Double Act Read online

  ‘Thank you, sweetie. Off you go, twins. Next!’ said the short-haired woman. She was already staring past us, smiling at the new set of twins.

  ‘No, hang on a minute!’ said Ruby. ‘Look my sister isn’t very well, she’s been sick, she’s not normally like this, she can speak up and be ever so funny, I swear she can. How about if we just do a couple of minutes of our prepared piece? Give us a chance. We’ve used up all our savings getting here, and we’re going to get in terrible trouble with our dad when we get back . . .’

  ‘Yes, it’s a shame, sweetie, but we don’t really have the time,’ said the short-haired woman, and she put her arm round both of us. It wasn’t just sympathy. She propelled us gently but firmly to the edge of the stage.

  Even in the midst of her despair Ruby remembered the camera, twisting round and grimacing in agony, and then she sighed and waved her hand.

  I could hear a few chuckles.

  ‘That kid’s a caution,’ said someone.

  ‘Yeah. Pity about her twin.’

  It was only a murmur. But it was like a giant roaring in my ears. It wouldn’t soften or stop.

  I couldn’t seem to hear properly even when Dad caught up with us.

  ‘You bet you’re in terrible trouble,’ he said furiously. ‘How dare you run off here like this, when I expressly forbade it. I couldn’t believe it when we woke up and found you both gone. I was so worried I was going to call the police, but Rose insisted you’d both be all right and that you’d obviously gone for this idiotic audition.’

  ‘Well, it was a complete waste of time anyway,’ said Ruby. ‘You really blew it for us, Dad. We were doing just great and then you had to come barging in and put us off our stroke.’

  ‘Put me off. Not you,’ I said. ‘And it wasn’t Dad’s fault. He waited. He gave us a chance. But I mucked it up. That’s what they said. You were great, Ruby, yeah. But I was useless. They said so.’

  ‘No they didn’t,’ said Ruby. ‘And anyway, they didn’t give you a proper chance. It wasn’t fair.’

  ‘You don’t want to be an actress anyway, Garnet,’ said Dad. ‘And even if you’d both been offered the parts, I wouldn’t have let you take them. Ruby can act when she grows up, but I don’t want my girls turning into ghastly little child stars, thank you very much.’

  ‘There’s no chance of me being any sort of star,’ I said, and I started crying. I couldn’t bear it. They were both so sorry for me. Dad was still mega-mad because we’d sneaked off up to London by ourselves, but he was holding back his anger for a bit to try to comfort me.

  And Ruby wasn’t cross with me. She should hate me for ever because I did muck it up. I should have said all that stuff and never mind about Dad being there. I could have done. Only I didn’t. I let her down. I’ll always let her down.

  She’s the biggest and the brightest and the best.

  She’s the caution.

  She’s the star.

  It’s a pity she’s stuck with me.

  Pity about her twin.

  Pity about her twin.

  Pity about her twin.

  TEN

  WHAT’S ALL THIS pity piffle??? Perlease, Garnet! And anyway, I did get cross with you. I had a real go at you in the car, because you were a bit of a wally at the audition. What did it matter if Dad was there or not? You could have made something up if you didn’t want to do a rant at Rose. I mean, I wouldn’t go on at you if I truly thought you couldn’t do it, but you can. Well, you could have. Only it’s too late now. We’ve blown it. Lost our chance. We don’t get to be famous child stars. We’re drab child nobodies stuck in this dreary dump for ever and ever. And we’ve lost all our savings for nothing. Not to mention my baby doll that Gran gave me.

  Garnet? Oh, don’t start crying again.

  Look, I’m the one who should be crying. I’m the one who wants to act. I’m the one that Dad is maddest at. The way he went on and on at me! And then when I argued back and told him he was an old worryguts and that we’re big enough to look after ourselves and what possible harm could happen on a simple trip to London, I thought he was actually going to clock me one.

  He hasn’t ever smacked us, has he? I wish he would, then we could show the bruises at school and get taken into care.

  I mean it. I’m sick of living here with him and her.

  Hey, let’s write to Gran and see if she could possibly squeeze us into her flat. We could sleep curled up on her settee, couldn’t we? And she keeps saying how much she misses us on her postcards.

