Wicked! (113 page)

‘Thank you ever so much and I’ll write to you all with this pen.’ Janna mopped her eyes with Emlyn’s handkerchief. Then, desperate to get the praise on to someone else: ‘And now Lily is going to crown the Prom King and Queen, voted by their peers.’

‘I first have to read the citations,’ said Lily, putting on her spectacles and joining Janna in the middle of the floor.

‘“We thought you was very snooty when you joined Larks,”’ she read, ‘“but we realized you was just shy and now you’re a good friend to all of us.” Very nice too.’ Opening the envelope: ‘And our Prom Queen is none other than Aysha Khan.’

Aysha gasped and clapped her hands over her eyes:

‘I don’t believe it.’

As Xav proudly led her up, Mrs Khan stood up and cheered, then shushed herself in horror. Lily placed a gold cardboard crown, inset with red, blue and green jewels, on Aysha’s dark head, and the room erupted.

‘She looks absolutely gorgeous,’ sighed Pittsy.

‘She certainly does,’ agreed a grinning Xav as he slid back into the crowd, but not for long, as Lily read out the next citation.

‘“We was worried when you came to us, but you mixed in really well, and you was never posh.”’ Hands trembling with excitement, Lily ripped open the envelope. ‘And the Prom King is Xavier Campbell-Black.’

More deafening roars of applause followed as Lily had difficulty getting the crown over Xav’s Afro.

‘Thank you so much,’ shouted Xav, ‘I can’t believe this.’

‘Nor can we,’ yelled Graffi. ‘Never had a poof on the frone since James I.’

‘Give your queen a kiss,’ shouted Pearl, and Xav turned and kissed Aysha on the lips for the first time since Ramadan, and Aysha, after a terrified glance at her tearful, ecstatic mother, who had nearly finished her bottle of teachers’ lemonade, kissed Xav back to a thunder of stamped feet.

‘Look at Taggie,’ whispered Lily as Xav’s mother wiped her eyes with her crimson pashmina.

Xav and Aysha reopened the ball, never taking their eyes off each other. A second later, Emlyn led a laughing, protesting Taggie on to the floor.

‘It’s so refreshing,’ beamed Mrs Khan as Janna replaced her Fanta bottle.

Supper followed and the starving hordes fell on tuna and cucumber sandwiches, bridge rolls filled with egg mayonnaise, Lily’s sausage rolls and vol-au-vents, Sally’s smoked salmon sandwiches, strawberries, blackberry crumbles and chocolate torte.

The girls were back on the floor dancing together, flashing lights picking up glossy tossing curls and gleaming bare shoulders. Janna was among them, swaying like a maenad, waving a glittering blue butterfly in figures of eight.

Why haven’t I asked her to dance? wondered Emlyn. What am I afraid of?

Out in the limos, groups were drinking Cava and smoking weed. Others were signing each other’s T-shirts, certificates and year books. There was a second roll of drums. ‘It’s now time for your cabaret,’ shouted the lead singer, ‘performed by Brigadier Christian Woodford and Mrs Lily Hamilton.’

Clapping and whooping, the dancers retreated to be joined round the edge of the floor by others running in from the cars.

Lily fled to the Ladies, shaking with terror. If only she’d had a little more to drink. Pearl was waiting when she came out of the loo.

‘Just let me fix your face.’

Getting out a brush, she added blusher to Lily’s blanched cheeks, used another brush to repaint her trembling lips and another to fluff up her hair, before spraying on some rather bold scent.

‘You look great, Lily. Let’s hide that bra strap, and straighten your dress, off you go. Good luck.’

The children had begun to stamp their feet and slow handclap. Christian, waiting with a mike in his hand, was looking anxious, but his smile was beautiful, even when Lily muttered, ‘You got me into this bloody thing,’ as he led her on to the floor.

‘Doo di doo, doo di doo di, doo di . . .’ sang the Brigadier in a delightful baritone, then, brandishing both mike and a large green umbrella, launched into ‘Singing in the Rain’, ending up with a little tap dance round Lily, before sweeping her into ‘Stepping Out With My Baby’.

For a second, Lily stumbled; the Brigadier held her tightly and they were off. It was such a beautiful tune.

