The Time of Your Life Read online

  Holly heard voices and turned to look over the back of the sofa. She stopped mid-note as she noticed an unfamiliar tall boy with shoulder-length brown hair slouching against the school secretary's desk on the other side of the hall. 'Hey, who's that?' she whispered.

  Belle's beautiful singing voice trailed away and she joined Holly in spying over the back of the sofa as Miss Candlemas, the housemistress, hurried into the room, swathed in her multi-coloured scarves, beads and bangles.

  Mrs Butterworth, the secretary, scooted out from behind her desk on her trusty swivel chair. 'Ah, there you are!' she grumbled, peering at Miss Candlemas over the gold frames of her glasses. 'Better late than never!'

  Ignoring Mrs Butterworth's comment, Miss Candlemas beamed at the mystery boy. 'All aboard for the grand tour! Jump to it!'

  The boy grinned, stood up straight and saluted cheekily.

  'The entrance hall lies at the heart of the original seventeenth-century building,' Miss Candlemas recited as they crossed towards the dining room.

  '. . . which served as the grand ballroom in Regency times . . .' Holly and Belle exchanged grins as they whispered the words in chorus. The speech was identical to the one Miss Candlemas had given when she showed them round the school at the beginning of September!

  Holly laughed. 'Do you remember Nick Taggart doing his tour-guide act?'

  'Yeah, it would be hard to forget!' Belle groaned.

  'And how . . .' Holly's voice faded away as she realized that Belle was no longer listening. Her lavender-blue eyes had zoomed in towards the dining-room door.

  Belle was gawping at the boy!

  Holly hadn't realized that she was physically capable of doing anything as uncool as gawping, but that was the only word for the transfixed expression on her face. Holly looked at the boy more carefully.

  His light brown hair was slightly dishevelled – but in a good I'm-too-cool-to-fuss-with-my-hair kind of way. He shook it back now and then to reveal hazel eyes and high, angular cheekbones. Not that Holly noticed such things, of course, now that she had a boyfriend. There was something pirate-like, something of the Johnny-Depp-as-Captain-Jack-Sparrow in his swagger and the rebellious glint in his eyes.

  'Maybe he's thinking of applying here for next year,' Holly whispered. 'Not that you'd be interested or anything!' she added, grinning.

  But Belle hadn't heard – or hadn't yet regained the power of speech. Holly couldn't be sure which.

  It was time to set off to watch the auditions, and Holly and Belle followed the tour party out into the courtyard. Pirate Boy held the door open for them. He seemed to catch Belle's eye and stare at her for a brief moment before hurrying after Miss Candlemas and her call of 'No shilly-shallying now!'

  Holly could hardly believe her eyes: Belle's perfect complexion – usually cream with a hint of peach – was slowly turning to raspberry with a hint of beetroot.

  Belle was blushing!

  But Belle didn't do blushing! Holly couldn't have been more surprised if her friend had started wearing jumble-sale dungarees and granny-knitted Bob the Builder tank tops. Gawping and blushing? Belle would be thrown out of the International Cool-as-a-Polar-Bear-with-Frostbite Club if she wasn't careful.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Belle: X-Ray Vision and Thought Waves

  The Macbeth auditions were about to start.

  Belle followed Holly into the Redgrave – Superstar High's beautiful theatre – and settled down in a red velvet seat. There was a buzz of expectant chatter among the audience of students who'd come along to support their friends. Belle couldn't wait to hear Cat's Lady Macbeth speech; she'd helped her practise all through the half-term holiday and knew that it was going to be something very special.

  The warm, wood-polish-and-dust scent of the theatre sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through Belle's veins. The last time she'd been here, she'd been on stage, singing in the talent show with Holly and Cat in Nobody's Angels. It had been an awesome experience, but she vividly remembered that split-second of blind terror when she'd spotted the famous vocal coach, Larry Shapiro, sitting with the other judges in the front row. Belle's ambition in life was to be an internationally acclaimed singer – the next Mariah Carey or Leona Lewis. She'd never have forgiven herself if she'd stuffed up in front of such an illustrious judge in her very first term at Superstar High – and she had almost crumpled under the pressure! But luckily it had all gone fabulously well, and Larry Shapiro had even complimented her afterwards on her vocal technique.

