Page 61 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

It took a moment to process. Mrs Hazelwood? My old drama teacher?

I whirled round.

She had hardly changed at all in thirteen years. Her auburn hair was shorter, now skimming the top of her shoulders, and her face had filled out a little, but she was still pretty in an effervescent sort of way. ‘Thanks, Gillian.’

Mrs Hazelwood leaned closer to the other side of the partition to collect the note. Behind it, a few of the school secretaries were tapping on their keyboards.

I took in her smart, fitted trousers and shimmery top, memories flooding back. How she would stride into drama class, bubbling with enthusiasm and telling her students to throw off the shackles of feeling self-conscious. She’d always greet us with a cheery ‘Howdy!’ and proceed to ask what dramas or films we’d been watching that week on TV; what actors stood out for us and why.

‘Mrs Hazelwood?’ I blurted.

She was about to walk away. ‘Yes?’

Her ice blue eyes grazed my face. A slow smile grew as she examined me. ‘Wait a minute. Daisy? Is that you?’

‘It’s me.’ I laughed, delighted she’d recognised me after all these years.

She bundled me into a hug, much to the bemusement of a couple of passing teenage boys. ‘My goodness! How are you? What are you doing back here?’

‘I was supposed to be heading home to visit my grandfather, but this bomb situation has put paid to that, at least for another day or two.’

She nodded vigorously. ‘Oh, of course. Hopefully they’ll have it resolved by the end of this week.’ She clapped her ringed hands together. ‘Last I heard, you were treading the theatre boards, and then you were in that wonderful TV drama!’ She turned to grin at the school secretary, who was watching us both with keen interest. ‘One of my former drama students. A stand-out pupil was Daisy. I always knew you had talent.’ She folded her arms, waggling the note she’d just been given. ‘So, you’re staying locally at the moment?’

‘For the time being, yes,’ I answered. ‘And how are you, Mrs Hazelwood?’

Her dangly ruby earrings shimmered as she moved. ‘Oh, still married, three teenage kids now though, and a springer spaniel. And please stop with the “Mrs Hazelwood”, Daisy. Call me Josie.’ She shot me a long, smiley look. She appeared to be debating something. ‘I don’t suppose I could grab a very quick word with you?’

‘Yes, of course.’ I wondered what she might want to talk about.

Mrs Hazelwood led me over to the staircase, and we huddled under the stairwell. She shuffled from foot to foot in her loafers, and said ‘Daisy, I don’t suppose I could ask a favour of you?’

‘Ask away.’

‘Would you consider coming to give a short talk to my senior drama class? I know they’d love to hear about your career and how you got your break in the business, especially after your appearance in Sinister.’

Behind us, the school office buzzed with chatter and the odd ringing phone.

I looked at Josie. Her eyes were pleading.

‘Some of the kids sadly don’t have the support and encouragement you had. I mean, I do my best, but they aren’t getting that additional support at home to follow their acting dream.’

I’d been lucky that I’d had my grandparents as my constant cheerleaders. Everybody needed encouragement and help, no matter how strong they insisted they were. I offered a flattered smile. ‘I’m delighted you’ve asked me. If I can help in any way, I’d be glad to.’

Josie looked like she’d been on the receiving end of a huge lottery win. ‘Are you sure, Daisy? I mean, please don’t feel any obligation.’

‘It’s fine. I’d be honoured, and it’s the least I can do after all the encouragement and support you gave me when I was one of your students.’

Josie took my hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. ‘I know it’s rather short notice, but I don’t suppose you’re free at half past two this afternoon to come back and speak to the students? See a few of them perform? That’s when I have my next class with them.’

‘That’s fine by me. I’ve got nothing else planned.’

This seemed like a win-win all right. The more I could avoid Evan until I departed The Ramblings and headed off to Strath Ross, the better.

The way he’d left Dane’s gig with Sacha last night.

My heart contorted at the memory.

I wouldn’t let him make me feel like that again.