she stopped, turned on one foot, and rotated faster and faster with her head flung back.
Then, skating backwards to the edge of the stage so fast that everyone in the front row gasped and lifted their feet onto their chairs, she went into a spin dangerously near Mrs Quigg’s head, to finish with both arms in the air, as still as a statue. Practising the routine in Abid’s marble hall with her old skates had been wonderful — but being on a wooden stage with the Vipers was quite out of this world. There was no resistance at all. It was like skating on air.
For a moment Bryony paused and surveyed her audience, then pushed off again to centre stage where she sank down on the blue cloth lake and inclined her head to one side, looking into the wings. Automatically everyone in the audience followed her gaze, and then the first strains of Abid’s song rang out more purely and clearly and confidently than ever before.
I look at my reflection, Abid sang,
And it looks back at me
And what I see there in the lake
Is what I want to see
Mrs Quigg played a few little tinkly bars during which Bryony took a last lingering look at herself in the blue cloth, unfolded her legs, and stood up. As the next verse was sung she circled the log, giving each frog in turn a little pat. At rehearsa
l, Bryony had argued the case for banging all their heads together, but Mrs Quigg had warned her she had to ‘chastise them with decorum’ for fear of more complaints from parents.
I had such dowdy feathers, Abid’s voice rang out,
You laughed and laughed at me
But now I’m very beau-ti-ful
As you can plainly see…
During the next tinkly bit, Bryony skated round to face the audience. As Abid sang the last verse, she looked all along the front row and smiled at each member of her family in turn, noting happily that every one of them smiled back at her in utter admiration.
And so here is my message, Abid trilled,
Don’t ever try to hide
Just hold your head up, show the world
The ‘swan’ you’ve got inside!
Bryony turned to the logful of frogs and they all got up, gripped her round the knees, and hoisted her high above their heads. All around them, the stage began to fill as farmyard ducks and goats and geese and chickens filed in, and when the whole cast was on stage everyone sang the last verse again, very slowly and loudly. As they did they joined hands to form an arch through which Abid, his frog mask under his arm, made his entrance and modestly bowed.
For a moment everyone in the hall was still as Mrs Quigg’s last note hung in the air, and then the whole hall exploded into tumultuous applause. People stood up and waved their programmes about, children stamped their feet, and everyone whooped and clapped and cried ‘Encore!’ And when, just above the racket, Bryony heard Emmy-Lou say, ‘That’s my big sister, so it is!’, she thought her chest would burst with pride.
The frogs let Bryony down and she curtseyed gracefully, holding the white feathers carefully between the tips of her fingers. Then both Bryony and Abid linked arms and pointed to Mrs Quigg, who stood, faced the audience, and gave a stiff little bow.
Tears of emotion made little pale furrows in Clarissa’s foundation cream. Mrs Ashraf dabbed her immaculate cheeks with a moist wipe and whispered ‘That’s my boy’ over and over again. And at each end of the front row the proud fathers blew their noses into their big handkerchiefs, and glowed and glowed with pride.
* * *
Over the hubbub, Jeremy had announced that tea and biscuits would be served in the staffroom, and when Abid and Bryony finally escaped Mrs Quigg’s embraces and found their way there, Bryony had her heart in her mouth. The play, she knew, had been a tour de force if ever there was one, but what would Mum and the little ‘uns say about the Vipers?
‘How was it for you, Abid?’ she asked as they fought their way through the audience, every one of whom wanted to congratulate them. To her relief, Abid beamed.
‘It was cool, Bryony,’ he said. ‘I do love singing, you know. Just not having people watch me sing.’ He paused to sign his name on the back of a small boy’s hand. ‘Maybe,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘I could perform on the radio…’
The Bells and the Ashrafs were standing together in a huddle by the window. When she saw Bryony Clarissa ran towards her, big arms outstretched.
‘Oh Bryony, love,’ she said, giving Bryony an almighty kiss on the cheek, then wiping off the lipstick mark, ‘you were splendid! Wasn’t she?’ She glanced over at the little ‘uns, who all nodded vehemently.
‘The best,’ said Melody.
‘Professional to the last,’ said Angelina, sincerely.
‘Unbelievable,’ sighed Melissa.
And Emmy-Lou buried her face in the white feathers of Bryony’s skirt, looked up at her, and said, ‘I wish you could skate with The Singing Bells, Bryony!’
‘Yeee-hah!’ Big Bob called, slapping his thigh. ‘Champion idea, Emmy-Lou.’ He looked over at Clarissa. ‘What d’you think, Clarissa? The Singing, Skating Bells? Something to think about for the future?’
Clarissa looked thoughtful. Then she nodded. ‘Could have legs,’ she said.
‘Course,’ continued Big Bob,’ she’d have to keep the Viper 3000s. Couldn’t have her on TV with tatty old skates …’
Throughout all this, Bryony said nothing. She was so deliriously happy, it felt as though her brain had gone into overdrive.
And, as if all this wasn’t enough, Mrs Ashraf was coming towards her with a shiny red parcel done up with a gold ribbon.
‘This is to thank you, Bryony, for everything you’ve done for Abid,’ she said, laying it in Bryony’s arms. ‘And to congratulate you on your wonderful performance.
‘I hope it’s what you wanted.’