  Then we could go back to our old school. We’re not going to this stupid new school again, especially now that Dumbo Debenham’s told tales on us. We’re not going even if Dad picks us up and tries to drag us there. We’re not speaking to him, right? And we’re certainly not speaking to Rose. Who cares if she came out with all that guff about us being ultra-determined and clever getting ourselves to London. We didn’t ask her to stick up for us, did we?

  Garnet? Look, what does it matter what she’s shouting? We don’t want to go and watch television with her! Who cares if it’s—

  It was us! Well, only a glimpse, but they showed me, doing my goodbye bit. The camera came right up close. They didn’t show much of Garnet, just a bit of her hair and an elbow but they showed all of me, and there was a voice-over saying, ‘And this twin certainly took rejection like a trouper.’

  Pity they didn’t say our names. Still. We were on the telly. Well, I was.

  It was on the News. We missed the first part but Rose videoed it. They did a whole little item about the audition for the Twins at St Clare’s series as a clever early puff for the programme, seeing as it’s going to be made by the same telly company. They showed some of those other twins doing their party pieces. There weren’t any as good as us. Well, me. Of course, that’s only my opinion.

  The twins that they’ve chosen are absolutely awful.

  That’s the way they talk, too. Oooh absolutely jolly good show, fwightfully, ya, jolly super-duper green-welly wallies.

  Perhaps it’s just as well we weren’t chosen. If they’d got us to talk all twiddly-snooty-pop like that then we’d have been sent up rotten for ever and a day. Kids won’t want to watch a pathetic programme like that. Or if they do, they’ll just laugh at it.

  Still, it looks like they’re pulling out all the stops on the production. It’s being filmed on location in this real big boarding school during the summer holidays. They showed all the grounds. It was just like a stately home. And there was a swimming pool. And a sort of miniature zoo, where they keep their pets. And inside this huge great house it wasn’t a bit like a school school. There were ordinary boring old classrooms but they had playrooms with television and videos and music centres and computers and upstairs there weren’t dormitories like I thought – they had lots of bedrooms with flowery duvets and teddies on the beds and posters up on the walls, and best of all, this school has its own theatre. It’s quite small, OK, but it’s got a real stage with red velvet curtains and lighting and props and everything, and they put on plays.

  I wish we could go to a school like that.

  Hey.

  Wow.

  Yes!

  No!

  Oh,Garnet, come on! It would be absolutely fantastic! Oh, let’s go there. We wouldn’t be acting, we’d be the real twins of St Clare’s. Well, Marnock Heights. It would be such fun. We could play all those posh games – hockey and lacrosse and cricket in the summer. I bet I’d be absolutely ace at cricket. And we could have a pet each in the little zoo place. Twin pets.

  Rabbits? Those little ones with shy faces. Dwarf rabbits.

  OK, twin baby bunnies. Though I’d sooner have gerbils. Or rats.

  I don’t like rats. Or gerbils. I don’t even like mice.

  Right, we’re agreed. It’s rabbits. We’ll go and play with our rabbits every day and we’ll have a game of cricket and we’ll swim in the pool and in the evenings we’ll watch videos in the sitting-room and then, after we’ve gone to bed, we’ll h
ave mega-midnight feasts.

  This is a game, isn’t it?

  No! It can be real. We’re going to go to boarding school.

  Yes, it’s a school, so there’ll be lessons all day. We can’t just muck about stroking our rabbits and playing games. There’ll be English and History and Technology. And hard stuff too like Geometry and Latin.

  That’s OK. You’ll be able to do that. And did you see that library in the telly clip? All those wonderful books, Garnet.

  We’ve got books here.

  Old boring books. We hate this bookshop. We hate this school and this whole horrible dump of a village. So we’re going to get out. We’re going to go to boarding school. Marnock Heights. We’ll write a letter applying. You’d better do it, Garnet, your writing’s much neater than mine. I’ll tell you what to put.

  But I don’t want to—

  I’m sick of you going on about what you want and don’t want. Look, I wanted to be one of the twins of St Clare’s on the television. I planned and plotted so that we got all the way to London by ourselves. I sold all my stuff. I did my audition thingy so well that they all laughed and they really liked me, and it looked like we’d actually got the part, didn’t it? But then you mucked it up.