After that Lily was fine. In no time, Christian was singing ‘Cheek To Cheek’, as with faces pressed together, they glided round the floor.

Lily would never in a thousand years have accused the Brigadier of showing off, but she was not displeased when he too stumbled, and this time it was she who had to hold him up.

The pupils, utterly entranced, bellowed their approval.

‘Good on yer, Brig. Wicked, Lily. Come on, Fred and Ginger, give us an encore.’

‘I’m out,’ said Lily firmly, so the Brigadier, gazing into her eyes, sang ‘Our Love Is Here To Stay’.

Seizing Basket’s hand, Skunk stole off into the moonlight.

‘I love you, Xav,’ whispered Aysha.

‘Hic,’ said Mrs Khan.

How much longer can I go on staying cheerful, wondered Feral as, in the middle of the floor, the Brigadier beamed down at Lily.

‘Oh, cut to the chase, Brig,’ shouted Graffi, ‘you know you love her.’

‘I believe I do,’ said Christian, kissing Lily on the forehead.

As the band broke into ‘YMCA’, the hall filled up again. Monster was dancing with Mrs Khan, Rowan with Pittsy, Wally with Janna, Sophy with Graffi, and Rocky with Gloria.

Aware that his wits might be needed if fights broke out, Emlyn, unlike Mrs Khan, had stayed off the drink. Watching the high jinks on the floor, he thought: They’re all so pixillated by the transformation of the school and themselves, they’ve forgotten the dark to come.

Tonight for him had been a cut-off point. Before, despite everything, he’d had the faint hope that Oriana might realize Charlie was a dreadful mistake. Now she was pregnant, it was over.

‘“You’re The One That I Want”,’ sang the bronzed lead singer.

115

It was the last dance; Johnnie hand in hand with Kitten, Pearl with Graffi, Feral with Janna, Danny with Danijela, all formed a great circle. The dope-smokers, who’d got the munchies and been raiding the buffet, came racing on to the floor, sandwiches in their hands, as the balloons came down. Yellow, emerald, blue, pink, scarlet and orange, a technicolour snowstorm cascaded into the flickering lights until the ground was one great technicolour bubble bath.

Then the boys waded in, as if this was what their huge trainers had been awaiting all evening, symbolically stamping on the balloons, bang, bang, bang, followed by the girls leaping in with their stilettos, pop, pop, pop, as though war had broken out.

Instinctively, Janna had dropped Feral and Graffi’s hands looking round for the tranquillizers for Partner, then remembered he was safe at home.

‘Summer Days’ sang the band, as dancing went on over an ocean of shredded rubber. Some of the balloons had been saved. Kitten had six, Danijela had one and burst into tears when Rocky popped it with a cigarette. Feral kept back an orange one, in case Bianca was in the car collecting Xav.

It was stiflingly hot in the smoke-filled hall. Everyone was glad to surge out into the cool of the night.

A glittering full moon, like a halo searching for its lost saint, clearly felt upstaged by the splendid explosion of fireworks which followed. Golden fountains overflowed, surging silver snakes belched forth great flurries of blue sparks, rose-pink Roman candles and hissing orange Chinese dragons were followed by a series of colossal bangs, producing screams from the spectators.

Bounding round, setting alight Catherine wheels, avoiding squibs, launching off rockets, Emlyn was glad he’d stayed sober, particularly when Rocky lurched forward.

‘Want to light a rocket, want to light a rocket,’ and fell flat on his face, lit cigarette narrowly missing the remaining fireworks in the box.

Heaving him up, Emlyn allowed him to light one, which, with a sound like Velcro being ripped apart, soared gloriously upwards, before tossing its emerald and royal blue stars over the Shakespeare Estate.

At the end, more blazing white-hot stars spelt out the words ‘Goodbye Larks High’, then faded, bringing everyone back to reality with a bump.

Suddenly Mags was reassuring sobbing pupils: ‘This school is a launching pad not a crashing down to earth.’

As Pearl in her pretty periwinkle-blue dress wept on her shoulder, Janna could feel her desperate thinness.

‘I’m going to miss you, miss.’

Janna was quickly drenched as child after tearful child came up.

‘Thank you, miss, for everything.’

‘You’re the bravest girl I know.’ Mags was comforting an inconsolable Aysha.

