Page 62 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Chapter Twelve

The gym hall consisted of a polished, pale, wooden floor and a dozen students sat around cross-legged, dressed in an assortment of jeans, T-shirts and leggings.

Memories of me struggling to leap over the pommel horse and getting whacked in the ankle by a hockey stick still haunted me.

‘Howdy, guys!’ chimed Josie.

She turned to me and indicated with one hand. ‘Now, we have a special guest with us this afternoon. This is Daisy Madden, a former pupil at this school and one of my former drama students. She’s trodden many theatre stages, and no doubt you will recognise her from her role as Tammy in the recent, excellent and gritty ITV series Sinister.’

There were excited nods and murmurs and a burst of applause.

‘Daisy has kindly agreed to come and chat to you all today, so Daisy, over to you!’

I dumped my bag on a nearby chair and thanked Mrs Hazelwood for her introduction before giving a potted version of how I got started: the endless auditions, the chilly theatres I’d acted in and then my biggest role to date in Sinister. ‘How about some of you give me a performance of one of your favourite pieces, and then I’m more than happy to take any questions?’

There was a sea of enthusiastic nods.

‘Right. Who’d like to go first?’ I asked.

There followed a procession of very good performances from the students; they each stood up and acted out a scene from one of their favourite movies or novels.

There were scenes performed from Of Mice and Men, To Kill a Mockingbird, West Side Story and Wuthering Heights. Their range and maturity blew me away, and I clapped and encouraged them, advising a couple of them to throw themselves even more into the person they were pretending to be. ‘Don’t think about your audience,’ I suggested. ‘In fact, don’t think. Just be.’

I was revelling in the drama student’s enthusiasm and passion, but at the same time, bouts of melancholy hit, making me wonder when or even if I would ever act again myself.

My attention fell on a pretty, strawberry blonde-haired girl sitting close to the gym hall windows. She was appraising me with sea green eyes. She dropped her attention to her trainers when I smiled and nodded over at her. She was the only one who hadn’t got to her feet to perform.

Josie sidled up beside me. ‘That’s Cayla Sweeney,’ she whispered. ‘All my students are great, but she’s something else. So, so talented. Just a pity she doesn’t believe it herself.’ She nodded her head in the direction of the school’s entrance. ‘Cayla is Gillian’s daughter. The school receptionist you were chatting to this morning.’

‘Ah. Right.’

‘Gillian’s one of my closest friends,’ added Josie, giving Cayla a smile.

The girl returned a nervous one back, before peering down steadfastly at her trainers again.

The other students noticed us looking over at her.

There was a hush.

‘Cayla, isn’t it?’ I asked.

She nodded her long, straight hair, making it tumble further over her face.

‘Would you like to perform something?’

She bit her bottom lip.

‘Do what you like; poem, scene from a book, an excerpt from a play.’

‘I don’t know,’ she murmured, avoiding eye contact.

‘You can do a scene from Pride and Prejudice,’ suggested Josie.

Cayla shook her head. ‘No, Miss.’

I searched around my mind for something to suggest next. ‘What about some Shakespeare?’

Cayla glanced up at me from under her straight fringe.