The Country Village Christmas Show

by Cathy Lake

  She sighed then, seeming sad, as if there was something on her mind. Someone as lovely as she was should never be unhappy, stressed or worried, Sam thought.

  ‘Is your partner joining you for Christmas too?’ He had to ask; the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to know.

  She frowned and folded her arms over her chest.

  ‘I-I don’t have a partner. I’m recently divorced.’ She grimaced as if the word was distasteful to her.

  ‘I’m really sorry to hear that.’ He swallowed hard.

  ‘It’s just life, right? Lots of marriages end in divorce these days.’

  She hung her head and closed her eyes, and Sam’s skin prickled. Had he upset her?

  ‘They do and it’s very sad. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I have a tendency to be a bit tactless sometimes.’

  She opened her eyes and looked at him again. There was no anger or bitterness in her gaze and relief coursed through him.

  ‘You didn’t upset me, Sam. My marriage was over a long time ago but I’m just still coming to terms with it, I think. However, I’m very glad to be here in the village. Being back is nicer than I thought it would be.’

  ‘You weren’t looking forward to coming back?’

  ‘Well, you know, middle-aged divorcee returning to her childhood home, son off at uni and no job to speak of. It’s not exactly a fairy tale, is it?’

  She smiled and he smiled in return. ‘It could be better, I guess, but it could also be a lot worse.’

  ‘I know. You’re right. I’m actually glad to be back – and I’m also glad to be here this evening.’

  He opened his mouth to reply, but Magnus and Jenny arrived with their drinks, so instead he nodded at Clare then raised his pint of beer. ‘To winning the quiz.’

  ‘To friendships,’ she said, ‘old and new.’

  Then she clinked her glass against his bottle and Sam felt something inside him loosen. He hadn’t even realised he’d been so tense, but like a spring uncoiling, something started to give.

  Chapter 13

  ‘What’s up with Nanna?’

  Clare closed the fridge door and turned to her son.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He was juggling with three apples just outside the back door, wearing only a pair of cartoon-character pyjama bottoms and a black vest top.

  ‘Kyle, come inside, you must be frozen.’

  He flashed her a cheeky grin. ‘I’m fine, it’s good for the circulation.’

  ‘You sound just like Nanna.’ She shook her head. ‘But please come inside because I’m cold even if you’re not.’

  He caught the apples, then came through the door, closely followed by Goliath, who had a trickle of drool hanging from his mouth.

  ‘Want one, boy?’ Kyle asked the dog, then he rolled the apple across the kitchen floor.

  ‘Kyle, don’t give him that! He’ll make an awful mess.’

  ‘Chill out, Mum, he’ll be fine. It’s one of his five-a-day.’

  Clare rolled her eyes and watched as Goliath grabbed the apple, then ran through to the lounge.

  ‘If he buries it in the sofa and it goes mouldy you can clean it up.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’ Kyle gave a small salute and she shook her head at him. ‘Anyway, I asked what’s up with Nanna.’

  ‘She’s not herself, is she?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Kyle put the two remaining apples back in the fruit bowl, then went to the fridge and got out a pint of milk. ‘She seems really sad.’

  ‘She’s been better in the two weeks since you turned up.’

  And she had seemed brighter. The three of them had fallen into a routine of sorts, with Clare and Kyle walking Goliath twice a day, Elaine doing her morning Tai Chi in the garden and them all doing their own thing before having an evening meal together. Clare had met up with Jenny a few times, and each time her concern about how pale her friend looked and how tired she seemed grew, but then she tried to reason that Jenny did work long days at the hair salon. Jenny had also confided in Clare that her twin daughters were being particularly difficult because one of them had a boyfriend that the other one liked, so they were arguing a lot.

  Clare hadn’t seen much of Sam, not having been able to pluck up the courage to invite herself along to the quiz again, but then she was trying to be sensible about him anyway. Yes, they had said they were friends, but she still wasn’t quite sure how that worked. She’d never really had a male friend and wasn’t sure how she could be his friend when she was quite attracted to him. And being attracted to him was causing her some anxiety, because it wasn’t a feeling she’d had to deal with in a long time and it was, she was quite certain, something she could do without.

