Page 22 of Wild Horses
The old hall vibrated with life on Wednesday afternoon as busy teens milled around on its freshly polished floorboards, intent on their tasks.
It had undergone quite the transformation during the weeks they’d been working towards the show.
A Greek taverna, complete with bougainvillea vines and white stucco walls, stood ready for the Mamma Mia crew to serenade the audience with ABBA’s timeless hits.
Nearby, the carnivorous allure of a large, papier-maché Audrey II loomed ominously, its gaping maw adorned with menacing styrofoam teeth.
The enchanting set for Midsummer Night’s Dream waited in the wings – a fairytale forest backed by a curtain of ethereal stars and moonbeams. Christy surveyed the sets with satisfaction, feeling the familiar tingle that always accompanied an approaching opening night.
‘Miss P, watch this!’ called a lanky boy on the stage, who previously had struggled to remember his steps. Now, as if by magic, he glided through his routine.
Christy clapped. ‘Bravo, Ned!’
As the final rehearsals unfurled, the teens were carving out individual niches, each according to their strengths.
Stacey, a quiet girl with an eye for detail, had taken charge of the props.
She’d been especially helpful in finishing the Midsummer Night’s Dream set in time, painstakingly attaching each flower, leaf and vine to create the magical woodland atmosphere.
Her dedication had helped bring the scenery to life, making it more than just a backdrop, but an integral part of the narrative.
Jane and Emma, who both loved to dance, were practising their steps for the Mamma Mia numbers. They’d even helped choreograph certain segments, teaching their peers the routines and taking a substantial load off Astrid, who was both musical director and wardrobe mistress.
In the corner of the hall, Alex, who’d discovered a talent for sound engineering, was hunched over the audio equipment that Tyler had bought in Dalby.
With headphones slung around his neck, he was mixing tracks, ensuring the music cues matched the performers’ actions.
His role might have been less visible than others’, but it was crucial to fill the hall with the right sounds at the right moments.
This wasn’t just a show that was coming together – it was a showcase of individual growth and collective triumph.
Leo and a few others were practising the Little Shop of Horrors segment. There were moments when lines still tangled, or use of a prop faltered, but overall their performance was excellent – and they still had three days to go.
In the costume department – a small roped-off area to the left of the stage – Astrid and a group of Merriang CWA ladies worked feverishly.
Two girls slipped into outfits made of a sparkling material that caught the light as they moved.
Their chatter was punctuated by the soft scuffs of ballet slippers and the rustling of scripts as they twirled.
‘Careful with the chiffon,’ warned a plump woman with a silver bun. ‘We won’t get any more before Saturday.’
Stray feathers and sequins found homes in the hall’s nooks and crannies, while occasional spools of thread rolled like tumbleweed across the floor.
The costumes were vibrant and varied: disco-inspired jumpsuits shimmered beside Grecian tunics, while fairy wings glistened with delicate dewdrops made of glitter.
Astrid, her fingers deftly pinning a hem, was the epitome of concentration, each stitch a small act of devotion to the show.
Little Jess tried on her costume and ran about waving her arms. ‘Look, I’m a pixie!
’ Laughter bubbled up from the group, a happy sound that mingled with the hum of sewing machines and the soft swish of fabric.
Christy smiled in admiration. The women’s community spirit was woven into every sewn seam and gathered ruffle.
‘Right,’ said Leo, putting down his script. ‘A few of us are heading into Merriang to put up posters.’
Astrid overheard him. ‘Show us.’
Leo obliged, passing the colourful paper sheets around the costume department.
Each poster displayed a dramatic backdrop of a stage curtain, half-pulled back to reveal characters from the featured scenes.
Overlaid on these theatrical scenes were photos of key dishes from the show’s menu: Greek olives and feta, menacing Audrey II-shaped cookies, and fairy-inspired cupcakes sprinkled with edible glitter.
The top of each poster declared A Night of Culinary Cabaret!
in a bold font. The date and free admission notice were clearly printed beneath the heading, all surrounded by a border of intertwined vines and kitchen utensils.
The CWA ladies beamed and murmured their approval.
‘Great, aren’t they?’ bragged a beaming Christy. ‘The kids designed them as projects for this term’s art class. Needless to say, there are A pluses all round.’
Tom arrived carrying a large, rectangular parcel. It looked heavy. ‘Is that what I think it is?’ asked Christy.
Tom grinned as he unwrapped a bronze memorial plaque. It read:
In loving memory of Edith Rose Goodbody
Dearly beloved wife of Harold, who fell in love with
Edie right here in this hall
Mother of Rodney and Ray
Loved Deeply – Remembered Always
‘It’s gorgeous,’ gasped Christy.
From the second room came the clink of cutlery and the sizzle of pans.
Tyler was a blur among the stainless steel and chrome of his temporary kitchen, darting about to help half-a-dozen teens practise the dishes to be served on Saturday night.
He was a tough taskmaster, his focus absolute, insisting even garnishes be placed with precision.
His only concessions to mediocrity were the electric hot-water urns and insulated paper cups arranged along the back of the hall for self-service tea and coffee.
Christy exhaled. A full dress rehearsal was planned for Friday – Culinary Cabaret Show eve.
They’d need to set up more chairs and gather more crockery and cutlery.
After that they’d be as ready as they’d ever be.
The kids had been excused from formal classes that day and Tom, Clare and the rest of the staff were all invited to the dress rehearsal.
Christy was almost pleased to think Maggie might come.
The boot would well and truly be on the other foot.
For once Christy would be in her element and Maggie would be the one out of her depth.
Show day dawned bright and warm, like the day before it and the one before that.
Tyler would be pleased. This run of clear weather meant he could use the two big gas barbecues for outside cooking.
