Charm School (15 page)

C
HAPTER
S
IX

BONNY SLID IN
the music tape, and dropped into the revolving lantern the sheet that threw images of glittering rain. While Sarajane stood waiting for the excited chatter of the audience to die away, Bonny signalled frantically at Araminta to move to the nearest loudspeaker, then whispered. ‘Don’t throw the water!’

‘Why not?’ hissed back Araminta. ‘It’ll be
brilliant
. Everyone will love it.’

Already Sarajane was stepping forward.

‘I can’t explain,’ Bonny whispered hastily.
‘There
isn’t time. But just don’t throw it. Don’t do
anything
. Promise?’

Araminta shrugged, disappointed. But, like a good friend, she answered trustingly, ‘Well, if you say so.’

Sarajane was explaining now. ‘This is a lovely little song and dance called
Pretty Miss Raindrop
. It starts with a great peal of thunder so you mustn’t be startled. And then I fall to earth in a glittering shower. There aren’t many words in the song.’ She stopped, embarrassed. ‘Well, actually, the only words in it are ‘
Drip, drip, drip
’. But I do sing them over and over.’

More of a threat than a promise, Bonny thought privately. But she obediently pressed
PLAY
when Sarajane gave the signal. There was a moment’s silence. Then, from the speakers, flowed the plaintive sound of violins.

Bonny waited for the thunderpeal. (Sarajane had told her three times over that this was the cue to switch on the glittering shower.) But nothing like a peal of thunder came, only the music rising and falling like souls lost in grief. Bonny peeked through the glass. Poor Sarajane looked positively
stricken.
Could this be the wrong music? She glanced at the empty tape box. Yes, it was number 4. But in the rush to speak to Araminta after Toby’s warning, might she have slid it in on the wrong side?

Oh, no! Toby would kill her when he realized there was something wrong. In desperate hope, Bonny held on for one or two more bars, in case the thunder came. But it was hopeless. It didn’t sound at all the right sort of music for rushing round being a raindrop. Clearly the only thing to do was take out the tape and start again. Sarajane looked more and more panicked as the wrong music poured out behind her. And a great scowl was gathering on Toby’s face.

Bonny’s finger reached out for the
STOP
button. But just at that moment, Sarajane threw back her head and opened her mouth wide. Bonny hesitated. Had she decided to press on and sing whatever it was she had recorded on the other side?

The haunting melody rose. And out of Sarajane’s mouth there poured a waterfall of notes so pure and lovely that Bonny’s hand froze from sheer enchantment.

‘
Dark my days, and dark my hours

Since Lord Henry broke my heart
.

I’ll forsake these golden bowers

And the seas of grief I’ll chart
.’

Beside her, Toby moved closer to the glass. Already the glower on his face had cleared. He looked entranced, and Bonny could see the fingers on his left hand twitching, as though, as he listened, he was playing the melody along with his precious Sarajane on some imaginary violin.

The glorious voice poured out of the loudspeakers. Even Araminta had put down the bucket and stopped looking wistful as she listened.

‘
Lost my hopes, and lost my beauty

Since Lord Henry rode away
.

Was there ever such a cruelty
?

Was there ever such dismay?
’

The lovely voice soared. Even if Toby weren’t in the way, rapt and unreachable, there was no need for Bonny to switch on any glittering showers. Sarajane’s voice alone
could
glitter and sparkle, flash and blaze. All Bonny had to do was keep the simple spotlight trained on her. If she could sing like this and steal their hearts, why should she bother even to step out of the bright circle of light that was all Bonny offered?

‘
Will Lord Henry hear my singing
?

Shall I charm him back to me
,

In his ears, my verses ringing
,

In his heart, my melody?
’

The music swelled and died. The song was over. Sarajane hung her head, deeply embarrassed, and, for a moment or two, there was no sound at all.

Beside Bonny, Toby stirred uneasily. Beyond the glass, the clapping started. Araminta put the bucket back where it was supposed to be, and Mrs Opalene dabbed at her eyes with a frilly lace handkerchief.

Toby’s eyes shifted to the audience.

‘Whose is that spare seat next to Sarajane’s?’

