Bryony Bell's Star Turn (3 page)

‘My husband is in his potting shed,' Clarissa explained apologetically. ‘But he is available for interview whenever you want.'

‘Fabulous,' said Trish. ‘Now, here's what's gonna happen,' she went on, in a business-like voice. ‘The show'll be filmed at half-past seven every morning. Live action'll be interspersed with highlights of key events from the day before, plus outside-broadcast specials.' She gave each Bell a piercing stare. ‘Questions?'

Angelina raised a nervous hand. ‘Did you say “half-past seven every morning”?' she repeated, aghast.

‘Sure!' Trish answered brightly. ‘Yeah, I know, it's kinda early and I
had
hoped for tea time, but that's what the bosses want. “Revolutionise the nation's breakfast time, Trish”, they told me.' She took out a digital camera. ‘And that,' she went on, aiming it at the Bells, ‘is exactly what I intend to do. Now – publicity photos!'

The little 'uns, who had spent the previous week choosing make-up and clothes and thinking about their images, immediately cheered up and struck a variety of poses. Angelina had gone for a moody and mysterious look and did some magnificent close-up pouts through her braids. Melody and Melissa had dressed identically, with the same spiky gel-glistened hairstyle, in a bid to confuse the viewers. Emmy-Lou
had so many lacy petticoats on she looked like a tiny tap-dancing powder puff, and Little Bob, resplendent in Bob the Builder T-shirt, shorts, safety helmet and yellow plastic hammer, gave charming, if toothless, smiles to the camera as he fixed everything in sight.

But when it was Bryony's turn to be photographed, everyone else faded into insignificance.

‘
Awe
some, Bryony!' Trish gasped as Bryony glided across the carpet and did three spins and a triple jump. ‘Your skating's gonna give the show such a
lift
!'

Bryony beamed happily and assured Trish that if it was a ‘lift' she was wanting, she'd come to the right place.

‘You see what a talented family I have,' Clarissa said proudly. ‘Now – how about a cup of tea?' And she led Trish into the kitchen.

The moment Trish stepped inside the room, she lost all powers of speech. Open-mouthed, she gazed at the enormous Stars and Stripes flag. Letting out a low whistle, she took in the publicity posters. And when she saw the stuffed bear's head with its rhinestone-studded Stetson, her joy knew no bounds.

‘What a wicked kitchen!' she breathed at last. ‘A photo opportunity to end all photo opportunities!'

She scribbled on her clipboard like a thing possessed, then beamed at the Bells. ‘This location,' she told them ecstatically, ‘is the inspiration I needed.'

‘I see it all now,' she went on dreamily. ‘We call the show Breakfast with the Bells and we open with speeded-up shots of each of you bursting through the kitchen door. There'll be a bit of chat, live from the breakfast table, then we'll cut to recorded highlights and Star Interviews, then back for more chat.' She flung her arms round Clarissa's neck, gave her two large kisses, and sighed. ‘It'll be something else!'

‘The breakfast show with
style
,' Clarissa agreed, then suddenly drew herself up to her full height. ‘I believe,' she said importantly, ‘inspiration has also struck
me
. If you will excuse us, Trish, we'll leave you in Bryony's capable hands to have that cup of tea.'

She motioned towards the door and waited as the little 'uns obediently formed a line. ‘Off to the music studio,
Broadway Belles
!' she announced. ‘I feel a Big Number coming on
that'll put a bang into the nation's snap, crackle and pop!'

Trish had decided that the first Breakfast with the Bells screen test should take place on Saturday, so that school didn't interfere with the action.

So, bright and early that morning, the Bells excitedly put on their make-up and best outfits, and assembled outside the kitchen. Each member of the
Broadway Belles
had two fluorescent-pink pompoms and Little Bob had his hammer, onto which two tiny pompoms had been tied.

Trish inspected everyone and nodded approvingly. ‘
Adore
the pompoms,' she said.

‘We wondered,' Clarissa began tentatively, ‘whether we might run my latest Big Number past you? I thought it might do as a theme tune.'

