| MY CHARLOTTE
By Elizabeth Barclay
My little girl is an angel. So well behaved and good natured. She's pretty
too. Golden curls that I brush morning and night, baby blue eyes, and
a smile to melt your heart.
Charlotte is only seven and yet she has the reading age of a nine year
old. Not that her snooty teacher Miss Mullan has said that. No, I worked
it out for myself. I've heard her friends reading and her cousins, and
I have managed to calculate that she's far ahead of them. Of course Charlotte
is excellent at everything. I reckon she takes after me. Well, it wouldn't
be that lazy, idle good for nothing father of hers would it? (I'm well
shot of him!)
I strongly believe my Charlotte is going to be as good as, if not better
than all of these child prodigies you hear about. She is definitely a
genius in the making.
Anyway, I have recently decided that I am going to hire a tutor to help
Charlotte reach her full potential. I told Miss Mullan at the parents’
evening last week.
‘I wouldn't be too hasty if I were you Mrs Brand,’ she cautioned.
‘It doesn't do to push children.’
What rot, I thought. I mean I have to push Charlotte, don't I, when Miss
Mullan obviously isn't going to. Letting my daughter do simple adding
sums and the two times table when she could easily be doing fractions
and percentages. No, I am going to phone a tutor as soon as possible.
I don't care what Miss Mullan says.
After all it's only right you should give your child every opportunity
to achieve. Charlotte already goes to ballet, piano, tennis coaching and
singing lessons. My mother, fussy biddy that she is, doesn't approve
‘The poor wee mite must be tired with all that running around,’
she warned me the other day,
‘She doesn't have enough time to play with her friends.’
‘Yes she does.’ I argued.
‘You never did all these things when you were her age,’ my
mother rambled on.
Huh, perhaps I would have turned out to be a high flying executive with
some glamorous job if I had. Instead I'm stuck in the local supermarket,
stacking shelves two nights a week while my mother babysits Charlotte.
I also do school dinners at the nearby high school since Charlotte started
school. Anything to keep the wolf from the door.
Ever since Bob left me two years ago, money has been tight. Still, I am
determined that Charlotte doesn't lose out. And I want her to do all the
things I never did which is why she goes to these after-school activities.
She is so bright. Admittedly she can be a tiny bit shy now and then. That's
why I have to give her a little shove to move her on and upwards in spite
of what my mother says. Mind you goodness knows how I'll find the cash
for a tutor. Mother, bless her, helps me out but I can't ask her for help
to pay for a tutor. I reckon a tutor must cost a fortune.
‘But of course my Charlotte's worth it.’ I found myself telling
my friend Sally at the school gates the very next day. ‘I must get
her a tutor at any cost. I'll manage somehow since Charlotte is so advanced
she needs the extra challenge.’
Momentarily I thought I detected a sigh from Sally. Perhaps it was my
imagination though because, when I looked at Sally more closely, I saw
that she was smiling.
‘So have you got Charlotte's costume sorted for the School Play?’
she then went on to ask me.
Play? What play?
‘Er-em … I'll have to sort something out soon,’ I said
flustered.
Sally's eyes opened wide in amazement. ‘But the first night of the
play is this evening. Didn't Charlotte bring home the letter with the
details? Megan brought it home ages ago.’
‘I don't remember,’ I gabbled. ‘Look Sal, I have to
dash. The gas man is due at my house any minute.’
With that white lie I fled in embarrassment, face on fire.
Trembling, I reached home and sat down on the couch trying to collect
my thoughts. Why, oh why, hadn't Charlotte told me about the play and
where was the letter? I didn't understand. I always checked Charlotte's
bag and there had been no sign of it. I was most upset. After a cup of
tea I managed to calm down. There must be a reasonable explanation. Probably
Charlotte had wanted to surprise me.
I was desperate for Charlotte to come home now. I hoped she wouldn't be
too disappointed that I already knew about the play. Still, it meant I
could help her get ready. I wondered what she was wearing. Something stunning
for a starring role of course.
‘So why didn't you tell me about the play?’ I pounced as soon
as she came in the door.
‘Oh Mummy...I...’ she stammered, flushing.
Poor love, she felt guilty for not telling me.
‘Don't worry,’ I gave her a hug. ‘I know you wanted
to surprise me. But tell me which part have you got?’