  But today the judges' seats were occupied by the casting panel, huddled importantly over their clipboards. Belle recognized Mr Grampian, the head of Drama. Next to him sat the play's assistant director, Duncan Gillespie, a Year Ten boy with thick dark hair, stiffly ridged like chocolate frosting, and then the director, a thin, wiry man who looked like a long-distance runner. Belle recognized him as Mr Simon Sharpe, the Garrick's Shakespeare expert.

  She took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline ebb away. She was so relieved she wasn't auditioning today. The auditions for the minor parts – like the Messenger role Belle hoped for – would be taking place tomorrow.

  'And the award for best actress . . . goes to . . . Catrin Wickham . . .' a dramatic Hollywood-celebrity voice boomed behind her.

  Belle turned round. No surprise – it was Nick Taggart chortling with his friends Zak Lomax, Frankie Pellegrini and Mason Lee as they bundled into their seats.

  'Shh!' Mr Sharpe hissed. 'Quiet, please!' He glared in the direction of the disturbance, his small frameless glasses flashing like cats' eyes as they caught the light.

  Belle cringed, but at that moment Lettie Atkins tiptoed in. She waved to Belle and Holly before sitting down next to Nick and engaging him in an intense conversation about sound-editing. Lettie, a softly spoken girl with long chestnut hair and serious brown eyes, was a super-talented musician, and was working on the musical arrangement for the play. 'We could fade in that creepy clarinet solo whenever the Three Witches appear,' she whispered, and – for once – Nick didn't answer with a wisecrack, but nodded thoughtfully.

  'The commencement of auditions is imminent,' Mr Grampian announced.

  Belle and Holly turned to each other and grinned. Mr Grampian always spoke like that. 'Why use one short word when ten long ones will do?' Holly whispered.

  'Ethan Reed for the part of Banquo!' Duncan Gillespie announced.

  It's so sweet how Holly's ears glow whenever Ethan's name is mentioned, Belle thought. Luckily it's not as noticeable with her lovely caramel skin as it would be for me.

  Not that Belle made a habit of blushing, of course.

  But then an uncomfortable image suddenly popped into her mind. That boy in the hall . . . She'd felt her face burning then. It was the way he'd looked at her! As if he had x-ray vision and could read her innermost thoughts – the really deep-down ones she wasn't quite sure of herself.

  And – this was ridiculous! – she could actually feel her face flushing and her stomach fluttering just at the memory of it. She wasn't sure whether she liked the feeling or hated it, but she was sure of one thing: she'd never felt like this before.

  Anyway, she wasn't going to waste any more time thinking about some random boy who'd given her a funny look. She'd probably never see him again anyway.

  'Nathan Almeida for the part of Macduff!' Mr Sharpe shouted.

  Belle realized she'd missed Ethan's entire speech, but from the way Holly was smiling, it had obviously gone well.

  She watched intently as Nathan gave a stellar performance as Macduff, reading the speech where he finds out that Macbeth has slain his entire family. He was so convincing, Belle sniffed back a tear as she joined in the round of enthusiastic applause.

  'Bianca Hayford for Hecate, Goddess of the Witches!' Duncan called, flipping pages on his clipboard.

  'Perfect casting!' Belle heard Nick chuckle behind her. 'Bianca as Queen Witch – she won't even have to try!'

  Holly giggled and Belle couldn't help grinning. She'
d first crossed swords with Bianca before they'd even got through the front door of Superstar High, in a heated exchange over their matching Louis Vuitton luggage collections.

  And things had basically gone downhill ever since. Bianca seemed to have made it her Mission In Life to score points off Belle at every possible opportunity. Belle did her best to rise above it, but there was only so much rising a girl could do . . .

  However she had to admit that Bianca's audition was excellent. She was wearing a white dress (from the new Versace winter collection, Belle noticed – Bianca must have been out spending her allowance over half-term; the Hayfords were a very wealthy family who'd made millions from their baby-food business, as Bianca was very keen to tell everyone – the millions part, that is, not the baby-food part). With her pale blonde hair pulled back from her face, she looked as cold and sinister as the Narnia Snow Queen – without the Turkish Delight.

  'Two-minute break, then Catrin Wickham for the part of Lady M,' Duncan announced.

  'Finally . . .' Belle breathed, grabbing Holly's hand in excitement.

