“Hey! How you doin’?” Chloe looked up. It was the man with the graying dreadlocks again, standing in the doorway. “Hey,” he said again, his smile fading. “It can’t be as bad as that. What’s up?”
Chloe couldn’t help it. She just burst into tears. And then it all came tumbling out. About how she’d wanted to be a pop singer for so long and about her Big Chance and how she’d ruined it. The nail-polish present that had destroyed her jacket, and getting lost, and worst of all not being able to sing because of the lump in her throat.
“Everything has gone wrong,” she told him between hiccuping sobs. “Mr. Player thinks I don’t really want to sing. He told me not to let my parents push me into it. But it was them who wanted to stop me!” She was crying so hard it was a wonder he could make out anything she said.
“Here,” he said, handing her a huge blue hankie. “Can I join you?” She nodded and he put the plastic bag he was holding on the ground and eased himself down with a grunt. “I eat my lunch here most days,” he told her. “Though I usually prefer the bench.”
Chloe looked to where he was pointing and saw an old wooden bench. She felt guilty that he was sitting on the flagstones because of her, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was leaning back against the wall, his wrinkled, brown face turned up to the pale patch of blue sky above. Once she’d blown into the hankie a few times, it was very quiet in the sunny little courtyard.
“Why d’you want to be a pop singer so much, anyhow?” he asked.
“I’ve always wanted to,” Chloe sniffed, wiping her nose.
“But why? Wantin’ to isn’t an answer.”
She sniffed again. No one had ever asked her why before. She thought hard about what he’d asked.
“So I can be famous, I guess,” she said at last. It didn’t seem like a very good reason once she’d said it, but he didn’t laugh at her. He just asked another question.
“And why d’you want to be famous so much?”
She leaned against the wall like him. It was warm against her back. She thought about all the things she could have if she were famous. She thought of flying around the world, staying in big hotels, earning lots of money, and having people cheer and clap when she went anywhere. She did want all those things, but she wanted something else much more.
“I want people to like it when I sing,” she said. “I don’t want them to say I’m showing off like they did at my last school. I want them to really like it. I want to make people happy when I sing.”
He turned and looked at her. He really was quite an old man, with wrinkles and lines scribbled all over his face. But his eyes were different. They looked young somehow. They were full of fire and they lit up his face.
“I know what you mean,” he said quietly. “Makin’ music is a very fine thing. But you don’t have to be famous to do it.”
“I do,” said Chloe. Then she explained about her room, and Ben, and about the teacher who had stopped her from singing naturally.
“That teacher must have been one jealous old coot,” he said. That made Chloe laugh and cry at the same time and she had to blow her nose again.
“What song did you sing today?” he asked at last, when she had recovered herself a bit.
She told him sadly. His laugh was a huge guffaw of merriment.
“Why, man, that’s one crazy song!” he said, grinning broadly at her. “It’s not my kind of music at all. Why’d you want to sing that?”
“I don’t know.” Chloe sniffed. She tried to be annoyed, but his laughter was so infectious she couldn’t. “Jess thought it was a good idea.”
“The way I see it is,” he went on, “you got so worked up, no way could you sing, however good your voice is. But I’m sure those tears have melted that lump in your throat. Isn’t that so? Reckon you could sing that song now?”
He hummed the tune quietly, one hand tapping out the time on his knee. He might not like the song, but he certainly knew it. His whole body was moving with the rhythm and Chloe found it easy to join in. To her surprise, the lump in her throat was completely gone. He nodded at her and grinned and they finished the song together.
“Do you think Mr. Player will still be there?” Chloe asked him eagerly. She felt so much better, she was sure she’d be able to sing well for him now.
The old man shook his gray dreadlocks. “I don’t know. D’you want us to find out?”
Chloe nodded. If only she could have another chance. She knew she wouldn’t make a mess of it this time.
“Here!” He took a package of sandwiches out of the plastic bag and handed the bag to her. “You put your jacket in there.”