"Um-er...’ Charlotte bit her lip.
‘It's okay,’ I smiled. She obviously still wanted to surprise
me. ‘You don't have to tell me. Only, who's made your costume?’
‘Ellie's mum.’
Brilliant! Ellie's mum was a fantastic dressmaker. She must have made
a beautiful outfit for my beautiful Charlotte. Something pretty, elegant
and flattering.
‘Well, I'll help you get dressed,’ I announced.
‘No! We're getting changed backstage at the school hall,’
Charlotte told me.
‘Never mind. I'll see you dressed up for the first time on stage.
You'll be great Charlotte. I know it. I'm so looking forward to watching
you act. You'll steal the show, I'm sure. A future star. That's what you
are Charlotte.’
‘I don't know...’
‘Of course you are!’ I went on. ‘It's only natural that
you'll be nervous, but once you're up there in the spotlight your nerves
will disappear. Anyway did you get me a ticket?’
‘It's pay at the door.’ Charlotte mumbled.
‘Go and get ready then,’ I ordered.
Charlotte left early, picked up by Ellie's mum, who was helping backstage.
I followed later and joined the throng in the school corridor queuing
to get into the school hall. It was only then that I saw the poster stuck
on the wall advertising the play. Or rather two little plays. Apparently
the school were putting on Little Red Riding Hood and Sleeping Beauty.
Excitement rose inside me as I conjured up visions of Charlotte in red
or as Sleeping Beauty. Would there be any singing? I prayed there would
be – my Charlotte had a lovely singing voice. As Red Riding Hood
or Sleeping Beauty, singing solo, she would be excellent. I fervently
hoped she was the lead role in one of these plays. If not she would probably
be the prince in Sleeping Beauty or Red Riding Hood's mother. Even in
these roles she would be superb.
At last the curtain rose on a colourful scene. Little Red Riding Hood.
Everyone enjoyed the play and clapped enthusiastically, except me –
because Charlotte wasn't in it. I honestly thought Charlotte would have
been in both plays. She should have been!
‘So what part has Charlotte got in Sleeping Beauty then?’
Kate Masters (big wig on the PTA) asked me at the interval.
‘Oh, just wait and see.’ I wasn't going to tell her I didn't
know. ‘You'll spot her a mile off.’
But by the end of the play I was desperate. I felt so upset and frustrated.
I had craned my neck and peered relentlessly to no avail. I simply could
not see my daughter anywhere on stage. She wasn't even one of the hordes
of children who were playing the villagers. Surely she wasn't sick? Someone
would have told me.
After the play I rushed backstage. Still no sign of Charlotte. Feeling
like crying, I asked Sally's daughter Megan where Charlotte was. Megan
was in the process of changing out of her starring role Sleeping Beauty
outfit (that should have been my Charlotte's part).
‘I think she's on stage just now Mrs Brand. Clearing up."’
Clearing up? Whatever was Charlotte playing at?
I clambered up the stage steps and there was Charlotte surrounded by some
older boys and Mr Parker, the drama coach. They were all busy moving the
scenery and tidying the stage.
‘Hello Mummy.’ Charlotte turned to me beaming and paused after
pulling a chair across the floor. ‘I'm a stagehand. Do you like
the dungarees Ellie's mum made me? I've had a great time changing the
scenery tonight.’
‘Charlotte... !’ I was just about to give Charlotte a piece
of my mind, tear a strip off her, let her know how angry I was that she
wasn't in the plays. But something stopped me. The happy sparkling eyes,
her cheerful voice. I'm not sure. All I knew was that Charlotte was very
pleased with herself. Proud even. Well then, so was I. I was very proud
of Charlotte for being such a hardworking stagehand. This must be her
thing.
‘Mummy, you're not angry with me, are you?’ Charlotte gazed
at me anxiously.
‘Of course not Charlotte,’ I smiled ‘Far from it. I
think what you've done tonight is brilliant.’
Charlotte looked relieved.
Now I must find out about technical theatre courses. I wonder what age
kids can start learning that kind of thing? It's obvious you see. Charlotte
is destined to be a producer or a director one day. I'm convinced of that.
Probably in Hollywood or maybe even Coronation Street. That's how successful
my Charlotte will be! |
