Jelly Breaks the Mould Read online

  For my amazing stepdaughters, Rosie, Heather and Robin, who actually are musical

  Contents

  –1– Guess Who?

  –2– Gooseberry Fools

  –3– Haddock Alert

  –4– Sin Bin

  –5– Faint Heart Never Won Fair Sandy

  –6– All About the Bass

  –7– Scarf Wars

  –8– Wherefore Art I, Juliet?

  –9– Nurse Mum

  –10– Hammy Roles

  –11– Dog’s Got Talent

  –12– Back-stabbing Singers

  –13– Jellyous

  –14– It’s Her Age

  –15– Ear We Go Again

  –16– Vow of Silence

  –17– Rude Food

  –18– In the Soup

  –19– Murdering the Play

  –20– Cupboard Love

  –21– Bedtime Story

  –22– Myf Shakespeare

  –23– Sick at Heart

  –24– Sonja the Second

  –25– Stare Out

  –26– Web Sight

  –27– Idiots

  –28– Shut Up!

  –29– Feeling Ruff, Ruff, Ruff

  –30– Jelly Legs

  –31– Cute Again

  My Early Years in Music

  –1–

  Guess Who?

  Today is Valentine’s Day and I have a card! It was on my bed when I got back from school. It said ‘Jelly’ on the front of the envelope in my mum’s handwriting . . .

  It wasn’t very romantic . . .

  Inside it said . . .

  But Sandy Blatch can’t me!! He has been very clever, I have to admit.

  He has copied my mum’s handwriting perfectly, and pretending it was from our dog, Fatty, was genius (Mum always does me a card from Fatty). I’m not sure how Sandy got into our house to leave it on the bed but I know he is very good with a ladder and an open window from the time he rescued Mum from the Room of Doom when she got locked in there during my

  Mum at me when I went downstairs.

  I called a Faithful Club meeting at our headquarters (the shed in my garden) so I could show off about my card. The Faithful Club has been going since junior school but as it is a bit to still have a club at Big School it is now a secret club. The members are me, my best friends Myf and Roobs and my neighbour Ricky Chin (occasional boy member – he only comes when there are biscuits).

  Myf and Roobs were extremely jealous of my card because neither of them had got one . . . EVER.

  –2–

  Gooseberry Fools

  The next day at school I was wandering along the corridor with Myf and Roobs feeling and excited that I might see Sandy.

  ‘Look, Jelly,’ Myf shouted, pointing at a poster. ‘Sandy’s band’s playing!’

  Myf is fairly untalented at most things but she is VERY good at shouting.

  Sandy Blatch sings and plays keyboards in (an tribute band). had been our band (along with six million other girls) – but since Buster Bauble (the lead singer and Sandy look-a-like) had left to go solo had got a bit rubbish and we went off them a bit. Buster Bauble’s solo career hadn’t worked out and he’d gone a bit then sunk into obscurity. And then had split up.

  We were standing staring at the poster when Sandy suddenly appeared beside us.

  That was annoying – Cicily Fanshaw is the most competitive girl in the school. Even though she was small she always won everything by sheer determination – running races, the shot-put, the high jump, the triple jump – and now she was interested in boys she was probably going to apply the same willpower to that.

  I felt a little She would probably try to steal Sandy away from me. (Not that he was really mine to begin with.)

  After Sandy’s band did the music at my mum’s wedding at the end of the summer and Sandy had admired my ears and pretty much said he liked me, I’d gone very and made a muck-up of everything. The first week back at school for the autumn term I kept surreptitiously around for him . . .

  . . . and whenever I saw his scarf out of the corner of my eye (it was very bright and stripy) I would studiously look at ANYTHING rather than HIM.

  And if I saw his scarf coming my way I would turn on my heels and hurry off . . .

  Then one day Sandy’s best friend and guitarist in , Benji Butler, caught me coming out of the girls’ toilets and presented me with THE SCARF!

  I went extremely but took the scarf and gave him mine (slightly wishing I hadn’t wiped poached egg off my chin with it earlier at breakfast).

  I hurried off to a dark corner of the corridor and sniffed it – it smelt of Sandy.

  At our school, wearing each other’s scarves means you are ‘going out’ with each other, which very rarely means going out anywhere, or staying in anywhere, or in fact even speaking to each other. But Sandy had other ideas – he actually did seem to want to go out with me. Every few weeks he would have another bash, but I always made an excuse and said no.

  UNSURPRISINGLY, after a few months he slightly gave up and cooled off, though we were still wearing each other’s scarves. And then of course I regretted being so shy and wished I’d said yes at least once.

  But now Sandy said,

  A date! He was asking me on another date!

  So this time instead of saying ‘No’, out of embarrassment, like I normally would, I said ‘Yes’ in an way.

  Roobs said, ‘I suppose no one’s interested in an O.M.G.! tribute band now the real O.M.G.! have split up?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Sandy smiled. ‘We’ve got a small local following of ex-O.M.G.! fans who come along to our gigs.’

  he said, and walked off whistling.

  I pretended to be annoyed that Myf and Roobs had invited themselves on my date, but really I was relieved.

