Olivia's Winter Wonderland (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Eel stepped out on to the ice and promptly fell over.

“It's exceptionally slippery,” she said with such surprised indignation that it made the others laugh.

“It's supposed to be slippery, Eel,” said Aeysha.

“I know that,” said Eel even more indignantly. “It's just…” and she sighed sadly, “… there's a big gap between how well I think I can skate and how well I can actually skate. It's extremely disappointing.”

“Theo's surprisingly good, isn't he, and Kasha's brill,” said Katie, watching them both speed-skate across the rink like big kids, chased by a gaggle of squealing younger Swans.

“This is such fun,” said Georgia. She turned to Aeysha and Katie. “Shall we skate?” she asked. Aeysha and Katie linked arms with her and the three of them skated away, chatting excitedly to each other.

“It's magical,” said Olivia, watching the skaters as they moved in circles around the rink against the glow of a backlit Somerset House. The odd curl of snow fell gently like a feather from a sky pinpricked with tiny stars. It reminded Olivia of the roof of a circus big top.

“It's like something out of a fairytale,” agreed Tom. “It's almost impossible to believe that we're right in the heart of London.” A conga was starting to form.

“Katie! Katie!” called Kylie. “Join on the back.” Katie, followed by Georgia and Aeysha, skated over and caught Kylie by the waist, and the snake moved off, laughing. Kylie and Katie were talking excitedly to each other. Olivia and Tom stood watching them.

“Liv,” said Tom seriously. “When you're at Campion's do you still hear the sound of children laughing?”

Olivia blushed. “I'll tell you, as long as you don't call me mad.”

“So does that mean yes?” asked Tom.

“Yes, but they're getting fainter every day we are there rehearsing
Cinderella
. Ella's right. They are getting ready to move out.” She grinned at Tom. “Come on, I'll race you. The last one to do two full circuits has to buy the roasted chestnuts and mulled apple juice.”

Kasha skated over to Georgia and Katie, grinning. “How's the princess?” he asked. Georgia blushed, and Kasha reached out and gently brushed a snowflake from her cheek. Then he caught sight of Abbie talking intently to Alicia by the side of the rink and skated off again in their direction. Georgia stared after him. She sneezed several times as if Kasha touching her cheek had brought on an allergic reaction.

“I need a tissue,” she said.

“There's one in my coat pocket. It's over there. The blue one on the top of the pile,” said Katie. “Shall I get it for you?”

“I'll go,” said Georgia, and she skated off, noticing a number of Swans gathering around Abbie, who was excitedly telling them something. Katie's mum skated by with Jon and waved at her. Georgia waved back. She walked gingerly off the ice and went to Katie's coat. She
felt in the pocket for the tissue and as she pulled it out, a cream envelope fell on to the ground.

She picked it up to stuff it back into the coat pocket and as she did so she noticed the name
Kate Carmichael
written on the front. Georgia began to tremble. She suddenly remembered the very first day of the Zelda auditions and seeing a girl in the café whom she had been certain was Katie. So she'd been right! Fury began to rise in her throat. Katie was going to be Zelda. She had got the part, the part that should have been hers. Georgia felt as if her blood was boiling in her veins. She swung round. Katie was spinning in the middle of the rink with Kylie Morris. She looked down at the envelope again and took a step towards the rink, then a quiet voice spoke from behind her.

“Georgia, can I have a word?” Alicia eyes flicked over the envelope and then she studied Georgia's face and said, “We all do things we're ashamed of; we all make mistakes. Sometimes it feels as if life is
forcing
us to make those mistakes. But the mistakes don't matter as long as we do the right thing in the end.”

“But … but…” stuttered Georgia.

“Have you never done anything that you
regret, Georgia, something that makes you feel ashamed to even think about it?” The memory of deleting Poppet's text in the girls' cloakroom popped into Georgia's head.

“Is Katie playing Zelda?” she whispered.

“No,” said Alicia, “because Katie thought hard about her options and made her choice, as I hope you will, Georgia. Life is good, isn't it? Why hanker after something you can't have, when you've already got so much that so many would envy?”

Alicia walked slowly away, leaning on her stick. Georgia looked out over the ice. Katie gave her a happy little wave and Kasha beckoned to her. Georgia stuffed the envelope back in Katie's coat and walked back towards the rink. She stepped on to the ice and started skating towards her friends. As she drew level, Aeysha, Olivia, Tom and Eel all raced up to her.

“You'll never guess what!” cried Aeysha. “The most astonishing thing. Abbie has just told us. She met a friend who knew all about it.”

“All about what?” demanded Georgia.

“Kylight Productions. Apparently it's gone bust. Something to do with a black hole in the accounts that nobody knew about. The
Zelda
movie has been shelved. After all that,
nobody
is going to play Zelda!”

Aeysha drew breath. “We've had a lucky escape, Georgie. Think how awful you'd feel if you'd got the role and then had it snatched away from you like that. It would be awful. I feel really sorry for that poor Kate Carmichael. She must be completely devastated.”

“I expect she'll cope,” said Katie quietly, but the others didn't hear her because they were all talking excitedly to Kasha, who had joined them. They moved off with him, all except Georgia. She looked hard at Katie. “Of course, maybe she'd already turned it down,” she said softly.

Katie swallowed hard. She knew this was treacherous territory, that she and Georgia were skating on very thin ice.

“Yes,” said Katie. “I think she had. I think she knew she'd made a terrible mistake by adding her name to the audition list at a time in her life when everything seemed hopeless.”

