The Rapunzel Dilemma Page 5

  Lily nodded again, her face pale. ‘I can assure you that my rule-breaking days are definitely over.’

  ‘I hope that’s true,’ replied the Director. ‘We’ll see how you get on in first term.’

  ‘I know I’m lucky to be here,’ said Lily, ‘and I’m going to work so hard over the next three years that you’ll be glad –’

  Marshall Drake cut her off. ‘I am afraid you have mis-understood me, Lily. I am not offering you a full-time place at the Academy.’

  She stared at him in dismay, ‘You – you’re not?’

  Marshall Drake shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Not yet?’ echoed Lily. ‘I – I don’t understand.’

  ‘After much discussion, the other judges and I have decided that the fairest thing to do is to offer you a trial.’

  ‘A trial?’ repeated Lily, aghast.

  ‘That’s right. We are offering you a place for the autumn term. If you accept, you will commence classes today and continue through until the Christmas production in mid-December. After that . . .’ The Director rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘After that, we shall see.’

  ‘But –’ Lily tried to find the right words. ‘Is this because of what happened last July? Because I can promise you that was a one-off.’ She leaned forward. ‘Please, please believe I am totally committed to the Academy. It’s all I’ve dreamed of since I was ten years old. It’s where I want to be –’

  ‘And I’m sure you believe that,’ cut in the Director. ‘But the training here is hard and our students need to be teachable, dedicated and passionate about their craft.’

  ‘But I am!’ cried Lily. ‘I’m all those things and more! Please, I don’t need a trial. Let me come to the Academy the same as everybody else and I promise you, you won’t regret it.’

  ‘But you’re not the same as everybody else, are you?’ Marshall Drake locked eyes with her. ‘And that’s the problem, isn’t it?’ he said softly. ‘You’ve been given a unique second chance at an audition because your family has money and connections. I’m offering you a term’s trial because your audition convinced me you deserve it.’ He paused and Lily held her breath.

  ‘Beyond that, Lily . . . Well, beyond that it’s entirely up to you.’

  CHAPTER 7

  ‘There now, didn’t I tell you it might have gone better than you thought?’ said Mrs Wilson, when Lily emerged from the Director’s office.

  ‘Yes, you did.’ Lily forced a smile, but her mind was elsewhere. A trial! Marshall Drake’s words pounded in her head. A place for the autumn term. She could hardly believe it. She’d been so happy, so excited about getting into the Academy and now she had to face the humiliating fact that she might be there only until Christmas.

  It was a devastating thought. And made worse by knowing how pleased Charlotte and her cronies would be when they heard about it. For a moment Lily considered walking straight out the door, never to return.

  But only for a moment.

  After all, she was in, wasn’t she? Okay, it was only for a term – so what? She’d soon change that. Once Marshall Drake and Arathula Dane saw how determined she was to succeed, they’d be happy to offer her a full-time place.

  Lily felt her spirits lift a little.

  ‘You’ll be wanting these.’ Mrs Wilson opened a folder. ‘A map of the school, your timetable, a list of extra-curricular electives – first years can sign up for either fencing or acrobatics. You’ll want to watch the Dramaturge this morning, but classes start straight after lunch. Here’s your locker key and your room assignment.’ She peered through her glasses. ‘We’ve had to rearrange things to accommodate you, but I’m sure you’ll be happy rooming with –’

  She was interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘Come in,’ called Mrs Wilson.

  The door opened and Lily’s heart sank.

  ‘Charlotte, excellent.’ Mrs Wilson turned to Lily. ‘You remember Charlotte Cardew from Friday? I’ve asked her to help you get oriented.’

  Lily nodded mutely.

  ‘Assembly is at ten-thirty in the drama hall so you’ve both got time to pop upstairs.’ Mrs Wilson examined the paper in her hand. ‘And I see you have your first class together. Isn’t that nice?’

  ‘Hurry up,’ said Charlotte, her ballet flats making soft tapping sounds on the wood as she led Lily up the stairs to the second floor. ‘Girls are in the south wing, boys in the north, year-level common rooms in the west wing and rehearsal rooms in the east.’