  What if Sandy took me somewhere afterwards? Or walked me home? He might me. I went just thinking about it.

  –3–

  Haddock Alert

  I had trouble sleeping that night and started feeling less confident about my Valentine’s Day card. I decided there was a very teeny SLIGHT chance that it WAS from my mum via the dog.

  The next day at school during Miss Haddock’s Social Science lesson I also started feeling unsure about my ‘date’ . . .

  I started with a jolt and looked up. Miss Haddock was standing over me. I’d been so lost in thought I’d been on the desk without realising. She always calls me Jellifer because of a misunderstanding on the first day of secondary school . . .

  ‘Hmph,’ she grunted now and continued droning. ‘So if the law states that you must pay certain taxes . . .’

  Don’t write on the desk, Jellifer!!!!!

  Miss Haddock yelled again, making me out of my skin.

  I sat up and tried to look alert.

  But the next thing I knew, I was absorbed in my own thoughts and doodling on the desk again . . .

  DON’T WRITE ON THE DESK, JELLIFER!!!!

  I already had a detention for being loud earlier in my favourite lesson, , with my teacher, Miss Jasmine. Unfortunately, I’m NOT her favourite pupil.

  –4–

  Sin Bin

  We had to do detentions in a room everyone called the Sin Bin. Today it was just me and Sonja Perkins, the most frightening girl in the school – rap fan, arm-wrestling champion and general person.

  On duty in the Sin Bin today was the Nicest Teacher in the Whole School: Mrs Lilac. Mrs Lilac was always nice and lost her temper, was never sarcastic OR irritable. Even the average very, very, VERY nice person is a bit not very nice sometimes. They might release a small tut or wrinkle their brow into a minuscule frown or eject an almost silent sigh – or something.

  But Mrs Lilac tutted or s
ighed or frowned. She was always, always, ALWAYS nice – and everyone was nice back.

  It would be not to be.

  The thought of Mrs Lilac’s hurt face looking back at you if you were anything but NICE was enough to put even the meanest person off being mean. Or the thought of her not REALISING you weren’t being nice and being SUPER NICE back, beaming her big smile at you, would make you shrivel with shame.

  Mrs Lilac was the Drama teacher and when she walked in it was impossible for Sonja and I to keep up our sulky posturing.

  After about ten minutes of Mrs Lilac smiling indulgently at us and us staring back with fixed grins, Mrs Lilac cleared her throat.

  ‘Loudness, liveliness, high spirits – we should be harnessing all that energy – have either of you thought of going on the stage?’

  Neither of us responded, but just carried on grinning.

  ‘I wonder if you – both of you – would consider auditioning for the school play? I think you both have raw talent, stage presence, an unassuming natural beauty and an emotional depth to your voices.’

  We were both STUNNED. Neither of us had EVER had so many compliments in a short space of time – in fact I’d only ever had seven and Sonja had only ever had three

  The First Compliment I Can Remember:

  Amount Of Time I Thrived On Compliment: Nine Years

  My Other Compliments:

  2) ‘You have excellent eye/hand co-ordination.’ (Unknown ping-pong player on holiday)

  3) ‘Jelly’s very dextrous.’ (Julian)

  4) ‘You have fine hair but there’s a lot of it.’ (Sharon – hairdresser)

  5) ‘Hair like flowing silk.’ (Sandy Blatch)

  6) ‘Cute ears.’ (Sandy Blatch)

  7) ‘You really know how to throw a stylish outfit together, Jelly!’ (Julian)

  Sonja’s compliments:

  1) ‘Wonderful colouring.’ (Auntie Wanda)

  2) ‘Your bread rolls are the best in the class, Sonja.’ (Mrs Cripps, cookery teacher)

  3) ‘She’s as strong as an ox, my Sonja.’ (Sonja’s dad)

  Flattery would get Mrs Lilac EVERYWHERE.

  Mrs Lilac told us that this year’s play was Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare and that the auditions were in two days’ time. Sonja and I smiled at each other and said we would both be there.

  Me and Sonja Perkins!! Bonding!! She was a very person to have as a friend.

  Mrs Lilac said we could leave our detention early as we had been such lovely girls. We said our goodbyes and as we left the classroom I said to Sonja, ‘I don’t know Romeo and Juliet at all, do you?’ and she said, ‘Shuddup, Jelly, else I’ll whack you one.’

  ‘OK, bye!’ I said back, smiling, and we both waved to Mrs Lilac who was waving to us through the window, and went our separate ways, Sonja throwing a rubber at me – quite – once we were out of Mrs Lilac’s sight.

  –5–

  Faint Heart Never Won Fair Sandy

  Although I knew it was a date and Sandy had only invited Myf and Roobs to be polite, and even though they were being completely and pretending to be French on the bus . . .

  I let them come to the gig to support Sandy and his band as hardly anyone would be there

  However, when we got to Boxford Town Hall, it was heaving with screaming girls. hadn’t built up a small following of ex- fans – they’d built up a MASSIVE following of ex- fans. It seemed Sandy Blatch’s squeaky clean image was helping them with the disappointment of the real Buster Bauble’s grubby downfall. Sandy reminded them of the old Buster. They had all adapted their T-shirts by adding an S at the beginning and turning them into T-shirts.

