Chapter Seven
Third week in November
Dan was losing control. He knew it, the kids knew it. And old Sid, smirking at the back of the classroom, definitely knew it.
‘Guys, can you please sit down on the mat again,’ Dan asked for the third time. Or was it the fourth? There was so much noise in the room he couldn’t think.
‘I’m not a guy,’ said a pint-sized, dark-skinned, pigtailed girl whose name label had fallen off.
He thought she was called Priti, but as this was the second class he’d given his so-called acting tips to today, and there were around thirty kids in a class, that was one hell of a lot of names to learn.
The only one he knew for certain was Maisie.
‘Guys is a generic word,’ he explained with what he thought was admirable patience.
‘Is that like, old?’
‘No, that’s geriatric. Which is what you lot are making me feel right now,’ he added under his breath.
‘Generic means a collective word, a general word.’ Christ, his head was starting to spin.
Wasn’t he supposed to be teaching acting, not English?
‘Guy is male, yes, but the word guys can be used to address a group of people of either sex.’
‘Guy was also that fireworks dude.’ This from the cockiest kid of them all. Riley.
‘Yes, a guy is also a figure representing Guy Fawkes that we burn on a bonfire.’ Desperately Dan turned to Sid and mouthed help. He didn’t care that the guy — see, he knew guy, singular, was for a male — was laughing at him. Anything to shut this lot up.
Sid walked — not far off waddled, actually — towards him, chuckling. ‘Not as easy as it looks, eh?’ Then, with a knack, an authority that Dan could only dream of, he yelled. ‘Pipe down, you horrible lot, and sit back on the mat so Dan can teach you how to act.’
‘Acting’s for pansies.’ The Riley kid again.
‘Is that right, Riley?’ Sid’s eyes focused in on the boy in a way that nearly made Dan quake in his boots. ‘Do you plan on telling Dwayne The Rock Johnson, that?’
As the rest of the kids burst out laughing, Riley, clearly made of sterner stuff than Dan, just shrugged. ‘Nah, but I can tell Dan that ’cause his biceps aren’t as big.’
Cheeky flaming sod. Just because he’d let a few gym sessions slip since he’d been booted out of the show and no longer had the whole country staring at his abs.
Slowly Dan rose to his full height. ‘You think you’re big?
’ Opening his chest, he put his hands on his hips.
‘I’ve fought bigger. You people are so pretty. And tiny. Fortunately, I am mighty.’
Silence. Blessed, blessed silence. For a few priceless seconds none of them spoke, and all of them stared at him with something that looked a bit like awe. It was the quietest kid — Taran, maybe? — who broke it. ‘You’re Thor.’
‘Exactly.’ Relief washed through him because, Christ, if he’d not been able to impress a bunch of eight-year-olds with his acting, he really was dead in the water.
‘That was sick.’ The girl he thought was Priti was now his second favourite pupil after Maisie.
‘Thank you.’ At least he assumed she meant it in a good way, and not that it made her want to vomit.
‘For a moment I made some of you believe I was Thor, and that’s what acting is all about.
It isn’t putting on a costume and saying lines.
It’s making the audience believe you’re Thor, or Scrooge, or SpongeBob, or whatever character you’re playing.
And that only happens if you believe it. ’
Sid coughed. ‘And if you learn your lines.’
The kids sniggered and a flurry of questions followed about the play and what the parts were and who’d be in it.
Dan cast his eyes around the room. ‘All of you can be in it if you want to be. We’re asking those who want to take part to come and have a chat with us tomorrow in morning break.’
‘Count me out.’ Riley screwed up his face in disgust. ‘I don’t want to be in a dead play.’
‘Well, I’m still writing it, so it’s very much alive at the moment,’ Dan murmured, though his usual brand of irritating — so Natalie had kept informing him — optimism had taken a nosedive.
What the hell was he doing here? The kids didn’t give a toss about acting or the play.
This whole idea of Pete’s was a ridiculous waste of time.
Wait till he saw him, he’d rip the guy to shreds.
‘I want to be in the play.’ Dan’s gaze jumped to the owner of the voice.
Maisie, who smiled at him in a way that totally reminded him of her mother.
Who he’d nearly, so bloody nearly, kissed as he’d left her house last week.
The memory of standing in her cramped hallway, searching her face for a clue as to whether she felt the same heat, the same spark of attraction that had held him hostage all night, still burned vividly.
At the last minute, haunted by Pete’s words — don’t do anything stupid — he’d played safe and gone for her cheek.