  Yes.

  There’s no need to look like that. I’m not being deliberately horrid. I’m just trying to get you to understand that it would be ultra ultra ultra mean of you to muck up my chances of getting what I want second best in the world. Right?

  Look at this!

  We went rushing to tell Dad. We thought he’d be in a good mood because some nutty old girl had bought all his Girls’ Own annuals for a lot of money, and as she staggered backwards and forwards to her car with book after book she kept burbling, ‘Those were the days, eh? When girls really were girls. A hard game of hockey and then toasted teacakes in front of the fire.’ She sighed happily, and then saw Garnet and me hanging around.

  ‘Only nowadays it’s all disco dancing and McDonald’s beefburgers,’ she said. ‘That’s what you want, isn’t it, girls?’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said quickly. ‘Garnet and me, we’d like to play hockey and toast teacakes. That’s just what we want too.’

  ‘Well, good for you,’ said the old girl, lurching out of the shop with the last of her annuals.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ said Dad, blinking at us. But he looked pleased. We’ve had a policy of being rude to the customers recently and that’s made him extremely narked. I looked at Garnet. She looked at me. I took a deep breath.

  ‘We’re not kidding, Dad. We read all the St Clare’s books, see, when we were wanting to act in the telly series. And we think it all sounds really great. So Garnet and I want to go to boarding school.’

  Dad laughed, not taking us seriously.

  ‘It’s not really like it is in books,’ said Dad. ‘I don’t think either of you would go a bundle on real boarding school. You have to work hard and do as you’re told all the time. According to poor Miss Debenham, you don’t do any work at all and never ever do as you’re told.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s because she’s a silly teacher and it’s a silly school. But if we went to a super top-notch boarding school then we’d be mega-good, really truly. A boarding school like Marnock Heights.’

  ‘Like where?’

  ‘It’s the place they’re using for the St Clare’s film. It’s a real school. And so Garnet and I wrote to the headmistress asking to go there and she’s sent us this booklet all about it, look.’

  I ran to fetch it and shoved it under Dad’s nose.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake! Will you girls stop doing things behind my back,’ Dad groaned.

  ‘Say we can go, though, Dad, please. You look at all the pictures. It’s lovely, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, very lovely,’ said Dad, flicking through. Then he stopped at the back page, where there were two pieces of paper tucked into a little pocket. ‘And very lovely school fees too! Eight thousand a year. Each! Oh yes, nice one, Ruby.’

  I stared at him and then snatched the paper. There were all these figures on it. The fees. I didn’t realize you had to pay to go to some schools. You had to pay an enormous enormous enormous fee to go to Marnock Heights.

  ‘Oh no,’ I wailed.

  ‘Oh no,’ Garnet wailed too. But she didn’t sound too fussed, in actual fact. Right, Garnet????

  Well . . .

  We’ve got to think POSITIVE. Because all is not lost. Maybe Dad won’t have to fork out any fees. Not that he could anyway. We’re far too poor. But But But . . . There was a letter tucked into the pocket of the prospectus, along with the note about the frightful fees.

  * * *

  Marnock Heights

  Gorselea

  Sussex

  22 May

  Dear Ruby and Garnet

  What lovely names! You wrote me a lovely letter too. I’m pleased that you’d like to attend Marnock Heights. Here is the current prospectus. Show it to your parents or guardians.

  I’d like to point out that we do award several special scholarships each year. These have already been awarded for the new intake in the Autumn, but one girl is now unable to take up her scholarship because she’s going abroad. Perhaps you would like to come to the school and sit the entrance examination to see if either of you might pass highly enough for scholarship consideration?

  Please telephone my secretary for an appointment.

  With best wishes

  Yours sincerely

  Headteacher

  (There, you know my name now!)

  * * *

  ELEVEN

  DAD STILL WOULDN’T hear of it. At first. But we kept on at him.

  You kept on at him.

  On and on and on. And then he started to weaken.

  It was Rose too. She said we should go for it. She said she wished she’d had a proper education.

