Davina Dupree Predicts a Plot Page 4

  ‘I think we’d all feel awful,’ Arabella said, hanging her head and me and Erica nodded. My heart fell into my feet, thinking about how TERRIBLE and sad Lottie must have felt to have the whole school doubting her.

  ‘But where is she?’ I said. ‘If only we could find her, we could somehow make her feel better.’

  ‘That is a nice, kind thought,’ Mrs Fairchild’s eyes twinkled again. ‘But I fear you are asking the wrong questions. Perhaps instead of asking, “Where is Lottie?” You should be saying to yourselves, “Who is the real thief and how can we catch them?” She finished her tea and stood up, walking to the door. Our meeting with her was clearly at an end.

  ‘Blimey,’ Arabella whispered, as we walked away from her study. ‘She seemed pretty sure that Lottie wasn’t the thief, and she didn’t seem at all surprised to hear she was missing, did she?’

  ‘Nope,’ I said. ‘I think she knows what’s happened to Lottie, whatever that may be. But I think she wanted us to investigate further and find out who else might be the robber.’

  ‘And that,’ Arabella said, sighing. ‘Is going to be very difficult.’

  Tuesday 16th November

  Still no sign of Lottie, Diary.

  It’s been four days now, and rumours are sweeping through the school, (probably started by Cleo and Clarice), that Lottie’s been expelled for thieving. But after talking to Mrs Fairchild that just doesn’t seem likely. Arabella and I have been interviewing everyone who’s had things stolen, trying to see if the thief left any clues in any of the dorms but so far no one’s come up with any evidence.

  Now a different type of drama has occurred, and OH MY GOODNESS ME, what a drama it was.

  Basically, yesterday we were all in the Grand Hall as usual, rehearsing “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. I’d been painting a huge forest backdrop, putting in all sorts of shades of green to create a glade surrounded by tall evergreens. My hand was aching after all the painting so I asked Bridget and Ada from Emerald Class to take over painting the woodland creatures that peep out from behind the trees.

  Arabella wasn’t acting because Alfie and Stephania were coaching Cleo through Act Five, Scene One, concentrating on her part as a wall.

  ‘Can you uncross your arms for me love?’ Stephania said patiently. ‘I don’t think walls tend to fold their arms, do they?’

  ‘I don’t think people tend to act like walls,’ Cleo snapped.

  ‘Oh give me patience,’ Alfie yelled, throwing his script on the floor. ‘The girl can’t even act being a wall. A wall! It’s just a WALL how hard can it be.’ I was with Alfie on that one, Cleo did seem to be being rather difficult.

  ‘Now just hold two fingers up, love, at this point the wall needs to make a chink…’ Stephania was saying as I slid down further in my seat and turned to Arabella. We were sitting on the back row of seats having a chat.

  ‘I’m stumped,’ I said. ‘I mean really, the thief could be ANYONE that is on the school grounds, including any of the old Egmont girls. It could even be someone from Alfie’s entourage, there are so many of them and one of his people could be slipping out unnoticed every day.’

  ‘Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that,’ Arabella said, also sliding down in her seat and pulling a squashed bar of chocolate out of her pocket. She gave me a piece and we munched silently, watching Hannah, who plays the part of Puck, escort little Polly out of the hall, probably to the toilet.

  ‘It could even be Marcel’s new chef, Antoine,’ she said, licking her fingers. ‘Although he always seems very smiley. Or what about the new dinner lady?’

  ‘Yep, could be her,’ I said. ‘Or how about the gardener’s helper, that young man who’s started coming in to help clear the leaves. Or even Cleo and Clarice trying to frame Lottie because they’re such snobs?’

  ‘Yes,’ Arabella sighed. ‘Could be any of them. I know, why don’t we-‘

  There was a shriek from the stage and we shifted up to see what was going on.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Stephania uncrossed her long legs and stood up. She’d been sitting near Cleo in the middle of the stage, but now curled her fingers into fists and walked towards Alfie, who was standing, quivering, at the front. I think the shriek had come from him.

  ‘I said “What a surprise”,’ Alfie almost screamed the words, a bit of a change from his usual gravelly tones. ‘Miss Perfect Stephania is refusing to listen to common sense. AGAIN. I’m telling you, this child CANNOT ACT. I’m firing her, she’s ruining the play.’

