The Country Village Christmas Show

by Cathy Lake

  ‘It’s a shame for the children, though. They can have a lot of fun dressing up and playing games.’

  ‘I expect that if the village hall had more use, then something could be done there – perhaps a disco or something.’

  ‘That’s a fab idea, Mum.’

  ‘And at least we still have the bonfire night celebrations in the village.’ Clare was still riding the high of the night before last when they’d gone to watch the fireworks, enjoyed the vicar’s hot chocolate and Kyle had commented on how happy she seemed.

  ‘Yes, it was a good night.’

  Clare peered through the glass pane in the door at the dog. ‘Goliath would nose around outside all day and night if we let him.’

  ‘He doesn’t feel the cold like us humans.’

  ‘Although he does love stretching out in front of the fire.’ Clare took another sip of wine. ‘What’s next?’

  ‘Now we prep the vegetables, then we can whip up the chocolate mousse, sit back and relax.’

  Half an hour later they sat in the lounge together on one sofa. Elaine had been taking a long soak in the bath and when she came downstairs, she drifted into the lounge in a pair of silky pink pyjamas and a navy kimono. Her hair was damp and her cheeks were rosy. She looked relaxed.

  ‘Would you like a glass of wine, Nanna?’ Kyle asked as he stood up.

  ‘That would be lovely, darling.’

  Kyle took Clare’s empty glass with him.

  ‘He’s a good boy,’ Clare’s mum said and smiled.

  ‘He is. I’m very lucky to have him as my son.’

  ‘You are – but then he’s lucky to have you as a mum. Not all mothers are as kind as you.’

  Clare swallowed hard. Compliments? From her mum?

  ‘Uh, thank you.’

  Her mum waved a hand. ‘I’m only telling the truth. You are a good mum, Clare, far better than I ever was.’

  Clare opened her mouth to protest, but Elaine held up a hand and shook her head. ‘I know I’m hard, Clare, and I always have been. It was never fair on you and for that I am truly sorry, but I always felt your dad made up for it, that he compensated for the areas where I was . . . somewhat lacking.’

  ‘Mum –’

  ‘He did though, didn’t he? And his parents, weren’t they just lovely? So refreshingly sweet and kind after what I’d grown up with.’

  Clare’s ears pricked up. It wasn’t often that she was given an insight into why her mum behaved as she did, but it seemed something was about to be shared. Then, ‘Here we are.’ Kyle entered the room and she saw her mum stiffen, withdraw, then drag a smile to her lips.

  ‘Thank you, darling.’ Elaine accepted the glass from Kyle, then he handed one to Clare. ‘Mmm . . . This is very good wine.’

  ‘Isn’t it? Mum chose it.’ Kyle beamed at them both, then sat on the sofa next to Clare, making her bounce slightly so she had to hold her wine carefully to avoid spilling any.

  ‘Your mum has excellent taste.’ Elaine smiled at them both, then took another sip of wine.

  Clare didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed that her mum had been stopped in her tracks just as she was about to tell Clare more about her childhood, but either way, if it was meant to come out, it would. When the time was right.

  Elaine leant forwards on her sofa and placed her glass on the coffee table. ‘Now, Kyle, tell your old nanna . . . What are you making for our dinner because it smells divine?’

  Kyle set the fresh bottle of wine on the kitchen table, then sat down.

  ‘This looks incredible,’ Clare said, as she eyed the feast her son had prepared. There was a dish of herby chicken, roasted garlic potatoes, buttered carrots, steamed asparagus and freshly baked pumpkin and sunflower-seed soda bread.

  ‘Well done, Kyle!’ Elaine held up her glass. ‘You truly are a wonder in the kitchen.’

  Kyle grinned at them, clearly enjoying the praise, and so he should. Clare was so proud of her son and her heart squeezed as she looked at him. He was a man now, but she could still see the little boy with thick brown hair that could never be combed down neatly and big green eyes that revealed his open and caring nature.

  ‘Tuck in!’ Kyle said as he gestured at the food. ‘If we don’t, I think Goliath might get in there first.’