  ‘It’s a great chance. It’s ever such a famous school. If one of them got a scholarship there then they’d be able to go on, do anything, achieve anything.’

  She’s just desperate to get rid of us. Because we’re driving her crackers.

  You sometimes drive me crackers, Ruby. You won’t ever change your mind about anyone.

  Or anything. So we’re going to Marnock Heights!

  We’re sitting the exam, that’s all. And I don’t see the point, as there’s two of us and only one scholarship.

  We’ll wangle two, somehow. Once Miss Jeffreys gets to know us. She likes us already. She’s ever so complimentary in her letter. We’re lovely. I’m Miss Lovely Ruby and you’re Miss Lovely Garnet, OK? Oh, come on, Garnet, cheer up! We’ve won! We’ve got our own way!

  You’ve got your own way. And I’m worried about the exam. She doesn’t say what sort. If it’s an interview then I’m scared I’ll go all stupid and shy and not know what to say. Like at the audition.

  It’s OK, I’ll do all the talking. You just leave it to me.

  So I left the talking to Ruby. We were shown into Miss Jeffreys’ study and she shook our hands and smiled and gave us tea and biscuits and as we sipped and nibbled, Miss Jeffreys asked us questions.

  They were really hard questions too, like:

  ‘Why do you think education for girls is important?’

  and ‘What are your ambitions for the future?’

  and ‘What do you like doing in your spare time?’

  and even ‘How do you feel about being a twin?’

  I feel bad about being a twin because I let Ruby down. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I just tagged on to the end of her sentences. She was brilliant.

  Hmm! Mega-brilliant.

  It was easy-peasy. I didn’t say what I really think, naturally. I just said all this stuff to impress Miss Jeffreys and make her see that we are ideal pupils for Marnock Heights. I don’t care a bit about education but I spouted stuff that old Rosy-Ratbag said the other day. And I said truthfully enough that our ambition is to be famous actresses, but I said we needed to study Shakespeare and if
we stay in Cussop you don’t even get started on Shakespeare until you go to sixth-form college. And I said that in our spare time we acted, and we also read lots, and I named all the books that Garnet likes, and some of Dad’s Dickens and Hardy, and Miss Jeffreys looked dead impressed. She asked about the stories but I made some stuff up and I’m sure she swallowed it. And then when she asked about the twin bit I said it was just like being one person, only we were twice as good as anyone else.

  She laughed and said that was a really good answer.

  So I said that it was ever so important that we mustn’t ever be separated and that as we always shared everything maybe we could share a scholarship too.

  Dad got all fidgety then but she laughed even more. Then she took us all round the school and the grounds, and it is truly fantastic.

  The other girls seem OK too. One looked a bit snobby so I stuck my tongue out at her, but she stuck her tongue out back at me and then we both grinned. She had red hair and little wicked eyes. I think we’ll be friends with her when we come to Marnock Heights.

  If.

  Look, I keep telling you, Garnet, we’ll get there. OK, we had to sit in the library and do that boring old written exam – and I must admit that got me a bit worked up because that other teacher insisted that we sit at opposite ends so we couldn’t work together the way we always do. That was ever so unfair. And then, when I caught your eye and we were sort of conferring, it was mean of that teacher to make me turn round and face the other way. They don’t understand. We weren’t cheating or anything. It’s just the way we work, isn’t it? Especially when it comes to all that boring stuff like arithmetic and general knowledge. And that composition was ultra-blobby-boring. ‘Snow in Winter’! What did you write, eh?

  You’ll get mad at me.

  Oh no. What did you put???

  I just imagined a mountain all over with snow and what it must look like. And how odd it must be for the sheep, all green grass one minute and then white sharp stuff that hurts their teeth. And people always say there’s a blanket of snow on the ground and yet if you were under that blanket, buried, you’d be dead. And how once when we were making snow angels in the park I stopped moving my arms and legs to see what it would feel like to be frozen. And snow looks so clean and pure but nothing’s dirtier when everyone’s trudged through it and it’s all grey with yellow patches and how it’s always like that, it can’t ever stay the same, and yet each time you hope there’ll be a way of keeping it looking beautiful.