It had bumped against every instinct he had. He wasn’t a play safe kind of guy. He was live for the moment, go for what feels right and handle the fall out later.
‘Me, too.’ Maisie’s friend, the one with the pigtails, put up her hand, breaking him out of his trance.
‘Thank you. That’s two characters we have for the play.’ Maybe he’d gone soft in the head, but he was actually enjoying writing it. At least he would be if he hadn’t got to keep checking in with Sid after each act.
Dan turned to the shy boy sitting next to Maisie. The one who looked like he wouldn’t say boo to a goose, but when he’d given him a few lines to act earlier, had read them with a quiet intensity that had both shocked and delighted him. ‘What about you, Taran? Would you like a part in the play?’
Taran hastily looked down at his feet. ‘I don’t mind.’
It wasn’t a no. And frankly, considering how today had gone, Dan was content with that.
Finally the bell sounded for lunch and under Sid’s watchful eye the kids walked sedately out of the door — and then flew down the corridor, their chattering voices pinging off the walls and echoing back to the classroom. Sid shook his head. ‘Every day I tell them to walk, not run.’
Feeling a rare moment of bonding coming on, Dan tried an encouraging smile. ‘You’re good with them, though. They take notice of you.’
‘Aye, maybe. Some days.’ Sid walked round the room straightening the chairs, picking up pens that had fallen on the floor. ‘How far have you got with the play? Up to the shepherds yet?’
‘Yep. The angels are telling the shepherds where to go, in the politest way possible. Thought we could go through it later if you have time.’
‘Time’s in short supply during school hours. Outside them mind.’ Sid grunted, leaning his vast bulk so heavily against one of the small plastic chairs it made Dan wince. ‘Outside them, time’s something I’ve plenty of.’
‘Maybe after school then.’ Dan hesitated, then figured what the hell. It was going to get out soon enough. ‘I’m free till six thirty, when I’m taking ballroom dancing lessons. Here, at the school.’
He braced himself for a snide remark, but instead Sid looked . . . he’d say wistful, if the guy wasn’t a sweaty, five-stone overweight bloke with missing buttons on his shirt and a tie he’d probably eaten yesterday’s tea off. ‘Here, you said?’
‘Yep. Do you like dancing, Sid?’
‘In my day.’
He could be wrong, but Sid seemed to be avoiding his eyes.
He was certainly paying more attention to tidying his desk than he did to tidying himself.
‘I bet you can still strut your stuff if the occasion demands. Why don’t you come and join the dance classes?
I’m going, Anna’s going.’ He slipped her name in quickly, like it was no big deal, and smoothed right over it. ‘I bet we could find you a partner.’
‘No.’
Dan jumped at the barked exclamation that was accompanied by an expression of absolute horror. It was as if he’d asked Sid to walk down the corridor stark bollock naked while singing ‘I’m a little soldier boy’.
‘Hey, okay.’ Before he had chance to smooth the feathers he’d obviously not just ruffled but upended, Sid was marching towards the door muttering something that sounded like playground duty but could equally have been piss off, Daniel.
With a resigned sigh, Dan shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and followed Sid out.
One step forward, two back seemed to be his modus operandi over the last God knows how many years.
Married, divorced. Part in a long-running TV show, axed.
Son who smiled when he saw him, son who didn’t want to see him.
And yes, that hurt like a bitch.
The way things were going, it was highly likely he’d trip Anna up tonight and end up being asked to leave the school.
As disgruntled as he was feeling, a small smile edged across his face.
Tonight, at least until he ballsed things up, he was going to get the chance to hold the delightful Anna Dalton in his arms.
His mood better, he strolled towards the spare office where he’d set up camp to write the play in between drama classes. Whistling ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ as he went.
* * *
Anna spooned the spaghetti bolognaise into a bowl, belatedly realising it was the wrong meal to have chosen tonight.
First there was the garlic undertones. Not that it mattered because she wasn’t going to be that close to Dan.
She’d be dancing with him, sure, but it wasn’t like she was going to be kissing him.
Her stomach dipped, and she felt the heat rise up her neck. It was dancing in a school hall. Fluorescent tube lighting, several fellow teachers, a few governors. A couple of parents. Several more grandparents.
Taking a breath, she glanced down. Damn it. She’d slopped sauce onto her white shirt. Which was the second reason she shouldn’t have chosen this meal tonight.
Now she’d have to change, and that might look like she was trying to impress him. Except he probably hadn’t noticed what she’d been wearing today anyway.
‘Mum, are you okay?’ Maisie frowned over at her. ‘You’re just like, standing there, staring.’