Wicked! (41 page)

As he walked to the centre of the room and turned, he could hear the thud of Partner’s tail. For a few seconds he stood absolutely still, eyes shut as if in a trance, then, glancing up at the window, said as softly as the falling snow: ‘“He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.”’

And the room went still.

‘But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun . . .

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

O! that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek.’

His voice was so filled with tenderness and longing, even Partner wagged his tail again. The only accompaniment was the tick of the clock. Paris then switched to the end of the play, when he discovered Juliet apparently dead in the Capulet tomb.

‘“Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace!”’

Glancing at Janna, Hengist saw her face soaked in tears, and took her hand.

‘We’ve got our Romeo,’ he whispered.

As a burst of astonished clapping and foot-stamping greeted Paris’s return to his seat, Feral turned to him in amazement.

‘You was wicked, man.’

Graffi, Jack Waterlane and Lando thumped him on the back.

Cosmo, his sallow face alight with malice, was less impressed.

‘Talk about Kev and Juliet,’ he drawled. ‘No wonder the Capulets were devastated their daughter had fallen for such a yob.’

‘Shut up, Cosmo,’ snapped Hengist.

Paris was unmoved.

‘I can do it Hooray Henry, if you like.’ Shoving one clenched fist into the palm of the other, talking through gritted teeth, he strolled back to the centre of the room. ‘“But, sawft! what light through yonder window breaks?”’ and sounded so like Prince Charles, everyone howled with laughter.

Wriggling free, Partner scampered towards Paris, who gathered him up, burying his grin in Partner’s fur.

‘Well done, Paris,’ called out Vicky. ‘Those one-to-one rehearsals we’ve been doing have really paid off.’

A hit so early in the proceedings cheered everyone.

‘Now we’ve got to find him a decent Juliet,’ said Jason.

Next moment Alex Bruce rolled up, on whom Stancombe had been putting pressure.

‘There’s a certain young lady, Alex, who’d be devastated if she doesn’t land the lead role in this production.’

Stancombe was threatening not to put up the umpteen million pounds to finance the science block. Alex didn’t think he could swing his favourite Boffin Brooks to play Romeo, but he was determined Jade should get Juliet.

Walking into the General Bagley Room, he was furious to find Hengist, who’d claimed he was far too busy to show the Archbishop of some African state round the school, stuffing toffees and giggling with Janna Curtis.

Draining his teacup of vodka, Anatole’s turn was next.

‘He’s got to have a decent part too,’ murmured Hengist to Janna, ‘so we get another jetload of caviar.’

Anatole was in fact very clever and loved Pushkin, Lermontov and Shakespeare as much as vodka and Marlboro Lights.

‘I must give it some velly,’ he announced and proceeded to make a wonderfully exuberant Mercutio, teasing Tybalt to fight a duel with him: ‘“Tybalt, you rat-catcher, vill you valk?”’

Then, after Tybalt’s sword had run him through, his audience, willing him to live, could feel his vitality ebbing away as he swore a plague on both Capulet and Montague houses.

Again, Janna fighting back tears, was hugged by an equally overjoyed Hengist.

‘Darling, we’ve got our Mercutio, and vats of caviar. Anatole’s father might even bring Mr Putin to the first night.’

Dora, who’d been given a mobile cum camera by Cosmo for Christmas, was taking pictures. Alex Bruce, not a fan of Anatole, had just bustled off when a heavily pregnant woman in a flowered smock, socks and Jesus sandals waddled in.

‘Who’s that?’ hissed Graffi. ‘She’s about to pop.’

‘Very appropriately she’s called Poppet Bruce,’ giggled Dora. ‘That’s Mr Fussy’s wife. She is so pants. She teaches RE and never mentions poor Jesus. She’s also nicknamed “Maternity
Won’t
Leave” because she keeps having babies. Can you imagine sleeping with Mr Fussy that many times? Then everyone prays she’ll never come back, but she always does. She’s the worst per son I know.’

‘Worse than No-Joke Joan?’ asked Amber, applying lip gloss.

