‘Must be still taking his make-up off,’ said Ben.
‘He wasn’t in the gents’ changing room when I was in there,’ said Andrew Giggle.
‘I haven’t seen him,’ said George.
Bernie put on a brave smile. ‘Ah well. Perhaps he’s nipped out for a cigarette. I’m sure he’ll be here in a minute.’
Kirsty didn’t need a cigarette after the performance but she did need some fresh air. She headed out to the car park and that is where she saw him. Vince was sitting in the passenger seat of a little red Mini. Kirsty knew where she had seen that red Mini before – parked outside the student flats on the road down to Duckpool Bay. Kirsty slunk into shadows so that she could watch for a moment without being seen. The driver of the car reached up to put the ceiling light on and, once she was illuminated, Kirsty’s worst fears were confirmed. The car’s owner was the young woman she had seen with Vince earlier in the month. As Kirsty watched in guilty horror, the young woman smiled tenderly at Vince and cupped his cheek with her hand.
This was awful. Inside the theatre, Bernie was oblivious, keeping up the small talk with the rest of the NEWTS while she waited for her husband to arrive and eat his cake. And here he was in the car park, already having it!
Kirsty felt like going up and hammering on the roof of the car and telling Vince exactly what she thought of him. Instead, she decided she should let Bernie know what was going on, in as discreet a way as possible, so that she could see for herself what her husband was up to. In the theatre car park. He couldn’t have been more blatant.
But when Kirsty got back inside, Bernie was deep in conversation with Trevor Fernlea, who had watched the performance that night too. She didn’t want to interrupt but she had to. She tugged on Bernie’s sleeve.
‘Could I have a minute?’ she said.
Bernie smiled broadly. ‘Yes, sweetheart, what is it?’
Kirsty guided Bernie a little closer to the door. What was she going to say? She certainly didn’t want anyone else to hear.
‘It’s … I’ve just been outside. You might want to … Vince …’
She knew she was making no sense. Rather, given the look of anguish on Bernie’s face, she was making matters even more complicated.
‘What’s happened? Is Vince hurt?’ Bernie immediately assumed the worst.
‘No. He …’
Just as Kirsty was about to spill the beans, Vince walked into the theatre, looking, thought Kirsty, as cocky as you like. She glared at him. He seemed confused. As if he didn’t know what he’d just been doing.
‘Vince,’ said Bernie. ‘Everybody’s waiting for you. Where have you been?’
Before Vince could answer that question, the door swung open again and the young woman who drove the red Mini entered. This was awful. Were they going to pretend that they hadn’t been sitting in the car park canoodling just moments before?
‘Bernie,’ said Vince. ‘I want you to meet Candy.’
‘Candy!’ Kirsty spluttered.
‘Yes,’ said the girl, looking mildly offended. ‘It’s short for Candice.’
Candy held her hand towards Bernie. Bernie accepted the greeting then she looked to Vince for an explanation as to who the young woman might be. It came quickly and, when it did, it was totally not what Kirsty – or Bernie for that matter – had been expecting.
‘Candy is my mentor at AA.’
‘What?’
‘Bernie,’ said Vince. ‘I know I’ve disappointed you. I’ve not been the best husband I could be and to see how unhappy I’ve made you over the years fills me with nothing but shame. I want to change,’ he continued. ‘I want to be a better man for you. On Christmas Eve, when I didn’t tell you where I was going, it wasn’t because I was going out to get drunk. I was going to an AA meeting, my love. I was ashamed and I didn’t want to get your hopes up. And when I came out of that meeting, all I could think of was how much I needed another drink. So I had another drink. I had ten. I fell at the first hurdle, my love. I let you down.’
‘Oh, Vince.’ Bernie shook her head.
‘But I’m going to keep trying. I went to another meeting this lunchtime. I want to go for it, Bernie. I want to get off the booze, once and for all. One day at a time. But I want to do it with you by my side.’
After such a revelation, Bernie told Vince she understood if he didn’t feel like having an anniversary party after all. Vince insisted instead that he talk to the whole room and tell everyone in the NEWTS what he had just told his wife. In the brightly lit bar, Vince tapped a spoon against an empty glass to attract everyone’s attention.