  'Did you notice he said Lady M?' Nick 'whispered' at high-decibel shouting volume in Belle's ear. 'It's bad luck to say the name in a theatre.'

  'What name?' Belle asked.

  'Well, duh! I'm not going to say it, am I?' Nick laughed. 'The name of this play . . .'

  'What? You mean Mac—' Belle started, but he leaned forward and clamped his hand over her mouth.

  'It's supposed to be like a curse or something!' Holly explained.

  'Wicked!' Zak exclaimed.

  'Oomph!' Belle muttered from behind Nick's sweaty palm.

  There was another round of glowering and shushing from the casting panel.

  Why did Nick always have to drag her into his crazy comic routines? Belle wondered as he finally peeled his hand off her face. She remembered how she'd thought Nick was a total dork when she first met him. And he definitely still had some dorkish tendencies, but over the weeks he'd proved to be a true and loyal friend and she'd secretly grown very fond of him. Fond! That made the poor boy sound like a pet guinea pig or something. In fact, now she thought about it, Nick did look a little like a guinea pig with his thatch of thick, sandy hair! Holly and Cat insisted that Nick teased and played jokes on Belle because he had a crush on her – it was a typical boy-thing, they said. Belle wasn't convinced . . .

  She felt Holly grip her arm as Cat staggered onto the stage, paused and closed her eyes for a long moment. Then she lurched forward, raised her hands in front of her and stared sightlessly out into the audience. She'd teased her vibrant red curls into a wild tangle and looked totally deranged. Belle watched, enthralled, as Cat became the tormented, sleepwalking Lady Macbeth, frantically trying to wash her hands of the blood of the murdered King.

  'Out, damn spot! out I say!' she cried.

  The entire audience was spellbound, erupting with applause at the end of the speech.

  'She has to get the part after that,' Belle breathed, rubbing her arm where Holly's nails had left crescent-shaped imprints.

  But there was strong competition. Five other girls auditioned for Lady M, all of them older students in Years Nine and Ten, except for one: Mayu Tanaka – best friend and sidekick of Bianca Hayford – and possibly the only girl in their year with a meaner mean-streak. As Mayu spoke the words, 'Fill me from the crown to the toe top-full, Of direst cruelty . . .' Belle shivered. Mayu looked so sweet with her bunches and doll-like face – and somehow that made the dastardly speech seem doubly evil. But then, all of a sudden, Mayu's voice faltered. She stared, saucer-eyed, into the audience. She'd forgotten her words! Belle couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

  There was a long pause, broken only by muffled coughs from the audience, until finally Mr Grampian said kindly, 'Thank you, Mayu. I believe we have sufficient material to guide our deliberations.'

  Mayu opened and closed her mouth, and then turned and shuffled slowly offstage.

  That's the first time, Belle thought, that I've ever seen Mayu at a loss for something nasty to say!

  She gazed at the casting panel as they conferred over their notes. She screwed up her eyes, straining to transmit her thoughts into the backs of their heads by means of telepathy: Cat for Lady Macbeth, Cat for Lady Macbeth . . .

  Oops! she thought. I hope the ban on saying the M-word in a theatre doesn't apply to thought waves as well as actual speech. Otherwise I've just put a double curse on Cat's chances.

  'Are you OK?' Holly asked. 'You look as if you've got a headache?'

  Belle crossed her fingers.

  Maybe that would be safer!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cat: The Shakespearean Miracle Diet

  When the auditions were over, Cat slipped into one of the dressing rooms and stared at her face in the mirror. She needed a moment alone.

  Her skin was pallid but her eyes glittered. She was panting as if she'd just run the London Marathon. Being Lady Macbeth was exhausting; all those dangerous emotions battling it out: ambition, guilt, fear – 'Here's the smell of the blood still . . .' Cat replayed the words in her head; yes, she was pleased with how the speech had gone.

  She'd done it. And it felt fantastic!

  Now all she could do was wait.

  But the waiting was such agony!

  What if they gave the part to one of the Year Ten girls? Or even to Mayu Tanaka? She couldn't bear that! She'd have to run away to the Amazon rainforest and live in exile as a piranha farmer for the rest of her days.

  She thought of the famous actresses who had played Lady Macbeth: Judi Dench, Vivien Leigh, Ellen Terry, right back to Sarah Siddons in the eighteenth century . . .

  This was the most important audition of her life!