  ‘I can find my own way, if you have to be somewhere,’ said Lily as she dragged her suitcase through a large room with a fireplace, a table-tennis table, several comfy-looking armchairs and a big bookshelf stuffed with books and board games, before following Charlotte down a corridor with doors on either side.

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, I’m not going to pretend I want you here, but I am the first-year rep, and besides,’ she stopped by a door about halfway down the hall, ‘if we’re going to be sharing a room then you need to know the ground rules.’

  Before Lily could answer, Charlotte had pushed open the door and led the way into a large bedroom with a bed in each corner and a big wooden wardrobe at either end.

  Lily could see at once which bed was hers. It had only a single pillow and a plain grey duvet. She hefted her suitcase onto it and gazed around the room.

  It was obvious which bed was Charlotte’s. It was covered with a stunning pink-and-silver satin eiderdown on which sat a pile of matching pillows and a handsome black Charlie Bear with the words ‘For Charlotte’ in a pink love-heart round his neck. The bed was in prime position by the window with a bureau beside it and a beautiful carved rosewood chest at its foot.

  The other two beds had also been given the personal touch and Lily wrinkled her nose in dismay as she noticed a hot-pink plush pillow with the name ‘Gemma’ embroidered across it in bright green thread.

  ‘Whose bed is that?’ asked Lily, nodding towards the remaining bed on which lay a beautiful intricately worked patchwork quilt.

  ‘Mine,’ said Phoebe, wandering in and flopping onto it.

  ‘Gorgeous bedspread,’ said Lily.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Phoebe. ‘My grandmother hand-stitched it for me. It’s kind of an heirloom.’

  She looked as though she might have said more but Charlotte frowned at her and said brusquely, ‘You’ll be sharing a wardrobe with Gemma – one side each – and you’re expected to keep it and your part of the room tidy.’

  ‘Okay,’ replied Lily.

  ‘Breakfast is at seven-thirty, classes start at nine – unless you have an early elective. Assembly is at eight-thirty on Mondays and Fridays. Lights out is at ten and weekend curfew is midnight, except for seniors who can be in by one. See Mrs Wilson if you need a weekend pass.’ Charlotte tapped the mobile phone on her bureau. ‘Oh, and mobile phones are banned outside our rooms Monday to Friday.’

  Lily looked surprised. ‘That seems harsh.’

  ‘We’re here to learn, not spend our time on social media. And if you get caught we all pay the penalty, so please leave your phone in your room.’

  Lily saluted. ‘Aye, aye, Captain,’ she said and was glad to see a flash of annoyance on Charlotte’s face. It felt good to have put even a tiny dent in the English girl’s composure.

  Charlotte continued, ‘First day back we only have two classes: Voice, then Movement. You can wear either jeans or your blacks to Voice, but you have to wear blacks for Movement. You won’t have time to change after the Dramaturge, so you’ll probably want to put your kit in your locker and change between classes.’

  ‘Great,’ said Lily.

  ‘Bathroom’s down the hall, you already saw the common room, and you’re welcome to do your homework or practise lines in one of the rehearsal rooms if you don’t want to do it in here.’ Charlotte paused. ‘Which brings us to . . .’ She glanced at Phoebe. ‘Where’s Gemma? She’s supposed to be here –’

  ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Gemma came hurrying in. ‘The Dane asked me to
show a couple of the Pendragon boys the way to the gym.’

  ‘Were they cute?’ asked Phoebe. ‘The Dragon boys I saw on my way to breakfast were gorgeous.’ She sighed. ‘Such a pity we missed the first round of the Dramaturge this morning.’

  ‘I saw it,’ said Lily before she could stop herself.

  ‘You weren’t meant to,’ said Gemma crossly. ‘First years were supposed to be at the Welcome Breakfast.’

  ‘Guess I missed it,’ said Lily, shrugging her shoulders and trying not to feel too triumphant at having scored one over Gemma. She turned to Phoebe and smiled. ‘But you’re right, the Pendragon boys are definitely hot – even in masks and cloaks.’

  ‘Masks and cloaks,’ echoed Phoebe dreamily. ‘I can just imagine. What play were they doing?’

