The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime

by Lynsey James

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alice. My name’s Callum Stone and on behalf of everyone, I’d like to welcome you to the Silver Bells Theatre.’

  He bent his head low and kissed my hand. I gasped in surprise and tried to ignore the goosebumps snaking their way across my skin. Out the corner of my eye, I saw the woman named Lauren’s face fall a little.

  ‘Well it’s lovely to meet you all,’ I replied, trying to hide my obvious blush. ‘Just tell me where you want me! I’m happy to do anything.’

  I felt an all-too-familiar buzz being in a theatre again, although I didn’t want to admit it. I was very aware that an important person – my boyfriend, my best friend, my partner in crime – was missing. Doing something he loved when he wasn’t there to enjoy it with me made my insides twist into knots. Silently, I cursed my mum for convincing me this was a good idea, and myself for coming in the first place. However, as I stared around the little theatre, I began to feel the old rush of magic I’d always felt when treading the boards. Although the prospect of being involved in the theatre again filled me with dread, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  *

  Since the production was so short-staffed, Christabel and I agreed that I’d help out wherever I could. That night involved painting the sets for the chateau scenes. Armed with the world’s stubbiest paintbrush and some very watery paint, I set about creating the chateau’s sweeping grand staircase.

  As I worked, I couldn’t help but listen in on the rehearsal. Well, the parts of the rehearsal that weren’t dominated by Christabel barking orders at people anyway. The poor actors couldn’t get more than a few lines out without her interrupting them with her “creative suggestions”.

  ‘Lauren, for goodness’ sake, you’re supposed to be a downtrodden servant girl and you’re prancing round the stage like you’re a Disney princess! You need to identify with your character; what are her struggles and motivations? Eileen, your wicked stepmother is about as fierce as a newborn kitten! And, Callum, don’t get me started on how utterly weak your handsome prince is. He’s supposed to be the hero of the story, not a bystander who just sits back and watches the story unfold!’

  A collection of moans and groans followed Christabel’s critique and I was sure I heard someone murmur, ‘Get a life, you silly cow.’

  ‘Enough!’ Her voice was a loud bark that bounced off every corner of the room. ‘Now, since we can’t seem to get any of the scenes right, let’s do some drama exercises instead. Come on now, let’s all pretend to be trees. Chop chop!’

  That got her another load of complaints from the cast, who reminded her that opening night was just a month away and they’d hardly rehearsed any of the scenes.

  ‘We’re going to look stupid up there,’ the girl named Lauren grumbled. ‘Just like we always do!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Christabel clapped her hands and joined the actors on stage. ‘Now, imagine you’re a tree with branches reaching up to the sun.’

  So they’d have an example to follow – although I couldn’t imagine why they’d need one – Christabel stood at the front of the stage and contorted herself into some weird shape that looked nothing like a tree. Everyone else looked around in sheer bewilderment, probably wondering what any of this had to do with putting on a pantomime.

  ‘Are you all reaching for the sun?’ she asked, pushing her fingertips even further towards the ceiling. ‘Remember, you have to let your branches soar up to the sky!’

  I shook my head as I carried on painting the staircase. I’d worked with countless would-be directors who thought techniques like this actually worked. Then, when it came to opening night and none of the cast knew what they were doing, the director would blame them!

  I wondered if I should step in and give Christabel some pointers, but decided not to. They probably wouldn’t go over very well and she’d see it as the Broadway actress storming in and taking over. The last thing I needed was this panto giving me any aggro. I’d come here to try and move on with my life after the worst three years imaginable, not to incur Christabel’s wrath.

  As Christabel instructed the now thoroughly pissed-off actors to pretend they were feathers, I stifled a giggle. It was pretty safe to say that the Silver Bells Christmas pantomime was going to be every bit as awful as it always was.

  *

  In a way, I was glad when the rehearsal finished. Watching Christabel pretty much waste everybody’s time for an hour and a half had been quite painful. They hadn’t done much rehearsing at all, what with all the pretending to be trees and feathers. After all that malarkey, she’d instructed each of them to write a one thousand word essay on their character and have it ready by the next rehearsal.

