And Joel too. Their duet came to an end, the audience whooping and hollering, but it wasn’t over. Robyn had altered the score, choreographing for Joel a dance solo in order to showcase his amazing talent.
Sorrel came off stage, leaving Joel to dance. She adjusted her blonde wig, grabbing Robyn’s Pimm’s and sinking most of its contents before realising what it was. ‘Jeez, what’s that?’ She pulled a face, handing it back. ‘Thought it was blackcurrant…’ And then she was back on, joining Joel once more to finish the duet.
‘OK,’ Robyn mouthed to the rest of the kids gathered impatiently and excitedly behind her. She held up a warning hand as Sorrel and Joel made their exit towards the opposite wing and then nodded, shouting, ‘Go! Go on and enjoy!’
And they did, the whole cast on stage once more for the final time, the Rydell kids ending the show with the gang joining forces for the wonderful doo-wop mega-medley of ‘We Go Together’.
And then Daisy Slater and Isla Boothroyd were beside her, pulling at her hand. Protesting, she tried to dig in her heels, shaking her head, but Joel and Noah Dyson had joined the two girls and she had no choice but to go with them. A bouquet of flowers, more applause and stamping of feet and Robyn was pushed, none too gently, to the front of the stage.
‘Thank you, all.’ She finally managed to be heard above the whistling and cheering. ‘It’s been a bit of a roller coaster of a journey since Mr Donoghue first suggested St Mede’s could put on a production of this kind…’ Robyn stopped, spotting her mum, Kamran, Jess, Jayden, Lola and Fabian, as well as George right at the back of the hall in the audience. She started again but, hearing her voice break, she took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t believe him…’ More deep breaths. ‘But these areyourchildren,yourtalented kids,yourschool…’
Overwhelmed with emotion, she found she couldn’t continue.
And then Mason Donoghue was at her side. He put up a hand as if he were taking Monday morning assembly, and eventually the audience stilled and quietened. ‘You will, of course,’ Mason said, ‘be aware of the threat to the very existence of St Mede’s here in Little Micklethwaite. The local council, being short of the readies?—’
‘Aren’t we all…?’ an elderly man at the front interrupted.
‘—determined to sell off the site; our children –yourchildren – being farmed out to whichever school has the capacity to take them.’
‘Bastards!’
‘Shame!’
‘Always the bloody same with that lot…!’
‘Our school’ – Mason put up a hand once more before continuing – ‘will be demolished in the not-too-distant future?—’
‘Get up a petition!’
‘Go after ’em!’
‘It’s them bloody Sattars again. Bloody foreigners coming ’ere tekking our school from under us feet…’
More hand-waving from Mason. ‘—but not before a new school will’ – Mason paused for effect – ‘rise, phoenix-like, from the ashes…’
‘The Phoenix? The pub down on Bentley Street…?’
‘Whose ashes? Whose bloody ashes? Them Sattars…?’
Robyn could see, if he wasn’t careful, Mason was in danger of being mobbed. She moved forward, the actor in her taking over the situation. She raised her own hand. ‘Mums and dads, what Mr Donoghue is trying to tell you is that St Mede’s isn’t goinganywhere…’ She scanned the audience for George sitting somewhat nervously with Jess. ‘Mr Sattar, George, please, if you would?’
There was a concentrated silence, a craning of necks as George reluctantly stood and made his way up onto the stage.
‘Mums and dads,’ Robyn repeated. She waved a hand towards George, who was looking pale. ‘This is George Sattar. Many of you will know him for being an international tennis player, representing this country as a youth. And yes, the schoolisto be demolished, but as Mr Donoghue was trying to tell you…’
Mason stepped forward, tutting. ‘Can’t get the staff to behave themselves these days.’ He grinned, nudging Robyn in the ribs. ‘Look, I’ve been sworn to secrecy over the past few months,’ he went on, ‘but I’m absolutely delighted to be able to tell you that a brand-new school, sponsored by the local, national and international company, Frozen,will be built behind the current building. Once it’s up and running, this place’ – Mason waved a hand towards the hall’s peeling paintwork – ‘will then be demolished.’
‘What did he just say…?’
‘A new school…?’
‘That’s a bit of all right, then…’
‘Always said them Sattars were good for the area…’
It was George’s turn to step forward. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’m so pleased to have this all out in the open now. My father’s family came here from Mirpur in Pakistan and were given the opportunity, through hard work, to do well. My mum, Shirley, was born right here in Little Micklethwaite; myself and my brothers in neighbouring Beddingfield. Our family has long since wanted to offer something back to these villages that have given us so much. The new school will be designated a Physical Education and Performing Arts School…’ George turned to the performers behind him and then to pupils sitting in the audience. ‘I’m afraid, kids, that doesn’t mean you get out of doing your usual maths, English and the rest.’
Laughter now from the audience as well as some good-natured cat-calling and boos from the St Mede’s children themselves.
