A Fairy Tale for Christmas

by Chrissie Manby

  ‘I’m surprised you need the “sack” bit,’ was Bernie’s reply.

  ‘Ladies, please,’ Ben winced. He was sitting on the other side of the rehearsal room. Kirsty threw him a quick smile to show she felt the same way about the Giggle Twins’ grooming habits, but Ben didn’t seem to see her.

  While she wasn’t needed on stage, Kirsty checked her own Instagram account. Lauren’s photographs dominated the photo feed that morning. Kirsty clicked the little heart beneath all of them out of habit, though she thought the polish colour actually made it look as though Lauren had trapped her fingers in a door and her nails had reached that blackened stage which comes just before they drop off altogether.

  ‘She’s out of the tanning booth,’ George Giggle announced.

  Moments later, Lauren posted one of those strange selfies of her legs from thigh crease to knee. They looked like those weird mahogany-coloured sausages you can only get in chip shops. Perhaps that was just the filter Lauren had used. Lauren loved to use an Instagram filter. This one must have been ‘Instant Kardashian’. Heavy on the orange.

  Having posted that pic, she was on her way to the theatre. She said so in the photo caption. ‘On way to theatre. #Cinderella #PrinceCharming #methodacting #livingformyart’.

  ‘Hashtag method acting?’ Annette mused. ‘What does she mean by that?’

  ‘I’m sure she hasn’t the faintest,’ said George. ‘Unless she actually thinks she’s playing a chipolata.’

  But they were all glad she was on her way in. Several of them were waiting to do scenes with Lauren. Everybody wanted to go home.

  Especially Kirsty. Was Ben going to avoid her when they weren’t actually on stage together for the whole of the pantomime’s run?

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Though she said on Instagram that she was on her way to the theatre, the ten-minute journey from Pink Me Up took Lauren another hour and a half. Via Topshop. She posted from the changing room. That sent Annette into a proper rant.

  ‘Doesn’t she think the rest of us have got better things to do? It’s selfish, is what it is. I don’t think I’ve ever had to work with such a bunch of amateurs. What with Lauren’s selfies and Vince’s sickies …’

  ‘I’m right here, Annette,’ said Vince. He’d made it in for once. Though he’d been like a bear with a sore head for the whole rehearsal.

  Ben was keeping out of it. He continued to read news on his iPhone. Kirsty wished she could talk to him. She missed sharing a joke. When he laughed at something he was reading, Kirsty saw her chance.

  ‘Something funny?’ she asked.

  But then Jon walked in.

  ‘Where the hell is Prince Charming?’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Vince muttered as the door to the rehearsal room, where everyone was having lunch, finally swung open.

  Kirsty and Ben turned to see what had attracted his attention. George Giggle’s mouth sagged open in shock. He was halfway through eating a sandwich.

  ‘What is it?’ Andrew had his back to door but, seeing his brother’s face, he turned round too.

  Lauren had just walked in.

  Perhaps it was just an unfortunate choice of outfit – a pair of white jeans and a cream coloured jumper – that made the contrast seem so stark. Kirsty certainly hoped so. Lauren hung her new pink fake fur coat – the last-minute Topshop purchase – on one of the pegs by the rehearsal room door, then she turned to face the others full on.

  ‘What?’ she asked, when she saw that they were all staring at her. ‘What’s the matter? What are you all looking at me like that for?’

  Nobody present was going to tell her. Nobody, that is, except Jon, who returned at that moment from the gents’. He went to kiss Lauren ‘hello’ but as he got close, he too did a double-take and exclaimed. ‘What have you done to yourself? We’re doing Cinderella not Charlie and the Chocolate Factory!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lauren asked. ‘What are you getting at? What’s going on?’

  Jon meant that something had gone horribly wrong with Lauren’s fake tan. More wrong than usual. The Instagram photo of her Kardashian coloured legs had actually been misleadingly flattering. That day she was exactly the same colour as the Oompa Loompas in the classic Gene Wilder film version of Roald Dahl’s beloved tale.

