"Garn! Buy a flower Captain, I can change ‘arf a crown! What do you think mum, is it any better than the last time?"  Lydia's mum shrugged her shoulders and slumped back into the armchair.

       "Lydia luv, you're not common enough for Liza Doolittle, you'll be perfect when she's all posh, but you'll do your best Lyd you always do. Maybe another part would be better." Lydia looked up from her ironing, she was unimpressed.

      "Mum, I love the Amateur Dramatics but I'm always at the back of the chorus, look at Oklahoma you could hardly see me! " Her voice rose, You, Dad, Geoff and the two boys were laughing last time. Geoff said you could only see my hat!"  Lydia took a deep breath and continued. " So tomorrow I'll be auditioning for Pygmalion, even our director says I have talent."  Her mum laughed.

      "Oh yes the infamous John Weston." Her daughter cut in.

      "Eh, we're lucky to have him, he's done all sorts of TV work, The Bill, Eastenders, Casualty." Her mum was still laughing. " Now you know who would be good as Liza;  Angela Jenkins," the words were hardly out when her daughter yelled.

       "Angela bloody Jenkins!" Her mum's calming voice said.

       "Lyd you'll go through that ironing board if you're not careful,"  Lydia hadn't finished.

       "It's always her! She was always given the best parts in the school plays, won all

the drama competitions, and stole my boyfriends."  Her voice was becoming hysterical, " and Oh, Aw shoot I've burned my hand, see how she gets to me." Lydia ran cold water over her pain. Her mum put a comforting arm around her distressed daughter.

       "Come on luv, let's get something on that."  The women sat on the settee. Lydia decided to practice without telling her mum.

       "Ah, ah, ah, oo, o."  Clutching her chest Marjorie said.

      "What the hell was that?"  Lydia explained it was the sound Liza made when her flowers were trodden in the mud. During this explanation the doorbell rang, Lydia went to answer it still cradling her hand. It rang again and again.

       "Hold on,"  she said, "oh it's you, what do you want."  Trish. Her neighbour stood at the door.

      "I want you to stop it you noisy bitch, you've just woken my littleuns."  With her eyes to heaven Lydia said.

      "For your information, I've been practising for Pygmalion."

      "What are you, the pig?"  Trish was angry, her Scottish anger exploded. She put her foot in the door to stop Lydia from slamming it. " Listen you jumped up Z list loser. All the neighbours are sick of your so-called rehearsing. Your singing sounds like cats being strangled, so cat woman shut it or else!"

       "Or else what,"  said Lydia. " Listen lady, one day you'll see my on TV. I'll be on red carpets to Premiers, stepping out of Limos, and you'll still be a nutty Scots woman, now get your foot out!"

       "Poor Geoff,"  shouted Trish, " such a nice guy and your kids are ok but you,

you're nothing but fifth line back in the chorus of Oklahoma."  Lydia gasped.

       "How did you..."  Trish interrupted.

       "Oh I know, cause my cousin was the lead!"  Her words stuck in Lydia's throat.

       "Get lost,"  Trish walked away, " go and polish your sporran!"  She looked back and laughed. Lydia slammed the door.

       "Awful woman,"  she told her mum, " she's so coarse, so common, but even she knew my failure in Oklahoma."  The actress came to the fore, and she started to cry. Marjorie having seen it all before, she knew her cue, and got up to leave.

       "No mum you can't go yet, I haven't shown you my costumes for the audition." She rummaged through the pile of ironing, but the phone rang before she could show her.

       "Let me get that mum, won't be long."  She wandered off into the hallway.

       "Hello, yes, oh hello Angela. Yes darling thoroughly looking forward to it. Me practising, for what? Oh the audition, hadn't given it a thought. You've what, who made..Ok bye."  She slammed the receiver down and went back into the front room. Her face was ashen. Her mum was worried something dreadful had happened.

       "What is it Lyd, Geoff? One of the children?"  With eyes full of tears Lydia said.

       "Angela Jenkins has had new costumes made for the audition." Tears streamed down her face. Her mum was rapidly losing sympathy.

       "Right I'm going. You're becoming obsessed with this Lydia, and it's quite ridiculous. I thought the children or Geoff had had an accident. I'll ring you tomorrow to find out how it went."  She kissed her blubbering daughter on the cheek and left.

      Lydia went back to ironing, she pulled her audition costume from the pile, and she

remembered how excited she'd been when she'd found the outfit in the local charity shop. She flipped the pedal bin and the clothes were gone. Lydia browsed through the script. She knew she'd be a perfect Liza, she also wished John had chosen My Fair Lady, and not just the play Pygmalion. The phone interrupted her thoughts.

       "Hello, oh hello John, yes of course I'll be there tomorrow. I've actually been working on Liza, I think you'll be impressed. Sorry? But John I've been; yes, yes ok."  She replaced the receiver. Lydia sank back in the comfy armchair and flicked the pages of the script; she passed the scenes with Liza, she was now reading for Mrs Pearce, the housekeeper; director John had insisted on it. Muttering to herself, Lydia said, " It has to be better than the chorus in Oklahoma...doesn't it?"

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