‘Cheer up, love. It’ll never happen,’ said the man who was manning the pop-up Christmas tree stall.
‘Thanks,’ said Kirsty, not meaning it. She hated people who told people to ‘cheer up’. How did they know that the ‘it’ they claimed would ‘never happen’ hadn’t actually happened already?
‘Have you got your Christmas tree yet?’ the tree stall man continued. ‘I can do you a special offer to make you smile. How about this one?’
He indicated a scraggly thing, not quite three feet tall.
‘Yours for a tenner.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Kirsty.
‘Five quid.’
He obviously didn’t think this particular tree would hang on to its needles until Christmas Eve.
Kirsty shook her head.
‘Aw,’ said the tree man. ‘Come on. This little thing is going to be all on its own in the yard come Christmas Eve. Crying its pine-scented tears. Chopped down in its prime and for what? To languish in a yard for the whole of December and end up in a chipper come January without ever seeing so much as a string of tinsel?’
Kirsty couldn’t help smiling at that. And, to her embarrassment and dismay, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the little tree either. Oh, it was ridiculous. Feeling sorry for a tree. Anthropomorphising a farm-grown pine sapling. Of course it didn’t care if no one took it home to decorate their house. Kirsty’s hangover and the fact it was a fast day were messing with her brain.
‘I can’t carry it,’ she said, in an attempt to end the debate.
‘We’ll drop it off,’ said the tree man. ‘Just think how happy it will be. I can tell you’ll give little Twiggy here a really good home.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’
So Kirsty parted with a fiver and the tree man was true to his word. By six o’clock, he was at the door to Kirsty’s flat with her unwanted mini pine. He carried it into the living room and put it down carefully on the towel Kirsty had laid out to protect the carpet.
‘There. Place looks more festive already,’ he said.
Because she and Jon had not been planning to decorate, Kirsty had no decorations. But now that tree had found its way into her heart and her living room, Kirsty resigned herself to going the whole hog. It being Sunday, she was too late to get decorations from the shops in the town centre, but the mini-market at the junction with Beach Road would still be open. Kirsty had noticed they were stocking Christmas baubles. She spent a tenner on twenty plastic baubles each, some tinsel and a string of lights that would almost certainly not work.
But they did work. In fact, they were rather pretty. They had several settings too. Kirsty chose ‘twinkle’. It amazed her that a string of lights so cheap could have actual settings, but she wasn’t complaining. Kirsty set to work with an album of carols from Canterbury Cathedral playing in the background. The music made a very welcome change from the Cinderella soundtrack that never seemed to leave her head.
It took Kirsty less than half an hour to decorate the tree. It wasn’t a Homes and Gardens-style affair. The baubles were mismatched and tacky. Yet somehow it all came together. Kirsty was very pleased with the finished look. She couldn’t wait for Jon to come home and see it. She toyed with sending him a picture via text but decided against it. The surprise would be much more effective if the first he saw of the tree was when he walked in.
‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,’ Kirsty told herself.
Chapter Fifty-Three
With the tree decorated, Kirsty had momentarily run out of distractions, and distractions were all that was keeping her from ruining another fast day. She decided to phone Jane. Once upon a time, Jane and Kirsty would not have gone a day without communicating in some form or another, but since Jane had found Rob, her free time was pretty much spoken for.
Kirsty was delighted when Jane picked up the phone and said that, yes, she had plenty of time for a chat.
‘We just got back from Bath,’ Jane told her. ‘Rob took me there for a surprise mini-break. It was so Christmassy, Kirsty. You would have loved it. The town is so pretty all decorated for the holidays and our hotel was really special. Rob booked the best suite in the place. We had our own living room with a proper fire in the fireplace.’
Kirsty was full of envy as she listened to the details of Jane’s weekend. It sounded like the perfect way to kick off the Christmas festivities.
‘How about you, Kirsty? How was your weekend?’
Kirsty’s groan said it all.
Jane was immediately concerned. ‘Are you OK? What happened?’