Christy jumped from bed, showered and dressed quickly.
Yesterday’s dress rehearsal had gone well, but she knew they could do better.
Tonight might be a humble amateur show in a small country town, staged by a rag-tag bunch of kids, but it nonetheless felt momentous.
She couldn’t ever remember looking forward to a performance more.
The students wouldn’t arrive at the hall until lunchtime. Those who wanted to could sleep in, and Tyler had planned a full breakfast served at eight-thirty instead of seven o’clock. Everyone wanted the kids rested and full of energy for their big night.
Christy ducked into the kitchen, where Tyler was cooking up a storm. ‘Morning, Chef.’
He looked up from taking a tray of muffins from the oven.
‘You can’t help yourself, can you?’ grinned Christy. ‘I thought on such a busy morning you might have kept things simple.’
He gazed down at the tray in confusion. ‘This is simple.’
‘Yeah, sure. What else is on the breakfast menu?’
‘Um ... eggs Benedict, bacon roll-ups, baked overnight oats and pancakes with roasted vanilla bean and maple syrup.’
‘What – no toast?’ she teased.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Plain toast?’
He looked at her like he didn’t understand the question. ‘French toast, actually, made with sourdough. A choice of savoury herb or cinnamon berry. Oh, and fresh almond croissants.’
‘Ha,’ Christy exclaimed. ‘I rest my case!’ She grabbed two muffins. ‘I’ll see you later at the hall.’
Christy peered out from behind the crimson curtain. The hall was packed. Kids ran up and down the centre aisle and people who couldn’t fit at tables were standing at the side. A beaming Harold Goodbody took pride of place in the middle of the front row.
Leo came to stand beside her. ‘There are a few more chairs out the back,’ she said. ‘See if you and Ned can cram a few more people in. We can serve them on trays if we have enough food.’
Stacey peeked through the gap and went white. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
‘Steady now, deep breaths,’ Christy reminded her.
She moved around, adjusting a crooked hat here, smoothing a wrinkled costume there, each touch a silent message of encouragement. The scent of hairspray and make-up mingled with the aroma of cooking wafting from the kitchen. Tyler was happy to remain out of sight.
‘Five minutes!’ Astrid called, as she oversaw the organised chaos of last-minute costume changes and set adjustments.
Christy closed her eyes and took a moment. ‘Act one waiters – to the kitchen. Everybody else, take your places. And remember, this is your time to shine.’
The opening music began and she watched the teens transform into their characters.
‘Hey, watch the wig!’ Leo joked as he narrowly avoided a collision with another performer. Christy’s gaze followed him proudly. Of all her students, he was showing by far the most pre-show composure.
The murmur of the audience softened to a hush as the lights dimmed, casting the old hall in a soft, ethereal glow. Christy stood in the wings, trying to still the butterflies. ‘Break a leg, everyone,’ she whispered.
The curtain rose, revealing the carefully crafted Greek taverna set.
Astrid played the opening chords of ‘Mamma Mia’, cuing the teens to bound onto the stage.
Alex played the backing tracks he’d found on YouTube to fill out the sound.
They launched into song and a simple dance routine.
The audience didn’t notice the few wrong lyrics and missteps.
They enthusiastically clapped along, caught up in the infectious spirit.
As the last note lingered, students dispersed into the audience with platters of Greek delicacies: olives, tzatziki, spanakopita and slices of feta drizzled with olive oil.
The mood shifted at the eerie musical intro to the Little Shop of Horrors scene. Lights dimmed, and a spotlight illuminated the menacing, papier-maché Audrey II. It lunged at a performer, capturing the dark humour of the musical, eliciting squeals and laughter from the audience.
In between acts Christy watched proudly as the kids served the themed food with smiles, engaging with the guests. The hall buzzed with the delightful mix of great food and music.
The final act took the stage. Leo’s portrayal of Puck was magnetic.
He hammed it up, delivering his lines with a perfect blend of mischief and charm.
Little Jess, with her fairy wings, added an extra layer of humour, zipping enthusiastically and far too frequently around the stage.
Her antics caused bouts of laughter each time she took flight.
The show concluded to loud applause, the audience on their feet. Temporary tears from overwhelmed performers were quickly replaced with smiles of relief as they answered three curtain calls.
Leo bounded up to Christy, eyes shining. ‘They loved it. They really loved it!’ Christy watched as the beaming teens hugged and high-fived each other.
In the chaos of congratulations, Christy found herself standing close to Tyler.
‘Look at them,’ he said, nodding at the kids, who were now mingling with the crowd, basking in their hard-earned glory. ‘They’re changed.’
‘We’re all changed.’
He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. His touch sent a shiver down her back. ‘Hey,’ he said, his voice barely audible over the din. ‘Do you want to get some fresh air?’
They slipped through the backstage clutter and out the rear door.
The moon cast a silvery glow, turning the ordinary surroundings into something from a dream.
As they followed the path to the back gate, Tyler took hold of her hand.
Christy stopped abruptly. His thumb swept across her knuckles, before he trailed his fingers over her wrist, drawing her in.
The air filled with an expectant charge, like the moment before a storm breaks – electric and alive.
Christy’s eyes closed, her senses dizzy with the essence of him: the hint of spice on his skin, the touch of his hand, the heat of his body and the beat of his heart.
Tyler’s lips met hers in a kiss that was at once tender and fierce, the kind that spoke of emotions long buried.
Christy melted into him, hands curling around his neck, pulling him close.
The world fell away, leaving nothing but the two of them and a kiss that seemed to last forever.
Finally, they parted, both breathless. Hand in hand, they stood beneath the moon’s watchful eye, letting the romance of the night wash over them, reluctant to return to the celebration inside – knowing that something profound had begun.