Drama at Silver Spires by Ann Bryant Page B

from Little Women . I’d read the whole book twice and the second time I’d tried to visualize every chapter as a scene in Castles in the Air, so now I was absolutely desperate to find out whether my imaginings were right. A plan started to take shape in my head, and one afternoon at the end of school I carried it out.
    As soon as the others had gone to clubs, and Mia had gone to choir, I made my way to the new theatre and stood outside the door for ages trying to hear what was going on inside. I didn’t dare go in because everyone would turn and stare and Miss Pritchard would probably send me away. So instead, I went upstairs and crept in through the back door at the top of the tiered seating area that looks down onto the stage. No one looked up, because they were so absorbed in what they were doing, and even if they had done they probably wouldn’t have seen me because I stayed right at the back where there were no house lights and it was quite dark.
    I’d never been up here before. It felt magic and I sat there for a whole hour and a half just staring down, watching the play taking shape. It was the best hour and a half I’d had for ages. All my feelings against Miss Pritchard fizzled away because I had to admit she was a brilliant director. She stopped the action loads of times to make comments about the way someone was saying a line, or to alter people’s positions onstage or something. The part that was being rehearsed was the bit near the beginning of the story with Susie Perkins in it. My eyes were on stalks.
    â€œJust relax when you walk to the front, Jemima,” said Miss Pritchard. “Saunter with a bit of a swagger, like this, and toss your head. Then, when you suddenly freeze in fear, it’ll be much funnier because of the contrast.”
    I knew exactly what Miss Pritchard meant and I felt a massive jolt of jealousy that it wasn’t me down there playing the part of Susie. I thought the general standard of acting was easily as good as some of the teenage actors I’d seen on telly, though, and that was because Miss Pritchard was just the best director. I couldn’t wait till Year Nine when she’d be teaching me .
    My eyes were glued to Cara whenever she was onstage. I so wanted her to be rubbish and I was dying for her to go wrong and for Miss Pritchard to have a go at her. But she didn’t go wrong, and I realized with a horrible dull aching feeling that it was true what everyone said. She was one of the best actors on that stage. A girl called Rebecca, who was playing the part of Meg, kept forgetting her words, and at one point Miss Pritchard suddenly went mad, and slapped her script against the grand piano, demanding to know why Rebecca still hadn’t learned her lines. I had to stifle my gasp of shock, and shrank down in my seat, watching in amazement as the whole cast seemed to melt away till there was only Rebecca left out in the open, going red and stammering that she was sorry.
    â€œI should think so too! It strikes me that you’re only semi-committed to this play. I want this scene word-perfect for tomorrow’s rehearsal.”
    But as soon as she’d finished blowing her top, Miss Pritchard was back to her calm self again and the rehearsal went on.
    Usually, time only whizzes by when I’m watching a really good programme on telly, but this rehearsal gripped me so much that ninety minutes honestly felt like twenty, and I couldn’t wait to come back the next day. The problem was, the next day seemed so far away. There was supper and prep and a whole night and assembly and a load of boring lessons to get through first. How was I going to bear it? I didn’t want to let go of the magic that the play was weaving in my mind, not even for a second, and I knew there was only one way to keep hold of it. I’d been watching some Year Sevens who’d been sitting in the front row all through the rehearsal and hadn’t been