Caught in the Act (18 page)

Diana laughed. ‘Uh-huh, I most certainly can: damp beds, dodgy loos and dark spooky corridors full of spiders and mice. How could I ever forget? Mind you, at least there were no bears.'

‘That's true.'

Diana handed her a handful of drawing pins. ‘I'll hold it straight,' she said. ‘You can pin it up.'

Carol nodded and once the map was firmly in place ran a finger along their route. They had been gone ten days and yet in some ways it had seemed like a lifetime.

Half-past nine on one sunny Friday morning twenty years ago, and Mr Bearman and Miss Haze having waited for the last of the latecomers, shooed everyone out of their groups and gaggles and up onto the bus.

Carol looked back over her shoulder and waved to her mum and dad. There was a huge fizzy giggly feeling of excitement amongst the drama group. OK, so they might be all sixth formers and top of the school's pecking order,
but coolness and confidence ebbed and flowed.

This was the first extended drama tour the school had ever done. Their itinerary was a bizarre mix of performances, cultural trips and sight-seeing. A grand tour with
Macbeth
at its heart.

As they filed aboard, Carol momentarily considered sitting with Gareth. After all, everyone knew that they were an item, but it was up to him to make the move, to ask, for her to smile and decline or slide in alongside him. She was too nervous just to do it. What if he had asked her what the hell she thought she was doing? What if someone else shuffled up and said she was in his seat? It was something that she would never have lived down.

Although Carol had had boyfriends before, this felt different. Being around Gareth was much hotter and far less comfortable than going to the pictures with the boy who worked in the local record shop. More significant than the crush she had had on the guy who had been in the year above her last year and now helped out at the local pub; more disturbing than going to the disco with Diana's cousin, Bill. So Carol followed the others and tried hard not to catch
Gareth's eye. It was up to him to catch hers, wasn't it?

Netty, who had been lolling by the wall having a last fag, was fractionally too late to get to the back seat, wrong-footed by a big spotty boy in the stage crew, so, a little crestfallen and annoyed, she found them five seats well towards the back and staked a claim. It amounted to three twos re ally, with Adie taking turns sitting with each of the girls and the spare seat being piled high with the detritus of travelling: bags and books and a pile of packed lunches.

A few rows forward—though not over the wheels, obviously—Fiona and her mother were busy settling in, sorting out travel sickness tablets, plaid blankets and lavender-scented pillows.

Miss Haze moved amongst them, counting and ticking everyone off on her clipboard, while Mr Bearman stood up and, using his best stage projection to rise above the voices and giggles and general pandemonium, set out the ground rules for the trip.

‘Right, everyone, let's take it from the top. No smoking, no spitting or swearing, no sex, drugs or rock and roll.' A huge groan of
complaint went up, Mr Bearman laughed and shrugged theatrically. ‘Don't blame me, blame the chair of governors.' Fiona's mother's face folded into a nasty little pleat that passed for an indulgent smile.

‘More immediately, no walking around while the bus is in motion and if anyone feels sick, for God's sake tell someone—preferably before it happens. Is everyone clear on that so far?' There was a murmur of agreement amongst the students. ‘Right now, is everyone here, Miss Haze?'

She nodded. ‘All present and correct.'

‘Righty-ho, well, let's get this show on the road then.' Mr Bearman signalled to the driver, and the engine roared into life

School rules insisted that pupils travel in their school uniform. Rumour had it that it was so they could be easily identified if they tried to make a break for it. As soon as the engine on the coach started, Carol slipped off her blazer and, rolling it into a ball, stuffed it in the overhead rack. Everyone else was busy doing the same thing, sliding off their ties, pulling off sweaters and pushing up their sleeves. The morning was already warm and there was a sense of settling in for the long haul.

By the time they got to the bottom of the school drive Fiona was the only person on the coach still in anything approaching full school uniform.

For a moment Carol had felt odd as she caught sight of her dad waving. It felt as if she was leaving for good, as if things would never be the same.

On the bus there was a sense that the adventure was underway. At first there was singing and then talking and whooping, and then finally, as the miles began to roll by and the countryside grew more and more unfamiliar, the noise settled down to a low rumble of conversation, an expectant hum, the excitement still evident but cooled from a roaring boil to a quiet simmer.

