pathetic. “Delete message!”
The phone took no notice of her. A female voice said something in Spanish. The message was sent.
Velvet managed to make the coffee last for an hour and a half, and began writing a draft of her essay introduction. She didn’t notice Taleb come in and was able to look genuinely surprised when he sat down at the table with her. He didn’t say anything, but signalled for a coffee like he did that sort of thing all the time. Velvet carefully finished the sentence she was writing before she laid down her pen.
“What brings you here?”
Taleb stared at the little red devil hanging above their table for a while before he spoke. “We can’t give up on this play, you know that.”
“Why not? I’ve got other plans.”
“Like what?”
Velvet didn’t answer. She had sent off her application to Endeavour, but she didn’t tell Taleb that she was planning on leaving Yarrabank.
He sipped his coffee. “We can still make the play happen.”
“We?”
“Yeah. It just needs someone to keep it on track.”
“And let the new girl have the lead role?”
“I’ve told Mr Mac I won’t write the songs unless he holds auditions for the girls’ parts. He’s bluffing when he says he doesn’t care if the play happens or not. It has to happen or he’ll be in trouble. If I don’t write the songs and you don’t write the script, there won’t be a play.”
A text arrived from Rhiannon. “Think texting in Spanish will impress me? Loser.”
Velvet had to face it. Her old friends had dropped her. She didn’t need a lot of convincing to continue with the play, but she let Taleb keep trying anyway.
“I bet you wouldn’t get a chance like this at your snobby girls’ school.”
“What? I wouldn’t get a chance to be insulted and yelled at?”
“You wouldn’t get a chance to produce your own show.”
Taleb was right. At St Theresa’s, Velvet had never been able to get a lead role in the school play. She’d only ever had the part of someone unimportant in the background. They never wrote their own scripts, and the Drama teacher did the directing.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said before … how it could be like … you know …” Taleb apparently had something on his mind, but was having trouble getting it out.
“Andrew Lloyd Webber?”
“It wouldn’t be anything like that,” he added hastily.
“No, but it could be the same concept.”
“A story – with songs.”
“And we can adapt the story a bit. It doesn’t have to be exactly like Shakespeare wrote it.”
“Yeah.” Taleb opened his guitar case. He had a sheet of paper with lyrics scribbled on it, much crossed out. “I’ve finished Lady Anne’s song. Do you want to hear it?”
Velvet nodded. The only other customers, two mums with kids in pushers, also listened as Taleb sang the song for her.
“
What do you do when those you loved
Are suddenly dead and gone?
My tears keep falling to the ground
I really can’t go on
.
“
Why aren’t the angels angry?
Why doesn’t lightning strike him dead?
Why aren’t the angels angry?
Why does he walk around instead?
“I curse the heart that had the heart
To do these dreadful deeds
.
It doesn’t change the way things are
The wound within still bleeds
.
“
Why aren’t the angels angry?
Why does he live and they stand by?
Why aren’t the angels angry?
Why is he here to see me cry?
”
The mums applauded.
Taleb fiddled with the tuning pegs. “It needs another verse.”
“It’s lovely,” Velvet said. Actually, it was possibly the most beautiful song she’d ever heard.
“The auditions for the girls’ parts are going to be in the hall next week,” Taleb said.
“In the hall?”
“Yeah. Mr Mac thinks it’ll make Hailie and Roula nervous, so that we’ll have to pick Mei Hua. He’s got Drago helping her with her English.”
Velvet laughed. “That’s ironic.”
Taleb strummed a chord. “Will you come and
The phone took no notice of her. A female voice said something in Spanish. The message was sent.
Velvet managed to make the coffee last for an hour and a half, and began writing a draft of her essay introduction. She didn’t notice Taleb come in and was able to look genuinely surprised when he sat down at the table with her. He didn’t say anything, but signalled for a coffee like he did that sort of thing all the time. Velvet carefully finished the sentence she was writing before she laid down her pen.
“What brings you here?”
Taleb stared at the little red devil hanging above their table for a while before he spoke. “We can’t give up on this play, you know that.”
“Why not? I’ve got other plans.”
“Like what?”
Velvet didn’t answer. She had sent off her application to Endeavour, but she didn’t tell Taleb that she was planning on leaving Yarrabank.
He sipped his coffee. “We can still make the play happen.”
“We?”
“Yeah. It just needs someone to keep it on track.”
“And let the new girl have the lead role?”
“I’ve told Mr Mac I won’t write the songs unless he holds auditions for the girls’ parts. He’s bluffing when he says he doesn’t care if the play happens or not. It has to happen or he’ll be in trouble. If I don’t write the songs and you don’t write the script, there won’t be a play.”
A text arrived from Rhiannon. “Think texting in Spanish will impress me? Loser.”
Velvet had to face it. Her old friends had dropped her. She didn’t need a lot of convincing to continue with the play, but she let Taleb keep trying anyway.
“I bet you wouldn’t get a chance like this at your snobby girls’ school.”
“What? I wouldn’t get a chance to be insulted and yelled at?”
“You wouldn’t get a chance to produce your own show.”
Taleb was right. At St Theresa’s, Velvet had never been able to get a lead role in the school play. She’d only ever had the part of someone unimportant in the background. They never wrote their own scripts, and the Drama teacher did the directing.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said before … how it could be like … you know …” Taleb apparently had something on his mind, but was having trouble getting it out.
“Andrew Lloyd Webber?”
“It wouldn’t be anything like that,” he added hastily.
“No, but it could be the same concept.”
“A story – with songs.”
“And we can adapt the story a bit. It doesn’t have to be exactly like Shakespeare wrote it.”
“Yeah.” Taleb opened his guitar case. He had a sheet of paper with lyrics scribbled on it, much crossed out. “I’ve finished Lady Anne’s song. Do you want to hear it?”
Velvet nodded. The only other customers, two mums with kids in pushers, also listened as Taleb sang the song for her.
“
What do you do when those you loved
Are suddenly dead and gone?
My tears keep falling to the ground
I really can’t go on
.
“
Why aren’t the angels angry?
Why doesn’t lightning strike him dead?
Why aren’t the angels angry?
Why does he walk around instead?
“I curse the heart that had the heart
To do these dreadful deeds
.
It doesn’t change the way things are
The wound within still bleeds
.
“
Why aren’t the angels angry?
Why does he live and they stand by?
Why aren’t the angels angry?
Why is he here to see me cry?
”
The mums applauded.
Taleb fiddled with the tuning pegs. “It needs another verse.”
“It’s lovely,” Velvet said. Actually, it was possibly the most beautiful song she’d ever heard.
“The auditions for the girls’ parts are going to be in the hall next week,” Taleb said.
“In the hall?”
“Yeah. Mr Mac thinks it’ll make Hailie and Roula nervous, so that we’ll have to pick Mei Hua. He’s got Drago helping her with her English.”
Velvet laughed. “That’s ironic.”
Taleb strummed a chord. “Will you come and
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