“What role do you have? My friend Megan is in the production too; it’s West Side Story, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s right! I’m playing Maria, the LEAD ROLE.” A small tremble shakes her shoulders. “Everyone had to audition and I hoped to get a small part, because it really helps your grades, but I certainly didn’t think I’d get a lead. Now I’m desperate to switch it for a less daunting part.” She nervously bites down on her already non-existent nails.
“You must be really good to get the lead,” I say, trying to hide my confusion—her version doesn’t fit with what I know from Megan, but I don’t want to contradict her while she’s so upset. “And yet I also understand totally about being afraid.” (The closest I’ve come to stage fright was the time my knickers were exposed to the whole school, but I know it’s not the same thing. That was about being frightened on a stage. Frightened of the gasps, the horror and the embarrassment of remembering I was wearing my oldest pair of frayed knickers.) Posey’s stage fright sounds like it runs a lot deeper. To know that you have a duty to perform but to be terrified of the very platform you’re supposed to love. “The whole reason I came outside,” I tell her, “is because I suffer from really bad panic attacks and anxiety.”
“Really? What helps you?” she asks, her big brown eyes open wide.
“Well, when I get anxious when I’m travelling, I wear my mum’s old cardigan—it’s like a security blanket. I guess you can’t really take a security blanket onstage with you!”
To my relief she giggles. “No, that probably wouldn’t work—unless we switched plays to Les Misérables and I could pretend it was my rags.”
To my surprise, she closes her eyes and starts singing the opening lines to “On My Own” from Les Misérables, her haunting voice drifting out across the water. She hits each note perfectly, but there’s a delicate tremor in her voice that delivers the emotion of the song straight to my heart. I feel my own tears spring up in my eyes.
Her delivery builds and builds until she hits the crescendo, barely pausing for breath. I can hardly breathe myself, shocked that such a powerful voice can come from such a tiny body. When she finishes, the final note lingering in the air, I burst into applause. But I’m not the only one—behind us a small crowd has gathered and they clap wildly.
Posey spins round, her face beetroot red, but she gives a little curtsey and a small smile to the crowd. Gradually, they disperse and then we are alone again.
“Posey, that was amazing! I know you’re not happy about it, but . . . I can see why they cast you as the lead.”
Her small smile droops. “Thanks, Penny. I used to love singing to people—when it was just me, on my own, with a microphone and maybe a piano. That way, if I messed up, it was only me who suffered. But if I screw up in this show, it’s not just about me. There are all the music students in the orchestra pit, the dance students in the chorus, the technical arts students doing the lighting and the sound work—not to mention all the other actors onstage. I’d be messing up for everyone. That’s why I can’t do it. So it’s back to Manchester for me.”
“I know what you mean,” I say. “I think that’s why I like photography. Just me and the camera.”
She looks up and smiles at me. “Thanks for understanding— it’s been good to talk to someone who doesn’t just think I should get over myself and do the role. You said you were just visiting someone. Is it someone in drama?”
I nod. “Yeah . . . her name is Megan.”
“Megan Barker?”
I nod again.
Posey bites her bottom lip. “I don’t really know her that well, but she had a good audition. Did you know her from home?”
“Yeah, I’m from Brighton.”
Posey’s eyes light up. “Ooh, I’ve heard a lot about Brighton and I’ve always wanted to go there but never had the opportunity.”
“It’s pretty far from Manchester,” I say with a laugh.
“True!” Posey looks down at her watch. “I . . . I’d better be getting back. I should probably call my mum again. She’s hard on me, but she’ll be worried too.” She picks up her rucksack and turns away.
“Hang on, wait a second. Can we swap emails? Then if you ever need to talk to anyone again . . .”
She nods and takes her phone out of her pocket. “That’d be great.” I type my email and number into her phone, so she can WhatsApp me.
“Anytime, OK?” I tell her.
Posey leaps forward and wraps me in a hug. I squeeze back, then together we walk back to Madame Laplage.
Chapter Six
When I head back to the common room, Megan is waiting for me just outside the door. She’s looking down at her phone, but her eyes are lit up like stars. If she’s noticed that I’ve been gone for a while, she doesn’t show it.
“Everything OK?” I ask, as I approach.
“Are you kidding me? Never better. That hot guy Luke asked for my number and he’s just invited me to his flat party next weekend!” She turns her phone round to show me a Snap of Luke—topless—with his address and a time written across it.
“Wow,” I say, not entirely sure what my reaction should be.
“Right? He’s so fit. All the girls in my class are going to be so jealous. Megan Barker’s going to be back on top!” She links her arm through mine and lays her head on my shoulder as we walk back up towards her room. “Penny, this has been the best day. Thank you.”