Trish's face lit up. ‘Triffic!' she said. ‘We'll record it, and use it to practise the opening titles.'

As Clarissa lined up the
Broadway Belles
, Trish
gave the sound engineer his instructions. Angelina, Melody, Melissa and Emmy-Lou stood in a neat row in front of the Stars and Stripes wall, while Little Bob sat on the draining board, hammer poised. As Clarissa pointed her conductor's baton at him, he gave its metal surface three ear-splitting bangs.

Then, taking a line each and raising their pompoms as they sang, the Bell sisters belted out Clarissa's Big Number:

‘
We'll put the “sun” into sunny-side-up!

We'll charm the tea right out of the cup!

We'll add a bang! to your snap, crackle and pop!

We'll make you wish your breakfast time would…

… ne … ver … stop!
'

At this line they all joined in and sang very slowly, sinking down on one knee and swivelling round to face Little Bob, who obligingly banged his hammer another three times.

Then everyone jumped to their feet, gripped each other round the waist and, with a series of breathtakingly high kicks, advanced towards Trish and, their smiles fairly dazzling her, finished the song perched atop the kitchen table:

‘
So start the day the bell-shaped way
It's sure to make you smile
And have your breakfast with the Bells –
The breakfast show with style!
'

‘Wicked!' Trish cheered. ‘Now, Clarissa,' she went on excitedly, ‘would you be so kind as to fetch your husband from the potting shed? I think the oldest should burst through first.'

All morning the Bells launched themselves into the opening titles with gusto, and by lunch time the sequence was almost ready for a final take.

‘Perhaps not
quite
so much of a pout,' Trish suggested tentatively to Angelina. ‘Don't want to put the nation off its Sunny Delight, do we?'

As Angelina drew in breath to argue her case, the doorbell chimed out a tinny chorus of
ding! dong! merrily on high!
With some relief, Bryony glided off to open the door. And when she saw who it was, she could not have been more pleased.

‘Trish,' she announced proudly, leading the visitors into the kitchen, ‘this is Mr Ken Undrum, and his star pupil, Abid Ashraf.'

Giving up for the moment on Angelina, whose pout had deepened with Ken's arrival, Trish stood up and shook their hands. ‘Ken Undrum, Man of Mystery,' she breathed in reverential tones. ‘Bryony's told me all about you and your incredible powers. You know I'm on the lookout for someone to be our first Star Interview?' she went on, as Angelina flounced out of the kitchen. ‘How about it, Mr Undrum?'

Without a moment's hesitation Ken nodded. ‘Sure thing!' he said, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. ‘Oh boy, could I tell you some stories about the old Broadway days! Come to think of it,' he winked towards Bryony and Abid, ‘I gorra few tricks up my sleeve right now. Care to be astounded?'

Bryony and Abid watched anxiously as he withdrew a length of gold chain from which dangled a bright, sparkling crystal.

‘Don't worry, Bryony,' Abid whispered. ‘Angelina's upstairs.'

‘Look into the crystal,' Ken told Trish in a low-pitched monotonous voice. He swung the pendulum back and forth, and everyone watched in silence as Trish's eyes grew more and more glazed. ‘Now,' Ken said, ‘clasp your hands.'

Obediently, Trish did as she was told. Everyone gasped. Melody and Melissa clung together, and Clarissa hugged Emmy-Lou close, patted Little Bob on the head, and assured them that Mr Undrum was only having a bit of fun.

‘I will begin to count,' Ken went on dramatically, ‘and when I reach three you will be wide awake. But whenever you hear the word “bell”, your hands will once more glue themselves together and will remain locked until you hear the word again.

‘One … two … three…'

At the last number, Ken snapped his fingers.

Trish was instantly wide awake. ‘So why did you come back to England with the Bells, Mr Undrum?' she asked. Instantly, her hands clamped together. ‘Did you think you'd miss them too much?' Trish stared wildly at her whitening knuckles. ‘The Bells, I mean,' she went on, giving a little cry as once more her hands loosened.

