Rebecca is Always Right (14 page)

There was a pause. I knew we were both thinking of Dad, but neither of us quite knew what to say about him.

Finally, Mum said, ‘Your dad’s really working hard on Henry Higgins, isn’t he?’

‘Um, yes,’ I said. ‘But it’s a bit … well, it’s a bit … isn’t it? I mean, don’t the other actors mind him jumping in? He’s not even meant to be in that scene, at least not in the film.’

‘Well, they’re just workshopping things at the moment,’ said Mum diplomatically. ‘That was the first run-through of the scene. I’m sure there’ll be a few changes before the actual performances.’

Then Laura called, ‘Right, everyone, can I have Eliza and the chorus on stage, please?’ and Mum said, ‘I’d better go! Thanks for the shoes, love. I’ll see you at home.’

I was almost tempted to stay for a while to find out whether Dad had managed to shove himself into this scene too, but I know visitors aren’t meant to sit in on rehearsals (no one was really allowed into the hall when we were rehearsing
Mary Poppins
), so I slipped out again. But as I walked home, I couldn’t help thinking about what I’d just witnessed. I think
Laura needs to stand up to Dad more. Otherwise, she has created a monster. Now Dad has basically been handed official permission to give Henry Higgins a bit more oomph, there will be no stopping him. I saw the gleam in his eye when he leapt up on that chair. He’ll take over the entire show unless she does something!

And if he does, I can’t imagine the rest of the cast will be too pleased. But I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll just hope someone, preferably Dad, sees sense. Though I am not optimistic. There’s no way he’s going to be satisfied playing Henry Higgins in the traditional way. When I got home, I told Rachel what I’d witnessed. As I’d hoped, it distracted her from her moping – I mean, misery.

‘But what was everyone else doing while he was prancing about the place?’ she asked.

‘Just getting on with the song,’ I said. ‘I think they were trying to ignore him.’

‘That’s pretty professional of them,’ said Rachel. ‘For an amateur musical society. I mean, I don’t think I could concentrate on doing a song if Dad was jumping around on chairs in the background.’

‘Well, I don’t think they’ll put up with it forever,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I would. It’ll drive them mad.’

Oh, I wish Dad could be content just playing Henry Higgins normally. This will all end in tears. He’s like Icarus! He’s going to fly too close to the sun and then fall down to earth. Or at least get booted out of his role as Henry Higgins.

The only good thing is that, even though we were both a bit worried about Dad’s transformation into deranged diva (or whatever the male equivalent of a diva is. Maybe there isn’t one? That’s a bit sexist), it definitely took Rachel’s mind off her problems. In fact, she seemed quite like her old self. Which is a good thing.

I knew I shouldn’t have taken Vanessa’s cookies. It definitely encouraged her. Today she turned up with a bag full of Kookie badges. There is a sort of cartoon drawing of her face and the words ‘Have Yourself a Kooky Little Day’ on them. Unsurprisingly, no one in my class, apart from Karen and Caroline, was eager to go around sporting a badge with Vanessa on it, but she was handing them out all over school, and by the time we left at half three I saw loads of girls wearing them. It was as though Vanessa had become the leader of a terrible
cult. God knows what she’ll do next. Hand out t-shirts? Force everyone to sing her song? I think I heard her say something at lunch about being on the radio next week, but I’m hoping I imagined it.

And all the teachers were being annoying too. They keep going on about ‘knuckling down’ and studying hard. Even Mrs Harrington got all fired up about it. And Frau O’Hara kept telling us how important it was to have a good German vocabulary ‘because it’s no use knowing the grammar if you don’t know any words’. I am not sure if I know enough grammar OR words. In fact, now I’m starting to feel panicky about the exams already and they’re not for months and months.

But just the thought of studying all the time makes me feel tired. I need to find fun ways to motivate myself. Maybe I will ask Alice to let me practise my German on her. We could always try doing an entire band practice in German! Though as I don’t even know the German for drums, I am not sure it would work very well.

On a more positive note, last night I found another list of things to do for a friend (or sister) who has been dumped, and as they don’t all involve cars or sportiness or vast amounts of money I can actually do some of them. One of the suggested cheering methods was ‘make her something tasty’ and while I
am not exactly a master chef, I have definitely mastered the art of making delicious fudge. So after school today, Cass came over and helped me make a batch of the white chocolate variety just for Rachel. I even bought posh white chocolate, which cost all that I had left of my pocket money – that is the sort of sacrifice I am willing to make for my sister’s happiness.

I said this to Cass and she said, ‘Calm down, Bex. It was only €1.50. You’re not donating a kidney.’

No one appreciates my kindness, not even my supposed best friends.

‘Well, it’s €1.50 I could have spent on myself!’ I said. ‘AND I’m making her some special white chocolate fudge!’

‘So am I,’ said Cass, waving the wooden spoon. ‘Can I at least have a few pieces myself?’

‘We both can,’ I said. ‘I mean, there’s only so much fudge Rachel can eat herself.’

‘Where is she, anyway?’ asked Cass, as we started measuring out the ingredients. We are so experienced at this stage we can almost do it without checking the exact amounts in the cookery book (but we do always check, just to be on the safe side).

‘She went to Jenny’s after school,’ I said, getting out the condensed milk. I wonder if condensed milk is used for anything besides making fudge. And how do you condense milk
anyway? ‘But she’s not staying late because Jenny’s going to the theatre with her parents tonight. So she’ll be back to eat her fudge while it’s fresh.’