  Anyway, her main concerns were right here under this roof and she wanted to give them her time and attention.

  ‘Is there something we could do to make her happier?’ Kyle asked.

  Clare couldn’t help herself, she grabbed hold of him and hugged him. He was a lot taller than her so his chin rested on top of her head and he smelt of his deodorant, a peppery, woody aroma, of her mum’s fabric softener and also of himself. She felt sure she could pick him out of a crowd by his scent alone.

  ‘I’ve been trying to think of something that I could do since I got here,’ she mumbled into his chest. He was so slim, his chest almost concave, and she vowed to try to feed him up a bit while they were under the same roof.

  He gently released her and stepped back to look at her. ‘Like?’

  ‘Well, you know Nanna and her love of theatre?’

  ‘She used to love the village drama society, didn’t she?’ He frowned. ‘But she told me the other day that since the old hall burnt down, they haven’t met up.’

  ‘It’s really got her down. Between us, I think there’s something a bit fishy about the accident at the village hall, but she won’t talk about it. Perhaps someone she knows was responsible and she finds it too upsetting.’

  ‘It’s possible.’ He rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. ‘What about if we tried to get something organised for Christmas at the new hall?’

  Clare nodded. ‘I was wondering if that might be a good idea. But there are only seven weeks until Christmas. Would it even be doable?’

  Kyle took a deep breath and looked out of the kitchen window. Clare followed his gaze and saw a tiny robin hopping about on the lawn. It was so small that she could barely believe it was strong enough to survive, but there it was, its tiny head turning quickly from side to side, its eyes wide and watchful as it went about its business.

  ‘Hey, I bet that’s Grandpa come to tell us to do something nice for Nanna.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ He slung an arm around her shoulders. ‘Dad always used to say that robins were loved ones come back from the dead.’

  Clare shivered.

  ‘Not in a bad way.’ He laughed. ‘He meant that they’re just popping back to let us know they’re all right and that they’ll always be with us.’

  ‘I don’t think your dad ever said that to me.’

  Kyle squeezed her shoulders. ‘He’s a bit of an odd one, my dad, isn’t he? I love the old man but even I can see that he’s a bit eccentric, especially for a lawyer.’

  Clare snorted. ‘Eccentric?’

  ‘Yeah, and not that great a husband either.’

  Clare pressed her lips together. She had never been negative about Jason in front of their son and she never would be. Kyle loved his dad and he had every right to make up his own mind about him. She would never try to influence how he saw his father, unless it was to try to put a more positive slant on things.

  ‘It’s OK, Mum, I know you won’t say a bad word about him, and I love you for that. Rick used to hate how his parents were always arguing and putting him in the middle and it tore him apart at times. I feel lucky that you never did that to me.’

  She patted his arm, glad that he had been spared any suffering as a result of her divorce. She�
�d hate to be that parent.

  ‘Anyway, Mum, I think that if we give Nanna a hand to get things up and running, it’s perfectly doable. I spoke to my senior lecturer yesterday about deferring for a year and she thinks it’s a good idea if it’s what I want. I need to send a few emails, but I’ll sort it out this week. I’d like to stay around while you’re here too. This might make me sound like a bit of a baby, but since you and Dad sold the house, I’ve felt like I lost my base.’

  ‘Oh Kyle, I’m so sorry. I know how you feel. I’ve been a bit lost too.’

  ‘So if we have a family project, it could be good for the three of us.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘Right, let’s get our heads together and come up with a plan. We need to decide what type of production it could be, work out who to ask for help, speak to all the former members of the society, and when we have an idea of what’s achievable, speak to Nanna about it.’

  ‘Kyle, I do love you!’

  ‘I love you too, Mum.’

  He filled the kettle and switched it on. ‘Now, let’s have a cup of tea and make some notes while Nanna’s out. Good thing I wanted some coconut macaroons, isn’t it?’