Sitting in the window seat, next to Diana, who was talking to Jan across the aisle, Carol pulled out her script and tried to read it through one more time for luck.

‘It's too late. If you don't know your part by now, you never will, said Diana, offering her an Opal Fruit. Sighing, Carol declined and then tried closing her eyes, wondering if she would be able to sleep. From where she was sitting Carol could see the back of Gareth's head. He
was sitting by himself. She wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Had she missed a signal, had he assumed that she would just sit next to him without any prompting—and how complicated was all this dating stuff that no one knew the rules? Would it always be this hard? Would she always be this unsure, this uncertain about what the right move was? Sleep didn't look as if it was going to work either.

Meanwhile, alongside her, Diana pulled a pack of cards out of her duffel bag. ‘Poker, anyone?' she said conversationally. ‘Or how about a little nine-card brag?' And then, as Carol watched, Diana cut and shuffled the deck with one very practised hand before setting it down in two neatly stacked piles on the little drop-down shelf on the back of the seat.

‘We ought to do a play set on a Mississippi paddle-steamer. Something hot and steamy in New Orleans,' said Carol, picking up the deck and dealing the five of them in. ‘You'd be a natural, Di. You could have one of those ringletty wigs and a hooped skirt tucked up into your knickers at one side.'

Across the aisle Adie grinned. ‘God, yes, I love all that cowboy gear, checked shirts, tight jeans and leather chaps.' No one said anything,
just looked down at their cards. ‘I'm only saying,' protested Adie. ‘Now can you tell me the rules again? What did you say we were playing…?'

Later, when Diana had been persuaded to give them all their spending money back, they ate their packed lunches at some sort of badly maintained nature reserve with nasty toilets and a gift shop that sold biros with bats in them and squirrel keyrings, and then headed on to their first venue.

It was a high school somewhere deep in darkest Lincolnshire, and the students would be staying at a small church-run hostel about seven miles from it.

‘Right,' said Miss Haze as the bus stuttered to a halt outside the front door of the hostel. ‘Now the plan is that we take all our things inside. Once we've had a cup of tea and a bun we'll be heading off to the school to get the stage set. Any questions so far?'

Carol looked at Diana and then out at the hostel. ‘Oh my God,' whispered Carol grimly. ‘Will you look at that?'

‘Jesus,' said Diana. ‘It looks like a gothic prison.'

Netty snorted. ‘It looks all very
Scooby-Doo
to me. There's bound to be an evil janitor, who would have got away with it if it wasn't for us pesky kids.'

Over their heads and apparently oblivious to the looks of horror on most of the students' faces, Miss Haze was still busy running through the evening's itinerary.

Carol swallowed down a little flurry of nerves.

‘Welcome,' said an officious-looking woman in a grey serge suit, from the steps of the building, who had announced her presence with a sharp clap of her hands followed by a whistle blast.

‘See, what did I tell you?' hissed Netty. ‘Evil janitor material if I ever saw any.'

Hands on hips, the woman peered into the pack to see where the noise was coming from. When the culprits weren't immediately obvious she continued, ‘My colleague is waiting by the boys' entrance. Girls, if you would like to follow me.' There was no question in the sentence—who would dare do otherwise? Humbled in the face of so much overbearing and rugged leadership, Miss Haze led a rag-tag crocodile of girls across the tarmac and up the steps.

They were almost at the door when Carol heard someone call her name. She turned round in surprise and saw Gareth loping over to her with a lazy grin on his face.

‘Wait up,' he said, the grin holding firm. There was no disguising it now, Gareth was most definitely calling her. Everybody turned to look at him, even the woman in the grey serge suit.

Carol reddened until she didn't think she could get any redder.

‘Is there something the matter?' he asked.

‘No, why? Should there be?' she lied.

‘I thought you'd sit with me on the bus,' he said, smiling. ‘I wondered if I had done something—you know—something to upset you.'