  ‘I’m not sure, it was kind of hard to tell, but I –’

  ‘Ground rules,’ said Charlotte abruptly. ‘You need to understand some things.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Lily, dropping onto her bed and trying to look relaxed.

  ‘First off, you’re only rooming with us because ours is the biggest bedroom and can most easily take a fourth bed.’

  ‘From which I can tell you’re all really excited to see me,’ said Lily.

  Charlotte pretended she hadn’t heard. ‘Secondly, just because the Duck, the Drake and the Dane have assigned you to us, doesn’t mean you’re our responsibility. We don’t want you here and we’re not –’

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Lily, waving her hand, ‘I get that the Drake is Marshall Drake, the Director, and the Dane is Arathula Dane, but who the heck is the Duck?’

  ‘Jemima Potter,’ said Phoebe before anyone else could speak. ‘She’s the Artistic Director – though you’d never know it to look at her – but she’s a total genius when it comes to stage design and scenery and art and stuff. She was at your audition . . .’ Phoebe’s voice trailed away and she looked uncertainly at Charlotte.

  Lily felt as if the temperature in the room dropped several degrees at the mention of her audition. She said lightly, ‘Jemima Potter was the woman with all the scarves.’

  Phoebe nodded. ‘That’s her. She’s called the Duck because she tends to get all anxious and kind of fluffy whenever she’s working on a new idea – a bit like Jemima Puddle-duck –’

  ‘Who?’ asked Lily.

  ‘Haven’t you read Beatrix Potter – the story of Jemima Puddle-duck?’ asked Charlotte scornfully.

  Lily shook her head. ‘Sorry, I guess I missed that one.’

  ‘You probably haven’t heard of Shakespeare either,’ said Gemma in a catty voice.

  ‘No, who’s he?’ replied Lily sarcastically. Maybe an all-out fight with fox-faced Gemma would help clear the air.

  ‘You think you’re so –’ began Gemma, her face flushing.

  ‘Enough,’ snapped Charlotte. ‘The fact is, we’re stuck with each other for a whole year. So, whether we like it or not, we’re going to have to make this work.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Lily, suppressing a sudden urge to grin. Charlotte didn’t know about her one-term trial. And if Charlotte didn’t know then probably none of the other students knew either. A tidal wave of relief washed over her.

  Suddenly Lily didn’t care if her roommates wanted her there or not. She was at the London Drama Academy, she wasn’t going to high school in Paris, and she had a whole term in which to show Marshall Drake, Arathula Dane, Jemima Potter, and everybody else that she had what it took to be a great actor.

  Assembly was in the drama hall and Lily found her own way there. Charlotte and the others had made it clear they didn’t want her hanging around them so she ran ahead and followed the steady stream of students into the hall.

  Inside the door she stopped and looked around.

  The first time Lily had seen the drama hall had been at summer school and she’d been struck by how different it was from the simple bare halls she was used to rehearsing in back home. Solomon Thorngold, who’d built the Academy, had created a space that was more like a grand ballroom than a place to learn acting.

  Although it was only half the size of the main Academy theatre, where Lily had done her audition, the drama hall was almost as opulent, with pillars and scrollwork and a high, elliptical ceiling that was so brilliantly lit that Lily could practically see the faces of the figures in the plaster bas-relief that decorated it. Around the walls the millionaire had commissioned a series of life-size paintings depicting the legendary English actress Sarah Siddons in her greatest roles. Lily loved the portraits of Lady Macbeth, Desdemona, Ophelia and Rosalind, but her favourite was the painting of Mrs Siddons as the Tragic Muse, which hung above the huge wooden entrance doors.

  All around her the hall was filling rapidly and up on the stage she could see the Academy staff filing in to take their places. She’d had so much fun in here for those two weeks of summer school with Brett and Gina . . .

  Charlotte entered the hall and swept past Lily as if she wasn’t there. Behind her came Gemma and Phoebe with half a dozen first years hurrying after them. As they moved towards the front few rows, people smiled and beckoned, sliding across to make room for them.

  Lily hesitated. Were first years meant to sit together? Should she join them in the front rows or just sit anywhere? She felt an unfamiliar anxiety creep across her skin. She’d never had to worry about stuff like this before. She’d always known where she belonged.