Bryony undid the wrapping and held the contents up.
It was the outfit of her dreams — a bright pink salwar kameez with little mirrors at the yoke, gold embroidery, and pleated kingfisher-blue inserts in the trousers. The top was pleated too, and you could just imagine how it would spread out when you spun. It was exactly, precisely, what Bryony had imagined.
‘Oh thank you, Mrs Ashraf,’ she managed to say.
‘You’ll be the belle of the ball tonight Bryony,’ Big Bob whispered.
‘It’s the most beautiful thing I ever saw,’ breathed Angelina.
‘Oh my goodness,’ said Clarissa, holding one of the shiny pink sleeves out and talking very quickly, ‘isn’t this exactly the sort of thing that’d get us noticed on TV? Imagine the Devoted Sisters song and dance! Pure theatre, it would be, in these!’
The little Bells all nodded and jumped up and down.
‘You couldn’t run up another five before next week, Mrs Ashraf — could you?’ Clarissa asked. ‘Oh no — of course you couldn’t.’
Mrs Ashraf looked questioningly from Abid to Dr Ashraf. Dr Ashraf beamed and spoke for the first time that evening.
‘I think she could,’ he told Clarissa. ‘Shabana can do anything if she turns her mind to it!’
Mrs Ashraf took the dress from Bryony and held it against Clarissa. She looked her up and down, one eye closed.
‘I’d advise a sari for you, dear,’ she said at last. ‘Same materials, same embroidery, but the cut is so much more flattering to the fuller figure.’ Then she beamed at Clarissa and Big Bob. ‘Would I get a mention in the credits, do you think?’
‘I’m sure it could be arranged,’ Big Bob said confidently. ‘How about ‘Costumes by Shabana Ashraf, Designer to the Stars’?’
‘Consider it done,’ said Abid’s mother, without a moment’s hesitation. She reached inside her handbag for a measuring tape and a notepad and pencil, which she handed to Abid. ‘It’ll be my gateway to a stage career,’ she said excitedly, running the tape up and down each little Bell in turn.
‘So we’ll think of it as a publicity exercise,’ she went on. ‘And I’ll just charge you for the material.’
The Bells looked at Mrs Ashraf. They gazed, unbelieving, at one another.
‘So…’ Clarissa said slowly, ‘It wouldn’t cost the Earth?’
‘Hardly anything at all, dear,’ Mrs Ashraf said. ‘Are you getting this down, Abid?’
Abid went on scribbling into the notepad. Every single Bell eye fell on Bryony’s feet and the Viper 3000s.
‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Big Bob said to Clarissa.
Clarissa smiled a huge red smile.
‘I am,’ she said. ‘And I’m thinking the same. Those skates ain’t going anywhere but our Bryony’s feet!’
Speechless, Bryony hugged her salwar kameez. Its pinkness made her face glow, and tiny rainbows of light reflected onto her chin from its mirrors. Happiness spread from her silver tiara to the tips of her Viper-clad toes. She put her arm round Big Bob’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze.
‘You said I’d get the Vipers one day, or your name’s not Bob Bell,’ she said.
‘Sure did, princess,’ Big Bob said, beaming admiringly up at her.
‘And I’ll tell you another thing, Bryony,’ he added softly. ‘You’ll always be top of my bill!’
About the Author
Franzeska G Ewart was born in Stranraer — a small town by the sea in Galloway. She spent her childhood in the countrys
ide and down on the seashore and she still likes to go there and to wander about in the woods and along riverbanks.
She then went on to study Zoology at Glasgow University, before deciding that she wanted to teach and going on to study for her Primary Teaching Certificate.
Franzeska lives in Glasgow — full-time with her cat Lily, and part-time with her partner Adam. She loves gardening, painting, writing, music, frogs and cats — though probably in reverse order.
For many years Franzeska used shadow theatre to help people express themselves. These days, she still works part-time in Glendale Primary School teaching English as an Additional Language. The children and staff there often appear in her books!
Franzeska has had over a dozen books for children published. These include Speak Up Spike, Shadowflight and The Pen-pal from Outer Space which were all named Guardian Book of the Week.
About Bryony Bell Tops the Bill:
My inspiration for Bryony was a girl who came to one of my author talks. She had very bubbly blonde hair in two bunches, held in place with terrribly fancy flowers, and she was really COOL. I just liked her style, and I thought she’d be really assertive and capable and extrovert but would also love frills and flounces and sparkles. Just like Bryony!
A Note on the Author
FRANZESKA G. EWART
Bryony dreams of being a top-notch skater. However she has to send back her new, state-of-the-art skates to pay for her sisters’ costumes for TV Family Star Turns. Poor Bryony. It’s not much fun at school, either. In the end of term play, she’s cast as the Ugly Ducking. Can the family’s fortunes — and Bryony’s — turn in time to give her the chance to strut her stuff?
Another fantastic Black Cat …
Jan Mark
Eyes wide open
Six brilliantly-crafted short stories from a master of the form.
Discover how the tooth fairy turned one boy into a millionaire; how a reflection in a department store mirror unlocked a family’s dark secret, and find out how a misunderstood message transforms two boys’ journey on the London Underground into a comedy-adventure.
Bryony Bell Tops the Bill Page 5