‘Oh, oh right—no, no I, just—I wasn't sure…' she blustered. Why the hell was he doing this now? Did he want her to die of embarrassment? Couldn't he have done something less public, less obvious? ‘…and Netty saved me a seat.'

The grin didn't falter. ‘I could save you one tomorrow, if you like.' So brazen, so confident, so very, very sure of himself—or possibly Gareth was just acting his socks off. Carol looked into his eyes. No, apparently not—it looked as if it might just be real.

Alongside her, Netty and Jan and Diana stood shoulder to shoulder and stared at him. Carol felt uncomfortable on his behalf; it took some front not to back down in the face of three best friends.

‘OK then,' said Carol, wishing he would go. But he didn't. Instead they all stood there, uneasy, uncomfortable, looking from face to face, not sure where to go from there. It was Netty who finally set them all free. ‘Well, I don't know about anyone else but I re ally need a fag and a wee,' she said with a dismissive sniff.

At that Gareth turned and waved and trotted back towards the boys.

‘Come along, keep up, we haven't got all day,' said Miss Haze, reappearing from inside the hostel—and all at once the moment was gone and they turned and hurried after her.

‘Well, well well,' said Netty, throwing her holdall onto the bed when they finally got upstairs to their room. ‘Ain't love grand?'

Fifteen minutes later they were all hauled out to the bus. Carol sat with the gang but did smile at Gareth. At the host school, once the stage was all set, lit and ready, the cast and crew ate in the dining room—where, for some reason, only the lights above the tables they
were using were on, which added to their growing tension, last-minute nerves making the food taste like cardboard.

Carol felt sick and excited by turns as she got into her costume and put on her makeup. Finally she settled the crown on her head and looked into the pitted mirror above a shelf that passed for a dressing table.

She looked as pale and haunted as any mad queen should. It felt as if she was walking through a dream.

‘Five minutes, this is your five-minute call,' said a voice over the Tannoy.

Netty sighed and nipped outside for one last cigarette while the conversation amongst the rest of them dropped to a low tense hum.

‘Get your arses up on stage, the music is about to start,' said a stagehand, popping his head round the door and then all at once they were off.

‘Break a leg,' said Diana, adjusting the wart as she elbowed her way past Carol in the wings.

‘I planned to break wind,' hissed one of the boys from Duncan's army.

‘I thought that you already had,' growled Netty. She was wearing a pointed hat, lots of worry lines and whiskers; they re ally suited her.

And then all at once the witches were hunched around the cauldron—and there was total stillness. From beyond the heavy curtains Carol could hear the audience, fidgeting and coughing and gossiping, and then the lights went down and the hall was suddenly quiet and expectant.

Carol struggled to stay calm, taking deep breaths, feeling incredibly alone. Her mind went blank, head throbbing as she waited for her cue. And a moment later the curtain went up and the play began—and then it was time and Carol stepped out onto the stage into a great pool of light and began to speak, and strangely enough, despite her fears, all the words were there in her head.

No more than seconds or perhaps a lifetime later, it was all over and done with and the cast stood at the front of the stage, taking the very first bows of the run.

Gareth caught hold of one of her hands, Adie the other. Carol felt relieved and elated, stopping for an instant to look around, taking it all in, the loud applause and the cheers rolling towards them like a warm and appreciative sea. As she had come up for one more bow Carol caught Gareth's eye, and he winked and then
grinned, and she shivered, and this time Carol didn't try to fight the feeling. It felt good and exciting to be so close and she grinned right back at him.

Once the great roar of adrenalin had burned off, the long day finally caught up with everyone. Tired and sleepy, they had had to travel to the hostel, which seemed like miles away, and that was the first time Carol and Gareth sat together. It made it kind of official, and whatever people thought—if they thought anything at all or even noticed—no one said a word as she slipped silently into the seat alongside him. He gave her the window seat. Looking back, Carol wasn't sure if Gareth was being gentlemanly or whether he was worried she might slither off, given half a chance. It felt slightly claustrophobic and at first she found it hard to relax. As the miles unrolled past the dusty glass, Carol finally felt tiredness claim her, and sleepily curled up into Gareth's shoulder, pulling her jacket over her like a blanket, eyes heavy.