Read Online Star Crazy Me by Jean Ure - Free Book Online

not on till ten, but I can leave a bit earlier.”
    I got in a panic at that and quickly said it was OK, I was quite happy going by bus.
    â€œIt’s no problem,” said Mum. “I might take the opportunity to do a bit of shopping.”
    The best laid plans of mice and men , as Nan used to chortle when things went wrong. They go agley . In other words, they fall to pieces, which is what mine did that morning. Mum insisted on giving me a lift almost to the very gates of the school. I reckon now she wanted to make sure I got there; at the time I was naïve enough to believe she was just trying to say thank you for all my hard work the night before. All the washing-up, and dinner on the table.
    Well, ha ha, all her best laid plans went agley, as well. Ravenspark Road is part of the one-way systemand she had to let me out at the top, so as soon as she’d driven off I simply turned round and headed back to the bus stop, praying I wouldn’t bump into anyone from school, and especially not Indy or Josh. I didn’t, as it happened, but it was quite nerve-racking at one point when I had to dive down a side road and lurk behind a lamp post to avoid three of the kids from my class. One of them was this girl called Abi Walters who’s a bosom buddy of Marigold. She was shrieking and showing off, and the other two were encouraging her. I didn’t know what she was showing off about, but once in the past she’d had everyone in stitches pretending to be me, doing what she called her “wobble walk”. Seeing her that morning just made me all the more determined never, ever to go back.
    It was quarter to ten when I got off the bus at Sheepscombe. There were quite a lot of people about, but no kids cos they were all in school. I was glad about that. I didn’t want kids; they weren’t the ones I was singing for. They weren’t the ones I was dressed for. Ihad gone through my wardrobe (what there is of it) and carefully picked out clothes which I thought old people – and posh people – would approve of. No shorty tops showing my midriff. No miniskirts. Instead, I chose an ordinary baggy T-shirt (no rude logos) and a long floaty skirt, dark red, in tiers. I carried them with me in my schoolbag and changed in the loo in Tesco. They even had a long mirror in there so I could inspect myself. Marigold would have sneered, but you have to dress for the occasion. Nan always loved my long floaty skirt, and she was the one I was singing for.
    Down by the street market, opposite Marks & Spencer, there’s a paved area, with flowering shrubs and wooden benches, where old people sit and chat. I thought that would be a good place to position myself, so I took up a stand just by the entrance and put down my little tin bowl that I had brought with me. The bowl had belonged to Nan’s dog, Fluffy, that she had had when she first came to live with us. Mum had hated poor Fluffy cos she was old and starting to get a bitsmelly, but Nan had loved her, so I had, too. For Nan’s sake, really. I reckoned her drinking bowl might bring me luck.
    I was so nervous before I began that my throat closed up and I had visions of standing there, totally dumb, just blowing out bubbles of air. But then, lo and behold! A miracle occurred. The minute I played the first few chords I felt my voice come surging up inside me like a great tidal wave, and I knew that all I had to do was just open my mouth and sing . I think it took some of the old people by surprise! I saw heads jerk up and turn in my direction. But once they realised what was going on they seemed to enjoy it, cos I soon had quite a crowd, all smiling and nodding, and sometimes even trying to sing along (which I did my best not to mind).
    I gave it everything I’d got, in case Nan was up there somewhere, listening. I did so want her to be proud of me! I sang all her old favourites, in my best Judy Garland voice. Full-throated, flat out. The old