Jane was less concerned when Kirsty told her she was still hungover after her big Saturday night.
‘Jon was away so you got drunk with Ben?’ was what Jane pulled out of Kirsty’s long description of her night out. ‘Did something happen?’
Kirsty had stopped short of telling Jane what went on by the pier.
‘No,’ said Kirsty, a little too forcefully. ‘Of course not.’
‘You’re lying,’ said Jane. She had known her friend for the best part of twenty years, after all.
‘Nothing happened,’ Kirsty insisted.
‘But secretly you wish it had, right?’
‘No!’ Kirsty denied Jane’s insinuation. Jane just laughed.
‘You went for a walk on the beach in the dark. Funny place to practise your lines.’
‘It was just a walk. Ben’s just a friend. I wanted to see the sea!’
‘You can fool yourself but you can’t fool me.’
‘Give me a break.’
Kirsty changed the subject to Jon’s interview. She made it sound exciting. An opportunity to be grabbed with both hands.
‘It’d be a step in the right direction for Jon, for sure.’
‘But what will happen if he gets the job in Dubai?’ Jane asked. ‘You can’t go with him. Or can he get you a job in the Shakespeare troupe too?’
‘It’s all men but …’ At last Kirsty dared to tell Jane what Jon had said. It had been on the tip of her tongue when she and Jane had spoken since that night when Jon first suggested Kirsty fall back on her admin skills.
‘I don’t have to work in the theatre.’
Now she realised that she hadn’t previously mentioned it because she knew Jane would be unimpressed. Jane would reflect back to Kirsty how she really felt about Jon’s idea. She would take it as an insult.
She did. Twenty minutes later, Jane was still stuck on the point.
‘Wait. Jon said you could get a secretarial job?’
‘He didn’t mean it in a bad way.’
Jane wasn’t so sure. ‘Kirsty, he’s basically telling you that his career is more important than yours. You worked in an office for fifteen years. You were incredibly brave to step away from that world. You can’t go back to it now. You’ve been getting just as many auditions as Jon has. One of them is bound to come off. You’ll just have to be long distance for a while.’
‘But what if nothing comes off? What if no one wants to give me another job on stage?’
‘Kirsty,’ said Jane. ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. When I saw you earlier this year, between training in Los Angeles and going to join The European Countess, you were full of enthusiasm and confidence. And you were great. You must have been. You were offered a second season. The cruise line isn’t in the business of offering work to people who don’t deserve it. Don’t give up on your dreams to follow Jon halfway round the world again without any reason to believe he would do the same for you.’ She paused. ‘I worry he doesn’t appreciate you.’
‘Don’t you like him?’ Kirsty asked her best friend.
‘I like Jon just fine,’ said Jane. ‘But I love you like a sister. You mean the world to me. And you of all people should never let yourself be relegated to someone else’s support act.’
When her conversation with Jane ended, Kirsty felt worse than she had done when she woke up with a headache. Jane’s indignation rang in her head. And Jan
e had very rarely been wrong about the men in Kirsty’s life.
Jon was not home by eleven. Kirsty, knowing that the next day she had rehearsals, simply had to go to bed. She left the tree lights on, to welcome Jon back, and climbed under the covers. She would have to wait until morning to hear what he thought of it. She was fast asleep when he finally let himself in at one o’clock the following morning.
Chapter Fifty-Four
‘What did you waste money on a tree for?’ Jon asked Kirsty almost as soon as her eyes were open on Monday. ‘We’re not going to be here to look at it. And you got a real one. With the way the landlord is about the carpet? I really hope you’re ready for all the vacuuming.’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Kirsty. ‘I just thought it would be nice. Make this place feel a bit more like home.’
‘Yeah. Well. As long as you’re going to do the extra housework.’
‘Of course,’ said Kirsty.
