Part 10 (1/2)

I can't hear myself think. I can't hear anything except the screaming of twenty excited children running round a room, bas.h.i.+ng each other.

”Er . . . excuse me . . .” I begin.

The shrieks increase in volume. I'm sure someone's being murdered in here, only I can't see who because it's all a blur.

”Sit down!” I bellow over the noise. ”Sit down, everyone!”

They're not even stopping for a beat. I climb up onto a chair and put my hands round my mouth.

”Anyone who sits down . . .” I roar. ”Will get a sweetie!”

Abruptly the screaming stops and there's a crash as twenty children b.u.mp down onto the floor.

”h.e.l.lo, everybody!” I say brightly. ”I'm . . . I'm Wacky Becky!” I waggle my head. ”Everybody say . . . 'h.e.l.lo, Wacky Becky!' ”

There's silence.

”Where's my sweetie?” pipes up a little girl.

”Er . . .”

I scrabble in my bag, but there's nothing except some herbal sleeping tablets I bought for getting over jet lag. Orange flavored.

Could I- No. No.

”Later!” I say. ”You have to sit still . . . and then you get a sweetie.”

”This conjurer is rubbish,” says a boy in a Ralph Lauren s.h.i.+rt.

”I'm not rubbis.h.!.+” I say indignantly. ”Watch! Er . . .”

I quickly put my hands over my face, then pull them away. ”Boo!”

”We're not babies,” the boy says scornfully. ”We want tricks!”

”Why don't I sing you a nice song,” I say in soothing tones. ”Row, row, row the boat . . . la la la . . . the moat . . .”

”Do a trick!” squeals a little girl.

”We want a trick!” yells a boy.

”Do-a-trick! Do-a-trick!”

Oh G.o.d. They're chanting. And the boys are banging the floor with their fists. Any minute, they're going to get up and start bas.h.i.+ng each other again. A trick. A trick. My mind scurries about frantically. Do I know any tricks?

”OK!” I say in desperation. ”I'll do a trick! Watch this!”

I spread my arms with a flourish, then reach behind my back with swirly, elaborate movements, spinning it all out as long as I can.

Then I unhook my bra through my s.h.i.+rt, trying to remember what color it is.

Oh yes. It's my bright pink gingham one with the bows. Perfect.

The entire room is agog.

”What are you doing?” says a little girl with wide eyes.

”Wait and see!”

Trying to keep the air of mystery, I loop one bra strap discreetly over my arm, then the other. The children are all staring at me avidly.

Now I've got my confidence back, I think I'm doing rather well at this. In fact, I'm a bit of a natural!

”Watch very carefully,” I say in a solemn, magician-like voice, ”as I am now going to make something . . . appear!”

A couple of children gasp.

I really could do with a drumroll here.

”One . . . two . . . three . . .” In a flash of pink I pull my bra out from my sleeve and hold it aloft. ”Ta-daah!”

The whole room erupts in ecstatic cheers.

”She did magic!” a red-haired boy shouts.

”Again!” squeals a little girl. ”Do it again!”

”Do you want to see me do it again?” I say, beaming in delight.

”Yaaaaay!” they all scream.

”I don't think so!” comes a bright, clipped voice from the door. I turn round-and Lulu is standing there, looking at me with undisguised horror.

Oh no.

Oh G.o.d. My bra is still whirling round in my hand.

”They wanted me to do a trick,” I explain, attempting a nonchalant shrug.

”I hardly think those are the sort of 'tricks' that children are going to appreciate!” she says, raising her eyebrows. She turns to the room with a bright, mummyish smile. ”Who wants to see Mr. Happy?”

”We want Wacky Becky!” yells a boy. ”She took off her bra!”

f.u.c.k.