A Fairy Tale for Christmas

by Chrissie Manby

  ‘Oh, Lauren,’ said Kirsty. ‘I’m so glad you did mess up. I don’t know what we would have done if you’d succeeded. Any of us. We all love you so much. Even Jon.’

  Jon had yet to respond to Kirsty’s call. Later he would say he didn’t think he needed to, since Lauren wasn’t actually dying.

  ‘I can’t stand it,’ said Lauren. ‘People think that I’m vain and obsessed with my looks but I just wanted to show them.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The people who bullied me at school. When I was growing up, I was really weird-looking. My ears stuck out like a pair of satellite dishes. I had to wear these really thick glasses that made me look like I had frog eyes and because I sucked my thumb when I was little, when my big teeth came through, they were practically horizontal. Nobody called me Lauren at school. They called me Frog-face or Jug-head or Bugs.’

  ‘Bugs?’

  ‘For Bugs Bunny.’

  ‘Oh. Of course.’

  ‘It was horrible. I hated school. My gran used to have to drag me there. She helped Dad look after me when Mum left. She’s in a home now. She’s got Alzheimer’s.’

  That explained Lauren’s charity.

  ‘I was so embarrassed. I just wanted to stay home where no one could see me and laugh at how I looked and what my family was like. It went on until I was sixteen. Every time I set foot in the classroom, someone would say something nasty. Then my other grandma died and I used the money she left me to get myself sorted out. I had my ears pinned back and got those invisible braces to sort my teeth out. I swapped my glasses for contact lenses. I got my hair straightened.’

  ‘The ugly duckling became the swan,’ said Kirsty.

  ‘Yeah. That’s what I was hoping. But I’m still the ugly duckling inside, aren’t I? That’s the thing. So, when everyone on Twitter started going on about how strange I look with my fake tan, I just couldn’t rise above it. I couldn’t just toss my hair extensions and carry on because the ugly duckling inside me was reading every word and knowing that what they said was true.’

  ‘Oh, Lauren,’ said Kirsty. ‘It’s not true.’

  ‘I’ve changed everything except who I am on the inside. There’s not enough money in the world to make me into the kind of person who really doesn’t give a flying toss.’

  ‘But is that necessarily a bad thing?’ Kirsty asked her. ‘If you hadn’t been through that bullying when you were younger, maybe you wouldn’t be the person you are in lots of good ways as well as the bad. You bring a lot of happiness to the lives of other people. You do your charity work. And what about all those tweeters who say that having you deliver the forecast makes even the bad weather bearable?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Lauren. ‘I suppose there’s that.’

  ‘And hundreds of people have bought tickets to see the pantomime for the simple reason that you’re going to be in it. That is so important. You bring in the ticket sales that enable the NEWTS to carry on. And NEWTS is a lifeline for so many people.’

  ‘It’s a lifeline for me,’ Lauren admitted. ‘You’re all so nice. You and Bernie and Ben.’

  ‘Ben?’

  Kirsty couldn’t help wanting to know more.

  ‘He rang me this morning. I didn’t pick up. He left a really nice message about how his daughter sees me as a role model and how haters are always going to hate but I’ve got to keep on following my dream and being an inspiration.’

  Kirsty felt a small stab of something when she heard that. Was it envy?

  ‘And now knowing that you were worried enough about me to actually come round to my house and find out what was going on. I never expected that. But you proved to me that I do have a friend. You are my friend, aren’t you? Really?’

  ‘Of course I am, silly.’

  ‘I’m sorry for all the things I said about how I should have been Cinderella, not you.’

  ‘Forget about it,’ said Kirsty.

  ‘You’ve got real talent,’ said Lauren. ‘You’re an inspiration to me.’

  ‘That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard in a long time,’ Kirsty said, still thinking about Ben and his message. ‘See, Lauren? You’ve brought some sunshine into my life.’

  The psychiatrist arrived.

  ‘So, you’re to get some rest over the next two days,’ Kirsty reminded Lauren as she dropped her off at her dad’s house later that evening. ‘And I’ll see you at the theatre on Boxing Day. Don’t let me down. What’s Cinderella without her prince?’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Lauren promised. ‘Have a really lovely Christmas, Kirsty. You deserve it. What are you doing over the holidays, anyway?’