‘I want to thank you for hanging around after the show tonight to celebrate our wedding anniversary. I know you’re not really here for my sake. You’ve not got much reason to celebrate me. I know you’re really here for Bernie.’
Bernie shook her head in protest.
‘No, you’re here for Bernie because she is a kind, warm and generous woman and a very good friend to you all. I am a miserable old git, who can’t be relied upon to turn up for rehearsals half-sober or remember his lines. You couldn’t care less about me. You wouldn’t cross the street to wish me Merry Christmas. You’re all here to show solidarity with my wife.
‘I know that you all know I drink too much. As a result, I’ve made this production difficult for all of you and for that I’m truly sorry. But I’ve been drinking too much for a very long time. Now I’m taking steps to change my life for the better. This young lady here – I’m sure you must all be wondering who she is – her name is Candy and she’s my mentor at AA. She’s helping me to stay on the wagon. From now on, things are going to be different. I want you all to help me keep accountable.’
Not quite knowing if it was appropriate in the light of what they had heard, the NEWTS raised a toast to Vince. Then Vince, with a glass full of Diet Coke for the first time in NEWTS’ history, raised a toast to Bernie.
‘To my long-suffering, wonderful, beautiful wife. And my very best friend.’
Kirsty found it hard to keep back tears. She looked for Jon but couldn’t find him in the crowd in the bar.
‘There is nothing more important in this life than love,’ Vince continued. ‘And I knew I loved this woman the first moment I ever saw her.’
That was when Kirsty, still looking for Jon, found she was locking eyes with Ben.
‘Three cheers for Vince and Bernie,’ Ben proposed.
‘He’ll never do it,’ said Jon as he and Kirsty were driving home later. It was too cold to walk. ‘I guarantee he’ll be drunk when he turns up to the theatre tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Jon,’ Kirsty complained. ‘Don’t be so negative. He’s doing his best. The man’s got a huge struggle ahead of him.’
‘Yes. And he won’t make it. I’ve seen it all before. Bernie should cut her losses. She’s only going to end up nursing him through a liver transplant. But I do hope he at least keeps it up for long enough for us to get this panto run done.’
Kirsty didn’t bother to respond. She was upset by Jon’s cynicism. She understood that Vince had a serious battle ahead of him, but she wanted to believe that he could succeed. He was a good bloke under his hard-bitten exterior and he clearly loved Bernie with all his heart. Just as she loved him in return. From the very first moment …
Often, Kirsty had observed, Jon didn’t much seem to like the people he was working with. He treated them all as though they were hopeless cases and the panto would only come together because of his hard work. He didn’t have a kind word for any of them. Jon felt he was above this little pantomime in Newbay, that he should be in the West End or on Broadway. He should be working with Tony Award nominees. He should be directing Shakespeare in Dubai.
Kirsty wondered if he’d had any news. Maybe he had and it wasn’t good. Perhaps that was why he was being so nasty.
‘Ben’s performance was a bit better tonight,’ Jon observed out of the blue. ‘Maybe he got laid or something. What do you think?’
Kirsty
looked out of the car window and pretended she hadn’t heard him.
Chapter Seventy-Three
On New Year’s Eve there was to be only one performance: a matinee. Years of experience had taught the NEWTS that scheduling a performance for New Year’s Eve itself was not generally a good idea. There were too many other temptations for the audience on the last night of the year. Almost everyone had a party to go to and if you didn’t have a party to go to then the telly was pretty good. Way too much competition for a panto. And that was before you took into account the fact that, particularly when you were dealing with an amateur cast, New Year’s Eve was the night when people were most likely to call in ‘sick’. It was far easier to save everyone the bother of bad excuses by giving them New Year’s Eve off and doing a matinee instead.
‘How will you be celebrating New Year’s Eve?’ Kirsty asked Vince as they met in the lobby after the afternoon’s performance. She immediately wished she hadn’t. New Year’s Eve was the night when even people who didn’t touch a drop the rest of the year would have a glass or five.
