Once I’ve got myself settled onto my train back to Brighton, the south London suburbs whizzing past, I think about Megan and Posey—two totally different girls with similar dreams. One has all the confidence in the world, but needs to focus on her technical ability. The other has all the talent and technique, but none of the confidence.
Since going on the world tour with Noah, I’ve seen a lot of stars performing onstage—The Sketch, Leah Brown, and, of course, Noah himself. They all have different styles, but one thing they all have in common is that special magic—that charisma—that draws our eyes towards them and holds them there. Star power? X factor . . . ?
Whatever it’s called, I’ve seen it through my camera lens too. And it’s nothing to do with just being famous: Elliot has it in spades, but neither Megan nor Posey is quite there yet.
My phone buzzes, letting me know I have a new email. To my surprise, it’s from Posey. I open it.
Dear Penny,
I wanted to write to you to say thank you so much for being there yesterday. Sometimes I feel so alone in this place—but you’ve made me feel so much better. You understand that my stage fright isn’t just something I can sweep under the rug and pretend isn’t there. You’re the first person who hasn’t told me to “just get on with it” and that means a lot.
I know we probably won’t get a chance to meet again as I’ll be going home, but I wanted to thank you anyway.
Posey xx
Reading her email makes me even more determined to help. The only person I know who’s spent any time on a theatre stage is Mum. I remember Mum telling me that she suffered from stage fright (during what she refers to as “her lost years” in Paris), and I’m sure she knows a few strategies to deal with it. It seems like the other students at Madame Laplage can be pretty ruthless when it comes to fears and anxieties. At least I know that Mum will give a sympathetic ear.
I hit reply and type up a quick email back to Posey.
Posey! So great to hear from you.
Are you free next weekend? My mum was an actress back in the 80s in Paris. Why don’t you take the train to Brighton and you can meet her? Plus, it would be great to hang out. I can show you the sights, like the Pier, and we can go shopping in the Lanes.
Penny x
Now I can only wait and hope that she’s able to come. I know that Mum would be able to help her, if only to reassure her that she’s not alone.
That email sent, I lean my head against the train window. The London streets have disappeared, replaced by the rolling green hills of the English countryside. For once it’s not even raining.
My mind drifts back to my own recent panic attack—and Callum, the common room, and Megan’s new way of life. Was it the attention I was receiving from Callum that made me feel so unsettled? I think it was the fact I felt OK with the attention from Callum. It felt new and exciting. I may have even been a bit flirty, and maybe it all got a bit too much to handle. Could this mean there is actually life beyond Noah? That is, if Callum isn’t completely put off by the fact I’ve run home with no explanation?
He still asked for your number, a little voice reminds me.
I jump as my phone buzzes with a text. Could it be . . . but no, it’s not Callum, it’s Mum.
Are you on your way home yet? Big surprise waiting for you when you get back!! Xx
A big surprise . . . could that mean Noah?
I cringe as my treacherous heart leaps from one boy to the next.
Instead, I take out my camera and spend the rest of the journey flipping through the photos I’ve taken. There’s more to life than just boys—and this camera is going to get me through.
Chapter Eight
As I walk up to our front door, I do a double take. Sitting in our front bay window is a small doll staring out onto the street as if she’s waiting for someone to return home. She has wild strands of fiery red hair and her clothes have changed since I last saw her; now she’s wearing a pink tutu and a bright yellow jumper—a far cry from the antique, Edwardian-style dress she’d worn when I first took her home. Still, the tutu and jumper are more appealing to her current five-year-old owner.
But if Princess Autumn is here . . .
I frown. That can only mean . . .
The door swings open and another familiar figure appears at the top of the stone steps. “Penny!” she squeals with delight.
“Bella!”
Noah’s pint-sized sister careers down the steps towards me, jumping into my arms. She wraps her legs round my waist and I hug her tight. “It’s so good to see you! But wow, how much you’ve grown in only a few months!”
“I’ve missed you, Princess Penny!”
“And I’ve missed you.” I kiss the top of her head as I place her back down on the floor.
She grabs my hand and begins to tug me towards the house. “Hurry! Your daddy is making me pancakes with smiley faces!”
“Ooh, that’s his speciality!” I say, unable to hide the huge grin on my face, even though my mind is very confused. I follow her up the steps and into the house.
Standing in the door to our living room is the elegant silhouette of Sadie Lee, Noah’s grandmother. As she hears me approach, she turns round and beams with her warm smile. “Penny! It’s so good to see you, honey. You’re looking well.” She embraces me with two kisses on the cheek. Her previously long grey hair has been cut into a chic bob. With her high cheekbones and sparkling eyes, she’s the most sophisticated grandmother I’ve ever met.