So…I’m not meant to be writing drabbles at the moment. I keep saying this. I’ve publicly announced that I’m serving a 6-month drabble writing ban. And yet…and yet…the plot rabbit apparently wasn’t listening. So here you go, the first bit of the sequel to Throwing Caution. I’m only writing this because the rabbit said that if I did this for him he’d help me with the footnotes for the essay I’m *meant* to be working on right now, though I’m not altogether sure that I trust him to keep his promise.
It’s a seasonal piece, but unfortunately, the wrong season…somehow, at Christmas I was writing about Easter, and now it’s Easter, I’m writing about Christmas…ho hum!
I'm not thrilled with the title, so that might change. Or not. Oh, and a gold star to anyone who can identify any of Kathie’s quotations
. Where You Belong
“Goodness, is that the time?” Catching sight of the clock on the wall of her classroom, Nancy Wilmot started. “I’m sorry girls,” she said, addressing the two members of the Sixth who’d stayed behind at the end of their lesson to discuss with her their chances of studying Maths at University, “we’re going to have to continue this another time. I was meant to be in a staff meeting five minutes ago. So how about you come and find me at lunchtime on Monday, and we’ll have a proper chat about it then?”
With an apologetic grin she swept up her papers and made a dash for the staffroom, and it was with a sigh of relief that, as she sped down the corridor, she caught a glimpse of the Heads just disappearing into the room. “Not too late, then,” she reassured herself. After the debacle, the week before, of that talk she felt that she should probably try her best to keep a low profile around the Heads for a few weeks at least.
Preoccupied with this good intention, as she came through the staffroom door and still travelling at speed it was with more luck than judgment that she narrowly managed to avoid crashing into the backs of those very people.
For, on entering the staffroom, Miss Wilson and Miss Annersley had come to a standstill in shock at the scene in front of them.
**
Edging round the figures of the two Heads to get a better look at what was going on, Nancy had to stifle a giggle.
Standing on a chair in the centre of the room, and facing an assembled group of her colleagues, Kathie Ferrars was intoning, in a rather portentous manner, “Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Now is the winter of our discontent!” Kathie then leapt from the chair, and crouched behind Sharlie Andrews, saying, confidingly in a stage whisper, ”For Brutus is an honourable man.” Standing up, and stalking across the room, she now pointed accusingly at Davida Armitage, saying, “Soft you, a word or two before you go, shall we sit upon the floor and tell sad stories of the death of kings? For Brutus is an honourable man.” Suddenly changing her countenance into one of fury and bereavement, she then wailed, ”O, my ducats, my ducats, o, my daughter – I have done the state some service and they know it.”
Nancy wasn’t sure, but she thought that at this point she heard one of the Heads mutter to the other “…and you said we ought to get them a television to keep them entertained of an evening….”
Now at the front of her impromptu stage and curiously calm, Kathie was saying, quietly, “For Bruno is an honourable dog,” and then, approaching Ruth Derwent, flirtatiously, “O brave new world that has such people in it.” She paused, reached out a hand to stroke Ruth’s head, and then, thoughtfully, turned to the others to remark, “though, if hairs be wires, black wires grow from her head.”
As the audience chuckled, Ruth swiped a hand at Kathie, while those sitting near Sharlie Andrews heard her mutter, “That’s not even from a play…”
Ignoring this criticism, Kathie spun on her heels, deciding to forsake Shakespeare for something a little more modern. “Nothing to be done,” she said, shrugging, “ah, stop blathering and help me off with this bloody thing…” But as she mischievously reached down to Rosalind Moore's feet to try to remove her shoes, she froze as she suddenly noticed that her audience now included the two Heads of the Chalet School. As the assembled audience followed the line of Kathie's gaze, a collective gasp went up, and one or two people flinched.
“An impressive performance, my dear,” Miss Annersley said, smiling warmly in an attempt to dispel some of the fear that was now apparent on the young teacher’s countenance. “But may I ask – why?”
“Er..um…er…” Kathie had developed something in the way of stage fright.
“It’s nothing bad, Hilda,” Rosalind Moore spoke up in defence of her young colleague. “Kathie was just auditioning to persuade Ruth to let her co-direct the Christmas play.”
“And has she passed the audition, Ruth?” Miss Annersley asked, looking keenly at that lady.
Ruth turned to the others. “Well – should I let her?” she asked with a grin. The question was met with cheers and applause, and in the centre of the room Kathie did a happy little jig.
“Now that’s been settled,” Miss Annersley said, “Can we return to order? We’ve got a meeting to get through and several items on the agenda.”
**
As the meeting came to a close, and the teaching staff headed off for Abendessen, Miss Annersley caught hold of her Head of English by the arm.
“Ruth, when we spoke this morning I thought you’d already decided to let Kathie do the play with you?” she asked, quietly.
Ruth nodded, with a grin. “Yes, I had – but don’t let Kathie know that, will you?"
Thank you 
but I do have these random decontextualized fragments in my head - just don't ask me what happens in any of the plays, because I can't remember. 
Did make me laugh though and proved I really do have a one track mind - when trying to remember what plays I had seen, main memories were As you like it, mainly as I fell head over heels for the actress in the show in Stratford playing Rosalind. Then Macbeth, very few memories of the play as crushing on the girl sitting next to me (straight of course, when you are a teenager they always are) Tried to wrack brain to find non crush related Shakespeare, rembered Romeo & Juliet film, thought hey I've got one... Then remembered Claire Danes in the swimming pool and realised there is no hope. 
curbs!