tapping feet grew louder.
‘Oh my God!’ shrieked Seema white trousers gleaming where she now stood where she had first come in at the side of auditorium. ‘Oh my God! Tap shoes! They’re wearing tap shoes! All them sweaty little feet in metal and leather! Oh my God! Oh my God!’
Emily thought that if she were in charge of this place – which she was not because if the past was anything to go by, then for the rest of her life she was only ever going to have crappy administrative jobs, working for others, for a pitiful wage – she would send Seema on a management course to help her cope with change. Victoria had decided at the last minute to put the children in tap shoes for the final number. So what? So far, it sounded great.
But Dr. Muriel was on her feet at the front now, waving her walking stick in the air. ‘Emily!’ she shouted. Dr. Muriel was not the sort to try to storm the stage at a children’s end-of-term show so she could join in the dancing – she had plenty of limelight during her day job, where she frequently addressed large conferences on her specialist subjects: ethics and philosophical conundrums. Even if Dr. Muriel did plan to storm the stage, there was no reason for her to call for Emily to join in. So it was something else…
Suddenly, Emily understood.
She jumped to her feet. She rushed to the technician’s desk where Dizzy was standing and began pulling at wires and plugs, screaming, ‘Turn it off! Turn it off!’ If she could just expose two live wires and touch them together, she might stand a chance of tripping the fuse and killing the power – if she didn’t kill herself first.
At the front, Dr. Muriel had whisked Morgana Blakely’s miniature top hat from her head and now skimmed it onto the stage, where it skidded across the boards, sparking as the mesh veil attached to the hat and the hat pins that had secured it caught on a live wire or wires poking from beneath the stage, not far from the spot where Victoria had been performing her Wizard of Oz routine.
Morgana got to her feet and took action. ‘No children on stage!’ she commanded. ‘Victoria, do you hear me? Graham! Don’t let the children on the stage!’
Graham the Tin Man appeared through the side door in the assembly hall nearest to the stage, trying to make sense of what was going on. Dr. Muriel didn’t hesitate. She grabbed his triangular hat and threw it towards the location of the exposed live wires on stage in front of her. She was a frequent guest lecturer on cruise ships and was an expert player of deck quoits (donut-shaped, heavyish objects made of rubber or rope, guaranteed not to bounce and go over the side), so her missile struck its target effectively. Sparks flew, and a hissing sound came from the stage.
In the background, the ominous thrumming of two hundred tap shoes continued, the children held at bay as Morgana had instructed, though it seemed Victoria was determined that, somehow or other, even if out of sight of the audience, the show would go on.
Dr. Muriel next threw her stick with its metal band around the tip (which didn’t have any effect, though it made an impressive rattling sound), then she removed her jacket and threw it metal-button side down, causing more sparks and then, at last – whether through Dr. Muriel’s interventions or Emily’s – the fuses blew, the lights went off. Everyone was safe.
There was silence. Even the tap shoes had ceased tapping. There was darkness except for smears of late-afternoon sunlight coming through the cracks in the blackout curtains that had been hung at the tall windows along the left-hand side of the auditorium. Then there was spontaneous, rapturous applause from children and parents, and whoops and whistles, and then the sound of scraping chairs as the audience got to their feet in a standing ovation. At the periphery of her vision, Emily caught a flash of white as Seema turned and ran out through the door at the back of the assembly
‘Oh my God!’ shrieked Seema white trousers gleaming where she now stood where she had first come in at the side of auditorium. ‘Oh my God! Tap shoes! They’re wearing tap shoes! All them sweaty little feet in metal and leather! Oh my God! Oh my God!’
Emily thought that if she were in charge of this place – which she was not because if the past was anything to go by, then for the rest of her life she was only ever going to have crappy administrative jobs, working for others, for a pitiful wage – she would send Seema on a management course to help her cope with change. Victoria had decided at the last minute to put the children in tap shoes for the final number. So what? So far, it sounded great.
But Dr. Muriel was on her feet at the front now, waving her walking stick in the air. ‘Emily!’ she shouted. Dr. Muriel was not the sort to try to storm the stage at a children’s end-of-term show so she could join in the dancing – she had plenty of limelight during her day job, where she frequently addressed large conferences on her specialist subjects: ethics and philosophical conundrums. Even if Dr. Muriel did plan to storm the stage, there was no reason for her to call for Emily to join in. So it was something else…
Suddenly, Emily understood.
She jumped to her feet. She rushed to the technician’s desk where Dizzy was standing and began pulling at wires and plugs, screaming, ‘Turn it off! Turn it off!’ If she could just expose two live wires and touch them together, she might stand a chance of tripping the fuse and killing the power – if she didn’t kill herself first.
At the front, Dr. Muriel had whisked Morgana Blakely’s miniature top hat from her head and now skimmed it onto the stage, where it skidded across the boards, sparking as the mesh veil attached to the hat and the hat pins that had secured it caught on a live wire or wires poking from beneath the stage, not far from the spot where Victoria had been performing her Wizard of Oz routine.
Morgana got to her feet and took action. ‘No children on stage!’ she commanded. ‘Victoria, do you hear me? Graham! Don’t let the children on the stage!’
Graham the Tin Man appeared through the side door in the assembly hall nearest to the stage, trying to make sense of what was going on. Dr. Muriel didn’t hesitate. She grabbed his triangular hat and threw it towards the location of the exposed live wires on stage in front of her. She was a frequent guest lecturer on cruise ships and was an expert player of deck quoits (donut-shaped, heavyish objects made of rubber or rope, guaranteed not to bounce and go over the side), so her missile struck its target effectively. Sparks flew, and a hissing sound came from the stage.
In the background, the ominous thrumming of two hundred tap shoes continued, the children held at bay as Morgana had instructed, though it seemed Victoria was determined that, somehow or other, even if out of sight of the audience, the show would go on.
Dr. Muriel next threw her stick with its metal band around the tip (which didn’t have any effect, though it made an impressive rattling sound), then she removed her jacket and threw it metal-button side down, causing more sparks and then, at last – whether through Dr. Muriel’s interventions or Emily’s – the fuses blew, the lights went off. Everyone was safe.
There was silence. Even the tap shoes had ceased tapping. There was darkness except for smears of late-afternoon sunlight coming through the cracks in the blackout curtains that had been hung at the tall windows along the left-hand side of the auditorium. Then there was spontaneous, rapturous applause from children and parents, and whoops and whistles, and then the sound of scraping chairs as the audience got to their feet in a standing ovation. At the periphery of her vision, Emily caught a flash of white as Seema turned and ran out through the door at the back of the assembly
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