by Vivien Brown
***
And so we went home, back to the way we were, and what we had been, before. We would never return. Not to that house in the country, that life, that bed. We weren’t going to run a farm, weren’t going to pretend that a new home would give us a new life or mend the old one.
Dan couldn’t see it. What he had been trying to do. In his eyes, of course, I had worked my evil magic on his parents. I was getting my own way. I was a breaker of dreams.
But I didn’t want to go backwards any more; only forwards. With Dan or without him. His choice.
Chapter 48
Jenny, 2017
Jenny stood in the queue outside the school, shivering in the cool of the early evening air and wishing she’d brought a proper coat with her. Ollie had said that the seats in the hall were meant to be for parents and that the families of staff were not really expected to come, but she’d taken no notice. After all the work her brother and sister had put into this show, there was no way she was going to miss it, even if she ended up having to stand at the back.
Somewhere inside, Ollie and Beth would already be busy with their last-minute preparations, and a few panics too, more than likely. And Beth’s mystery man would be in there too, the one she was bringing to the house on Christmas Day. Jenny couldn’t wait to get a look at him.
The queue edged forward, slowly snaking its way through the open doors but never seeming to get any shorter as more families joined it at the back. There were going to be two shows this year, one tonight and one tomorrow, as Ollie said word had got round about the show being the best yet, and demand for seats had been high. There was certainly plenty of excitement and chatter going on around her, some mothers proudly boasting that they had helped to make costumes, one handing out crisp packets to her kids while moaning they’d not long had their tea, one so pleased that her child, who couldn’t sing for toffee, had been given a part. One father was telling another that he was sick to death of hearing his son practise the same songs over and over again at home, but there was still an obvious hint of pride in his voice as he ruffled the boy’s hair and sent him scampering backstage to join the rest of the cast.
‘When will the fireworks be starting?’ one small boy asked, pulling at his mother’s coat as she eased a buggy through the doors and parked it in a corner of the lobby, bending to retrieve a sleeping baby bundled up in a bright-red ski suit. She shushed him with a tut-tut and a raise of her eyebrows. ‘I don’t know where he’s got that idea from,’ she muttered to the couple next to her. ‘I don’t remember any rockets in the nativity story, do you?’
‘No. There is a very bright star in the sky, though, isn’t there? He’s probably thinking of that. And there’s gonna be a big musical number, like something from the West End, so I’ve heard. Tap dancing, and everything!’
Jenny smiled to herself. Ollie’s show had a massive reputation to live up to, by the sound of it, and she hoped no one would be disappointed when so many of the rumours turned out not to be true. She made her way along the central aisle, looking for a seat somewhere near the front, but the place was already crammed full and she was about to turn back and settle for something much nearer the back when a hand reached out and tapped her arm.
‘Jen! Here, I’ve saved you a place.’ It was Laura, sitting at the end of a row, with a big pink bag beside her, hogging a seat of its own, and baby Evie asleep on her lap. ‘You wouldn’t believe the amount of stuff I have to carry about with me, just to keep this little one fed and clean.’ She hoisted the bag onto the floor at her feet and Jenny squeezed past her and sat down.
‘How did you know I’d be coming?’
‘I can’t imagine anything stopping you! And Ollie said you were keen.’
‘Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ Jenny ran her hand gently over the baby’s soft head. ‘Oh, Laura, she is such a sweetie, isn’t she? And here to watch her daddy – if she wakes up in time! Where is he, anyway?’
‘Oh, we won’t see him for ages now. He saw us to a seat and left us to get on with it while he faffs about back there, checking everything and everyone. Making sure it all runs like clockwork. Which, of course, it will.’
‘Sounds like Nat with her pre-wedding notebook and her interminable lists. Why check something once when you can check it a dozen times?’
‘You can tell they share the same genes!’
Jenny smiled. ‘Well, I have some of them myself, remember. But not those ones, thankfully.’ There was a screeching, like the howl of a frightened cat, from a violin up at the front and the lights slowly dimmed. ‘Ooh, I think it’s about to start.’