‘I don’t have the time …’
Kirsty told herself that Jon was only being so sharp with her because of how the weekend had gone. Perhaps the interview had not been the roaring success he led her to think it was. He didn’t give her much more information over breakfast. She decided not to push for any appreciation for the tree. She just hoped that as Christmas got closer, Jon would be pleased she had gone to the bother of decorating. They would be waking up in the flat on Christmas morning, after all. It would have been too grim if the flat looked like it did the rest of the year. A boring rental with magnolia walls furnished top to toe by Ikea.
Kirsty’s guilt went a long way towards her decision to be patient with Jon. She was glad he didn’t even ask her what she had done that weekend while he was in London. He knew about the lunchtime concert at the old people’s home, of course, but she was relieved she didn’t have to tell him about Ben and the curry and the walk on the beach afterwards. It didn’t strike her for a while that maybe he didn’t ask because he didn’t to want to know. As though he didn’t expect her to have done anything interesting anyway.
There was a rehearsal on Monday night.
As it was raining, Jon declared that for once they shouldn’t worry about how many steps they’d done that day. They would go to the theatre in the car. They pulled into the car park just as Ben was arriving. Kirsty raised her hand to wave to him. He didn’t acknowledge her. She hoped it was just because he hadn’t noticed.
Later, she began to think differently.
It’s strange how, even when you’re holding someone in your arms, it can feel as though they are a million miles away. The change was so subtle. Kirsty was sure that the other cast members who were watching wouldn’t have noticed any difference. But she did. When the time came for Buttons and Cinders to stop dancing, Ben definitely let his hand drop from her waist more quickly than usual. And he’d avoided talking to her before they needed to be on stage together. He claimed he needed to check some work emails on his phone but Kirsty wasn’t convinced.
As they stood on stage, Jon stepped in to show Ben how he’d like to see the dance between Cinders and Buttons end.
‘I don’t understand what’s happened with you two,’ Jon told him. ‘I thought you had this bit sorted. Last week you were like Torvill and Dean.’
‘They were ice-skaters,’ said Ben.
‘You know what I mean. Ben, watch this. Come here, Kirsty.’
Jon’s body language when he took Kirsty in his arms was entirely different to Ben’s. He pressed Kirsty to his chest. He was very much there.
When she first met Jon, they had danced together at a crew social on board ship. He had held her tightly then and she had loved it. He’d made her feel as though she was gossamer light. He took command but she felt that there was respect in the way he touched her. But now it suddenly felt like ownership. And control. Had he sensed the atmosphere between her and Ben too? Was he making some kind of point?
‘Like this. You say your line: wishes always work better when you make them for someone else, then—’
Jon whirled Kirsty around so that she was facing Ben. For just a second, she saw an unguarded expression on his face. An expression of sadness. When he saw that she was looking at him, he quickly plastered on a smile. And so did she. And then she stepped on Jon’s toes.
‘Ow!’ Jon complained. ‘Like being stepped on by a bloody horse.’
He made a theatrical show of it, hopping on one foot while clutching at the one Kirsty had trodden on. ‘Actually, Ben,’ came the punch-line. ‘Maybe I can see why you don’t want to get so close to her after all. I think she might have broken a toe.’
Kirsty gamely laughed along.
So did Ben.
While the rehearsal continued, Kirsty made a plan to catch up with Ben straight afterwards and tell him face-to-face that she was sorry about what had happened on Saturday night and her clumsy explanation as they waited for a taxi. They had to remain friends for the sake of the show. She hadn’t intended to lead him on. She hoped he knew that. It was just the alcohol.
And the fact that Ben was so easy to talk to. And his kindness. And his warmth. And the way he had of making her feel like she was the only girl in the world.
But Kirsty’s plan to talk to Ben was scuppered by Lauren. As soon as Jon announced that he was happy with that evening’s work, Lauren grabbed Kirsty by the arm and dragged her into the ladies’.
By the time Lauren had finished talking to her, Ben had already gone home.