  As I was more or less Sandy’s , I didn’t need to rush towards the stage when they came on. I just stood at the back, casually sipping my Coke and flaunting Sandy’s stripy scarf. Myf and Roobs (being silly, and boyfriend-less) joined in with all the other BaubleBelles (now BlatchBabes) singing along and screaming.

  Sandy spotted me and was definitely singing the more numbers whilst staring at me.

  Then I heard one girl say to another, ‘He’s singing to me!’

  ‘No,’ another retorted, ‘he was singing to ME!’

  ‘Anyway,’ another one chipped in, ‘he was looking right into MY eyes when he sang “A Heart Like Yours”.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ another one piped up. ‘He was looking at ME when he sang “Short Girl”!’

  They were all so DELUDED!

  ‘No, girls, it’s ME he’s looking at – Sandy’s always had a soft spot for me!’

  But sadly that wasn’t ME shouting – I was too busy choking on the straw in my glass of Coke. It was Cicily Fanshaw, wearing a brightly coloured stripy scarf very much like the one Sandy had given me . . . I looked down at myself . . . It WAS my scarf! She had managed to slip it off my shoulders!

  After ’s last number I went backstage to find Sandy – but there was a HUGE crowd and he was right in the middle of it. I waved and he smiled and waved back.

  Then I noticed a crowd of girls around me all waving too and I heard one girl say to another, ‘He just waved at me!’

  ‘No!’ another one cried. ‘He waved at me!’

  ‘No! You lot are so deluded – Sandy more or less invited me on a date to this gig and he was waving at me!’

  But again, unfortunately, that wasn’t ME shouting – but Cicily! All Sandy had done was tell her where to buy the tickets and she had deluded herself into thinking it was a date!!!!

  ‘Out the way, losers!’ she yelled, and started pushing her way through the throng of girls.

  Just as I was considering shoving through the crowd to speak to Sandy before Cicily got there – or, even better, cheating (like I’d done when I beat her in the by going through the woods) and going round the outside of the throng and pushing in behind him, Myf and Roobs said they were fed up with waiting to speak to the boys.

  ‘They’ve got all these groupies – we might as well go!’ Myf shouted.

  ‘Hang on . . .’ I began. But then I saw Sandy was having yet another selfie taken with yet another groupie, and there were at least fifty girls still crowded round him. I tried to get his attention by waving, but the current groupie taking a selfie with Sandy was CICILY FANSHAW. As Sandy smiled sweetly into the camera, Cicily turned and poked her tongue out at me.

  I suddenly had a very faint heart and felt I would NEVER fair Sandy.

  At the bus stop, Myf said,

  Myf and I left a respectful

  for all those people to death in Roobs’s imagination before continuing, ‘We could be a glam rock girl band!’

  ‘Or an R’n’B soul band?!’ I added, forgetting about our lack of musical ability.

  ‘Or an indie girl guitar band!’ Roobs cried, forgetting about all the flattened people.

  ‘I think we should be a punk band,’ Myf said firmly.

  ‘No,’ Roobs said.

  We were already having differences, which meant we were a proper band. We were we decided to have a Faithful Club meeting first thing in the morning.

  –6–

  All About the Bass

  Roobs had her clipboard out.

  Mrs Lilac’s comments about my resonant voice, stage presence and natural beauty had gone to my head.

  I don’t know what Myf’s excuse was.

  We hadn’t got any instruments yet so we improvised with biscuit tins, a tennis racquet and a hair brush. We sounded pretty good, considering, and we started feeling quite confident. After five minutes we were exhausted, though, so we decided to start designing our costumes. We got my mum’s sewing box out – which had a pile of sewing from the last decade all wrapped up in a huge knot of different-coloured cotton threads – none of which seemed to lead to anything.

  Mum had said,

  once a month since I can remember. At the bottom of the sewing basket was:

  a pair of age five denim shorts of mine waiting for a new zip

  and many other heartbroken

  and abandoned items
of clothing.

  We decided to use our Barbie dolls as models and use the material to design miniature outfits that might work for our band . . . but then we heard some coming from the garden. It was my older brother, Jay, accompanied by his very handsome but dim friend , my ex-crush.

  Jay’s hobby is humiliating me in front of his friends and his other hobby is making up songs about me.

  It doesn’t help that Myf and Roobs go very and giggly whenever Jay appears, which only encourages him.

  Forty-seven minutes later:

  My fingers hurt and the other two lost interest.

  Anyway, we had badges to make, costumes to design and posters to print.

  Then my phone pinged. It was Sandy.

  He hadn’t even noticed whether I was there! Let alone stared at me whilst singing the songs!

  ‘THE PIG!’ I said to Myf and Roobs. ‘We WERE just a rent-a-crowd.’

  ‘That’s a bit unfair to Sandy – they didn’t really need a rent-a-crowd, did they?’ Roobs said kindly. ‘They already had a big crowd.’