The West End of Avalon

Posted on Mon Nov 20th, 2023 @ 16:14 by Claire Cavendish & Cameron Johnston & Alastair Temple

Chapter: Winter's Crest Festival
Location: Head Teacher's Office, Avalon Institute
Timeline: Sunday afternoon, December 13th, 1992
2750 words - 5.5 OF Standard Post Measure

The head teacher's office had never been the shining beacon of orderly serenity but the current set-up clearly showed that the sole occupant was not in the most structured of mindsets. Claire'd always been a firm follower of the creed 'if a messy desk is a sign of a messy mind, what's an empty desk a sign of', but now there were just sheets and sheets of papers, stacks of printed out booklets, and large A0 sized flipover sheets shrewn about. The head mistress herself was pacing between them, markers in hand, waiting for the two people she had requested to come see her there.

One week from now they would be kicking off the cultural week leading up to the recently named Winter's Crest Festival. After being convinced by Shauna to start a dance class at Avalon it had quickly evolved into a desire to put on a show during the festival. They hadn't even properly introduced dance yet, but Claire's mind was racing with excitement. At first she'd had help from the Drama teacher, but too much real life drama had forced him to step away from the Institute. And now she was sat in the middle of what appeared to be an explosion trying to figure out if she could actually make it work.

Which is where Cameron and Alastair came in, because it had become abundantly clear to her that she hadn't a snowball's chance in hell of pulling this off on her own.

Alastair was the first to enter. Well, the first to swagger in, carrying himself like the rock star he was. Was. Past tense. Back when he still had a band. Still, you can take the guitarist out of the band, but you can't take the band out of the guitarist. "You called me up here, boss lady?"

"Mister Temple, yes. Please do come in." Claire looked around and it seemed to be the first time she realised the mess she had made. "Oh, I'm sorry." She picked up a stack of papers to free up one of the large Chesterfields and motioned for him to take a seat, looking around to see what surface was available for her to put the booklets down. "We're waiting on Mister Johnston, can I get you something to drink?"

"We're not in trouble, are we?" was Al's first reaction, showing part of his own insecurities as someone who's always had to hide what he was, and as new fish in a storied pond. He carefully sat down on the luxurious quilted leather couch. "Just - ... some tea will do, thank you," he added. "Oh, and - call me Al. Or Alastair. Only the kids call me Mr Temple," he was sure he wasn't the only teacher to refer to his kids as his kids.

"Bound to be," piped up the voice from the doorway, muffed somewhat by the half a sandwich Cameron was currently attempting to inhale. If he had any inclination as to why Claire was calling this meeting, Cam might have been a little confused about his expected contribution but on the balance of things, if Claire asked to speak to him, he made time. That had become even more important over the past few weeks. "Looks like she's pulled out all the evidence too."

"ha, yeah. Yes." Claire then shook her head, "No, you're not in trouble. I'm the one in trouble and I need your help." She then corrected herself. She wasn't normally this chaotic and flustered but there was just so much planning that went into Winter's Crest and up until a couple of weeks ago she had a drama teacher that would be taking care of what last year was one of the more popular workshop clusters. She finished making the tea for the three of them and walked over to the small table in between the large chesterfield chairs and couch. She rested the serving tray on top of two stacks of paper. "Tea, milk, sugar." She pointed at the cups and the two containers of additions before walking back to her flipchart. "We're staging a musical." She clapped her hands for dramatic effect.

Cameron, having surveyed the uncharacteristic disarray, opted for plopping himself down on the floor beside the table and chewed thoughtfully on the last morsel of his snack. "I take it," he eventually started, "that wasn't a cryptic use of the royal 'we'." As evidenced by the annual staff talent show, the mechanic could play the guitar with passable skill and was relatively easy on the ears without necessarily having any immediate prospects on the West End, but he somehow doubted that Claire was roping him in for his musical contributions. "For the record, I make an excellent tree according to my nursery teacher." Stretching out, he waved a hand in the general vicinity of his knees. "Not scared to wear tights either, for a good cause."