‘A quiet night in,’ said Vince. ‘A roast dinner and a round of Diet Coke. We’re going to do a New Year’s ritual,’ he elaborated. ‘We’re going to light a proper fire in the fireplace, write down all our wishes for the next twelve months and send them up the chimney to the universe.’
‘That’s a nice idea. What are you going to wish for?’ Kirsty asked.
‘For the strength to carry on the fight,’ said Vince. ‘And for Bernie to be by my side while I do it.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Bernie assured him as she joined them. ‘We’re in this together.’
Vince looked at Kirsty curiously. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her.
‘Oh, I’ve got something in my eye,’ said Kirsty.
New Year’s Wishes. Kirsty had a few.
Kirsty was dejected as she walked from the theatre to the flat. Jon had gone on ahead earlier, saying he needed to send a few emails. Kirsty didn’t ask him to wait for her to get changed after the matinee. She wanted some time to think.
What did she want for the New Year?
Right then it was chocolate.
She got her purse out of her bag to see if she had enough money to buy a Twix on the way back to the flat. As she did so, the cardboard strip from the fortune-telling machine fluttered to the floor.
‘You are where love is,’ it told her once again.
‘Yeah, right,’ she said. It didn’t feel like it right then. Still, she picked it up and tucked it back into its hiding place. When the panto run was over, Jon would be less stressed. When the panto run was over, Kirsty would be able to think clearly again.
Chapter Seventy-Four
There was no question as to where everyone but Vince and Bernie would be going that New Year’s Eve. Annette was throwing a party at her big house on the hill. It was not to be missed. Pretty much the entire population of Newbay was always angling to get a look inside Annette’s mansion. Her fellow Cinderella cast members were among the lucky few to be admitted to the house that year.
Annette knew how to throw a good party and she had been planning her New Year’s bash for at least six months. As far back as August, she’d bagged the town’s best catering team to do the food and drinks. Her twenty-year-old nephew, an aspiring DJ, would be taking care of entertainment. She left the decoration to her cleaner, who was training to be an interior designer and had a wonderful eye. She’d transformed the house into something worthy of a magazine spread. All Annette asked was that people dressed up – really dressed up – to come and celebrate. The invitations – she had gone to the bother of having proper stiff cardboard invites printed – specified ‘no jeans’. Jon was quite fed-up at that.
‘Who does she think she is? I don’t want to have to dress up in my downtime.’
‘I think it’s nice when people make an effort,’ said Kirsty. ‘It sounds as though Annette is going to be making an effort for her part. Besides, you look lovely in a suit,’ Kirsty added, in an attempt to sweeten Jon up.
‘Hmmm,’ he said.
Jon grudgingly put on the suit he had worn for his interview with the entrepreneur from Dubai. Meanwhile, Kirsty pulled out a dress she felt was made for New Year’s Eve. It was a floor-length column dress covered in sequins. She’d bought it when she joined the team of Countess Cruises, feeling sure that her life would be all black tie events from then on.
When they arrived at Great Oaks, Kirsty understood at once why Annette’s house was the envy of half the county. The house had been built for a local merchant at the end of the eighteenth century. When his family fell on hard times, they sold the house to the local council. During the Second World War, it had housed evacuees. Then it had been a small private school, which went bust during the recession of the 1970s. It was Annette’s second husband who restored it to its original residential splendour. Annette had since added a double garage for her soft-top Porsche. The double garage had a gym upstairs, which was apparently how Annette managed to stay in such good shape.
They were greeted at the door by an actual butler. Albeit one hired for the night. Standing right behind him was a young woman holding a tray of drinks. The butler took their coats. The woman offered glasses of champagne which Kirsty and Jon accepted greedily.
‘Veuve Clicquot. Very appropriate for the merry widow. She’s done all right,’ Jon observed. ‘And she doesn’t have to put up with any of the husbands who funded it.’
‘Ssssh,’ said Kirsty. ‘Here she comes.’
