Brooke shrugged, blinking fast. ‘Iamthe big sister,’ she said, her voice wobbling. ‘That’s my thing.’
She let her head rest briefly on his shoulder, just for a second.
‘Um,’ said Ivy. ‘I’m really happy you guys have worked things out … but … the play is in an hour.’ She squinted at her phone. ‘Wait, less than an hour. And Trip, I think they need you.’
Trip glanced up and shrugged. ‘Do they?’ he said flatly. ‘I don’t know, Ivy. Maybe you’re right and getting so involved was a bit stupid. It’s just a school play – I’m sure they’ll all cope fine without me.’
‘No!’ cried Ivy. ‘I wasn’t right at all. Things are totally falling apart without you. I’m worried there might be some sort of mutiny at this rate. Seriously, Trip weneedyour optimism and over-investment and annoying sunniness.’ She noticed Brooke fighting back a smile and powered on. ‘And we need younow. The twins were holding Merlin hostage at sword-point when I left.’
Trip hesitated, a smile of his own tugging at the corner of his mouth.
‘The twins are holding Merlin atsword-point?’ he said at last.
‘It was a cardboard sword,’ Ivy confessed. ‘But still. We need you, Trip. The play needs you.’
‘Okay, okay,’ he said, jumping to his feet and brushing down his jeans. ‘Say no more.’
Ivy gave a laugh of relief. ‘Thank goodness. I feel like this island might be submerged soon, anyway. Shall we get back in the boat? I don’t want to end up as the subject of one of Old Bill’s tales.’
Brooke laughed too and slid off the rock. ‘Yeah, I’d rather not be the ghost of the American tourist who vanished on Mystery Island, thanks.’
Trip came closer to Ivy and touched her arm. ‘I’m sorry, Ivy,’ he said. He looked pale and tired and his hair was rumpled, but he seemed calm. ‘I shouldn’t have taken off like that. I just needed some alone time.’ He smiled wryly. ‘And that is not something I ever thought I’d say.’
‘Solitary brooding behaviour does seem out of character for you.’ Ivy swallowed. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay,’ she added in a small voice.
‘Well, thanks,’ Trip said. Their eyes met, and Ivy noticed the different lights in them. Caramel, gold, flecks of bronze. ‘Thanks for coming to find me.’
Brooke rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, you two. Let’s go put on a show.’
‘Has anyone seen Arthur’s crown?’ Liv shrieked, standing on a chair in full tinfoil chainmail. ‘I literally just had it. It was on the prop table two seconds ago!’
‘It’s on the lighting board,’ called Bethie-as-Mordred from the wings, rustling in her own armour. ‘You put it there when you were dancing to Dua Lipa earlier. Hurry! We can’t duel if you haven’t got your crown.’
‘Right.’ Liv hopped off the chair and began pushing her way through the crowd. ‘Out the way, people. King coming through.’
Ivy ducked as a tiny Lancelot with ginger plaits ran past her, holding a wooden shield. She lugged the stone into place and carefully ensured the sword was wedged tightly enough to be convincing when Liv pulled it free, but not so tightly that it never emerged at all. The smell of hairspray filled the air and, somewhere near the dressing rooms, the guising band were loudly tuning up. Amidst the discordant chorus of fiddles, concertinas, tin whistles, euphoniums and flutes, Ivy could discern the squeaky opening ofJoy To the World.
‘Is it meant to sound like that?’ Ivy asked no one in particular.
‘They’ll get there,’ said Callum, bustling through with a sheaf of sheet music. ‘They just need to warm up a bit.’
To her right, Trip was talking to a Year 4 with stage fright, getting him to breathe in and out.
‘You’re going to be great,’ he said soothingly, his hands on the boy’s shoulders. ‘Just remember, you’ve got this. Remember to breathe. Remember to project.’
‘Thank goodness you’re back, dear boy,’ Mr Hargreaves said, hurrying past with a handful of reserved tickets. ‘I have to admit, I was starting toworryearlier. I wasn’t sure what we’d have done without you.’
Trip glanced over his shoulder and gave his usual sunny smile. ‘No need to worry, Mr H,’ he said. He caught Ivy’s eye. ‘I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.’
With Trip’s return, the atmosphere had swiftly been downgraded from borderline hysterical to a controlled chaos. Beautiful, glue-encrusted, poster-paint-spattered, cobbled-together-with-masking-tape chaos. And Ivy loved it. It reminded her of all the art shows she had put on over the years. Dusty clothes, hair shoved up into a messy bun, paint under her nails, on her hands and knees adding last-minute detail; fixing, gluing, sewing. She had forgotten how much fun this was.
‘You look …happy,’ said Erin, hurrying past with a basket full of toy pistols. She paused to rest it on her hip and study Ivy. ‘It’s very off-brand.’
‘I know,’ said Ivy, getting to her feet and dusting off her knees. ‘I’ve been trying to open myself up a bit.’ She paused, smilingshyly at Erin. ‘A – a friend told me things could get a bit lonely otherwise.’
Erin smiled back. ‘That’s what friends are for,’ she said. ‘To deliver the occasional home truth. You don’t get your artist card revoked for loosening up a bit, Ivy.’ She nodded across the room, to where Trip was now adjusting the waistcoats, wigs and flowing shirts of the Fleetwood Mac tribute band. He looked completely in his element – focused, cheek smudged with paint, sleeves rolled up. ‘Glad you found him,’ she said, with a wink, and carried on.
Ivy and Trip’s eyes met. It kept happening – as she hauled scenery into place, fixed paper crowns and hemmed robes. And each time he gave her his excited grin.
