The members of Stagefright gathered around, admiring the poster. It featured a bloodstained sword sticking up out of the ground with a crown hanging on the hilt. Taleb’s dad had printed fifty of them.
“It’s ace, Roula,” Jesus said.
Peter read out what was written on the bottom. “‘Encore Performance, by Popular Demand.’ Is it okay to lie on posters?”
“It’s essential,” Velvet said.
They were all wearing purple T-shirts with Roula’s design on the front and Stagefright Presents: Richard the Third on the back with the date and the time.
“Why did they have to be purple?”
“Dad’s got a stack of them from an order that fell through,” Taleb said.
Miss Ryan had given them permission to stick up the posters around the school and to wear the T-shirts over their uniforms. Even Taleb was wearing one. Peter had paid another visit to Velvet’s mum and Mrs Anagnostopoulos, and they had agreed to serve refreshments during interval.
Taleb didn’t mind if the acting was terrible, but he was nervous about the music. His reputation depended on it.
“The band needs more practice,” he said. “Every lunchtime.”
They all groaned. Except Velvet. “And rehearsal after school, so Drago can come,” she added.
Actually, Drago was the least of Velvet’s worries. He knew all his lines and he only had one song. It was the others who needed to work on their performances. She wanted it to be as good as possible. Her blabbermouth mother had invited half her family. Her Aunt Evelyn, various cousins and her grandmother were all coming to the performance.
Velvet was punctual as always, only stopping at her locker to get her sandwiches on the way to the practice room. Taleb was there before her though. He looked up when she came into the room, but went back to tuning his guitar without saying anything. Velvet didn’t speak either. She took the cover off the Yamaha and plugged it in.
When Jesus arrived, Velvet was dusting the keys of the electric piano and Taleb was tidying up the spare strings and plectrums that he kept in his guitar case. Jesus set up his cymbals, drum, bells and shakers.
“Come on, you guys. You have to speak to each other. You can’t play music together and not talk.”
“Who says we’re not talking?”
“Yeah, I’ve got nothing to say at the moment.”
The rest of the band dawdled in and they practised the girls’ song over and over again. Hailie’s singing was tuneless, Roula couldn’t quite hit the high notes and Mei drowned everyone else out. Velvet’s singing was fine. She sang in tune, hit all the notes and her lyrics were clear, but she wasn’t very good at the movements. Where the other girls bopped and swayed, Velvet’s movements were stiff and wooden.
“You do realise I’m supposed to be dead by now, don’t you?”
“That explains why you dance like a puppet,” Taleb said.
“How come you pick on the one thing I’m not good at? You don’t pick on any of the others.”
“You just can’t take criticism.”
“No arguments, okay,” Jesus said.
“You were complaining that I wasn’t saying anything a minute ago.”
“Look. I’m not gonna spend my lunchtimes listening to you and Velvet squabble.”
“I’m the musical director. I can’t always be nice.” He turned to Velvet. “I think you should die at the end of the song.”
“Is that supposed to be some sort of joke?”
“No. We have to know that Lady Anne dies and Richard poisoned her. You can say you’re not well and then collapse. The other women can explain what’s happened.”
Velvet wrote down the changes on her script.
“Okay,” Peter said. “The girls’ song is fine. What else do we need to do?”
“We need a finale,” Velvet said. “You saw how flat it was when we ended with Jesus killing Richard.”
“That was because Peter and Jesus made a complete mess of it,” Hailie said.
“No, she’s right,” Taleb said. “It needs a big finish.”
Velvet was annoyed with her heart, which started thumping even though she officially hated Taleb.
“How can you have a big finish when there’s hardly anyone left alive?” Roula said.
“What if the ghosts all come back on stage and sing?” Velvet suggested to the group.
Taleb nodded. “That could work.”
“What will they sing about?”
Taleb shrugged. “I dunno. Peace at last or something.”
“I know, I know!” said Velvet, suddenly excited. “This is where we can say something about Richard being a good guy, that Shakespeare was wrong.”
“Don’t you ever give up, Velvet?”
“Drago stopped wearing his hump, didn’t he?” Hailie said.
“It’s only a few days till the performance,” Taleb said. “I just haven’t got time to write another song.”
“What’s Drago going to do during the finale, just lie on stage dead?”
“No, he’ll be a ghost too,” Velvet said. “Miss Ryan can make him a ghost outfit.”
Everyone was getting nervous at the thought of their friends coming to see them.
“If we’re talking about making it better, we need some lights and microphones,” Peter said.
“I know someone who can do that,” Taleb said. “Let’s get going. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
They went back to practising again.
Taleb rang Velvet late at night for the first time in a month.
“Listen to this,” he said, without even saying hello. “It’s for the finale.”
He played the song over the phone to her. The music started off slow and quiet, and it contained refrains from earlier songs, just like a finale should, and then it built to a rousing chorus. Taleb had made it everything she’d said a finale should be. She was finding it hard to stay angry with him.
“It’s good,” she said. “It’s great.”
“I’m still working on some better music for the battle scene. Do you think you can write some lyrics?”
“I’ll try.”
“It needs to end on an up note.”
“I don’t see how it can. Everyone’s dead.”
“You’ll have to think of something. By tomorrow. Then we’ll have two days to rehearse it. I’ll email you the music.”
That evening Velvet listened to the melody again and again. She knew what was needed, but she couldn’t think of any positive message that could come out of a story where the main character is horrible and almost the entire cast dies.
She stayed up late, but nothing came to her. Not a single word.
Velvet woke before it was light, when her phone announced that she had to catch a 6.30 flight to Hamburg. Taleb’s melody was still in her head. She thought back to the start of the year. She would never have dreamed that in November she would be struggling to write song lyrics instead of studying for end-of-year tests. She’d done a lot of things she couldn’t have imagined doing in her old life. She sat up. She recalled how miserable she’d been in first term. She remembered when Drago had told her that she was like Richard – grumpy and whinging because she’d been hard done by. She wasn’t like that now. She’d changed.
She reached for her notebook and started scribbling words. Now she knew what the message for the finale was.
Velvet was nervous about singing her lyrics in front of the others. The words were personal. What if they groaned? What if they laughed? What if Taleb hated them? He’d probably think they were too sentimental.
She had to take that chance.
The morning dragged by, but finally lunchtime came. Velvet hoped the others would be late for practice, so that she could show them to Taleb first, but they were all on time for once.
“Did you write some lyrics?” Taleb asked.
Velvet nodded.
“Do we really have to learn another song?” Hailie complained.
“We haven’t got time to memorise it properly,” Peter said. “We’ll get it wrong.”
“You might not like it,” Velvet said.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Can’t you just read the words?”
“Lyrics are for singing.” Taleb picked up his guitar and played the introduction. Velvet took a deep breath.
“Don’t wish for what you haven’t got.
Don’t yearn for what is gone.
Count up your blessings, they’re a lot.
Stand tall and then move on.”
Then came the chorus.
“Live, love, dream, strive.
Be proud of who you are.
Be brave, be true, be strong, be you.
Be yourself and you will star.
“When you’re all alone, life makes you sigh.
Every challenge seems extreme.
But with friends beside you, hills aren’t high.
For together we’re a team.”
Velvet repeated the chorus, and couldn’t stop a catch in her voice. No one spoke. She felt like she’d just run down the street in her underwear.
“If you hate it we don’t have to do it.”
“It’s great, Velvet,” Roula said.
Jesus dug her in the ribs with his elbow. “That was good.”
She looked at Taleb.
“It’s perfect,” he said.