"Ok, so - performing an existing musical, or setting up a whole new one? What's it about? How long is it?" Al tilted his head, glancing over at Cameron. At least, if they needed a tree, he knew they'd be covered. He tried the tea, making a face when he found it was still way too hot. "Gonna need to let that one sit for a bit," he muttered. "I can play guitar well, bass, drums and keyboard well enough, but don't expect great piano solos from me, that's not my forte."

"Oh, no, no. The performance is by the students. No need for trees. Though one of the options includes a flesh eating plant." Claire grabbed two copies of the script for Little Shop of Horrors. "That's why I needed you here, both of you. I want to know what we feel might be possible in regards to music and decor. we have several options." She started to grab a couple of different scripts from around the room and passed them to both the men that had answered her call for help. "So, thoughts? is any of it at all feasible?"

"You know it's traditional this time of year to put on a pantomime, right?" Cameron peered at the first page of the pile he'd been handed, instantly intimidated by the sheer amount of words that each script entailed. Reading was not the speeder's favourite hobby though he tended to keep that admission on the down low. By some weird twist of fate, he was supposed to be setting a good example to impressionable minds, after all. "Two ends of a donkey, funniest performance always goes to the back end." He squinted at the title of the next play. "Into the Woods? Well, we've got plenty of those around here."

"I do like that one, very modern." Claire remarked on the Into the Woods script, "Perhaps Cats is a bit more feasible. It's basically just building a refuse dump and making cat suits."

"Cats has amazing choreography though, I'm not sure about the others," Alastair offered, looking at the Little Shop of Horrors script. "I really doubt we can get that cast and rehearsed in a month, along with picking a band, rehearsing all the music, the performance would have to be severely simplified if we're to get anything done in that time frame," he seemed doubtful, but not strictly against the idea. "Though casting and choreography are really not my wheelhouse. I can do the music, get that arranged. I've already got some ideas about putting who in which instrument. But even then I'd need sheet music, or at least a good quality recording of the music so I can adapt sheet music that'll be - well, not entirely accurate but recognizable, the main melodies will be accurate."

"Way..." Claire stepped to the side and picked up a couple of music books, there wasn't a lot in regards to musical theatre that you couldn't buy with the right connections and the proper sack of money to back it up. "Ahead of you." She stopped in her tracks though when she heard about the month preptime, knowing they only really had a week. "You're probably right though. This is way too difficult to pull off in a week of prep and then a big opening night." She wanted to push the students, have them completely engulfed in the process. Imagining actors rehearsing through lunch, going over steps in their dorms after lights out, it was perhaps much more her own fantasy than that of the students though. "Perhaps something off-broadway?" She plopped the music books down on the table and looked over at the two, feeling slightly embarrassed at the idea at her unpreparedness and unbridled passion that had blinded her for the reality of the whole ordeal.

"A week, I can give you a song," The reality of having toured for 5 successful albums meant he knew how much prep time went into just rehearsing. He and his band could rehearse a song in a few days, but that was with trained professionals who were skilled on their instruments, who knew each other and had spent years working with each other. Truth be told, with still having to pick his band and see where their skills and limits lay, he wasn't even sure he could comfortably pull that off. But then, the life of a musician was not about comfort. It was about pushing envelopes.

From his position on the floor, Cameron had glanced up and caught the expression on Claire's face, which prompted a thoughtful pause before he intentionally manoeuvred his response to intercept and scattered options further afield. "What we have here," he started, "is the basis of a fantastic new end-of-final-term tradition. A project that various aspects of the curriculum can intersect on, that each faculty can have a part in, something to bring the community together whilst also allowing students to focus a year's worth of learning on something tangible. Something," Cameron continued, "that would need to be started now but wouldn't need to be ready for performance until late May." He leaned his weight back on both hands, allowing the pile of scripts to rest on his thigh for a moment. "Maybe we can turn the audition process into a smaller concert-style talent show."

"I like your idea very much," Al began, turning his attention to Cameron. "But when I say 'a week, I can give you a song', that's only if I hurry through auditions as fast as I can, no time really to host a concert style talent show. At least, for this occasion," he offered a smile. "But, like I said, for those big five month prep new end-of-term tradition, I'm all for it. I really like that idea. Concert style auditions work for that."

