It was quite a relief when the final bell went. Hannah rushed to catch up with me as we lined up to leave the classroom. ‘Let’s walk home together,’ she suggested.
‘I can’t,’ I said.
‘You’re not still mad about earlier, are you?’ Hannah asked anxiously.
‘No, it’s fine, but Sadie’s actually picking me up,’ I told her.
Mum would still be in work when school finished, and she’d arranged for Sadie to collect me and take me back to her house for a while. Other days I’d go home on my own, but today it was kind of a relief that the decision of who to walk with was taken out of my hands.
‘Oh. Well, we’ll definitely walk to school together tomorrow, okay?’
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘And I’ll see you later for Star Club?’
‘Yes, see you then!’
Sadie was waiting for me outside the gate, her red car parked just a little way down the hill. She leaned over to give me a hug as I got in the passenger side. ‘Hi, honey – how was your first day?’
‘Fine,’ I said.
‘Not too many questions, I hope?’
‘Not really,’ I said.
‘Oh good.’
Sadie started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. I wondered if I should tell her what had happened with Hannah. I didn’t want to feel like I was telling tales, but it would be good to talk to someone about it.
‘Hannah almost gave me away though,’ I said lightly, trying to show I wasn’t too concerned. ‘She said something about Hollywood and Tracey overheard.’
Sadie frowned. ‘I thought Hannah would have been more careful. Who’s Tracey? Is that the girl who lives on the other side of you?’
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘I walked to school with her this morning. I was supposed to be going with Hannah but her whole family slept in.’
‘Goodness, sounds like Hannah isn’t having the best day,’ Sadie said. ‘So how did Tracey react?’
I gazed out the window, watching the houses rush by. ‘I pretended Hannah was just joking. I think Tracey believed me. But maybe I should just tell her, Sadie. She was really nice to me all day, and I’m sure she’d keep my secret if I asked her to.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Sadie said firmly. ‘The more people you tell the bigger the chance of it all coming out. And what with the project your dad’s finishing off at the moment, the least said right now the better.’
‘That’s true,’ I admitted.
‘I would leave it for now,’ Sadie said. ‘After all, you thought you could trust Hannah not to tell anyone, but she almost gave you away today!’
‘I do trust her – it was just a mistake,’ I said. ‘I’m sure she’ll be more careful next time.’
‘Well, why don’t you remind them all again, just to be sure,’ Sadie said. ‘When is your next Star Club meeting?’
‘This evening, at 5pm,’ I said. ‘Can you drop me home for then?’
‘Sure thing.’ We pulled into Sadie and Grandad’s driveway. ‘Now, come on in and have a snack and tell me all about your day.’
Grandad was just taking some scones out of the oven as we came in. ‘Hello, poppet. How was your first day?’
‘Fine thanks,’ I told him. ‘Oh Grandad, blackberry scones – my favourite!’
‘Made with my own blackberries too,’ Grandad told me proudly. ‘There aren’t many left but you can pick the rest to take home with you later.’
I spread butter on my scone, watching the golden butter melt into the delicious homemade scone, my fingers already stained purple from the blackberries. ‘Mmm, delicious!’
‘Well, I had to make a Grandad special, it’s not every day my granddaughter starts at her mum’s old school, now is it!’ Grandad said.
‘Oh, don’t you start,’ Sadie warned him. ‘Cordelia has been making a song and dance of it already and I think poor Meg is finding it a bit overwhelming.’
Grandad laughed. ‘My Meg isn’t one to be overwhelmed by something like that, are you, poppet?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, but, catching Sadie’s frown, decided to change the subject. ‘What’s Doug up to these days then? Is he coming home soon?’
I shook my head, my mouth full of scone. When I’d finished I told him, ‘He says he’s up to his eyes with the new film. All the promotional work and everything.’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Grandad said gruffly. ‘Leave that to the marketing people. In my day actors were actors, and directors were directors, and a film sold itself if it was good enough.’
‘Now, John, you know that’s not how it works,’ Sadie said, helping herself to a scone. ‘Your work is very different from Doug’s. I’m sure if he says he needs to be there right now he has a good reason.’
Like Sadie and my mum, Grandad is an actor. His speciality is Shakespeare – he’s played all the big parts. He even named Mum Cordelia after the youngest daughter in his favourite play, King Lear. Cordelia is the loyal, faithful daughter who sticks by her father when her older sisters betray him. Mum doesn’t have any older sisters, but Grandad certainly doesn’t have to worry about her betraying him. She adores him, and it’s no wonder, because he’s wonderful.