  ‘We’re having lunch with Jon’s family,’ Kirsty told her.

  ‘That should be nice.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  Outside the hospital ward at last, Kirsty checked her phone. There was nothing from Jon but Ben had texted.

  ‘Just wanted to know how Lauren’s getting on,’ he’d written. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help.’

  It was the first text he had sent her since that night on the beach. He hadn’t blocked her number after all.

  ‘She’s fine but I expect she’d like to hear from you,’ Kirsty texted back. Then she added, ‘Happy Christmas’. And a kiss. She had no right to be churlish just because he’d told Lauren all those lovely things in his voice message to her. Then Kirsty went home to Jon.

  Jon was watching TV when Kirsty got in. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen as she walked in, took her coat off and settled down on the sofa next to him.

  ‘Has the drama finished for today?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that.’

  Kirsty leaned into Jon’s side and waited for him to put his arm around her. It took a little while for Jon to get the hint. While he watched the television, Kirsty watched the lights on the Christmas tree going through their little routine. Here they were. They were going to be spending Christmas together, just as Jon had promised when they were back on board The European Countess. Why was it nothing like the picture-perfect scene straight from a greetings card that Jon had described?

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  On Christmas Day, Kirsty was first to wake. She got out of bed as quietly as she could, making sure not to wake Jon too. He’d grumbled his way to bed on Christmas Eve. The show and the bad reviews had really taken it out of him.

  Though Jon had been unimpressed by Kirsty’s tree, she was glad she had gone to the bother of getting it. Where else would she have piled all those lovingly chosen gifts? Kirsty had thought carefully about what Jon might like for Christmas. Switching on the lights on Christmas morning, Kirsty was very pleased with how her efforts looked wrapped with love and care.

  In the kitchen, she prepared a special festive breakfast. Freshly squeezed orange juice with a dash of prosecco to make Buck’s Fizz. Fresh blueberries (out of season), yogurt and muesli. But, because it was Christmas, there would be salmon and scrambled eggs as well. Kirsty was just cracking the first of the eggs into the pan when Jon appeared at the kitchen door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  ‘What are you burning?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not burning anything,’ she said.

  ‘Are you making eggs? I don’t want eggs.’

  ‘OK,’ said Kirsty. ‘I’ll just make some for me. Merry Christmas!’

  ‘What?’ said Jon. ‘Oh yeah. Merry Christmas.’

  He gave her a peck on the cheek.

  Kirsty had planned to lay the table properly for breakfast but Jon tucked into his yogurt and muesli leaning against the washing machine. He swigged his Buck’s Fizz.

  ‘This orange juice tastes funny,’ he said.

  ‘It’s got prosecco in it.’

  ‘What would you do that for?’

  ‘To celebrate. It is Christmas.’ She raised her glass to him.

  ‘Everyone makes such a fuss,’ said Jon. ‘It’s just another day.’

  ‘Well, I like being Christmassy,’ said Ki
rsty. ‘Now you’re up. I’m putting some music on.’

  The sound of a choir singing ‘Ding Dong Merrily On High’ soon filled the flat.

  Jon rolled his eyes and shuffled off to get dressed.

  It would be better when he had woken up properly, Kirsty told herself. Jon was never at his best first thing.

  When Jon was dressed and ready, Kirsty invited him into the sitting room to open gifts. She kneeled down on the floor beside the tree, taking care not to exclaim when she got a pine needle in her kneecap. After all, the ‘stupid tree’ with its real needles had been her idea. Jon sat on the sofa and flicked through messages on his phone as Kirsty tried to interest him in the carefully wrapped parcels. He barely looked at the bottle of aftershave and the book he’d noticed in the review section of The Times. He set the smart black leather wallet Kirsty had bought down on the coffee table without even looking inside.

  Jon opened the cashmere jumper.

  ‘Is this wool?’ he asked. ‘It feels itchy.’

  He looked at the label.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

  Once more with feeling, Kirsty thought.