  I was just putting away my paintbrush and preparing to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Lauren.

  ‘Hi, erm, I hope you don’t mind me coming over to say hello! So you’re Alice Woods.’

  ‘Um…yeah that’s me!’ I raised my paintbrush in a funny sort of salute. Why did I have to be so damn awkward?

  ‘I’m Lauren Baker.’ She reached forward and grabbed my arm, making my paintbrush clatter to the floor. ‘I saw you on stage in New York when you were in Hairspray; you were amazing as Penny Pingleton! I just thought I’d come over and say hello properly, since there wasn’t time earlier.’

  I gently prised my arm out of her vice-like grip and smiled, flipping some of my dark brown hair away from my face.

  ‘Thanks, that was a while ago now!’ I’d never been good at taking a compliment and nowadays, I was worse than ever.

  ‘You inspired me to follow my dreams.’ Lauren’s chocolate-brown eyes were now the size of dinner plates. ‘I mean, look at you; you’re from Luna Bay and you’ve achieved amazing things. You’ve performed all over the world! I want to do the same one day, just have to get out of the village first. Ooh, and you’ve got lovely hair!’

  She reached out to touch it, but I managed to deftly duck out of the way. ‘Um…thank you again! Anyway, I need to get going; lots to do and all that…’

  Lauren sighed and twirled a strand of bright auburn hair round her finger. ‘I’m sorry, I can be a bit…overenthusiastic sometimes! It’s just when I saw you on stage, it made me realise that I wanted to do that for the rest of my life. You were just so…alive, I guess. Like you could really tell you belonged up there – know what I mean? You’ve probably been asked this, like, hundreds of times already, but why are you here painting our sets and not off on some glitzy world tour or something? Didn’t something awful happen to you? I remember hearing rumours when you came back to Luna Bay that something terrible had happened in New York.’

  My stomach twisted itself into knots as I tried to think of an answer that didn’t include “my boyfriend died so I stopped performing”. In a way, I was glad she didn’t know the full story: I’d had enough concerned head tilts and pats on the arm to last me several lifetimes.

  ‘I…’ The words I wanted to say stuck in my throat. ‘I guess I just didn’t have the heart for it any more. But you were great up there when Christabel let you do your stuff!’

  Lauren blushed with pleasure and smiled. ‘Do you really think so? That means a lot coming from you. Maybe we could go for lunch one day, or maybe a coffee? What do you think? You could give me some tips on my performance if you like.’

  I looked at the hopeful expression on her face and my heart sank. ‘That sounds lovely, Lauren, it really does but I can’t. I-I’ve got a lot on right now and…sorry…’

  I beat as hasty a retreat as I could, so I didn’t have to watch her face fall. Sometimes, being Anonymous Alice who stayed out of everybody’s way really sucked.

  I was glad to get back to my cottage. Leaving the outside world where it belonged felt like a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders. Here, I could keep everyone at a safe distance and live in the secure little cocoon I’d created for myself. I didn’t have to worry about getting hurt again or losing anyone: there was no-one left to lose.

&nb
sp; I went upstairs and dragged the shoebox out from its hiding place. In amongst the collection of memories I’d gathered since he’d passed away was my favourite photo of Jamie. I’d taken it while he’d stood on the balcony of our apartment in Greenwich Village; he looked effortlessly cool in a white T-shirt, jeans and a pair of dark sunglasses. The easy smile on his face was his trademark though. It was infectious and had the ability to make even the worst day seem a little bit brighter. I settled myself down on the floor and looked at it for a minute, my heart wrenching at the thought of never seeing that gorgeous smile again.