The little orchestra, made up mostly of tinny recorders and over-enthusiastic tambourines, with one of the teachers carrying the tune on the big old school piano, did its best to quieten the audience with its just-about-recognisable version of ‘There’s No Business Like Show Business’ and then three little girls dressed as sheep stepped cautiously onto the stage and took up their positions, huddled together in a corner. The audience hushed, although a few ‘Aaahs’ crept out as proud mums pointed and pulled tissues from their sleeves.
‘Long, long ago,’ the sheep began, baa-ing in unison. ‘In a galaxy far, far away …’
Everybody laughed as three shepherds bounded on, carrying light sabres instead of crooks, and the show was under way.
***
‘She must be hungry,’ Laura whispered, shifting in her seat, trying to rock Evie and stop her from crying. From the row behind, somebody sighed loudly and muttered something under his breath. ‘It’s no good, I’m going to have to take her outside.’
Jenny turned round and glared at the man behind. They were all parents here. Surely they knew that babies cried sometimes, and there wasn’t a lot anyone could do about it?
‘No. You can’t miss the show. Let me.’ Jenny took the baby from Laura’s arms. ‘I’ll take her out and feed her. Have you got a bottle?’
Laura rummaged about in the bag, dropping a couple of nappies in the dark, and pulled out a small bottle of lukewarm milk. ‘Freshly squeezed,’ she laughed, pointing to her breast and handing the bottle over. ‘Just in case …’
Jenny eased herself past Laura and into the aisle. Already Evie had quietened down, probably because she was being bounced as Jenny hurried along, making her way to the back of the hall. Away from the mass of coated and booted bodies, the lobby was chilly and suddenly bright.
‘Everything all right, love?’ The school caretaker, who was having a crafty cigarette just outside the doors, popped his head in as he flicked a spray of ash out onto the grass.
‘Is there somewhere I could sit and feed the baby? Somewhere warm?’
‘Of course, love. Just follow the corridor there.’ He pointed vaguely in the direction of a set of double doors. ‘Staff room should be free.’
Jenny should have known the school like the back of her hand. It was the one she had attended from the age of four, until she’d followed the others up to the big school at the other end of town, but that all seemed so long ago, and everything felt smaller now and strangely unfamiliar. As she pushed the doors open, she found herself in a carpeted area she had never ventured into before. The staff corridor, where children had feared to tread, only ever finding themselves there if they’d been sent with a message or were in trouble for some misdemeanour and had been summoned to see the Head.
From somewhere behind a wall at the far end she could hear a jumble of sounds, like a humming, squawking, roaring mix of wild animals getting restless at the zoo or sensing an impending storm. It could only be the children from the show, letting off steam in some kind of makeshift dressing room or holding area. She looked down at Evie, who had magically nodded off back to sleep and, popping the bottle into the pocket of her jacket and walking past the entrance to the staff room on her left, moved curiously towards the noise.
The first person she saw was Ollie. He was lining children up by a door at the side of the room, ticking off names on a crumpled
sheet of paper, his shirt open by a couple of buttons and a patch of sweat staining the back of it.
‘Ready?’ He pulled a headdress straight, retrieved a lost shoe and took an open can of lemonade out of someone’s sticky hand just as it was about to spill down the back of the child in front, then ushered them all through towards Beth, who Jenny could just make out waiting in the semi-darkness beyond. ‘And ssshh now, okay? We don’t want anyone to hear you until you’re on that stage.’
He turned and took a deep breath and was just running his finger down the list to work out who he needed to grab next when he spotted her.
‘Jen! You’re not supposed to be back here. And Evie …’ His face softened at the sight of his daughter. ‘Why’s she with you? Where’s Laura? Is everything okay?’
‘It’s fine. Laura’s watching the show. And enjoying every minute, by the way. Evie and I are just spending a bit of quality time together. You know, favourite auntie, cuddles, milk …’
‘Favourite auntie, eh? I wouldn’t let the others hear you say that.’
‘Well, Nat’s miles away on honeymoon and Beth’s hiding out in that corridor over there, so I know for a fact neither of them can.’