‘There’d be a photo finish,’ said Dora darkly.

From his expression as Poppet approached the panel, looking eager, Hengist clearly felt the same about her.

‘Hope you don’t mind my joining you,’ she said. ‘
R and J
has such strong RE overtones with Friar Lawrence and an underage marriage, I hope I may make suggestions.’

‘You’re welcome today,’ said Hengist coolly, ‘but too many cooks . . . I’d leave it to the production team.’

Poppet’s lips tightened as she pressed her bulge against the table, waiting for someone to give her their seat. Terrified she might explode, Jason leapt to his feet.

‘Come and sit down, Mrs Bruce.’ Vicky patted Jason’s chair. ‘I’m Vicky Fairchild, Larks’s head of drama. Of course we welcome input. We’re planning to have Arab/Israeli overtones in the street fighting and put the play in modern dress with perhaps Friar Lawrence as a mullah.’

‘Are we?’ muttered Janna to Hengist, who muttered back: ‘Friar Lawrence of Arabia.’

To Poppet’s noisy approval and much clashing of bracelets, Boffin Brooks read two of Friar Lawrence’s speeches in the high fluting voice of a curate at choral evensong.

‘Excellent, excellent, Boffin, although I wish you’d read for Romeo.’

‘Only with a recycled carrier bag over his head,’ muttered Cosmo.

‘Essential, in the bedroom scene and with the rise of STDs,’ Poppet was now saying, ‘that Romeo is shown to wear a condom.’

‘And has a green courgette as a willy,’ said Milly, ‘which Friar Lawrence has grown in his garden.’

‘Ah, here’s Jade,’ cried Boffin.

‘Oh good,’ said Poppet.

Jade Stancombe’s legs were longer and her pleated skirt shorter even than Amber’s; her cream silk shirt and blue cashmere jersey clung to her lovely rapacious body.

‘“What’s in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet,”’ began Jade, overacting appallingly.

Everyone tried not to giggle.

‘She’s dreadful,’ whispered Dora.

‘“Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face,”’ went on Jade.

‘And a whole lot of Clarins,’ hissed Dora.

‘“The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite,”’ concluded Jade, rolling her eyes and clutching her cashmere bosom.

‘Bravo, bravo! That was very convincing, Jade,’ called out Poppet.

By contrast, Amber, with her hair piled up, her charming lascivious smile and air of insouciance, decided to go for Lady Capulet – ‘just for a laugh’ – and was brilliant.

‘You’re booked,’ called out Piers. ‘Lady C was only twenty-seven.’

Emlyn wondered how long this was going to last. He had a two-hour period on Hitler and the Nazis and rugby practice for the first and second fifteen after that.

Ah, here was Feral. God, the boy was beautiful. There was a chorus of wolf whistles as he prowled in to audition for Tybalt, ‘Prince of Cats’, the furious playground bully who picks fights with everyone, who has comparatively few lines but huge impact on the play.

Coached by Paris until he was word perfect, not caring if he got the part, Feral kept exploding into violence:

‘What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,

As I hate hell, all Montagues and thee:

Have at thee, coward!’

He was booed, hissed, then cheered to the stuccoed ceiling as he sauntered back, grinning, to sit beside Amber.

Cosmo, whose heart was set on playing Tybalt, was not amused.

‘Why not give Cosmo Capulet?’ Piers was muttering across Janna to Hengist. ‘He’s the biggest shit in the play, which figures, then Jack Waterlane might just manage the Prince, if I cut his lines to nothing.’

‘Good idea,’ said Hengist. ‘Yes, Vicky?’ as she perched on the end of the table beside him.

‘At the Capulet ball, why don’t we get a wonderful little dancer to play Romeo’s ex-girlfriend, Rosaline, and do a fantastically sexy dance with Tybalt, if Feral gets the part – he’s an incredible dancer. Then, after being wildly jealous, Paris takes one look at Juliet, and Rosaline is forgotten. It makes the coup de foudre so much more dramatic.’