  The dog was standing next to the table eyeing up the chicken. His eyebrows moved in turn as he hoped someone would take pity on him and spare him a morsel. Clare cut a piece of her chicken, then held it out for him and he took it gently from her fingers, licking his lips. Dogs were certainly good at emotional manipulation and Clare was finding that she fell for Goliath’s charms more often than not. It was funny how it had happened, because when she’d arrived in Little Bramble just over four weeks ago, she’d had no idea she’d come to like dogs so much. She was learning more about herself every day of her new life – and it was a good feeling.

  When they’d finished eating, Clare got up to clear the table, but Kyle held up a hand.

  ‘No, no, Mum. You stay there. I’ll do it.’

  ‘It’s no problem, Kyle.’

  ‘You’ve done enough for me over the years so now it’s my chance to repay some of that.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ She made to get up again, but he shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Seriously, Mum, stay there and pour some more wine.’

  Clare refilled their glasses and took a sip. The wine was cold, zesty and floral and had matched the food perfectly.

  ‘Are we having dessert?’ Elaine asked.

  ‘We are, Nanna, as I promised.’ And Kyle set the ramekins of dark chocolate mousse down on the table. ‘I have to warn you though, this is highly calorific.’

  Clare’s mum chuckled. ‘Oh, I don’t mind that. And it looks simply luxurious.’

  When Kyle had joined them at the table again, Clare spooned some mousse into her mouth. It was as good as it looked and they ate in silence, thoughts of speaking to Elaine about their ideas temporarily forgotten by the sensual pleasure of eating. When the ramekins had been cleared – Clare had even used a finger to clear the bottom of hers of mousse – she sat back and sighed with contentment.

  ‘That was perfect, Kyle.’

  ‘Almost as good as an orgasm,’ Elaine said, causing Clare and Kyle to look up in shock. ‘Ha! Look at you two,’ Elaine said and laughed. ‘The horror on your faces! I am a human being too, you know. I did once have a sex life.’

  ‘Mum, please!’ This was the last thing Clare wanted to hear about over dinner.

  ‘Nanna, you are funny.’ Kyle sipped his wine. ‘Of course you did – and I’m sure it was very adventurous.’

  ‘Kyle!’ Clare stood up and carried the ramekins to the sink, hoping that the topic of conversation would change. She tried to picture the three of them outside on the lawn doing Tai Chi as they had done the past four mornings, Clare and Kyle dragging themselves out of bed to join Elaine because they believed it was a good way for the three of them to bond. Elaine was also a very good instructor, probably due to her years of experience as a teacher, and Clare was finding that she really enjoyed the early morning exercise.

  Clare filled the kettle and put it on to boil and returned to the table, where she drained her glass, then toyed with the stem, wondering if now was the right time to broach their plans.

  ‘Anyway, Nanna . . .’ Kyle took charge and Clare was glad. She hadn’t known how she was going to begin. ‘Mum and I have an idea.’

  ‘Oh, do you?’ Clare’s mum nodded. ‘I take it from the way you’re both looking at me that it has something to do with me.’

  ‘You’d have made a great detective, Nanna.’

  ‘Don’t be cheeky.’ She smiled. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Mum?’ Kyle handed the baton over to Clare and she swallowed hard, glad of the wine she’d drunk as it would give her the courage she needed.

  ‘Right . . .’

  What was she so worried about? What was the worst that could
happen? She knew, of course; she was never certain how her mum would react to things, especially if she wasn’t keen or didn’t approve. Like that time when Clare was sixteen and she had announced that she wanted to run the London Marathon. Her mum had laughed, then explained exactly why it was highly unlikely that Clare would ever run that race. In retrospect, Clare could see that her mum had been right as she had never been particularly athletic, but she had found her response difficult at the time. And then there had been another time when Clare had spoken about her dream to work at Camp America the summer between college and university. Elaine had pressed her lips together in a thin line, then shook her head. Clare had asked what her mum thought about it, but she’d refused to comment, and Clare had assumed that she didn’t think it would be a good idea. As it happened, she hadn’t applied, but it had been more to do with the fact that Jenny hadn’t been going and Clare didn’t want to leave her best friend behind. But there had been other times when her hopes and dreams had been approved of and supported, like when she’d yearned to ride a horse. Elaine had taken her to lessons every Saturday morning for years, even when it had been rainy and cold. She had also encouraged Clare, aged seven, when she’d wanted to learn to play the violin, arranging lessons and buying her an instrument. But then, when Clare had wanted to quit seven months later because she was bored with it, her mum had sighed, nodded and something in her eyes had flickered as if resigning herself to the fact that Clare would never be a great musician after all. It was that uncertainty for Clare that was so hard, sensing that she had been a disappointment for her mum, that she had never been enough. She shook herself inwardly; time to get this done, no point in dwelling on the past anymore.