‘It’s Araminta’s. She’s not using it.’

Instantly, he was at the door. ‘Silly to waste it.’

‘You’re soft on Sarajane, aren’t you?’

Did he even hear her? She didn’t think so. He’d already gone. Bonny sighed heavily. And after all those lofty speeches about silly girls! (Though, to be fair, he’d stuck with just feeling soft until he’d heard her singing so beautifully. It was her talent, not her pretty face, that had bewitched his heart.)

As he slipped into Araminta’s empty seat, Mrs Opalene rose from her own overfull one.

‘My dearest Sarajane,’ she said, still plainly moved. ‘That was
incomparable
.’

Nobody knew what incomparable meant. But it was obvious it was a compliment of the highest order, so everyone happily nodded along. And, after that, it was quite clear to them that Mrs Opalene was almost as taken with the new-style Curls and Purls Show as her pupils.

‘Memorable, dear! Memorable!’ she said, enchanted, after Lulu’s ‘cowboy sweetheart’ song, when Araminta popped up behind the cardboard stockade wearing the bison horns she’d found in the stockroom, and Bonny turned on the tornado and sent tumbleweed bouncing across the prairie backdrop.

‘Exotic!’ she marvelled after the firework explosions that shook the stage all through Cristalle’s lullaby.

‘Rivetingly tasteless, dear,’ was her judgement after Angelica’s
Beauty and her Mirror
song, during which Bonny fiddled with the lighting until Angelica aged horribly before their eyes, then turned into a skull.

‘Disquietingly vertiginous,’ she said faintly when Araminta’s own turn finally came round, and Bonny made the snowflakes swirl so fast that Araminta finally got dizzy and fell over.

And how Bonny managed to turn Cooki’s pretty fairy ring of mushrooms into that waterlogged swamp of crocodiles, Mrs Opalene swore she’d never know.

At last it was over. Cindy-Lou swatted out fiercely one last time at all the shadow bats that had so mysteriously swooped in to join her gracious
Tea-time with the Vicar
mime. Down came the curtain, and Mrs Opalene sailed up the stairs and stood on the stage apron.

‘Well, dears!’ she declared. ‘That was …’

And, for the first time in her life, Mrs Opalene was lost for words.

‘Such
fun
,’ said Araminta, coming out of the wings, and hugging Mrs Opalene. ‘Such wonderful fun!’

‘Marvellous!’ called out Lulu.

‘Fabulous!’

‘Terrific!’

Pearl hugged herself. ‘It was,’ she breathed in ecstasy, ‘the very best Curls and Purls Show
ever
!’

Mrs Opalene capitulated graciously. ‘Yes, dears. I do agree it made the most amusing and interesting change. And we must certainly think of doing it that way again some other time.’

‘Not just some other time, Mrs Opalene!
Next
time!’

‘Not just
next
time, Mrs Opalene!
Every
time!’

Mrs Opalene looked down at them, startled. Where were the modest and amenable girls with whom she’d spent the morning? Sitting in front of her now were a crowd of smudged, untidy urchins, fidgeting and grinning, and calling out, uncurbed.

‘Now, girls!’ she reproved them. ‘Aren’t we beginning to forget that we try to stay very best friends with Miss Manners?’

At the words, ‘very best friends’, Araminta swivelled in her seat and blew a sparkling, Araminta-ish kiss at Bonny through the glass.

Bonny had never blown a kiss before. Like lots of other things in Charm School that day, it was a first. She blew it back while Mrs Opalene went on with her lecture. ‘In fact, dears, as you know, ladies
never
shout out like this when they want something. They simply think of a roundabout way of suggesting it nicely, in the hope that—’

But no-one was listening.

‘Mrs Opalene!’ Pearl’s voice rose over the
others.
‘That was such fun that I don’t think I could go back to doing it the old way. There was just too much sitting around and waiting. And watching everyone else mince up and down looking pretty was boring too.’ She sighed wistfully. ‘I had such
fun
today. Amethyst was
brilliant
. I wish I could act like that.’ Suddenly, a thought struck her. ‘Do they do acting classes here, as well?’