  Jon rubbed it in. ‘What on earth happened? We’ll have to call you L’Orange instead of Lauren.’

  Jon was pleased with that. One of the Giggle Twins sniggered.

  ‘Jon,’ Kirsty warned him. But he wasn’t ready to stop.

  ‘L’Orange, please tell me that it’s going to wash off and reveal some natural, actual human-coloured skin underneath.’

  Lauren’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You look like a blinking satsuma!’ Jon laid it on the line.

  ‘It’s for the TV cameras,’ Lauren explained. ‘If I don’t go a shade darker than normal I look washed out.’

  ‘You can’t do the panto like that.’

  ‘I can’t do my job without it.’

  Jon threw up his hands. ‘There’s still a couple of days. I suppose it might fade. We can’t waste any more time on this now. We’ve been waiting ages for you to come back from the salon as it is. Where do you go? What do they use to get that finish? Do they do car bodywork too?’

  Lauren looked fit to explode.

  ‘Come on, everybody.’

  The cast trooped back down to the auditorium.

  Jon gave them their instructions.

  ‘Let’s pick up where we left off. Cinders has arrived at the ball. She is announced to the room. The prince – L’Orange, that’s you – turns and notices her.’

  Lauren let him get away with it the first time. And the second time. And the third time. But when Jon called her L’Orange for a sixth time, she finally flipped.

  ‘That’s it!’ she said, flinging her copy of the script to the floor. She was the only one who still needed to see her lines in print. ‘I don’t have to put up with this a moment longer. It’s bullying, that’s what it is. You’re a bully, Jon Manley!’

  George Giggle gave her a slow clap.

  ‘Come on, Lauren,’ said Bernie. ‘Jon was only joking but he knows he’s gone too far. Don’t you, Jon? I think you should apologise.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry L’Orange … I mean, Lauren.’

  ‘Oh! That’s it! I’m going.’

  Lauren made for the stage door. She tried to grab her coat as she left but it was stuck on the peg and she ripped it in her attempts to pull it loose. That made things even worse. Kirsty ran after her. She shook her head at Jon as she passed him. There was no need for him to get involved.

  ‘Lauren,’ said Kirsty. ‘Please come back inside. Jon will behave now, I promise. I bet Bernie is giving him a proper earful in there.’

  ‘I’m not orange,’ said Lauren. ‘I’m not.’

  Kirsty hesitated to respond.

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Well, maybe the colour you went for today is a little stronger than your usual tone,’ said Kirsty. ‘But I’m sure it will look completely different after a couple of showers. And I know what you mean about the cameras. They do wash you out. People don’t understand that looking natural on screen or stage, for that matter, takes an awful lot of make-up.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Lauren.

  She had taken out her phone and was using the photo app as a moving mirror again. She examined herself from all sides then took a couple of steps left to see if that changed the light for the better. Satisfied, she took a snap.

  ‘See?’ she showed Kirsty. ‘It looks perfectly natural on a screen.’

  All the same, Lauren subjected the raw photo to three filters before she uploaded it to Instagram with the hashtag #hatersgonnahate.

  It took a while for Kirsty to persuade Lauren to come back inside and the rest of the technical rehearsal was fractious. Though Jon did not call Lauren L’Orange again, he continued to draw attention to her salon mistake b
y asking the lighting tech to do something to bring down those ‘yellow tones’ whenever Lauren was on stage.

  There was one more excruciating moment for Kirsty. When she and Ben did their dance scene. For some reason, the lighting tech couldn’t seem to decide how to light them to best effect, so he had them standing there in the middle of the stage, in a dance hold for what seemed like for ever.

  ‘Are you ready for Christmas?’ Kirsty asked, desperate to break the silence.

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ said Ben.

  ‘Thea must be excited.’

  ‘She is.’

  They stood slightly apart. Kirsty looked at the floor between them. At her shoes, which looked incredibly cheap and tacky in the weird light that wasn’t quite working.