  ‘. . . and her dad is Philip de Tourney.’ Lily’s head snapped round at the sound of her father’s name. A group of students were chattering loudly as they filed into the row behind her.

  ‘I heard he left a big fat cheque on the Director’s desk.’

  ‘I heard it was a wad of cash.’

  ‘Apparently he gave the Drake fifty thousand reasons to let her in.’

  ‘She can’t be much good if she had to buy her way into the LDA.’

  ‘Has anyone seen her? What’s she like?’

  Lily didn’t wait to hear any more. She spun away, the humiliation rising in her cheeks as she headed for the exit.

  But she was too late. One of the seniors was already closing the heavy wooden doors. Everyone else had sat down.

  She turned back and moved quickly along the centre aisle, desperate to find a seat. She could see the staff staring at her from the stage and to her right and left students gazed at her as if she were an alien or an exotic animal. No one called her name or waved her over as they would have done back home.

  Lily felt the panic intensify as she neared the front; the thought of having to turn around and retrace her steps in front of the entire school sent a wave of nausea through her. She wondered how many of the whispered conversations around her were repeats of the horrible lies she’d just heard. It made her tremble with rage and humiliation. She spotted a couple of vacant seats in the middle of a row, but knew she couldn’t face pushing past so many people. What if they all believed she’d bought her way into the Academy?

  And then something miraculous happened. As she turned, a boy shifted sideways and lightly touched the space beside him.

  Lily dropped into the empty seat and whispered, ‘Thanks’, before the hall fell silent as Marshall Drake stepped up to the podium.

  ‘Welcome to you all,’ he said. ‘So begins another new year at the Academy and I am sure it will be an outstanding one. The Dramaturge is underway and I am looking forward to congratulating this year’s champion as well as receiving the usual, er . . . souvenir.’ He stroked his pointed beard. ‘As some of you already know, our seniors will be particularly busy this term as they prepare for their roles in the new Quentin Tarantino film, part of which will be filmed at the Academy in December.’

  There was a sudden hubbub of conversation and Lily could hear the word ‘Tarantino’ ricocheting around the hall like bullets from a machine gun. Beside her, the boy was whispering intensely to his neighbours.

  The Director held up his hand for silence. ‘Because of the film, this term we have decided to break with trad
ition and allow the first years to produce the Christmas play.’ He smiled at the sudden buzz of excitement that rose from the front few rows.

  ‘As most of you know,’ he continued, ‘the Christmas play is the first Academy performance of the year and the climax of the autumn term. We expect a high standard and I am sure you will not let us down.’

  Lily could see people nodding and nudging one another, and she felt a sudden thrill of excitement at the thought of her first Academy production. She wondered what it would be.

  ‘You have until Friday to choose your play,’ continued Marshall Drake. ‘Keeping in mind that your part in the Christmas play puts each of you in the running for the Thorngold Trophy; your class director, Dr Frank, will advise you on a suitable production. She will let me know when you have reached consensus.’ He looked around the hall. ‘I know you are all keen to see the rest of the Dramaturge so I will close by reminding you that the South Tower is still off limits to students and that, despite this morning’s festivities, classes begin in earnest immediately after lunch.’ The Director smiled. ‘As always, we expect great things of each of you, but remember . . .’ Marshall Drake paused as the staff and students rose as one and cried:

  ‘All the world’s a stage,

  And all the men and women merely players;

  They have their exits and their entrances,

  And one man in his time plays many parts!’

  CHAPTER 8

  The Dramaturge kept Lily enthralled until lunchtime.

  It was a bit disappointing watching it alone. The moment assembly had ended, about six people had grabbed the boy next to her and demanded that he tell them everything he knew about Quentin Tarantino’s new film, thwarting her plan to ask him to join her.

  Lily had watched him go, surrounded by a chattering group almost as large as the one around Charlotte. She’d found her own way to the quad and watched the improv and the wordplay and the drama-duel alone.

  After it was over, she stood by herself in a corner of the quad nibbling on a piece of the pizza that the seniors had ordered for everybody. Lily had stood in line with the rest of the first years and hoped that someone would ask her to join their group.