  When all of Jon’s gifts were opened, there were two parcels left beneath the tree. This was Kirsty’s haul.

  ‘I didn’t get you much because I don’t know what you’d like. I didn’t want to waste money getting something that wasn’t right,’ said Jon as he handed her the two flat rectangular parcels. One was light. It turned out to be a box of chocolates, which was odd, considering Jon was supposed to be helping her control her weight. The other was a book about a famous Hollywood director, who interested Jon far more than he interested Kirsty. Sure enough, right after Kirsty unwrapped it, it was Jon who started to read the biography.

  ‘Maybe we can get you something else in the sales,’ Jon told her, perhaps sensing her disappointment, though she was trying so hard to hide it.

  ‘Oh, no need,’ said Kirsty. ‘It’s only stuff.’

  ‘Great. Well, thanks for all this.’ Jon left the room with arms piled high. ‘We’d better get ready to go to Mum and Dad’s.’

  Though they lived in Newbay, Kirsty had not met Jon’s family yet. Of all the days to meet your other half’s family for the first time, Christmas Day is probably not ideal, but Jon had accepted the invitation on both their behalves at the beginning of December and there was no backing out.

  The importance of the meeting sent Kirsty into a panic when it came to dressing for the occasion. Jon was no help whatsoever when she tried to ask him whether or not his family made a big effort at Christmas. Were they the sort of family that wore their ‘Sunday best’ for the big day or were they more like her family – hanging out in their pyjamas until the last possible moment before changing into comfy old jeans and Christmas jumpers?

  Kirsty had no choice but to assume the former. It’s far better to be overdressed than under, she reasoned. But when Kirsty emerged from the bedroom, Jon said to her. ‘There’s no need for you to dress up like a Christmas tree. Mum and Dad have already got one. And you certainly don’t need those …’

  Kirsty took off her Christmas tree earrings. The earrings she had worn every Christmas since she’d bought them in Claire’s Accessories the day before her first works do, aged seventeen.

  Perhaps, knowing how scathing Jon could be about the dress sense of some of the women at NEWTS, who tended towards the over-embellished, Kirsty should have guessed that his family weren’t the type to wear novelty jumpers. Unlike hers. She wondered if her dad was wearing his novelty jumper that day – he had one with a picture of Rudolph on it. The nose used to light up until the battery ran out.

  Kirsty hadn’t spoken to him since the Helen Mirren night. She had texted India first thing, however, to wish her a merry Christmas and asked her to pass on her love.

  India had texted back, ‘All I want for Christmas is to be treated like a grown-up.’

  Rather than get into another row, Kirsty sent India an emoticon of a smiley face poking his tongue out.

  She also texted Jane, who was spending that Christmas with her family. And Rob.

  ‘Having the best day ever,’ Jane replied. ‘Hope Jon got you some fabulous presents!’

  Kirsty snorted at that.

  She sent a few more texts on the drive to the Manley family house. Bernie and Vince were having a quiet time at home. Annette was celebrating with her sister at a swanky spa hotel. The Giggle Twins were recovering from Christmas Eve spent partying. Lauren was with her family, being well taken care of. Ben …

  Ben’s response was brief.

  ‘Have a great day.’

  No kisses.

  I don’t care there are no kisses, Kirsty told herself. I don’t care. Why should I?

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  The Manley family house was a 1930s detached number a few miles outside the town. Jon had grown up there with his two siblings, both sisters. He was the youngest. When Jon and Kirsty arrived, his sisters Katy and Anna rushed out of the house to greet them. Or rather Jon. They swept him away from her into the hallway, leaving Kirsty following with the bags full of gifts she had ordered online on Jon’s behalf.

  Kirsty stood with those gifts, feeling like a total muppet, while Jon was fussed over like the prodigal son. When, eventually, Jon’s father asked if he could help Kirsty with her coat, she was ready to cry with relief.

  Jon’s father, Fred, was generous with the champagne as they waited for lunch to be ready but Kirsty was careful not to drink too much.

