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Authors: Carole Wilkinson
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audition?”
“Okay.”
He handed her his lyrics. They finished their coffee in silence.
Taleb picked up Velvet’s phone. “Why does it say it’s 9.20 a.m.?”
“That’s the time in Dubai. Just add six hours.”
“Right. It’s nearly home time.”
He felt around in his pockets and pulled out a dollar fifty, a toothbrush and a plectrum.
“Lend me two dollars? I’ll pay you back next week.”
C H A P TE R 12
Velvet watched from the back of the hall where no one could see her. The other three girls were up on the stage.
“Okay, Taleb’s played the song for you,” Mr MacDonald said as he handed them copies of the lyrics. “Now you all get a chance to audition for the part of Lady Anne.”
His ploy to give the part to Mei Hua seemed to be working. Hailie and Roula looked terrified and were trying to blend into the curtains. Mei Hua stood centre stage as if she belonged there.
“Roula, you go first.”
Taleb played the guitar introduction.
Roula had transformed from a loudmouth whose speaking voice could be heard from the other side of the oval, into someone too timid to sing in front of an audience of seven. It took three guitar intros before she finally had the courage to open her mouth. Her singing voice was whispery and hesitant. When it came to a high note she didn’t even try. At the end of the song Taleb didn’t say anything, he just stood tapping his foot impatiently.
“I’m not feeling so good today,” Roula explained. “I’ve got laryngitis because I was singing in a talent contest last night. It’s going to be on TV. I might win a sports car.”
“You were fine, Roula,” Mr MacDonald said.
Hailie strode to the front of the stage. “Let me have a go.”
Seeing Roula fail miserably had given her new confidence, but somehow the note that Taleb intended was never the one that she hit. Sometimes it was just above, sometimes just below. Most of the time, it was miles off. Everyone was wincing. Everyone but Hailie, who launched into the chorus pretending to hold a microphone and making dramatic hand movements like a contestant in a TV talent show. The others held their breath when she hit the high note, or at least one within an octave of it. She ended on a D flat instead of a D with her arms spread wide. No one spoke.
Mr MacDonald had a smug smile on his face. “Okay, now it’s Mei Hua’s turn.”
Mei Hua stood straight as a rod and projected the words to the back of the hall like missiles – or at least an approximation of the words, as her English was minimal. Mr MacDonald nodded his head in time to the music and smiled encouragingly, ignoring the scowls of his other students. Mei Hua had a strange Chinese sense of beat that was nothing like the rhythm Taleb was strumming on his guitar. He stopped playing.
“Why does she make it sound so cheerful? She’s supposed to be sad.”
No one actually spoke to Mei Hua, they just complained to Mr MacDonald about her. Mr MacDonald pantomimed tearful sadness. Mei Hua nodded and had another go. This time she wailed with loud, exaggerated grief. Taleb tolerated it for a verse and half the chorus, gritting his teeth harder and harder with each bar. Then he played a crashing Toxic Shock chord and stopped. Mei Hua carried on regardless.
“Someone shut her up!” Taleb yelled.
Mr MacDonald pretended he didn’t know what was wrong. Mei Hua came to the end of the final verse, stopped singing and resumed her annoying smile. Taleb spoke through clenched teeth.
“She can’t sing this song. It just won’t work. We should let Velvet have a go.”
“Velvet’s not here,” Mr MacDonald said.
“Yes, I am.” Velvet emerged from the shadows. She walked up to the stage. She’d never been more nervous in her life, but Taleb didn’t give her much time to think about changing her mind. He played the introduction and counted her in. Her voice wasn’t perfect, but it was strong and tuneful and she’d memorised the words. By the time she got
“Okay.”
He handed her his lyrics. They finished their coffee in silence.
Taleb picked up Velvet’s phone. “Why does it say it’s 9.20 a.m.?”
“That’s the time in Dubai. Just add six hours.”
“Right. It’s nearly home time.”
He felt around in his pockets and pulled out a dollar fifty, a toothbrush and a plectrum.
“Lend me two dollars? I’ll pay you back next week.”
C H A P TE R 12
Velvet watched from the back of the hall where no one could see her. The other three girls were up on the stage.
“Okay, Taleb’s played the song for you,” Mr MacDonald said as he handed them copies of the lyrics. “Now you all get a chance to audition for the part of Lady Anne.”
His ploy to give the part to Mei Hua seemed to be working. Hailie and Roula looked terrified and were trying to blend into the curtains. Mei Hua stood centre stage as if she belonged there.
“Roula, you go first.”
Taleb played the guitar introduction.
Roula had transformed from a loudmouth whose speaking voice could be heard from the other side of the oval, into someone too timid to sing in front of an audience of seven. It took three guitar intros before she finally had the courage to open her mouth. Her singing voice was whispery and hesitant. When it came to a high note she didn’t even try. At the end of the song Taleb didn’t say anything, he just stood tapping his foot impatiently.
“I’m not feeling so good today,” Roula explained. “I’ve got laryngitis because I was singing in a talent contest last night. It’s going to be on TV. I might win a sports car.”
“You were fine, Roula,” Mr MacDonald said.
Hailie strode to the front of the stage. “Let me have a go.”
Seeing Roula fail miserably had given her new confidence, but somehow the note that Taleb intended was never the one that she hit. Sometimes it was just above, sometimes just below. Most of the time, it was miles off. Everyone was wincing. Everyone but Hailie, who launched into the chorus pretending to hold a microphone and making dramatic hand movements like a contestant in a TV talent show. The others held their breath when she hit the high note, or at least one within an octave of it. She ended on a D flat instead of a D with her arms spread wide. No one spoke.
Mr MacDonald had a smug smile on his face. “Okay, now it’s Mei Hua’s turn.”
Mei Hua stood straight as a rod and projected the words to the back of the hall like missiles – or at least an approximation of the words, as her English was minimal. Mr MacDonald nodded his head in time to the music and smiled encouragingly, ignoring the scowls of his other students. Mei Hua had a strange Chinese sense of beat that was nothing like the rhythm Taleb was strumming on his guitar. He stopped playing.
“Why does she make it sound so cheerful? She’s supposed to be sad.”
No one actually spoke to Mei Hua, they just complained to Mr MacDonald about her. Mr MacDonald pantomimed tearful sadness. Mei Hua nodded and had another go. This time she wailed with loud, exaggerated grief. Taleb tolerated it for a verse and half the chorus, gritting his teeth harder and harder with each bar. Then he played a crashing Toxic Shock chord and stopped. Mei Hua carried on regardless.
“Someone shut her up!” Taleb yelled.
Mr MacDonald pretended he didn’t know what was wrong. Mei Hua came to the end of the final verse, stopped singing and resumed her annoying smile. Taleb spoke through clenched teeth.
“She can’t sing this song. It just won’t work. We should let Velvet have a go.”
“Velvet’s not here,” Mr MacDonald said.
“Yes, I am.” Velvet emerged from the shadows. She walked up to the stage. She’d never been more nervous in her life, but Taleb didn’t give her much time to think about changing her mind. He played the introduction and counted her in. Her voice wasn’t perfect, but it was strong and tuneful and she’d memorised the words. By the time she got
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