That was my idea, thought Janna indignantly, particularly when Hengist congratulated Vicky and put forward little Bianca Campbell-Black, who was being tipped as the next Darcey Bussell.

‘Let’s audition her. At least it would ensure Rupert rolled up on the opening night.’

‘Kylie could sing with the band at the ball,’ went on Vicky, ‘she’s got a lovely voice, and Cosmo’s Cosmonaughties must be the band.’ She smiled winningly at Cosmo, who smouldered back. He must pull Vicky before the opening night.

Pearl, everyone agreed, would be in charge of make-up.

The auditions were nearly over.

Primrose Duddon of the huge boobs, who’d been taking a Grade 7 piano examination, was now making a pitch for the coveted comedy role of Juliet’s nurse. Squawking, slapping her thighs, overacting worse than Jade, she reminded Janna of Sam Spink.

‘Thank you, Primrose,’ said Hengist after a minute.

They were down to the Ws and no one had been outstanding enough to play Juliet. They couldn’t have Jade. Then Milly Walton wandered in. Like Amber, she’d only come along for a laugh and a chance to see Graffi. Her auburn curls were scraped back, her ski tan shiny and Graffi had kissed off all her lipstick in a nearby classroom.

‘“My bounty is as boundless as the sea,”’ she said thoughtfully. ‘“My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.”’

Then she turned to Graffi and smiled and Graffi’s shaggy black locks rose up on the back of his neck, and his toes turned over. Even Paris took his nose out of
The Iliad
.

Hengist turned to Janna, running the back of his hand down her cheek. ‘That’s our Juliet. Ruth, her mother, will be so pleased. She’s always worried about overshadowing Milly.’

I can’t help it, thought Janna, when he strokes me I have to purr.

Graffi, being Williams, was the last to go. He was still clapping Milly when a terrible thought struck him. If Paris got Romeo and Milly got Juliet, Paris would spend the whole play kissing and shagging her. Paris was much too good-looking. Graffi hated the thought of his woman making out with someone else.

He had been going to pitch for Benvolio but, nipping off into the nearby dining room, he grabbed a white damask napkin from the table laid for the African Archbishop, folded it into a triangle and wrapped it round his forehead, tying two ends behind his head. Then he grabbed a drying-up cloth from the kitchens, tying it round his waist. Leafing through the text, he found the place and bustled in as Juliet’s nurse, the most irritating woman in literature, and brought the house down.

‘The nurse in drag, why didn’t we think of it?’ said Hengist.

‘We can cut a lot, but he’s hilarious,’ agreed Piers.

Then, after all the teasing and horseplay, Graffi’s grief when he found his beloved Juliet apparently dead – the scene Primrose Duddon had dreadfully overplayed – was truly touching.

Hengist hugged Janna once more.

‘Your boy’s come good, darling.’ Then, rising to his feet: ‘Thank you very much, you all did very well. Think we’ve found some real stars. Go off and have lunch and we’ll let you know.’

40

When the cast list was pinned on the noticeboards of both schools two days later, whoops of excitement and not a little jeering at Larks greeted the news that Paris would be playing Romeo; Feral, Tybalt; Graffi, the Nurse; and Kylie Rose both the Chorus and a blues singer at the Capulets’ masked ball.

Janna was particularly gratified that Rocky had been cast as the Capulet heavy who bit his thumb (the Shakespearean equivalent of giving a middle finger) to the Montagues and Monster had landed the small, crucial part of the apothecary who sells deadly poison to Romeo, ‘and probably will,’ quipped Graffi. Monster was chuffed to bits at the prospect of his own chemist’s, open on Sundays, with druggies hanging around. Other members of Year Nine would be filling in as members of the Watch, guards, street fighters, paparazzi and guests at the ball.

The casting over at Bagley caused more ructions. Primrose Duddon, much championed by Poppet and No-Joke Joan, was hopping that Graffi, not she, would be playing the Nurse.

‘There are only four parts for young women in the play and the most characterful one’s gone to a male student.’