  Cleo was doing the best impression of a wall she’d done all day, standing rigidly still in between the two adults, arms unfolded, only her eyes flicking from one to the other.

  ‘She’s a child, you pompous idiot, a CHILD,’ Stephania screamed, towering over Alfie. I’d never seen her so het up, it made goose-bumps spring up all over my arms. ‘You can’t fire a child. This is not one of your million dollar, boring, Hollywood flicks. This is a SCHOOL PLAY.’

  ‘Boring?’ Alfie yelled back. ‘I’ll tell you what’s boring, it’s those low budget television game shows you make. Listen sweet-pea, I’m in charge here, not you. Although your ego clearly doesn’t understand that.’

  ‘My ego?’ Stephania shouted. ‘What about your gigantic, inflated sense of self? It’s so big it’s crowding the rest of us out of this hall.’

  ‘Are you the director or am I?’ Alfie bawled. ‘Because last time I looked, Miss Smarty Pants, it was me. So why don’t you just be quiet and take some direction for once?’

  ‘I would take some direction if the director actually knew what he was talking about,’ Stephania spat. ‘It’s like working with a two year old.’

  ‘I’m the star here, NOT YOU.’ Alfie looked like he was about to throw himself on the floor and have a temper tantrum. Stephania turned and walked back to the chair. She bent down and picked up her bag.

  ‘I’m not staying here to be insulted like this,’ she said. She looked round the hall. ‘Sorry girls, but I resign. I can’t work with this imbecile for one moment longer.’ Sharp intakes of breath could be heard everywhere as we all watched Stephania turn and walk off stage left. (Melody told me that term too, it basically means right, not left, so complicated.com).

  ‘This is a circus, not a play,’ Alfie threw his script on the floor for the second time. ‘I’ve never worked under such conditions. Never. Come on team, let’s get out of here. I quit.’ He stormed off stage, short legs working hard. In seconds his team of hairdressers, drink carriers and phone holders had also vanished.

  ‘I’m not ruining the play and I am a good actress,’ Cleo threw herself on the floor and beat her fists up and down, as Clarice and her mother ran up the steps.

  ‘Drama queen,’ Arabella whispered.

  ‘We’re doomed,’ Clarice moaned as her mother patted Cleo’s shoulder. ‘Now I’ll never be a Hollywood actress.’

  I rolled my eyes and sprang up out of my seat.

  ‘Come with me,’ I pulled Arabella upright. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  We ran down to the stage and climbed up.

  ‘Listen,’ I tried to shout above the chatter that had broken out all around the hall. ‘If you just listen for a moment, I’ve thought of an idea.’ A hush fell at the same moment that I remembered I didn’t like being on a stage with people looking at me. Arabella must have sensed my fear.

  ‘Keep going,’ she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. ‘You’re doing a great job.’

  ‘Um…’ I said. ‘Right…The thing is, I think I can step in here. You all know most of your lines and when to come on and off stage. I know you do, because as head stage hand I’ve been at most of the rehearsals watching. So basically, all you have to do is keep practising.’ I took a deep breath, feeling a little more confident.

  ‘Look, in a week’s time it will be opening night and most of our parents, friends and relations are coming to watch. We can’t let them down, so let’s do our best. The show must go on! Who’s with me?’

  Arabella and Melody’s
hands shot straight up. Then so did Erica’s, Lynne’s and Moira’s. One by one, everyone raised their hands except Cleo, Clarice and Mrs Blinkham.

  ‘So you think you’re a big shot director all of a sudden do you, Davina Dupree?’ Cleo stood up, brushed herself down and sauntered towards me. ‘Think you can follow in Alfie Calpone’s footsteps?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes Cleo, I do,’ I sighed, putting my hands on my hips to try and appear stronger than I felt. ‘So you can either join in or explain to Mrs Fairchild and Mrs Pumpernickle why you’re the only first year sitting in the audience on opening night, with someone else, maybe even me, playing the part of the wall.’

  Cleo shot me her filthiest look but said no more and retreated behind Clarice.

  ‘Right everyone, are we ready?’ I yelled. ‘Let’s start from the beginning. Positions please, lights down, let’s go.’