Cambola, clinging to her trumpet, was also in floods. She had no family, no husband, no job; her pupils were all.

‘Do drop in for a cup of tea whenever you’re passing,’ she begged as each one came up.

‘Never been kissed by so many pretty women,’ said Pittsy.

Even Skunk was getting his fair share of hugs and shrieks, as cheeks were tickled by his bristly beard and moustache. The girls far more enjoyed weeping on Emlyn’s chest. Kitten was clinging to him, leaving frosted-pink lipstick all over his shirt, when he glanced across at Janna, seeing her tears glittering in the moonlight. Setting Kitten gently aside, he crossed the grass, gathering up Janna’s soaked body, and she let herself go.

It was such a haven, amid such desolation, to feel his arms round her; he was so big, solid and warm. She knew he was still carrying a torch for Oriana, but she wished he’d go on hugging her for ever.

Emlyn, meanwhile, thought: My heart is in smithereens over Oriana, but it feels nice with my arms round Janna; I’d like to keep them there.

‘Can I give you a lift home?’ he murmured into her spiked hair.

Janna’s heart leapt. ‘Oh yes, please.’

‘At last,’ said Lily, turning in satisfaction to the Brigadier.

Gradually the limos glided away. Most of the teachers had retreated to the staffroom, where the pink and purple ball dresses still hung from the Christmas pantomime and the cuttings from the rugby match against Bagley: ‘Comp thrashes Posh’, curled on the noticeboard. Mags had pinned up Monster’s definition of a mentor: ‘Someone you can talk to, an adult what ain’t your parents, but is a friend.’

‘Once they realized we weren’t on supply, they began to trust us,’ said Pittsy.

The telephone rang.

‘I’ve been phoning all evening,’ screeched Miss Miserden. ‘Never heard such a noise. A rocket landed on my patio. Scamp shot up the pear tree. I’m about to call the police.’

‘When we have another party,’ said Pittsy sarcastically, ‘we’ll give you a warning,’ but as he replaced the receiver, his face crumpled. ‘But there never will be. Best boss I ever had.’

Putting off the evil day, to cheer up her staff, Janna had organized some jaunts for later in the week. The list, also pinned up, included the Barbican and Kensington Palace to see Princess Diana’s clothes collection one day, a clay and archery shoot on another, with a buffet at school to include partners on another, then a fun supper just for Larks staff the next.

None of this cheered up Cambola, sobbing in the corner: it was like the end of an opera tour. Tomorrow, we rest.

As Janna waved the band off with profuse thanks, Rupert and Bianca arrived to collect Taggie and Xav, who was clutching his crown.

‘He was voted most popular boy in the school,’ cried Taggie.

Rupert put a hand on Xav’s shoulder. ‘That’s better than grades, well done.’

‘Is it all right if we drop Aysha and Mrs Khan off on the way?’ whispered Xav, ‘I think someone’s spiked her drink.’

Bianca had jumped out of the BMW, big dark eyes searching everywhere for Feral. Reading her mind, Xav said, ‘I’m sorry, he’s gone home, I tried to keep him.’

Bianca shrugged and huddled into the back. Feral, hidden behind the big swamp cypress, watched the BMW roll down the drive, before fleeing into the night.

Emlyn was desperate to leave, suffering the edginess of not drinking, jangling his car keys attached to a black plastic Scottie with a tartan collar. He found Janna in the IT room gazing abstractedly at a computer screen, where Larks High School, like a house in a twister, rolled hopelessly over and over into a bright blue eternity.

‘I saved you this.’ Emlyn handed her a red balloon, splaying his fingers over hers. ‘Let’s go.’

‘I’ll just say goodbye to the others.’

Outside the staffroom, however, they found Danijela in tears.

‘This school is my home.’

Emlyn gritted his teeth as Janna, the eternal hostess, put Basket’s beige cardigan round Danijela’s thin shoulders. Janna was just making her a cup of tea when Monster wandered in.

‘My mum’s not answering.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Moved house if she’s got any sense,’ quipped Rocky.

‘She’s asleep. Probably can’t hear the doorbell,’ whined Monster.

‘Pissed,’ mouthed Wally from behind his back.

‘My bruvvers and sisters are asleep, no one won’t let me in,’ he whined.