‘Look, Jen, I need to get on. I know it’s a bit hectic in here, but stay if you like. Sit over there, and if she needs a feed or a nappy change or anything …’‘We’ll be fine. You get on and do what you have to do, Mister Director, sir!’ She clicked her heels together and saluted.
‘Cheeky mare!’
Evie was stirring again, her tiny fists opening and closing almost in time with her mouth. Jenny sat on a pile of coats in the corner and slid the teat of the bottle between the baby’s lips, watching transfixed as she started to suck, greedily and noisily. It was amazing to think that this little person, who hadn’t existed until just a few days ago, had had such an impact already. And how different Laura was, all that anxiety lifted from her like the dispersal of a rain cloud, and the sun suddenly shining through. She’d even handed her baby over perfectly willingly, which gave Jenny a sudden sense of pride. It was lovely to know she was trusted.
Evie was soon full up and asleep again, snuggled against her. She gradually eased her onto the warm coats beside her, making sure her head was supported, and pulled her blanket around her. She wondered which of the many buggies lined up in the lobby was Evie’s, and whether she should try to locate it and lay her in it, but the sheer joy of sitting so close to her, watching her eyelids flicker and her legs give occasional little kicks as she slept kept her rooted to the spot.
Cast members came and went, their faces heavily made up with thick black eyeliner and splashes of colour that could have been plastered on with a trowel. Every time the door opened snatches of music came from the direction of the stage and Beth would appear, ushering a group of children back in and summoning the next. Jenny didn’t think she had even noticed her sitting there, or, if she had, then she was just too busy, too focused, to acknowledge her.
It was fun watching her big brother at work. At home he was just Ollie, sad Ollie who drank too much, Ollie who they had all worried about for months now, but here he was a teacher, in charge of things, respected, obeyed. With just the rising tone of his voice, he seemed able to bring order and silence to the chaos all around him. It warmed her heart to see him the way others saw him and to know that now Laura was back, he was so clearly happy again. And he would be happy for her too, when she told him, and all the family, that the counselling course she had chosen had places available and she had been accepted. From January, she would finally be on her way to a proper future, doing something important, something that made a difference to people’s lives. Just like Ollie did.
‘Donkey!’ Ollie called now, and two boys hurriedly climbed into their costume, arranging their limbs in some sort of front and back order, and made for the door, a large grey head in hand. ‘Mary, Joseph, stand by.’
One of the girls rushed forward, stuffing a cushion inside her dress and tying a sash tightly around her waist to keep it there.
‘Great, Victoria. Ready for your song?’
The girl nodded and was joined by a boy who looked like he might be sick at any moment, before both were whisked away by Beth, and for a few moments the room fell still and quiet as everyone strained to hear what was going on out there, on the stage beyond.
‘Inn keeper next.’ Ollie ushered the right child into position. ‘And Star, get ready please.’
Jenny smiled to herself as a small boy waddled forward, encased in an extremely shiny and heavily padded five-pointed star, one point following the line of each arm and hip, while the fifth hung down between his legs in a way that looked highly comical and almost obscene. She could tell it was making walking uncomfortable, but it was not going to stop him from having his five minutes of fame.
‘Lots of twinkling now, remember?’ Ollie said, gently, and the boy pressed a button built into his costume that set a whole collection of tiny white lights flashing all over him, like a mini Christmas tree. ‘Excellent. Turn them off now, though, Ben. Save the batteries for your big moment, okay?’
Twenty minutes and several big razzamatazz song-and-dance routines later, Ollie was calling everybody together for the finale. The thunderous applause from the audience after each number was already making the walls shake and Jenny wondered what on earth he could have lined up to end the show that could possibly top that.
‘Oh, no. Where’s the doll?’ It was the first time she’d seen Ollie flustered as he dragged a wooden manger packed with straw across the floor and grabbed various props from their places on a shelf behind him, passing them quickly and efficiently into the correct hands as all the children moved away, chattering excitedly, towards the stage. ‘Ssshh,’ he called after them. ‘Save the noise for after the show.’