Some of those listening couldn’t help noticing there was a shade of bitterness in Bonny’s voice as it came through the loudspeaker. ‘Yes, there are acting classes, but they don’t start till next week.’

Once again, Mrs Opalene found herself facing unladylike chaos.

‘Acting!’

‘Yes!’

‘Oh, I’d
adore
to learn to act!’

‘And are there painting classes, too? If there were, I’d go to them. Then I could paint Amethyst an even
creepier
forest backdrop.’

‘Saturdays,’ Bonny informed Suki. ‘Two till four. Bring your own paints.’

‘Sarajane should take singing. Or choir. If I had a voice as lovely as hers, I wouldn’t want to waste it.’

‘Tuesdays, at six.’

‘I’ve always wanted to learn juggling, personally.’

‘Thursdays, from January till April.’

‘Did you see the tornado? And the prairie? And the swamp full of crocodiles? I’d love to know more about those sorts of things.’

‘Natural geography,’ Bonny informed her through the loudspeakers. ‘On Wednesdays at lunchtime, repeated Friday nights.’

Mrs Opalene saw her class melting away before her eyes.

‘Girls! Girls!’ she said. ‘Perhaps Pearl’s right. Maybe it would be nice to—’ she wondered how to put it ‘—
broaden out
a little.’

‘What? Learn a few other things? Like how to work the lights, and the sound?’

‘And make people laugh?’

‘And tell jokes?’

‘And juggle!’

‘Excellent! In that case, I’ll certainly be coming back.’

‘Me, too!’

‘And me.’

Mrs Opalene looked thrilled. ‘Really, dears? Oh, I’m so pleased. And maybe, over time, we’ll get to find extra things to interest
everyone
.’

A dreamy look spread over Cooki’s face. ‘I’ll tell you what interested me. Those astonishing fireworks. They were
breathtaking
!’

‘
My
breath,’ Cristalle reminded her. ‘I was so terrified, I could hardly finish my lullaby.’

‘Oh, but they looked so
real
. I
loved
them.’ The dreamy look sharpened. ‘Do you suppose that we could broaden out enough to learn how to make fireworks, Mrs Opalene?’

Mrs Opalene blanched. ‘No, dear. I don’t think so. I fear, if we took up with flashes and explosions, we’d end up stepping on Dr Hooper’s toes.’

‘Who’s Dr Hooper?’

‘Chemistry,’ Bonny informed them. ‘Tuesdays, at five.’ She couldn’t help adding, with the tinge of bitterness they’d all come to recognize, ‘But that’s another class that doesn’t start till September.’

‘That’s fine. I’ll wait,’ said Cooki. ‘Do you want to come with me, Angelica?’

‘No.’ Angelica was adamant. ‘I’m definitely off to do Geography.’

How odd, thought Bonny, still in the control room. Only this morning they’d have been wishing one another away sick in bed, or off on holiday, so there’d be fewer of them out
to
win the glistering tiara. Now they were asking one another to come along to these new classes – even the ones who hadn’t seemed good friends before.

‘Lulu? Will you come?’

Lulu was torn. ‘The fireworks were lovely. But, no. I’m still going to choose painting.’

Mrs Opalene looked crestfallen. Suki consoled her. ‘Never mind. You mustn’t worry. You’ll still have plenty of people. Because, now we won’t just be walking in boring old beauty all the time, a lot of our friends will probably start coming too.’

Mrs Opalene clasped her hands eagerly. ‘Oh, do you think so?’

‘I’m sure so. Now that we won’t be spending all our time suffering to be beautiful.’

Cooki looked up. ‘If we don’t have to suffer to get in those frocks all the time, then I’ll come back to Charm School as well as Chemistry.’ Under her breath, she added mischievously, ‘
And
I’ll have two slices of pizza, if I’m hungry!’

‘I’ll carry on coming as well!’

‘Me, too!’

‘And me!’

Mrs Opalene cheered up. ‘Well, dears,’ she
said.
‘Perhaps it’s all for the best. I have been giving these classes for years and years. And times do change. If you’re all busy doing all these other interesting things, you simply won’t have quite so much time to sit with your elbows in lemon halves, and wander round the shops looking for just the right thing.’