  ‘You asked for those?’

  ‘It occurred to me this morning that she needs a boost and Tai Chi alone isn’t enough, so I came up with a craving for something she’d have to go searching for as a way to get her to leave the house.’

  ‘You clever boy.’ Clare giggled. ‘And oh so crafty because you’re the only one with Nanna wrapped around your little finger.’

  ‘I have my talents . . .’ He winked. ‘Right, let’s get to work.’

  He made tea and took it to the table while Clare searched for a pen and paper. Then they sat down together and started to plan.

  The next morning Clare came downstairs wearing a pair of old jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt. Kyle was waiting for her in the kitchen, also in jogging bottoms and a hoodie.

  ‘Are we ready to do this?’ she asked.

  Kyle yawned and stretched his arms above his head. ‘I guess so. Seeing as how our plan is to spend more time bonding with Nanna, and this idea made our list last night, it seems like a good place to start.’

  ‘No time like the present!’ Clare took a deep breath and opened the back door.

  Outside, on the lawn in her flesh-coloured undies, Elaine, her eyes closed, palms and heels together, readied herself to start her Tai Chi routine.

  Clare approached her and stood on her one side and Kyle went to the other.

  ‘Good morning, Mum.’ Clare adopted the same pose as Elaine but kept her eyes open. Her mum opened her eyes and peered at Clare, then at Kyle.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Well, see, Nanna, we thought we’d join you and find out what all the fuss is about.’ Kyle winked at Clare.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Elaine asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’ Clare smiled. ‘So you start and we’ll follow. Neither of us has done this before, though, so please bear that in mind. We’ll try to keep up.’

  Elaine looked from Clare to Kyle and back again, a smile playing on her lips. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Then hurry up and start teaching us.’ Clare nudged her mum’s arm. ‘Come on, I’m keen to feel the benefits.’

  Her mum nodded. ‘All right then. Follow me . . .’

  Clare kept her eyes on her mum, imitating her movements and her breathing. At first, she felt clumsy and self-conscious, but as their session progressed, she forgot about what she looked like and the noises she might be making and found beauty and elegance in the flow of the movement that was at once graceful, gentle and strong.

  When her mum finally stood still, Clare did too, and she was overwhelmed by the sense of inner peace that had settled over her. While she’d been following the flow of movement that had reminded her of water, her mind had slowed down and emptied, her focus on breathing and accuracy of poses. She felt as cleansed, relaxed and renewed as she would following a good night’s sleep.

  ‘How did you find that?’ Elaine asked, placing a hand on Clare’s shoulder.

  Clare met her mum’s eyes and was surprised to see them glistening, which made tears spring to her own. Then Kyle was between them, his arms encircling them both and the three of them stood there in the fresh morning air, in a kind of group hug. Clare didn’t even mind the tears that trickled down her cheeks because she didn’t feel sad, just as though something good was beginning.

  ‘Where are you going, Clare?’ Elaine asked later that morning as Clare put her coat on.

  ‘To get my hair done.’

  ‘Oh?’ Her mum knitted her eyebrows. ‘Where?’

  ‘Turning Heads. Where Jenny works.’ Clare rinsed her mug in the sink.

  ‘Yes, I know it.’ Elaine nodded. ‘What are you having done?’

  ‘Just a trim, I think.’

  Elaine ran her eyes over Clare’s head and Clare fought the urge to cover it with her hands. She knew that her roots were showing, had seen the glint of silver when she’d looked at herself in the mirror. But at forty-five, how many people wouldn’t have some grey hairs? She’d thought about giving in to the grey like the women she’d seen on those hashtags #silversisters and #greyhairdontcare, but she wasn’t sure that she was quite ready to fully embrace them just yet.

  ‘You could do with a colour too,’ Elaine said, and Clare nodded, not having the energy for a debate right then, especially as she knew that her mum was right. Over the years she’d found it was often easier to just agree with her mum than get into a discussion. She didn’t have time this morning – and following their Tai Chi session, she was too relaxed to worry about Elaine’s frankness anyway.

