Although I was heavily involved in the sports side of school life, I had never had much input in other areas other than academic, it was therefore with some trepidation, that I agreed to assist the Head of Drama with the forthcoming Christmas production of 'Tommy, A Rock Opera'.
I had taken drama lessons as part of the national curriculum, because I had to, and only in the first year at this school, I was thirteen and couldn't wait until the next year, when I could opt for other subjects, I did and they didn't include drama! Now I am eighteen and have never regretted that decision.
I sauntered along one of the many and almost identical hallways to my next lesson, lost in my own thoughts and oblivious to the sound of running footsteps closing in on me at a rapid speed. A firm hand grabbed my upper arm and spun me around. "It's true what they say about you, Claire. "You really are in a world of your own."
It took a few seconds for my eyes to catch up to my head in order to identify the owner of the hand, which was still firmly attached to my upper arm. "My world is a much better place, there is no winter, where the wind-chill factor rules the decision making process and where sunshine and sea breezes are readily available to wrap you in contented happiness." I replied, somewhat stunned when I realised that not only was I revealing a side of me that very few people knew but, I was revealing it to a teacher!
"I have been calling you for the last five minutes and ended up chasing after you along hallways." Mr. Priestley said.
"No running in the hallways," it was drilled into us, frequently, "it's dangerous." I added with a slightly sarcastic but joking tone.
"Claire, I need your help. I need someone organised and disciplined to oversee the costume department for the Christmas production." Mr. Priestley said, still holding my arm.
"I can't sew a button on, never mind make costumes. Why don't you go to the needlework group?" At a loss as to why he would ask me.
"No sewing skills required, meet me in the theatre at the end of the day, all will be revealed. Got to go, twenty five third year hooligans will be causing havoc in my classroom," he said with a smile and was gone.
I was standing outside the theatre doors at 4pm, no Mr. Priestley in sight.
"Thanks for coming."
I nearly passed out on the spot, "where did you come from?"
"That's twice today, you really ought to be more aware of your surroundings, it could save your life one day," the twinkle in his eyes relayed messages that were in direct conflict with what I knew to be the correct etiquette for a teacher/pupil relationship.
At around 5'10, slim but definitely fit with jet black hair and the deepest green eyes you are ever likely to see, Mr. Priestley had many admirers. It helped of course that at 29 years, he was very young to be the head of a department. The subject of countless schoolgirl fantasies, he seemed to be oblivious or too cool to show that he knew what girls were thinking in his classes. I'm sure he had a few 'unteacherly' thoughts himself, the man would have to be blind not to see the way the girls would dress for school in the most provocative way they could and still be in school uniform!
We were in the theatre, both sitting in the 'audience' seating.
"So have you invented some magical dust?" I said teasingly.
"Huh, oh, yeah, the costumes. No, what I need you to do is more like project management." He gave me a copy of a schedule of works.
"Keep everything running and on time, you'll even have to make sure that the teachers who are assisting are on track. You don't get to boss them around though, that's my job!" His face was serious but a smirk was appearing.
"We will be working closely together as we don't have a lot of time to play with. Rehearsals start this week, full costume rehearsal in 4 weeks, production on stage 1 week after that." He paused, trying to read the look in my eyes. "Think you can handle that? Good, that's settled."
"Er, hang on a minute, when am I supposed to do all this?" I was annoyed that he had just assumed that I would want to do this. "I have gymnastics every evening from 5pm to 7pm and my mornings are taken up with keeping fit from 6am to 8am and then I come to school."
He looked me straight in the eyes, "I have agreed with the Head that you can leave your last lesson every day to check on our progress, you will of course have to do some catch up learning at the weekend."
I believe my response was "Go to hell," and with that I stormed out of the theatre.
By the time I reached home, I was so angry that I was ready to explode. You could have floored me when my Aunt, with whom I had lived since my parents had died, told me how pleased she was that I was to be so involved with the production and what a nice man my teacher was!
His was the bright red car I had seen leaving the driveway, he'd beaten me home and got my Aunt and Uncle on side, before I could tell them. Who did he think he was? Why was he so desperate to get me to do this? How the hell was I going to get out of it?
We were 3 weeks into the rehearsals and although things had been strained at first, we managed to work through it, for the good of the school, you understand. We had even progressed to my using his first name, Tony and to him taking me home every evening after gym practice. The problem was, however, I was beginning to look forward to my ride home. I couldn't take my eyes off his legs and hips when he was driving, they were so lean and strong, not an ounce of fat on him, anywhere!
We had 2 weeks left and people were beginning to get stressed, I told him we needed to do a costume rehearsal now, next week would leave little time to make alterations in time.
"If that's what you think," he said. "I did get you on board to do exactly this."
My request was borne out when we discovered that we had not made enough nurses outfits, we were four short. We had many arguments Tony and I during the build up to opening night. We were to put on four evening performances and one matinee on Saturday, by special arrangement with the local education authority.
I found myself getting to like Tony more and more, he was nothing like the person who taught drama in a big comprehensive school. He was like Jekyll and Hyde, only Mr. Hyde was not an evil madman, in Tony's case, he was just impatient and assuming. These are not endearing qualities.
The Friday before the first performance, which was to be the following Tuesday night, Tony was driving me home, just as he had done every evening for the past four weeks.
He was unusually quiet and as the journey could take fifteen minutes under normal road conditions and these were not normal by any stretch of the imagination. The snow had been falling pretty much all day, driving required a lot of concentration and due to the weather, there were far more cars on the road, even at 7.30 at night.