Chapter Fifty-Five
It was not long at all until the pantomime opened now. The poster defacer had upped his or her game. Every time a new fresh poster was put up, the vandal would get busy with the Sharpies. The insults had a festive tinge now. Lauren got a big red reindeer nose. Bernie had Santa’s Elf ears. Kirsty still had her Hitler moustache. Only in green glitter pen, which was a nice touch.
Who did all this defacing was still a mystery. Annette suggested a bag search at the beginning of every rehearsal to see who was carrying pens. They all were.
But there were other things to worry about. The technical rehearsal was one of them. For the first time, the whole cast would be rehearsing with lights, music and special effects. Technical rehearsals could take hours. They were deathly dull for just about everyone involved, but they were also terrifically important.
‘Never ever insult the lighting tech,’ Bernie advised Kirsty as they waited on stage in suspended animation while the lighting tech tried to make Bernie’s dress glitter with a strobe. Bernie continued at a whisper. ‘Annette once upset a lighting tech. When she stripped off in Calendar Girls, he lit her so that her arse looked like the surface of the moon and twice as large.’
‘Ouch,’ said Kirsty.
The power in any theatre really did lie behind the scenes, Kirsty mused.
Talking of behind the scenes, the three witches of Wardrobe were there on technical day, of course. Many of the show’s big moments would rely on super-fast costume changes. Kirsty had several throughout the course of the show.
The wardrobe witches insisted on practising the quick change so Kirsty dutifully donned double Spanx and endured the run-throughs stoically, trying her best to block out the commentary. They were still upset that Kirsty and Bernie had overruled them regarding Cinders’ ballgown. They made an endless fuss about how difficult it was to lace up the Vivienne Westwood frock at speed. And how Kirsty fitted into it.
‘She’s at the top end of her weight,’ said Angie. ‘If she puts on an ounce, this side zip will break, mark my words.’
‘I can hear you,’ Kirsty reminded her.
Then Angie yanked the zip up, unnecessarily fast, Kirsty thought, and pinched Kirsty’s flesh in the process. Again.
Still, at least she didn’t have to wear the silver lamé dress the witches had produced at her first fitting. And when the three of finally them stood around Kirsty to admire their handiwork at the dress rehearsal – they insisted on sourcing the tiara at least – they almost looked pleased with the results.
On the day of the technical rehearsal, Lauren had warned her colleagues that she would be a little late because she had to go to the beauty salon. Though he had told everyone the technical rehearsal was compulsory and everyone needed to be available all day long, Jon didn’t bother to argue with her. Until the pantomime run actually began, Lauren was still doing the day job. She was reading the weather on the morning news and that meant she had to keep up the incredibly complicated regime of grooming required to make sure that she was ready for her close-up at all times.
Kirsty had been treated to a run through of the maintenance required. It was exhausting, involving a baffling number of steps and treatments. Lauren even admitted to having Botox twice a year.
‘But you’re twenty-eight,’ said Kirsty.
‘That’s the best time to start. Before the wrinkles have a chance to take hold.’
‘But what about being able to use your face when you’re acting?’
‘I can still totally move my forehead,’ said Lauren, trying and failing to do exactly that. It explained a great deal, thought Kirsty. Thank goodness the part of the Prince didn’t really require much dramatic range.
So, Lauren got permission to come in late for the technical rehearsal and while the rest of the cast were rocking up to the theatre, she checked in on Facebook to say that she had reached Pink Me Up, Newbay’s premier hair and beauty salon, and was ready for her manicure.
The Giggle Twins kept the others informed of Lauren’s progress.
‘The manicure is done. She’s posted a picture. Nice colour. If you like that sort of thing. And now she’s having her eyebrows threaded,’ George Giggle told anyone who would listen.
‘You men don’t know you’re born,’ said Bernie. ‘The stuff we have to go through. The pain.’
‘And we don’t?’ protested Andrew Giggle. ‘Sweetheart, don’t talk to me about the pain of beauty maintenance until you’ve had a back, sack and crack.’
A Fairy Tale for Christmas Page 21