  She thought of the Christmas before, which she had spent with Jane. It could have been a difficult Christmas, given all that Jane had been through twelve months earlier. She certainly wasn’t looking forward to Christmas Eve, which would mark the anniversary of Greg’s death. But Kirsty had held Jane’s hand – literally – through the worst of it. She had accompanied her to the crematorium, where Greg had his official plaque, if not his actual resting place, on Christmas morning. There were tears, of course. From Kirsty as well as Jane. She had been very fond of Greg, considering him almost a brother in the time he and Jane were together. But after that, Jane was determined to make Christmas Day a happy one and Kirsty was delighted to help her. They’d cooked a chicken for lunch – it was plenty for the two of them – and Kirsty made her famous tiramisu for dessert (neither of them really like Christmas pud). They stuffed themselves silly and spent the afternoon in front of the telly, watching a boxed set of Miranda and eating their way through a family-sized tub of Roses.

  It was how Christmas should be, as far as Kirsty was concerned. A day for memories but also for a bit of self-indulgence. Warm and relaxed.

  Kirsty found it hard to relax at the Manley’s house.

  Lunch was served at one o’clock promptly. Kirsty was seated next to Jon’s father. On a stool. There weren’t enough chairs to go round and somehow Kirsty ended up on the stool that usually lived in the kitchen. At least it meant she couldn’t slouch. Jon’s mother and sisters were not the slouching kind.

  Jon’s mother was a perfectionist and she was feminine perfection herself. She produced a magnificent meal without getting all red-faced and sweaty in the kitchen. Kirsty spent not much more than quarter of an hour helping her to transfer the food to serving dishes, yet her make-up ended up sliding down her face as though she were a wax doll left too long in front of the fire.

  When the obligatory photographs were taken and Jon showed Kirsty one on his phone, she cringed to see herself looking so rosy-cheeked. Like Vince after a whole day on the sauce. Jon refused to delete it. The photograph captured him at his handsome best. But then he hadn’t stepped into the kitchen since they arrived at the house. Instead, he joined his father and siblings in the sitting room, where they sipped gin and tonics and talked about how great it was that Jon was back for the winter and how they couldn’t wait to see his pantomime and how he must surely be a shoo-in for that Shakespeare job in Dubai.

  ‘You
must be excited about that,’ said Jon’s older sister Katy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Kirsty. ‘Of course.’

  Though they must have guessed that Kirsty wasn’t going to be able to follow him out there, unless she was willing to give up any theatre dreams of her own.

  ‘He’s such a star,’ Katy breathed. ‘He was always the centre of attention, even when we were children.’

  By the end of lunch, Kirsty noticed she had been asked barely a single question about her life and ambitions at all. The only questions she’d been asked at all were regarding her view of Jon’s brilliance. Jon hadn’t tried to bring her into the conversation or steer it in her direction. But neither had his siblings had much of a look in either. It was all about Jon. He really was the golden boy. It made an awful lot of things suddenly quite clear. Of course he didn’t think her career was as important as his. Of course she was the support act.

  ‘They liked you,’ said Jon when they got back into the car later that evening.

  For a moment, Kirsty was surprised to find she didn’t care. She didn’t say that, of course. Instead she said, ‘Oh, good.’

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  They were back in the flat by nine o’clock but Kirsty felt as though they had been out all night. She was so tired she couldn’t even be bothered to switch the Christmas tree lights back on. She checked her phone, which had run out of battery while they were out. There were more messages from India.

  ‘Hope your Christmas Day better than mine.’

  ‘Dad is driving me insane!’

  ‘I’ve had enough. I’m getting out of here.’

  Kirsty texted back, ‘Everything will look better in the morning.’

  She found she meant it as much as a reminder to herself as to India. She was feeling low after a day that hadn’t lived up to her Christmassy expectations. Perhaps she should have gone to her dad’s. At least she and India could have cheered each other up.

  She could hear Jon in the bathroom cleaning his teeth. Jon wasn’t just disciplined around food. He certainly never neglected his dental care routine. Kirsty was coming to be able to set her watch by it. Jon would take exactly twenty-five minutes in the bathroom, morning and night. Sometimes Kirsty could be in and out in less than five, lazily removing her make-up with a baby wipe. No wonder Jon thought she was sloppy.