Claire leaned back against her big oak desk and looked at the two. An end of the school-year big production musical sounded exactly like something she'd love to work towards over the course of the second semester. "Alright, big musical end of the year. For this, though, I think it might still be fun to give a taste. Rather than auditions, just a single ensemble song from a popular one." She pulled out the songbook for Les Miserables, "How about One Day More?" She handed the book to Alastair with the indicated song folded open.

Al took the book and started reading the lyrics, along with the music. He could work with this. He took a sip of his tea while he read in silence and considered the work.

Squinting in an attempt to recollect, having received most of his knowledge of musicals as the second-hand backlash of his sister's absolute obsession with the theatre, Cameron tried to dredge up a recollection of the particular song from the tangle of hard knock lives and lonely goatherds currently yodelling from afar. "Is that the one with the chimney sweeps? No, wait, that's Sweeny Poppins." Winking at Claire, which rather spoiled his feigned ignorance, the mutant grinned. "Isn't that a lot of solos for one week?"

Claire's musical theatre heart broke hearing Cameron butcher three high end West End productions in one sweeping motion. It took quite a lot from her not to correct him on all counts. "You know, that makes me reconsider inviting you here." She deadpanned before turning back to Alastair, "What do you think, would we be able to pull it off?"

"Idunno, Boss. There area lot of moving parts in this. The harmonies aren't too bad, just requiring many singers - but the solos in canon, there's - yeah, it's a lot. I'm semi confident I can put up a performance of a recognizable but simplified version of this in a week, but it'll be hard work. Like, twelve hours a day hard," Al mused, idly leafing through the book. At noticing something he quirked a brow and offered a smile. "How about this one? Simpler to prep and rehearse, and with - topical lyrics," he smirked, holding the book up for her to see, on 'Do You Hear The People Sing?'.

Lifting his chin to crane for a look, Cameron wasn't in a position to catch the suggested title and, with blithe disregard for current threat levels, opted for hazarding a guess. "Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead. Excellent choice. Give me the full week and some of these first year projects will easily double as flying monkeys." They were supposed to be innovating on basic toaster design, but now that he was into the third year of that particular warm-up project, Cameron knew better than to suppose any of them would actually be able to warm a slice of bread at the end of it.

"I, eh." Claire wasn't too sure whether it was a good idea to invite the local community to come watch them sing a song of rebellion, but then again perhaps it was the perfect opportunity to show their dissatisfaction with exactly all the things going on around here and cover it up with a simple 'hey, we're just paying homage to one of the most successful musicals ever performed on the West End'. Besides, she was never going to convince a rock artist not to go against authority, especially through music. "If you think that's our best chance to perform a decent set, I guess we have no choice." A soft smirk crept across her dark features.

"What I think," Alastair's baritone rumbled as he sat back and steepled his fingers, furrowing his brows. Sitting like that, with luxurious bushy facial hair and victorian gothic inspired outfit one could easily imagine him playing the part of some old lord such and such in a movie or a play. "Is that 'Sing' is the easier song to learn and practice. I'd be more confident of being able to deliver a good show with 'Sing' than with 'Day'. That said, I also think that the school's image matters, and the song we're going to perform could affect that. So you're the person to make the final decision, boss lady. Think on it a moment. Are we going amplified or unplugged on this?" he asked. "If amplified we're going to need mics, cabling, amps, speakers, the works. Maybe you can help with that, Cameron? Your technical insight would go a long way to getting that aspect right."

"We definitely want to amplify, give the kids an opportunity to work with that as well." Claire looked at Cameron hopefully, it would probably be a tall order for him as well to set all of that up within a week. "Will all of that work?"

The palpable hope in the head mistress' tone was all Cameron needed to hear. They'd all been through the wringer lately but Claire had been the one forced to deal with the unwanted publicity and the resulting backlash as popular opinion veered strongly in favour of those trying to shove them all into tiny boxes. If she wanted a musical extravaganza, she would get it. There was plenty of time to sleep after the week was up, after all. With a wink and a cavalier salute that drew attention away from the empathy in his eyes, the speedster agreed without hesitation. "I'll work at double pace if need be." All things considered, that promised to be quite a spectacle in itself.