  ‘Right.’ Clare picked up her bag and coat from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy coming too? They might be able to squeeze you in?’

  ‘No, thank you, Clare. I still have my hair cut by Felicity.’ Elaine ran a hand over her grey bob, then tucked a stray strand behind her ear.

  ‘Felicity Flick’s Mobile Hair Studio is still going?’

  ‘Clare, she’s only sixty-two and she knows how I like my hair. Plus, we get to have coffee and cake and all within the comfort of my own home.’

  ‘Of course.’ Clare smiled. ‘It’s nice that she still does your hair.’

  ‘I think so. Where’s Kyle?’ Elaine asked.

  ‘Back in bed.’ Clare pointed at the ceiling. ‘I think he was on a late video call, and I think he wanted to grab a few more hours after being up early for Tai Chi.’

  ‘I thought I heard voices late last night.’

  ‘He was probably speaking to his dad. Right, Mum, I’ll see you later.’

  The morning was bright and crisp and the ground and cars sparkled with frost. As Clare walked, her breath puffed out in front of her in great clouds and her boots crunched on the pavement. It was only a short walk to the salon, but she made the most of it, filling her lungs with cold, cleansing air and absorbing the beauty of the village. From cottages that were hundreds of years old, with fat chimneys and small-paned windows, to the old drystone walls, to the village green with its solid wooden benches commemorating those who had passed over the years and the huge Norwegian spruce at the centre, cordoned off with a small hexagonal fence to keep dogs from destroying the lower branches, it was a lovely location. The tree had stood at the centre of the village green for as long as Clare could remember and as she passed it, a tiny shiver ran down her spine as she recalled standing there with her parents every Christmas throughout her childhood, clapping and cheering as the lights were turned on.

  This year, she would be able to see the lights turned on again, with her mum and son. But not Dad. She rubbed her chest as if she could soothe the ache of grief that was always there, no longer completely overwhelming but ever-present. And, of course, this would be her first Christmas as a single woman. No Jason to buy for, to try to surprise then to hide her disappointment from when she saw his disin
terest in whatever she’d bought him. No Jason to grimace if she hadn’t got the gravy just right or to decline the champagne breakfast she’d prepared because he didn’t like to drink before noon or had decided he didn’t like smoked salmon or, one year, scrambled eggs.

  Goodness, had she really put up with all of that?

  Yes, she had, because she had believed that marriage was about give and take, about accepting that it wasn’t all passion and romance, all fun and laughter. And yet, none of it had been about any of those things for years. Her marriage had, for a long time, been lacking in anything good.

  Except for Kyle. Kyle had come from her relationship with Jason and he was such a gift.

  When she reached the end of the green, she crossed the road and headed towards the row of buildings with their large glass windows and colourful signs which included a sweet shop, a bakery, a charity shop and the salon. Her belly clenched as she got closer and saw the glint of scissors and the large mirrors, the stylists in their black tunics and trousers. She’d always felt a bit like this whenever she’d gone to have her hair done, as if she was out of place, a bit of a mess. But then she also knew that when she’d had her hair washed and styled, when she walked out of the salon, she’d feel a lot better about her appearance too. There was something so luxurious about having her hair washed and conditioned, then cut and blow-dried by someone else. And this time, just as when she was younger, it would be her dear friend Jenny styling her hair. Jenny had always known how Clare liked her hair done, how it had suited her.

  Yes, this was a good thing.

  She caught sight of her reflection in the mirrors as she passed the window to get to the door and she sighed. She definitely needed something drastic.

  Jenny spotted her and rushed to open the door.

  ‘Hello, darling, I’m so excited about this.’ Jenny gave her a quick hug in the doorway then Clare entered the warmth of the salon, where the scents of fruity shampoo and conditioner, of perming solution and hair dye all hung in the air, heavy yet pleasant because they offered the promise of transformation, of pampering and luxury, of self-care.