Bryony and Abid waited with bated breath for Ken Undrum's reply. This was exactly the question
they
had been longing to ask.

‘Affairs of the heart, Trish, my dear,' he said, slipping the crystal back in his pocket and giving it a pat. ‘Although, of course,' he continued, winking mischievously at his audience, ‘I'm always happy to be with the Bells!'

No sooner was the word out, than Trish's hands clamped together yet again. And just as they did, the kitchen door was thrown open and there, wearing her biggest pout to date, stood Angelina, hands indignantly on hips.

‘You've let yourself fall under Mr Undrum's power,' she told Trish in a low and ominous voice. ‘Just like I did!' She pointed an accusing
finger at Ken, then wheeled round to include Bryony and Abid. ‘This magic act can not be trusted!' she announced, and as Trish looked in horror at the three mortified magicians, Angelina, shaking with fury, explained. ‘They made me
eat an onion
,' she said dramatically. ‘On
Broadway
!'

There was a stunned silence, then Ken spoke. ‘Oh gee, Angelina honey,' he said, ‘I told you a hundred times I was sorry. Can't you let bygones be bygones?'

But one look at Angelina's face made it abundantly clear that letting bygones be bygones was the last thing on her mind. She took in a deep breath, then erupted again.

‘Of course, I lay most of the blame,' she shrieked, ‘on the
glamorous assistant
!' And she marched up to Bryony. ‘The
glamorous assistant
who got me up on stage,' she continued, pushing her face so close to Bryony's that the beads of her braids dug into her cheeks, ‘and very nearly
poisoned
me…'

Suddenly it was more than Bryony could bear. ‘It was only an onion, for goodness' sake,' she said reasonably. ‘And you thought it was an apple, so it couldn't have been
that
bad.'

The air in the packed kitchen was heady with emotion as the two sisters faced one another.

‘You
promised
you wouldn't let Mr Undrum do any more hypnotism!' Anglina shouted almost incoherently. ‘It's
ruining
our screen test!'

‘But, Angelina…' Bryony began, then stopped. It was useless.

‘
Every
time it looks as though our singing act's going to get somewhere,' Angelina screeched on, ‘you and your Mr Undrum find a way to stop us. Jealous of our success, that's what you are!'

‘Now, now, Angelina,' Clarissa said in her most soothing voice. ‘You're exaggerating, dear.'

But nothing was going to soothe Angelina. ‘I'm
not
,' she sobbed. ‘And it's high time the whole British nation knew what a snake in the grass Bryony Bell is!' She spun round and, with great diginity, made her way to the back door where she turned to face her dumbstruck audience. ‘I wish no further communication with you, Bryony,' she announced in a voice tremulous with emotion. ‘This is the straw that has broken the camel's back.' She paused to wipe her eyes with one of her braids. ‘Henceforth,' she concluded, ‘I will provide Starburst's vegetation
without your help.'

And, in the stunned silence that followed, she made her exit.

That afternoon, the air in the Bell house was electric with tension. Trish had decided that everyone's nerves were too frayed to continue rehearsals and had left with her camera crew. Clarissa and Big Bob had made Ken a cup of extra-strong coffee and, along with the little Bells, were doing their best to comfort him in the living room. Angelina was sulking in her bedroom.

Bryony and Abid leant against Bryony's wardrobe, munching chocolate digestive biscuits and washing them down with cocoa. At last Abid drained his mug and set it down carefully on the pink shag-pile carpet.

‘Wouldn't think you could get that much raw emotion into one kitchen, would you?' he observed.

‘Best tantrum to date,' Bryony agreed. ‘Thank goodness we weren't on air!' She ran her hands through the shag pile. ‘Hope she doesn't keep starting fights when we're filming, even if it
does
make great television…'

She hoisted herself to her feet. ‘I just don't see
what
I can do to make Angelina feel better about me,' she said, skating a dismal circuit of the bedroom. ‘I can't believe that I'm even denied visiting rights to poor old Starburst!'