  ‘You’ll never guess what I did today,’ I said, feeling my voice crack with sadness. ‘I only went and joined the local pantomime! Do you remember that year we went to see it and they did Jack and the Beanstalk? They had someone on stilts playing the giant and one of the stilts made a massive hole in the stage! I think the set fell down too as well, didn’t it? I hope things turn out a little bit better this year, but it’s not looking good at the moment. Mum’s booked me a trip to the Caribbean for Christmas, and I’m taking part in the panto to earn it. While everyone in Luna Bay’s sitting down to their turkey dinners and eating mince pies, I’ll be somewhere hot and sunny with a cocktail in my hand! I’m starting to look forward to it; Christmas hasn’t been the same without you and I don’t think I could stand another one where all I do is miss you. I feel like that’s all I do lately: think about the amazing times we had together and all the things you’re not here to see.’

  I stopped for a second and wiped some tears away. Talking to Jamie’s photo was always hard; it was painful sharing my news with him without him really being there.

  ‘I still miss you so much.’ My voice had now been reduced to a whisper. ‘Nothing feels right without you here. Why did you even have to go out that day? We didn’t need milk that much! Everyone’s telling me to move on and I feel like it might be time to start building up my life again. But I don’t want to leave you behind either; doing things without you and being happy without you just seems so wrong. I wish you were around to tell me I’m being a fool and that I shouldn’t hold myself back. Then again, if you were still here, we wouldn’t have this problem!’

  I looked at the photo again and heaved a deep sigh. Tears welled up in my eyes as I ached for the one person I’d never see again. He’d never be around to make things OK when they weren’t, to make me laugh or throw his arms around me when I least expected it.

  Losing Jamie had been the hardest thing I’d ever had to deal with. The pain I felt just looking at his photo confirmed that I was making the right decision. Keeping people shut out where they couldn’t hurt me meant I couldn’t lose them.

  So that was exactly what I would do.

  Chapter Seven

  The day Ethan Fox waltzed into my world again started out much the same as any other.

  Well, almost.

  I was doing what any dyed-in-the-wool Scrooge would do on a Tuesday six weeks before Christmas: eating my body weight in cake at the Moonlight Café and pretending like the festive season wasn’t right around the corner. Also, despite my best intentions, I couldn’t stop thinking about the pantomime. It had been playing on my mind for the last two days. Christabel really did rule with an iron fist, but at the same time she seemed to be out of her depth. She’d been running the panto for years, yet it always ended in disaster. Surely she knew something had to change?

  I pulled out my phone and flicked to my news app, heading straight for the showbiz section. I’d recently downloaded it, thanks to my ever-growing curiosity about the mysterious Mr Fox, and was starting to enjoy reading about the entertainment world again. The top story made my heart sink.

  HOLLYWOOD HEARTTHROB’S LOVE RAT SCANDAL

  There was a picture of none other than Ethan Fox in a very compromising position with a pretty blonde woman. According to the article, she was his best friend’s wife – Sarah – and “sources” claimed that there had always been a spark between her and Ethan. I felt a little pang of sadness; he’d seemed so nice when I’d met him, but it looked like he was just another shameless celebrity.

  ‘Everything OK, love? You look miles away,’ Diane, the café’s owner, said as she collected some of my many empty plates and teacups.

  I shook my head and waved a hand. ‘I’m fine, I just… I just read something unpleasant in the news, that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t blame you, darling; there’s nothing but bad news these days. Fancy another slice of cake? That’s the best remedy for bad news,’ she said with a wink.

  ‘I’ll stick with my carrot cake just now,’ I said, gesturing to the slice in front of me. ‘But thanks anyway.’

  I skimmed through the article again, wincing as each detail about Ethan’s sordid affair with his best friend’s wife unfolded in front of me. Apparently, he’d pursued her for months and even tried to stop her wedding. Then, one night a few months ago, they’d “given into their mutual passion for one another”. That phrase made me gag. So much for the nice guy act he’d pulled that day at his dad’s department store, I thought. He’d seemed like such a decent bloke then.

  It was looking like the articles depicting him as an arrogant womaniser were right, much to my disappointment. Yet I couldn’t quite believe I’d misjudged him so badly. If he’d really been the man the media made him out to be, I’d have seen it surely? I’d been around more than enough cocky, self-important actors in my time, after all. Ethan had struck me as being different: quiet, unassuming, even a little unsure of himself. How could I have got him so wrong?