He turned towards Jenny. ‘The doll. It’s meant to be the baby Jesus. I bet one of the girls has moved it, or taken it away to play with the damn thing. We’ve got about thirty seconds to find it, before the curtain goes up again.’
‘We?’ Jenny laughed. ‘I don’t know where it is. Wouldn’t even know where to look. Can’t you get another one? Out of a toy box, or something?’
‘No time, Jen. And I wouldn’t know where to look either. Dolls aren’t really my department. Ask me to locate a football or a beanbag and I’m your man, but dolls … I’d probably end up with a Barbie or something that sings Disney songs. Hardly Jesus material!’
Outside, the orchestra was starting up again. ‘Oh, no. They’ve started. I have to get a doll into that straw pretty damn quick or the curtain will go up on an empty manger. No son of God. No miracle. Not quite the magic of the Christmas story …’
‘There’s only one thing for it then, isn’t there?’ Jenny looked towards the sleeping Evie and tilted her head. ‘Give them a real baby. A real miracle. Because she is, isn’t she?’
‘Evie? Put her on stage, you mean?’
‘She’s fast asleep. She’s not going to object.’
‘Do you think we should?’ He was halfway to picking her up, then hesitated. ‘What will Laura say?’
‘With her daughter the star of the show? She’ll be the proudest mum in the room, I should think!’
He bent down and lifted the baby very carefully, adjusted the blanket around her, then started to walk towards the door.
‘Well, hurry up,’ Jenny said. ‘Or she’ll miss her cue!’
***
An enormous collective ‘Aaaah’ went round the hall as the cast of children, with Victoria Bennett at their centre, stood silently around the manger before delivering the most poignant version of ‘Silent Night’ Jenny had ever heard. She had found Beth in the corridor between dressing room and stage and they stood together now, out of sight, and watched the parents in the front rows reach for hankies and dab at their eyes. Further back in the hall they could only see a blur of faces, lost to the darkness and the moment, but Jenny knew Laura was out there somewhere and hoped that the last-minute d
ecision to put little Evie on the stage had been the right one. And that Ollie would not find the doll pushed under the pile of coats, or figure out she had been the one to hide it there.
When the song ended, everyone leapt to their feet, clapping and cheering. Ollie slipped onto the stage and scooped Evie gently up in his arms, as if he couldn’t bear to leave her there, unattended, a second longer, strands of straw slipping from the blanket and sprinkling at his feet as he carried her to the side and let the excited children take centre stage.
From the front row, the Head stood and walked up the three wooden steps to the stage.
‘I’m sure …’ he began, his voice drowned out by the cheering that seemed never to be going to stop. He smiled, nodded towards Ollie to come forward and stand beside him, then tried again. ‘I’m sure you will all want to join me in thanking Mr Campbell for putting together the most original, accomplished and … emotional show this school has ever seen. And for those who are not aware, I believe I am right in thinking that the youngest member of the cast is in fact his own baby daughter.’
More ‘aaahs’ broke out as Ollie snuggled Evie against his chest.
‘And, of course, we have to thank all the children and parents, and indeed Mr Campbell’s own sister, who gave up so much of their time and energies to take part, whether on the stage or off. A big round of applause again, please.’
All the children on stage bowed, huge smiles on their faces, as they clustered around Ollie, each peering out and trying to find the faces of their own families in the audience. Ollie stood still, looking embarrassed but extremely proud as he ruffled the hair of the children closest to him and kissed the top of Evie’s head, but just as he was about to walk offstage, Jenny saw a sudden determination cross his face.
‘If I could just say a few words,’ he said, turning to face the audience, his voice faltering with emotion. The hall gradually fell silent and those who had started to get up and button their coats sat down again. All eyes were on him.
‘This show has been a huge challenge for me, and a great joy. I’ve loved every minute I have spent putting it together and I just want to echo the words of the Head and thank everyone who helped me. Beth, Sean, too many parents to name, and all the children standing here. You are all superstars, every single one of you!’ He leaned over to the little boy in the star costume and pushed the button to set all the lights flashing and everyone laughed. ‘Without all of you, I couldn’t have done it.’