I said, “Maybe her catsuit was too tight and it …”

The girls were all looking at me.

“And it cut … off … the blood to her … head.”

As we went out into the front hall the whole school was talking about Sidone fainting. What did she mean about dreams becoming nightmares and “my poor girls, my poor girls”?

Bob was bobbing about taking down one of his environmental notices.

I said, “Has global warming finished then, Bob? I thought it was getting a bit colder.”

He didn’t even look at us, just hitched his jeans up to nearly cover the crack in his bottom and said gloomily, “My next job will be boarding up the windows.”

Vaisey said, “Why would you do that, how would we see out?”

Bob said, “You won’t see out because you won’t be here. If Sidone can’t pay the taxman we’re all out of here. On the road again.”

The atmosphere at Dother Hall was weird for the rest of the week. We saw Sidone, dressed in black, huddled in corners with Monty, Dr. Lightowler, and Gudrun. Looking very serious. Sometimes shaking a sad handkerchief at us as we passed. Even Blaise Fox seemed not her usual self. It didn’t stop her banging her drum though.

We couldn’t believe that Dother Hall might close.

Flossie said, “I’m not leaving. We could chain ourselves to the fence.”

I said, “There isn’t a fence. Bob made it into swords for theatrical fencing class.”

We were all worried though.

On my way home on Friday I was just going out of the front doors of Dother Hall when I bumped into Blaise. She was about to get into her sports car and had enormous goggles on. Which she didn’t remove as I spoke to her. It seems that everyone who stays around here gradually turns into an owl.

I said to her, “Ms. Fox, can I ask you, why did Ms. Beaver faint, and why is Bob saying that if she can’t pay the taxman we won’t be here? Is it true that Dother Hall might close?”

I thought she was going to say, “Shut up, you fool.” But she didn’t.

She said, “Hmmm, well, it’s not looking too good. We are going to know more on Monday, so try not to worry until then. Fling yourself around like a fool, that will cheer you up.”

And she revved up her engine and tore off down the drive.

I moped about it all the way down to Heckmondwhite.

It’s only half-past eight but I’m in bed looking through my diary at my ideas.

It’s probably pointless keeping it anyway if Dother Hall closes and I have to go back to a non-showbiz life. Blimey, just when you think that you are growing into your knees and climbing the ladder of showbiz, some fool comes and snatches away the ladder.

If I leave Heckmondwhite, I will never see Alex the Good again. I can’t leave. Something has to happen.