  ‘Wow, you’re amazing. Go Davina,’ Arabella whispered as she ran to her place.

  I can tell you one thing, it’s EXHAUSTING.COM being a director. I’ve been trying to think about the thief since we got back to our dorm, but… Zzzzzzzzzz…..

  Thursday 18th November

  Utter disaster, Diary!

  Arabella and I have been robbed. We’d just got back from a REALLY long day of rehearsals and were both so tired we’d planned to make our favourite hot chocolate with fudge and marshmallows as a treat. But when we walked in to our dorm, we saw UTTER CARNAGE.COM!

  My duvet was on the floor and my draws had been emptied out all over my bed. The black, silk bag for my collection of precious stones that Dad had brought back from one of his secret spy missions in the pacific was there, but the stones had gone.

  Arabella stomped round the dorm in a rage, checking her stuff.

  ‘My white gold trinket box has been taken,’ she thundered. ‘And look, all our clothes have been thrown on the floor. Ooh I REALLY want to find whoever’s done this and shake them till they-‘

  ‘Calm down,’ I said, not feeling very calm myself. ‘Stop kicking things around, we shouldn’t disturb the crime scene until we’ve investigated properly. The thief may have left some sort of clue about his or hers identity.’

  I picked my way through the debris, staring at the scattered possessions, trying to spot anything that didn’t belong to either of us. Arabella lay on her stomach on her bed, with her feet hooked over one side as an anchor, glancing over the floor.

  ‘Aha,’ she said. ‘What’s that?’ I looked over at where she was pointing. An orange and white, rather fancy hair clip was lying next to one of my slippers. I knew it didn’t belong to me or Arabella so I picked it up and turned it over in my hands.

  ‘Hmm, it looks familiar somehow. Do you recognise it?’ I said.

  ‘Let’s see it,’ Arabella said, sitting up with her hand outstretched. ‘I know what you mean, I’ve definitely seen it somewhere before but I can’t think where.’

  ‘Well at least we know the thief is a girl now,’ I said, pulling my duvet back on to my bed. Annoying thief, making me tidy up which is one of my LEAST favourite things to do. ‘That narrows it down a bit, we can forget the gardener’s helper, most of Alfie’s entourage and Antoine the chef.’

  ‘Yep, you’re right,’ Arabella said. ‘And it also proves that Cleo and Clarice were wrong about Lottie being the thief. She’s gone and there’s been another theft. It really is a total mystery. Come on, let’s go and report the robbery to Mrs Pumpernickle and then make ENORMOUS mugs of hot chocolate, we certainly deserve them now. We can leave the boring tidying up till tomorrow.’

  I followed her out of the room, angry that someone had stolen our personal stuff and annoyed with myself for having suspected the wrong people as it had wasted precious culprit-catching time. Right, from now on we MUST be on the lookout for orange and white hair clip wearing people…

  Saturday 20th November

  From bad to worse, Diary.

  I’m seriously considering cancelling the whole show. I mean, for goodness sake! I thought we were nearly ready, but it turns out I was horribly mistaken.

  During the rehearsal today I realised how many people don’t really know their lines: a lot. I also realised that since I’ve taken over as director, no one’s been painting the scenery so there are bits of wood everywhere without even a splash of paint on them. So stressful.com. I put Bridget and Ada in charge of completing all the scenery pretty quickly, as we only have THREE DAYS LEFT UNTIL OPENING NIGHT ON THE 23rd NOVEMBER. AGH! At this rate my hair is going to go as grey as Carrie’s. I phoned her before for some moral support and she told me to calm down and that everything would be OK. “You can do it, gel”, she said. Then she said, “And I’ve already paid for me ticket to come and see the play and it was bloomin’ expensive, so just you make sure it’s up to scratch”. No pressure then.

  I also realised that Mrs Blinkham and the other mothers haven’t got all the costumes ready yet! Mrs Blinkham has been concentrating on making Clarice a different costume for each scene, as well as making a wall outfit for Cleo. Poor Arabella doesn’t have a dress yet, and Melody, the twins, Erica and Hannah don’t have their outfits either. Oh please can someone whisk me away to a desert island so I don’t have to deal with this stress? Please, like right away.com?

  Sunday 21st November

  A slight improvement, Diary.