He doesn’t have much time for my dad’s work, though. Although Grandad has had a few roles in films over the years, he much prefers theatre work. Mum is the same. I’ve heard so many conversations about it over the years.
‘You can’t beat the thrill of a live audience,’ Grandad will say. ‘Seeing their faces at tense moments in a play – hearing the applause – there’s nothing like it.’
‘And that moment when you get a standing ovation for the first time. Absolutely magic, darling,’ Mum will add.
‘But you have no record of it!’ Dad will say. ‘Whereas if you pull off an amazing performance on TV or film, it’s recorded for all time. People can watch it again and again.’
Grandad will immediately scoff at this. ‘What does that matter? You’ve had the satisfaction of knowing you’ve performed well and that the audience have been entertained. Who cares if it’s all recorded on some piece of tape or on some digital file or something? It’s what’s in here that counts.’ And he taps his head, and then his chest, as if to say his memories are in his heart too.
‘And what about when things go wrong?’ Dad will say. ‘What if you don’t have that great performance you’re hoping for? When you’re filming, you can stop the recording and start again. You can make sure that what goes out to your audience is the best version you can make it.’
‘Oh, those endless takes and re-takes!’ Mum will moan, putting a hand to her forehead in mock despair. ‘I simply can’t bear it, darling. Too boring for words. And especially when you might have done everything right, but the silly old lighting isn’t right, or the sound wasn’t switched on or something.’
‘Well, at least you have the chance to fix it,’ Dad will argue. ‘I can’t cope with the stress in the theatre, not knowing if the scenery’s going to fall over, or my lead actor is going to forget his lines. I want to be able to control what exactly the audience gets to see.’
‘You’ve got to live dangerously in this business,’ Grandad will say. ‘It gives you an edge, knowing you only have one chance to get it right. People have come to see you tonight and tonight only. You need that adrenalin rush to give it your best shot.’
‘I don’t want people to see my work for one night only,’ Dad will respond. ‘And I don’t want it to only be seen by people who can afford to go to the theatre. TV and film are for everyone – and not just when it comes out first, but for years and years afterwards.’
Sadie never says much during these discussions, but I can tell she agrees with Mum and Grandad. When you come from a theatrical family, these are the types of conversations you have over the dinner table instead of talking about sports or politics or gossiping about the neighbours.
‘Have you got any plays coming up soon, Grandad?’ I asked him now.
‘Hamlet is the next one,’ he told me. ‘We’re hoping to open after Christmas.’
‘Oh, are you playing Hamlet?’ I asked, excited.
Grandad once played Hamlet in a production that ran for over two years it was so popular. Sadie has the poster framed and hanging on their sitting room wall. Grandad was very handsome and looked every bit the tragic hero.
But Grandad shook his head. ‘No, that’s a young man’s role. I’m going to be Polonius, the advisor to the king. He’s a bit of a bumbling, interfering old fool, so I should be just right for the part, eh Sadie?’
‘Well, you said it, not me,’ Sadie told him, laughing and ruffling his hair affectionately.
‘How about doing some rehearsing with me, poppet?’ Grandad asked, polishing off the last of his scone. ‘You can read Ophelia, Polonius’s daughter.’
‘Sure,’ I said, taking the copy of the script Grandad handed to me and searching for Ophelia’s lines.
When I was younger I used to think Shakespeare was so boring. The language was just too difficult and it all went over my head. It was Grandad who got me interested by explaining to me that one of my favourite films, The Lion King, is actually based on Hamlet. It’s all about a good king who has an evil brother who’s jealous of him and wants to be king himself. After that I looked on Shakespeare in a new light, and actually, when you take the time to understand the language, the stories are amazing. Already I had been secretly practising the part of Juliet, one of Shakespeare’s younger heroines. She was thirteen so only a little older than me. I loved her character and hoped I might get to play her some day.
I didn’t know the part of Ophelia so well, but with Grandad’s encouragement I threw myself into it. As always happened, I found I was losing myself in the role, homework and school and worrying about what Hannah had said all forgotten as I thought about Ophelia’s worries instead. No wonder I loved acting so much – it was the best form of escapism anyone could want.