  ‘Will you be staying in Newbay?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Yes. We’re going to Jon’s family.’

  Kirsty was surprised to find herself blushing when she said that. She didn’t know why. It was no secret. She’d have told any other friend. And that’s what she and Ben were. Just friends.

  With the spotlight upon them, it was difficult to see anything but each other and their immediate surroundings on the stage. It gave them an odd sense of isolation.

  ‘I’m still really glad you agreed to play Buttons,’ Kirsty tried again.

  Ben glanced at her for a second. A sad smile flashed across his face. The music began again and they danced out of the moment. The music ended and they let each other go.

  Why did Kirsty feel so much regret?

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Thea was incredibly excited to take part in the final dress rehearsal. She was especially delighted to see her father in his costume. To Thea’s eyes, Ben was the real prince of the production.

  The children of the chorus gave an impressive performance in this first full proper run through. It was touching to see how hard they had all worked and how seriously they took their part in the whole. There was not one moment when Elaine needed to raise her voice to them. When they weren’t on stage, they waited in the wings with the chaperones, perfectly silent and perfectly attentive. Ben was full of pride for his little girl.

  Joining the NEWTS had been transformative for Thea, just as Ben and Judy had hoped it would be. The day after the technical rehearsal was the end of term. When Ben went to meet Thea from school, Mrs Griffiths confirmed that Thea seemed to be having a much better time.

  ‘She’s more outgoing. She gets more involved in things. She’s becoming a very popular member of the class.’

  It was the best Christmas present Ben could imagine, knowing that his daughter was happier. Indeed, he had to wait quite a while for Thea to be ready to go home that afternoon as she was busy saying goodbye to a whole group of friends Ben hadn’t heard about before.

  ‘They all want to have my autograph,’ she informed him. ‘Because of the show. They think I’m going to be famous.’

  ‘Do they want my autograph too?’ Ben asked.

  Thea considered the question for a moment. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Do you want to see Father Christmas this evening?’ Ben asked as they drove home. ‘I think Chillings is open until eight tonight. We could go to the grotto there.’

  There was a moment’s silence.

  ‘Dad,’ said Thea. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

  Ben looked at his daughter curiously.

  ‘Father Christmas isn’t real.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ben was disappointed. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I’ve known for two years. Ever since I saw you putting the presents at the end of my bed.’

  Two years. Ben recalled that Christmas only too well. It was their first Christmas without Jo. He thought he was doing well but on Christmas Eve, when both Thea and Judy were in bed, he was struck by a huge wave of sadness. He tried to drink his way through it with the result that by the time he decided Thea must be deep enough in sleep for him to risk setting out her stocking, he was so unsteady on his feet that he crashed into a small table on the landing on his way to her room. He must have woken her up.

  ‘I pretended I didn’t know because I didn’t want to upset you,’ said Thea.

  ‘Well, thank you. But there’s no need to pretend anything because you’re worried you might upset me. I want you to know that. Whatever you think is important to me. All of it.’

  ‘I’m really glad we’re doing Cinderella together, Dad.’

  ‘Me too.’

  But the truth was, Ben was looking forward to the end of the run. Since that night on the beach, acting alongside Kirsty had become excruciating. Perhaps he was imagining it, but Jon seemed to be much more physical with Kirsty than before. Kissing her as she came off stage. Absent-mindedly stroking her arm when he came out in front of the tabs to give Kirsty and Ben instructions. Ben couldn’t wait until he didn’t have to see those PDAs any more.

  If it weren’t for the show, Ben wouldn’t have to be around Kirsty Watson at all. There were moments, however, when he still suspected that if it weren’t for the show, Kirsty wouldn’t have to be around Jon. He couldn’t help thinking back to that night, after the curry. Standing at the taxi rank, she’d reminded him she was in a relationship but she had also mentioned the show. Was that what was holding her back?

  Wishful thinking, Ben told himself. And the sodding show had to go on.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  As was traditional, the first full performance of Cinderella was to be a combination of press night and charity fundraiser. The audience was handpicked: a mixture of local journalists and dignitaries, with the rest of the seats filled by family members of all the NEWTS who would be performing or working behind stage.

