‘Ms Barnett’s going to love that,’ Olive murmurs drily, once she’s eyed the mess. When she looks up, I hold my breath. Then we burst out laughing.
‘Shit, you’d better go and change,’ I say. ‘I’m sure she’ll let you pop up to your room.’
‘All my other trousers are in the wash already,’ says Olive.
‘Even the blue ones?’
She nods. ‘I could put my skirt on,’ she adds, her voice dripping with irony. It’s an open secret that Olive loathes skirts and dresses of all kinds. And she hates the uniform with a passion.
‘That wouldn’t show the mark either,’ I muse.
Olive sighs and starts trying to dry the water with a tissue, which doesn’t exactly improve things.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I repeat.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she says curtly. Then she looks up briefly. ‘On the subject of skirts . . . Did anything ever come of that uniform business?’
‘Not really,’ I admit. I’ve had way too many other things on my mind lately. But now, when everything’s starting to fall into place, we could actually call a meeting and talk about what we want to do.
‘Would you be up for it if we—’ I begin, but I’m interrupted by Ms Barnett.
‘Victoria, Olive, what’s going on over here?’ She comes to see. ‘Oh, Olive, that’s why you should always wear an apron. Go and change, quickly. And, Tori, you can be cleaning up in the meantime.’
Olive glances at me as Ms Barnett walks away with a sigh. The uncertainty has crept back into her face, almost as though she’d forgotten for a minute or two that she’s not talking to me. She looks like she wants to say something, but then she bites her lip, stands up and walks out of the room.
When she returns a bit later, Ms Barnett makes a point of looking at our desk, so we feel we’d better focus on painting for a while. All the same, it’s like a tiny success when Olive gives me a small smile as we leave the room. I wish I could ask her if we can talk, but I run into Charlie. Olive’s already heading towards Grace, so I decide to try another time.
Charlie’s delighted when I tell him over lunch that Olive and I had patched things up for a while. The subject of uniform comes up again in the dining room as the others ask Olive why she’s wearing a skirt when she doesn’t have to. It doesn’t take long for a heated debate about the dress code to break out at our table, but it produces more frustration than inspiration.
I sigh with annoyance as we break up after lunch for our afternoon classes without having made the least progress, and Charlie shrugs apologetically. He can’t help this being such an exasperating topic, but he still feels bad because it’s his mother who sets the rules about what we wear at Dunbridge. Maybe I ought to invite myself round to dinner with the Sinclairs soon so that I can talk it over a bit with her, because I’m not prepared to let it drop again.
Charlie and I don’t see each other until the rehearsal. I’m a bit early, so I’m the first there. When I step into the empty theatre, the silence almost swallows me. It’s kind of magical being here all on my own, walking down the carpeted steps. My pulse slows, my body feels lighter the closer I come to the stage.
It’s hard to admit it to myself, but even though everything is finally cleared up between Charlie and me, I simply can’t get rid of the sorrowful feeling of not being on stage myself. The more distance I get from Val, and from whatever we had between us, the less I understand how I let him hold me back from fulfilling my dream. It feels like I haven’t been myself and I’m only slowly finding my way back. It’s surprisingly painful to grasp that my friends could see that all along. I always thought I knew myself, but apparently, I was wrong. I’ve avoided Val as far as possible lately. I have absolutely no desire for further confrontation or snarky remarks.
I put my cloth bag down on one of the front-row seats and stand uncertainly for a moment. It’s amazing how soulless and empty the stage seems when it’s not filled by Charlie, Eleanorand the others. I walk forward and run my forefinger over its edge. A light shiver runs through me as I remember Charlie beneath me as we kissed. That seems like a lifetime ago, yet it’s barely two weeks.
I glance over to the auditorium doors, then shut my eyes.
‘“Woe is me,”’ I whisper, making myself jump because my voice sounds so loud in the total silence. Not like half an eternity ago when I practised the balcony scene with Charlie in the bakery. ‘“Oh, Romeo. Why are you my enemy, a Montague, a man I may not love? As though, once I’d seen you, my heart had any choice . . .”’ I lean on the edge and push myself up onto the stage. Just to stand there for once and pretend I’d had the guts . . . ‘“Romeo, refuse your name and then give it to me. I mean what I say. Let me be yours and I will no longer be a Capulet, let me be by your side.”’ I stand up. When I shut my eyes, I’m Juliet, walking back and forth on her balcony. Restless, desperate, because the man she loves is out of her reach. ‘“Your name is the only thing that makes it impossible for us to be together,”’ I continue. ‘“Love found me yet I must push it away for the sake of a name. But what’s in a name? Put your name aside and take me in its place, I beg you; O sweet heaven, give me this man.”’
I’ll take you at your word.In my head, I’m answered by Charlie, but in actual fact, there’s a round of applause that really startles me. My eyes fly open.
‘Such a shame, my dear Victoria.’
I see Mr Acevedo, stepping out of the darkness near the doors and coming down the steps. I freeze. My blood runs cold, then burning shame creeps across my cheeks.
‘I’m sorry, I – I thought I was alone.’ I hurry towards the steps at the edge of the stage, but Mr Acevedo is continuing.
‘I realized that. It’s probably why it was so good.’ He doesn’t take his eyes off me. ‘All the same, I think you’d have won over an audience at the auditions.’
I say nothing as I walk back to where I left my stuff.
‘Or do you really want to tell me you wouldn’t have enjoyed acting?’
I slowly shake my head. ‘No, you’re right, sir. I don’t know why I didn’t dare.’
‘That makes two of us.’