  The mothers sat up all night sewing, so now most of the costumes are ready. The rehearsal today wasn’t too bad, Erica sang so well we all stood up to applaud her at the end. Still no sign of Alfie and Stephania, I think they’re so pathetic. com for just storming off and leaving us in the lurch and I can’t believe our drama teacher is out of action too. What are the chances?! I hope Mrs Fairchild’s told the “celebrities” how disappointed she is. At least there have been no more burglaries, I don’t think I could cope with any more of them on top of this director stress. Mrs Pumpernickle said she had a serious talk with Mrs Fairchild about the thieving, and that they’re seriously thinking of calling the police in if the burglar can’t be found over the next few days by Egmont girls or staff.

  I don’t have time to write any more today I’m afraid, Diary because I’ve got to go back to the Grand Hall. We’re rehearsing Act Two, Scene Two, which is one of the most important in the play because it’s where Puck (Hannah) makes a mistake with the love potion which starts the mass confusion between the characters. It’s basically what the comedy is all about so we’ve got to get it RIGHT.

  Also, it’s the dress rehearsal tomorrow so wish me luck. Hang on a minute, it’s actually supposed to be BAD luck to say GOOD luck in the theatre. Melody told me you have to say break a leg instead. (Although that sounds quite painful and Mrs De Nero’s already done that so I hope no one else does.)

  Monday 22nd November

  Help me, Diary!

  The dress rehearsal was a shambles and there’s been another robbery. This time it was Cleo and Clarice’s dorm that was burgled. Arabella says it serves them right for blaming Lottie. I think Mrs Fairchild will have to call the police in now, so many pieces of jewellery have been stolen and the thief is still at large. I can’t believe we live in such a crime ridden school, it makes me want to hire a bodyguard.

  Sorry but I can’t stop to chat, I have to go and sort out Cleo who can’t seem to act like a wall at the right times…OPENING NIGHT TOMORROW and I feel bad because at the moment I simply don’t have the time to concentrate on finding the thief…

  Tuesday 23rd November

  At last we have an answer, Diary! The thief has been caught. Well sort of…

  Basically, this morning, private jets and helicopters starting plopping down all over the hockey pitch, ejecting extremely expensive looking mothers and fathers all over the wet grass.

  ‘It’s starting,’ I whispered to Arabella as we watched more and more people arrive from our dorm window. I hadn’t been able to eat my egg and soldiers for breakfast which was EXTREMELY unlike me. ‘Is it too late to cancel the play?’

&n
bsp; ‘Yes of course it is and don’t worry, you big silly, everything will be fine.’ Arabella nudged me, although I wasn’t convinced because she looked even paler than usual.

  I had to go to the Grand Hall after that to check everything was ready, even though we had a few hours to go. It took a while to round up Mrs Fairchild’s gardener, who’d kindly agreed to do the lighting and to get Mrs Blinkham to bring all the costumes backstage. Cleo and Clarice were already there, shovelling make up on to their faces.

  ‘Oh look, the hot shot director’s arrived,’ Cleo sneered. I ignored her and checked all the props were in the right place and that the scenery was ready for the stage hands to bring on and off.

  Sooner than I’d have liked, I heard the general murmur of the audience arriving. Mrs Pumpernickle came backstage to help me get everyone into their costumes. We were all standing in the largest dressing room, Mrs Blinkham adjusting Arabella’s dress, when I noticed that little Polly was helping herself to a basket of props. She was stuffing paper flowers and scrolls into the enormous designer handbag she likes to lug about.

  ‘Hey Polly,’ I said. ‘Please don’t touch those props, we need them for our play.’ Mrs Blinkham’s head snapped round. Although she doesn’t like disciplining her child it seems she certainly doesn’t like anyone else doing it.

  ‘Leave her alone,’ she said. ‘She’s only playing.’

  ‘She can play with her own toys, I’m afraid we really need those things for the start of the play.’ I went over to Polly and bent down. ‘Could I have a look in your bag please, so I can find my things?’

  Polly grinned and shoved her bag towards me. I reached down and pulled out the scrolls that the players use and then carefully lifted out the paper flowers. As I carefully scooped up a handful of fragile petals, my hand brushed against a pile of hard metal.