While the fudge was cooling, we went up to my room. I put on some music fairly loud so nobody could hear what we were talking about. I know my mother claims she isn’t spying on us, looking for inspiration for her teen fiction, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. We lolled on my bed and had a good conversation about how much we were looking forward to our workshop with Kitty, and about the future of the band.

‘I know I am biased,’ said Cass. ‘And obviously I wouldn’t say this to anyone but you or Alice because it would just look like mad boasting, but I genuinely think I’d like Hey Dollface if I wasn’t, like, in it. I mean, we’ve got a lot better over the last year.’

She’s right. I, too, would actually like to listen to our songs even if I hadn’t co-written them. I never thought we’d turn out to be good at writing tunes and riffs and lyrics and stuff, but I really think we have, and the summer camp helped a lot.

‘Just think,’ I said, ‘a year ago I could barely play my drums.’

‘Sadly some things haven’t changed,’ said Cass. ‘I’m joking! I’m joking!’

But I threw a pillow at her anyway.

I almost told her about liking Sam, but then I thought it might make me even more self-conscious tomorrow so I didn’t. It was fun just sitting around talking rubbish, though. Sometimes it is nice to be reminded that, even though she and Alice are going out with people now, our friendship hasn’t changed. I know I haven’t told them about Sam yet, but I know that if I really needed to talk to them I always could, because we are always there for each other. Not that I would ever say something so cheesy to either of them, of course.

After a while, my mum stuck her head in the door to say she was going into town to give Dad a lift home because someone had blocked his car in the college car park and he couldn’t get it out.

‘Why can’t he get the bus?’ I said.

‘Because he’s got a huge pile of essays to read through this weekend,’ said Mum, ‘and he can’t carry them on the bus.’

I don’t see why not. They can’t be that heavy. I have to lug a giant school bag full of books around every day AND I walk to school so I don’t even get to sit down on a bus for some of my journey. But if it got Mum out of the house for a while I wasn’t going to complain.

After she left, we went down to check on the fudge and if I say so myself, it was our finest yet. The white chocolate
is definitely a winner. We put some in a container for Cass to take home and put most of the squares on a big plate to wait for Rachel’s return. Though of course we kept aside a few squares to eat now.

‘I’m not joking,’ said Cass, in between chews. ‘I really think we could sell this. If we had, like, all the legal food-making-and-selling stuff sorted out.’

‘That might take a while,’ I said. ‘I can’t imagine we’ll ever get any of our kitchens up to professional standards.’

‘Well, don’t rule it out,’ said Cass. ‘Ooh, is that the door?’

It was, and a moment later Rachel came into the kitchen. She looked a bit tired.

‘Oh, hi,’ she said. ‘What have you been doing?’

‘Making fudge,’ I said. ‘For you!’

Rachel stared at me.

‘Seriously?’ she said.

‘Yes!’ I said. ‘It’s all for you!’ I pointed to the plate of fudge squares. Luckily, it wasn’t obvious that we had eaten quite a lot of fudge already.

‘Wow,’ said Rachel. She looked genuinely quite amazed. ‘Um, thanks Bex. And Cass.’ I don’t know why she seemed surprised by my great kindness and generosity. It’s not like I’m normally a total monster (am I?). Anyway, she looked very
pleased, as well as surprised, so my mission to cheer her up actually worked. And she looked even more pleased when she tasted her special treat.

‘This is really good!’ she said.

I suppose I should have been modest, but I just said, ‘I know.’ Which was horribly smug of me, as Rachel pointed out. Still, she didn’t seem to mind too much. The three of us ended up sitting around the table talking for a while. Rachel said Mum had shown her the cover of the new Ruthie book this morning.

‘You’d just left to go to school when the publishers sent it over,’ she said.

‘Is it as bad as the last one?’ I said, thinking of the pouty girl on the first Ruthie cover.

‘Hmm, about the same,’ said Rachel. ‘It’s got a picture of Ruthie – at least I presume it’s meant to be Ruthie – standing there with her arms folded and one eyebrow raised, looking all sassy. Like she’s handing out her rules for life.’

‘Oh dear,’ I said miserably. I could imagine this only too well.

‘I know,’ said Rachel. ‘I have to say, I think that ridiculous Vanessa girl in your class would be perfect for the part. If they ever do make it into a film or a TV show, which I hope they
don’t. It’d only encourage Mum to write more.’

‘Though wouldn’t it be worth it if it made her really rich?’ said Cass.

Rachel and I thought about it. Would it be worth getting to go on a holiday that didn’t involve sleeping in a tent in France if it meant more Ruthie AND possibly Vanessa becoming famous? We couldn’t decide.

It was actually a pretty cool evening, and for once Rachel didn’t act like we were babies, which is usually how she behaves when my friends are over. It was like we were the same age, sort of. Maybe the older you get, the less age gaps matter? I mean, I’m fifteen now, and Cass will be fifteen next week (which reminds me, I need to get her a present tomorrow). We are practically grown up already.

Oh, what a day. I am a bit confused but in a good way. A very good way. At least, I think it’s good.

We had booked our practice for one o’clock, and to show my parents that the band isn’t interfering with my schoolwork I actually did some homework before I left. I called
my parents into my room so they could see that I was doing maths and not just lying on my bed listening to music and reading something for fun, which I must admit is what I’m normally doing on Saturday mornings.

‘Well done,’ said Mum, but she didn’t seem particularly impressed. She seemed to think I should be doing this anyway and that it wasn’t a big deal. Still, I’m glad I did it (and not just because I showed my parents that I can combine music and scholarly life, but because now I actually have most of my homework done and it’s not hanging over me until Sunday evening like it usually is).