Free Star of Silver Spires by Ann Bryant Page B

the phone to Dad after she and I have been talking together, but this time we both forgot, probably because we’d wound each other up about my scholarship.
    My heart raced as I listened to the ringtone.
    â€œOh hi, Dad.”
    â€œHello, Mee.” Dad’s always called me Mee for as long as I can remember. “Glad you phoned back. Thought I must have done something wrong when Mum rang off without passing you over.”
    â€œSorry, Dad. I don’t know why we both forgot. Mum said you got my text about me getting through to the next round of the Star contest.”
    â€œYes, we certainly did! I was just about to text you actually, but you know what I’m like with texting. Takes me half an hour to write two words! Yes, well done for the contest. What a star!”
    I laughed, then swallowed and took a quick breath. “Dad, I was just trying to remember a song on one of your CDs.”
    â€œOh good! I’m glad someone appreciates my taste in music.”
    â€œI can’t remember who the singer is, but I think the song’s called ‘Is Anyone There?’”
    â€œâ€˜Is Anyone There?’” he repeated slowly, and I could practically hear his brain ticking over. “Hang on, I’ll have a look. Not so many to look through now, though. I went a bit mad clearing out when we had the living room redecorated, and I took quite a few CDs down to the Oxfam shop… Let’s see… Tell you what, I’ll ring you back. It’ll be quicker if I’ve got both hands free.”
    My heart was beating really quickly and I felt all tense and anxious while I was waiting for Dad to phone back. What if he found the song? What would I do? Who would I tell? I couldn’t find any answers because the questions were too big.
    In the little practice room I started playing my own song, the more upbeat one I’d started to write when I thought it was going to be me and Georgie singing together. I’d spent ages working on it earlier in the day, changing loads of the words. I’d called it ‘My Best Friend and Me’. Georgie had come tiptoeing into the practice room after about an hour to bring me a hot chocolate, and she’d dramatically whispered, “Don’t speak, Mamma Mia,” as she’d put it on the cupboard by the piano. “Don’t even say thank you. It’ll break your concentration!”
    Good old Georgie.
    I’d changed the style of the original song to make it slower and gentler than before, but it was still more upbeat than ‘Time to Say Goodbye’ and although I knew the speedier tempo would probably add to my nervousness when I came to perform it, I definitely wanted it like that. I just didn’t seem to be able to stop giving myself new challenges.
    There was a lot more left to do with the song though. I had to improve the arrangement until I felt completely happy with it, and then sing it over and over until I could do it in my sleep, because that was the only way I’d be confident enough to perform it the next Saturday. Thinking about that now made a big twang of nervousness ping through me, but it vibrated with excitement too and I knew it was a good kind of nervousness.
    I was so into singing the song that I completely forgot about Dad phoning, so it gave me a massive jump when my phone suddenly started to ring.
    â€œHi, Dad.” My heart was racing again.
    â€œHiya, Mee. No luck, I’m afraid. Can’t find that title anywhere. Can you give me any other clues? Was it a solo artist or a band or what?”
    I frowned as something struck me. Maybe “Is Anyone There?” wasn’t the real title. If Bella had changed the words to the song, she might have changed the title too.
    â€œNot Gordon Lightfoot, the folk singer?” Dad was saying.
    â€œI really don’t know, Dad.”
    â€œWhat do you want to know for anyway?”
    â€œOh…I just heard something which sounded