Annette was every inch the glamorous chatelaine that evening. She was wearing a full-length evening gown in inky-blue satin. Her ears glittered with diamond hoops from which dangled pearl drops as big as gobstoppers. There was no doubt that the jewels were genuine. Kirsty was glad she had gone heavy on the bling, though hers were not real, of course.
‘I’m so glad you could make it. Kirsty, that’s a lovely dress. Jon, you look very dashing.’
‘See,’ Kirsty teased Jon as they followed Annette into the main room. ‘You know you look great in a suit.’
The whole cast had turned up. And the crew. And many other members of the NEWTS who weren’t in the pantomime but who had worked with Annette through the years. Even Trevor Fernlea was there, looking much better for having brushed up for the occasion. His concussion was long forgotten. His wife was with him. Clearly an invitation to the biggest house in Newbay trumped a night with the bridge club even if it did mean extra time with her husband. Cynthia was dressed in gaudy pink chiffon and sported a ring on every finger.
‘This one,’ she said, showing Kirsty a sparkler the size of an ice cube. ‘This one is new. Trevor bought it to thank me for being his rock during his recent incapacitation.’
Poor Trevor, thought Kirsty. If that was the price he had to pay to get a little attention.
Trevor said he even felt well enough to dance and Kirsty agreed to take to the floor with him, when Annette’s nephew played something that anyone over the age of twenty-five might actually recognise. In the end, they got up to ‘My Heart Will Go On’. It wasn’t exactly a dance floor barnstormer, but it was just right for someone with a pacemaker and dodgy knee.
As they danced, Trevor talked about his years with the NEWTS. He’d first performed with them in 1958.
‘As a member of the juniors?’ Kirsty asked.
‘On no,’ said Trevor. ‘I was already a student teacher.’
Kirsty tried to do the maths. Assuming he left school at eighteen and spent three years at university, it had to mean he was at least seventy-eight. That certainly put his disco moves into perspective.
‘We’re very glad you came to Newbay, Kirsty. You’re the best leading lady I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with. Though you mustn’t tell Annette that. We did West Side Story together in 1982.’
Kirsty was flattered, though she was very happy to relinquish her place as Trevor’s partner to Lauren when the next song turned out to be ‘You Sexy Thing
’ by Hot Chocolate. Lauren knew how to keep Trevor at a safe distance even when she was twerking.
Jon declined the opportunity to dance, claiming that the music wasn’t right. He wasn’t wrong about that. Annette’s nephew had eclectic taste. But still, everyone did their best to get into the party spirit, following little Thea and the other child players’ lead regarding some of the latest dances.
Yes, Ben was there. He had nodded in acknowledgment when Kirsty first caught his eye across the room but they hadn’t yet spoken. Like Jon he looked great in a suit, Kirsty observed. He hung back by the drinks table on his own but by the time Kirsty quit the dancing to make a determined effort to speak to him, he was deep in conversation with Lauren, who was reacting to what Ben said with much hair-twirling and other coquettish moves. It was not a conversation to be interrupted. Kirsty spoke to Thea and her little friends Thomas and Georgie instead.
‘I like that dress even better than your Cinderella one,’ Thea told her. ‘You’ve made me want to be an actress when I grow up. If I’m not an engineer.’
Kirsty smiled. ‘You could be both.’ When she glanced at Ben again, she thought perhaps he had one ear on their conversation, even though Lauren was still preening in front of him. He was smiling too.
Chapter Seventy-Five
It was about eleven forty-five when Jon tapped the side of his glass with a teaspoon to attract everyone’s attention.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Not that I can see any gentlemen in this room.’
Everyone laughed politely.
‘Could I have your attention, please?’
The guests all turned to look at him.
‘I just wanted to raise a toast to you all. I know the run isn’t quite over yet. We’ve still got one more performance to go and, heaven knows, anything could happen. Especially with you lot. But I wanted to say how proud I am of the NEWTS as I stand here this evening. We’ve had a great run. I think this production will go down in NEWTS’ history. For all the right reasons. Not just the usual spectacle of Trevor Fernlea’s trousers.’
A Fairy Tale for Christmas Page 27