  I was distracted from these thoughts by a very familiar clamour of voices and shutter clicks. It was coming from outside the café.

  No, I said to myself, surely it’s not…

  I turned around just in time to see a very wet Ethan Fox walk through the café’s front door, leaving the paparazzi outside. Every inch of his six-foot frame was dripping with water, from his russet-brown hair to his long black double-breasted pea coat. In a way, he looked like the catwalk version of Jonathan Creek.

  I ducked my head down, hoping to stay out of sight. Although his comment about me not flying under anyone’s radar had played on my mind since our encounter, I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk to him again without making some sort of comment about his womanising ways. If he came up to me and tried to turn on his charm, I’d tell him exactly what I thought of him.

  Unfortunately, my plan to blend into the background was ruined when I took a quick peek at him to see if he’d spotted me. His blue eyes locked with my brown ones and a huge grin spread across his face. To my utter horror, he approached my table.

  So much for flying under the radar.

  ‘Erm…excuse me, but are you the girl I saw in Fox’s last Saturday? The one who helped me when a revolving door smacked me in the face? It’s Alice isn’t it?’

  As greetings went, it was as unique as they came. I tried to suppress a smile, but it came bursting out anyway. I cursed myself for not maintaining my ice queen composure; it seemed I couldn’t help smiling when he was around. I was more than a little flattered that he’d remembered my name too.

  ‘That would be me!’ I kept my eyes fixed on the plate of half-eaten carrot cake in front of me. No way was I going to risk looking up at him again and deepening the crimson blush that had already spread over my face. ‘How’s the nose?’

  Yup, that’s REALLY telling him what you think of him, Alice.

  ‘It’s fine thank you, although my agent wasn’t thrilled when I turned up for the menswear campaign audition with a plaster on my face,’ he replied with a chuckle. ‘I don’t think I’ll be the face that launched a thousand campaigns any time soon.’

  ‘Well, I think your plaster makes you look edgy,’ I replied. ‘If they give it to the other guy, they’re missing out.’

  What was wrong with me? It was like my brain and my mouth had stopped communicating with each other; Anonymous Alice would never make a remark like that.

  ‘I’ll take t
hat. Mind if I sit down for a couple of minutes?’ He gestured to the seat opposite me.

  ‘Why?’ was my immediate response and I wanted to kick myself. ‘I-I mean, don’t you have stuff to do?’

  Smooth, Alice, very smooth.

  ‘Not really, I’ve got time on my hands and the paparazzi need a break from asking me what my next movie is or who I’m going out with this month.’

  He pulled the chair out and everyone in the room took a sharp intake of breath. Moments later, I could hear the gossip machine start up again. I wondered if they were more interested in the fact he’d pitched up in Luna Bay or that he’d recently been caught doing the dirty on his best friend. I couldn’t help noticing that he hadn’t mentioned it as one of the reasons he’d come to Luna Bay. He probably didn’t want to draw attention to the fact he’d been caught in such a compromising position.

  ‘Let me guess: your next project is a big-budget blockbuster where loads of stuff gets blown up, and you’re dating a Victoria’s Secret model from Russia.’

  I studied him carefully to see how he’d react, if he’d give any hint about his recent escapades. There was no twitch in his upper lip or rapid shifting of the eyes; he certainly didn’t look like a man with a guilty conscience.

  Ethan sucked air in through his teeth. ‘Only one out of two, I’m afraid. Yes to the big-budget blockbuster and no to the Russian model. Although, you know, a guy can dream.’

  No, you prefer women who are married to your best friends, I badly wanted to say, but I changed my mind. I knew you couldn’t believe everything you read in the papers, especially where people’s private lives were concerned. I couldn’t deny seeing those photos had bothered me though, although I wasn’t sure why.

  I attempted a smile. ‘I’ll have to check my sources more thoroughly next time. What brings you to Luna Bay anyway? I thought it’d be the bright lights of London or LA for you.’