He struggled to his feet, and they went back to the audition room together. He had just raised his hand to knock when the door opened and the lady who’d played the piano came out.
“Hello, Jim,” she said to the old man. “Do you want Jeremy? He’s still here. You just caught him.” She smiled at Chloe and hurried away down the hall.
“Jeremy!” Jim put his arm around Chloe and brought her with him into the room.
Mr. Player turned around from the piano, where he’d been stacking paperwork. “Are you going for lunch?” he asked, and then paused, noticing Chloe. “Is there a problem?” he added.
“Not really,” said Jim in a cheerful voice, “but this young lady had a few disasters before she sang for you, and she wondered if she could have another chance.”
Chloe held her breath. If only he would say yes. She was sure she’d be able to sing beautifully for him now.
“Well. . .What’s your name?” Chloe told him and Mr. Player shuffled through his papers. “Yes, here it is. You’re one of the new applicants from Beacon Comprehensive, aren’t you? No previous experience of performing. . .Tompkins, Chloe. That’s you, isn’t it?”
Chloe nodded furiously.
“I remember. You were the one that sang scales on the recording.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“Well, come here.” He went around to the piano keyboard and played a chord. “Sing these scales quickly for me.”
Chloe did as he asked. He didn’t tell her to stop when she was finding it difficult, and Chloe did her best to keep going, but in the end she was forced to stop.
“Okay,” he said, when she’d sung as high and as low as she possibly could. “I don’t have time to listen to your audition song again now, but I know it’s on your school recording. I’ll listen to it again later. That’s the best I can do.”
“Thank you,” said Chloe, trying to stop her voice from wobbling. She didn’t mind singing scales, but it was hardly a performance, and her voice had squeaked embarrassingly on the last couple of high notes.
“You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me. . .”
“Thanks, Jeremy,” Jim added, steering Chloe toward the door. “I’ll catch you later.”
As soon as they were out of the door, she turned to face him. She was going to thank him, but he waved her thanks aside.
“Now don’t you worry,” he said. “You can’t make things turn out right every time. But you’ve had another chance now, and you can be sure there will be others. You have a fine voice, and I can see you’re determined enough to get there in the end. You’re one of those brave people who get up and fight again after they’ve been knocked down. Isn’t that so?” Chloe nodded. No way was she going to let herself cry again. Not if he thought she was brave.
“What does the teacher in your new school say?” he asked.
“He says I should join the choir. And he let me be in the chorus of Bugsy Malone,” she told him, trying hard to look on the bright side.
“Well, I would say that’s a good start,” the old man said. “I began in my school choir many years ago, before I had my first guitar. It might not always be your sort of music, but it’s better than none. And Bugsy, I know that! You’ll have fun doing Mr. Bugsy Malone, and you won’t get spoiled in a school production.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked down at her and smiled, but he looked sad. “Well, I’ve seen so many people in this business spoiled by fame,” he said. “Good people some of them, who couldn’t handle the money, or the attention, and wrecked their lives because of it. I’ve had friends who started off like you, wantin’ to make music. By the time they’d finished, they didn’t know what they wanted anymore. They ended up ruined by drink, drugs, or fast livin’. They got lost along the way, Chloe.” He sighed.
“This is a fine school, and they work hard at keepin’ the kids on the straight ’n’ narrow. But it’s a tough business to survive in. It’s easy to forget that however famous you become, you’re still the same, ordinary person inside. Don’t leave your old friends behind if you do get famous. They are the ones who will keep you sane because they know who you really are.” He smiled again. “It’s been fun singin’ with you, Chloe Tompkins. Enjoy Bugsy Malone now, won’t you?”
Chloe offered him his hankie back, but he just looked at it and laughed. “Reckon it’s more yours than mine now,” he said. “You keep it to remind you of the fun we had singin’ that crazy song together.” He took her hand, sticky as it was, and shook it, as if she were an adult. Then he turned, and left Chloe alone, feeling empty and hollow inside, but somehow calm and comforted, too.