  'Cat! Are you in there?' Her reverie was shattered by the sound of Belle and Holly knocking impatiently at the door.

  'Yes! Coming!' she yelled back. She rubbed her face as if to wipe away a mask. Lady Macbeth was disappearing. She applied a flick of eyeliner and a dab of lip gloss, then studied the result carefully for a moment and stuck out her tongue at her reflection. She was Cat Wickham again.

  And Cat Wickham was starving!

  After Belle and Holly had congratulated her on the audition, the girls hurried back across the courtyard, through the hall and into the dining room. Murder and madness were hungry work – and Cat had been too nervous to eat lunch or even breakfast. Perhaps she should market this as a new miracle diet: Simply audition for a major Shakespearean role and watch the weight melt away!

  Or perhaps not, she thought, piling a double helping of lasagne onto her plate.

  Last half-term she'd put herself on a celery-stick diet after Bianca had called her 'chubby', but she'd finally let Holly and Belle persuade her that she should stop trying to lose weight and be proud of her curves.

  'Cat was brilliant, wasn't she?' Holly remarked, reaching for the water jug as they joined Nick and Nathan at their table in the spacious, high-ceilinged dining room. Everyone instinctively moved their plates out of the way. They'd all been friends long enough to know that, in spite of being a gifted, graceful dancer, hand–eye co-ordination was not Holly's strong point. If they weren't careful, their table would soon resemble the splash-zone at a dolphin show!

  'A superlative performance,' Nick agreed, imitating Mr Grampian. 'And you were great as Macduff too!' he added, slapping Nathan on the back.

  Cat nodded vigorously, her mouth too full for speech. Watching Nathan from the wings, she'd been so moved by his speech she'd been in danger of being too choked up to say her own lines.

  Nathan smiled and mumbled something into his plate of salad.

  The table filled up as Zak and Gemma sat down and started chatting with Holly about dance classes. 'Whoa! Yesterday's class – way gnarly, man!' Zak said, grinning as he poured ketchup all over his salad. 'Korsakoff was smashing us with a Momboosa workout!'

  Cat smiled. You kind of had to guess most of what Zak was saying in his surfer-dude drawl. But he was an am
azing dancer. Mr Korsakoff was the boys' ballet teacher – ballet was the only subject boys and girls did separately.

  'Yeah, and Miss Morgan's giving us sheilas heaps of work too,' Gemma replied, exaggerating her Australian accent. 'Now we're working towards our Intermediate next year, ballet is our numero uno priority!'

  They all laughed. Miss Morgan was well-known for peppering her speech with Italian phrases, although she wasn't the slightest bit Italian. Cat couldn't help liking Holly's new room-mate, Gemma, even though she looked far too healthy and wholesome to be true – bronzed, blonde and athletic, she looked as if she should be cycling along a country road in an advert for multi-vitamins. Even her laugh sounded well-balanced, unlike Cat's own unruly giggles.

  'Ooh, Miss Morgan is fierce!' Cat laughed. 'I'm so relieved I'm not in advanced ballet – she's like a pit bull in a leota—'

  'Yeah, so we're going to be doing three extra practice sessions a week . . .' Holly interrupted, in an unnecessarily loud voice.

  Cat froze, instantly recognizing Holly's desperate shut-up-danger-alert look. Slowly she turned round. Miss Morgan was walking right behind her, with an Action Man lookalike – whom she recognized as Mr Korsakoff – towards the staff dining tables. 'Eek,' she whispered, praying Miss Morgan hadn't heard her. 'But don't you think Mr K looks like a sergeant in the Marines?'

  'I don't know but I've been told, ballet tights just leave me cold—' Nick chanted, with a big grin.

  'Shh!' Belle warned. 'He'll hear you!'Then a worried look flitted across her perfectly made-up face. 'You'll still have time for band rehearsals, won't you, Holly? With all your dance practice? We have to keep Nobody's Angels together.'

  Holly smiled. 'Of course.'

  'What about you, Cat?' Belle asked anxiously.

  'Only if she's discovered the secret of human cloning over half-term!' Nick said. 'You'll need an extra ten copies of yourself if you get the Lady Macbeth part.'

  'Sure, I'll still have time for the band,' Cat said airily, keeping up her girl-in-total-control-of-the-situation act. 'No problemo!'