  The theatre lobby was decorated for the season. Kirsty loved the smell of pine sap that tickled her nose as she walked through on her way to the dressing room. Trevor Fernlea and the committee always made sure that the NEWTS’ annual budget contained a generous allowance for a seriously big tree, even if they were still using some decorations that had been bought for the inaugural performance in the theatre back in the 1980s. The fairy lights would definitely not have passed a health and safety inspection.

  Fresh posters had been stuck up on the morning of the charity show, but the secret graffiti artist had already struck. Kirsty tutted to herself when she saw her new red glitter moustache. She hoped Lauren hadn’t noticed that the artist had been at her face with an orange pen.

  When Kirsty got to the ladies’ dressing room, Lauren, Bernie and Annette were already in place, putting on their costumes and applying their make-up. Kirsty was pleased to see that Annette and Lauren looked like the best of buddies for once. Despite having bitched about her trashy look at just about every rehearsal, Annette was actually letting Lauren do her make-up.

  ‘I want it to be a bit Kardashian,’ Annette explained. ‘Take the skin-tone right on up to full on freshly varnished decking. You know, how you like it.’

  Ah well. Maybe Annette hadn’t changed her mind about Lauren’s make-up skills after all.

  Kirsty did her own make-up. During her time on the cruise ship, she had learned plenty of tips from the on-board hair and make-up team. She knew how to dress her features so that even the people at the very back of the theatre could read her expressions with ease. She applied false eyelashes in a matter of seconds. She helped Bernie with her eyelashes too.

  ‘I hope Vince isn’t having a “sharpener” in the gents’ dressing room,’ Bernie admitted as Kirsty did her eyes.

  Kirsty knew that Jon had asked the male members of the cast to keep a close watch on Vince.

  ‘It’s going to be fine,’ said Kirsty. ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

  ‘You have no idea,’ Annette told her when Bernie was out of earshot.

  Upstairs, the children were being dressed and made up in the larger of the two rehearsal rooms under the watchful eyes of the two chaperones. There would be no deviating from the rules now that the show run had started. Wherever ther
e was a child, there was a responsible adult.

  Judy had volunteered to help out whenever Thea was needed at the theatre. She was pleased to be seeing so much of her granddaughter over Christmas. Since Ben had to be on stage every night, Thea would be staying home with Judy on those evenings when she wasn’t performing.

  Judy helped Thea into her costume. Thea’s pale-grey tights would be grubby long before she managed to get on stage, Judy was sure, but for a few minutes, Thea looked perfect. Judy applied the base layer of face paint that would anchor Thea’s mouse make-up. She did this for several of the children. One of the mums, who worked on a beauty counter at Chillings, was putting the finishing touches on, drawing in black noses and whiskers with an eyeliner pencil.

  ‘Do I look like a mouse?’ Thea asked, as she tried to persuade her floppy ear to stay vertical.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Judy, observing with a smile that Thea had already managed to get a streak of greasepaint down those pristine tights.

  Downstairs in the auditorium, a bell was rung to tell the audience it was time to take their seats. Behind the scenes, Elaine and her helpers went from room to room telling the cast that they had ten minutes until the curtain went up. Everyone always felt a rush of adrenaline when they heard, ‘Beginners, please!’

  ‘OK, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Elaine to her child chorus in the big rehearsal room. ‘This is it. This is our opening night! Let’s go out there and show everyone what we’re made of. Whatever happens, if you miss a step or you forget the words to any of the songs, don’t worry. Just pick up where you left off and remember to smile, smile, smile.’

  Elaine grinned widely to remind them exactly what she meant. They duly grinned right back at her. Thomas Nuttall had lost a front tooth overnight.

  The mice were encouraged to have a quick group hug and there was plenty of fist bumping as they got into line in preparation for their big entrance. Elaine did a head count. As she got to Thea, she gave her a special wink.