“Carmichael,” said Georgia to Katie under her breath. “Same as your mum's name.” There was no malice in her voice.

“Yes,” said Katie, and she held Georgia's
gaze. “I could tell you all about it if you like. No excuses. Just the truth, warts and all.”

“One day that would be nice,” said Georgia. “But not yet; it's too soon.” She put out her arm towards Katie as if it was an olive branch. “Let's skate.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

“He's behind you!”

“Oh no, he's not!” shouted Baron Hard-Up.

“Oh yes, he is!” roared back the delighted audience.

“Oh no, he's not,” yelled the baron happily.

“Oh yes, he is,” cried the audience at the tops of their voices, so loudly that the crystal drops on Campion's chandelier began to tinkle against each other with the vibrations.

“Oh no, he's—” Theo never delivered the word “not” because a huge custard pie hit him full in the face. The audience stamped and cheered with pleasure. Some even rose to their feet, wild with excitement. As their noise died
away, Theo wiped the remains of the pie off his face and with consummate comic timing ad-libbed ruefully, “Maybe he was behind me after all. I should have listened to you.” He looked so comically downcast that the audience cracked up all over again.

Standing in the wings watching, Olivia and Tom grinned at each other. The official opening night of the Swan panto was turning into one of the most magical first nights there had ever been in the whole history of London theatre.

Campion's looked like something out of a fairytale. It had been snowing heavily as the audience picked their way down Hangman's Alley and the scene was starting to resemble a Christmas card. Katie's mum had arranged lanterns with flickering fairy lights all the way down the edge of the alleyway, so that the arriving audience walked down a snowy carpet lit by an eerie glow as they headed towards the welcoming pool of warm yellow light that was spilling out from Campion's entrance. There were wreaths made out of holly stuck to all the boarded-up buildings and Alicia had drafted in some of the younger Swans, who didn't have
parts in the panto, and dressed them up as cheeky Victorian urchins and matchgirls. At the far end of the alley, by a huge snowman with a carrot nose and skewed top hat, the Swan choir was singing carols. “Silent Night” drifted enchantingly on the breeze, mingling with the flakes of snow that danced downwards from the sky and kissed the arriving audience so that their hair and eyelashes glistened as if dusted with glitter.

Arriving at the ornate entrance, open for the first time in over fifty years, the audience cooed over the plaster vines, stamped the snow from their boots and gasped as they discovered the building's haunting faded grandeur and ruined beauty. The beguiling smell of mulled wine, hot mince pies and roasted chestnuts drifted from the packed bar upstairs down a wooden staircase garlanded with fairy lights. Journalists and critics were gabbling into their mobile phones and demanding that their editors send photographers down to Campion's immediately. One of the curators from the Victoria & Albert Museum was giving a TV interview in front of the exquisitely decorated Christmas tree that stood by the entrance to the auditorium,
declaring loudly that Campion's Palace of Varieties was a lost gem that would prove to be one of the most important architectural rediscoveries of the twenty-first century.

“We must preserve it for future generations,” the curator declared loudly to the camera, to which Ella, who was standing nearby, snorted, “Preserve it! It's not a pickled onion. It's a theatre. We must use it, let it live and breathe again. It needs new audiences, new ghosts.”

But if the theatre-goers were amazed by their journey into the building, it was nothing to their astonishment when they set eyes on the auditorium for the very first time. They gasped out loud at the dazzling beauty of the chandelier with its hundreds of crystal teardrops and couldn't stop touching the twisted candy cane pillars that seemed too delicate and fragile to take the weight of the ornate horseshoe balcony. They were so enchanted by everything they saw that it took a long while for them to settle even as the lights began to dim and the orchestra struck up.

“Here we go,” said Theo to all the Swans backstage. “Break a leg, everyone. Let's make a
little magic.”

Theo was really enjoying himself. He'd never had so much positive publicity. Everyone wanted to interview him and tell the story of the actor who had turned his back on Hollywood for a charity pantomime and a chance to tap dance. It was just as well, he thought ruefully, as he needed a new agent; he and Sheridan had parted company permanently.

Kasha had been in several magazines too, and one of the big Sunday papers had printed a picture of him, Georgia and Abbie under the headline: “The Stars of Tomorrow.” Georgia had been speechless with pleasure, and Aeysha, Olivia and Tom had teased her mercilessly about it, which Georgia had taken with the good grace of someone who knew she was having her little patch of sunlight.

“It might not last, so I'm going to enjoy every minute of it while it does,” she said.

“The funny thing is,” said Aeysha, “that I'm enjoying you enjoying it.”

“Yes,” said Katie wonderingly. “It's as if Georgia's success feels like all our success.” She looked puzzled. “Once I wouldn't have thought that possible. I would have been raging inside
that it should have been me.”

“Maybe it will be you one day, Katie,” Georgia had murmured softly. She had a feeling that she and Katie were going to be good friends.

The overture reached a dramatic climax and the false safety curtain – decorated with a wonderful image of Victorian skaters against a London skyline, which Katie's mum had made to go in front of the Campion's stage – began to rise. As it did so, all that the audience could see at first was a chorus line of feet all tapping away furiously. The noise was like a thunderstorm of hailstones; the energy and exhilaration it generated could have launched a rocket into space. The audience broke into excited spontaneous applause. The curtain rose a little higher to reveal three lines of Swans all tap dancing furiously. Right in the centre of the front row was Theo, a vast grin of happiness lighting up his face. Behind him a pantomime horse attempted and repeatedly failed to copy what he was doing. For what would be the first of many times that night, the audience rose to their feet in rapturous applause.