  ‘Mum, Kyle and I are a bit worried about you. Since you lost the old village hall, and along with that, the village drama society, you seem somewhat . . . depleted. As if you’ve lost your focus.’

  ‘My focus?’ Elaine’s eyes widened, and Clare reached for her glass, realised it was empty, and tucked her hands together on her lap, pressing her short nails into her palms.

  ‘Yes. We know how important the village hall was to you –’

  ‘And to others in the village,’ Kyle cut in.

  ‘Yes.’ Clare nodded vigorously. ‘To many, many others.’ Make Mum feel like it’s not just her, that others need this too. Because they probably do. ‘But there’s a new village hall and although it’s not quite the warm, weathered hub that the old hall was . . .’ Clare paused, trying to find the right words.

  ‘It has potential.’ Kyle rescued her. ‘Doesn’t it, Mum?’

  ‘Oh yes, it does.’ Clare tried to inject enthusiasm into her voice. They’d had a look inside and the new hall was so clean and sparse, not at all warm or welcoming, but that could change. ‘It has so much potential. And . . . well . . . wouldn’t it be nice to get the am dram society back together?’

  ‘Am dram?’ Her mum snorted.

  ‘Well, that’s what you called them sometimes, Mum.’

  ‘It just sounds funny coming from you.’ Elaine cocked an eyebrow at Clare and she felt like stomping from the room. Her teenage self was not at all happy, but she had to remember that she was a grown woman now and she was trying to do a good thing here. This wasn’t about a long-standing war with her mum, but about helping her to help herself. And perhaps Elaine’s reaction came more from her own nerves than from a desire to be unkind to Clare.

  ‘But wouldn’t it be nice, Nanna?’ Kyle winked at Clare and she felt instantly reassured. He knew this wasn’t easy for her, even though she’d never really gone into detail about how her mum made her feel.

  Elaine pouted as she mulled the idea over, so Clare decided to strike while the iron was hot.

  ‘And . . .’ She raised a hand, pointing a finger in the air as if to illustrate her point, ‘Wouldn’t a Christmas show be a great way to kick things off?’

  She pressed her hands together again and dropped her gaze to the table. There. She’d sent the idea into the room, and it would either explode, roll away like tumbleweed or find acceptance.

  ‘A Christmas show?’ Her mum tapped her fingers on the table and Clare waited, hardly daring to raise her eyes. If this idea wasn’t accepted, then she wasn’t sure what else they could do to help. Her mum’s whole life had been about her job as a drama teacher and her drama society. What else could possibly drag her from the depths of despair and help her to live a full life again? ‘With a variety of acts?’

  ‘Yes!’ Clare and Kyle replied in unison.

  ‘I’m not sure . . .’ There it was, the hesitation. Would it be followed by rejection? ‘I mean, it’s already the first week of November and there would be so much to do. I couldn’t possibly manage it all by myself.’

  Clare looked up, raising her gaze slowly to meet her mum’s eyes. They twinkled, as if there was mischief there, the shoots growing from the seed that they had planted.

  ‘We were thinking of it being more of a talent show than a play or a pantomime, Nanna. So all the acts could organise themselves. You could be the director, overseeing the running of it and the auditions and so on.’

  ‘And we could help you.’ Clare put it out there and the air seemed to crackle, as if electrified with anticipation.

  ‘Help me?’ Her mum licked her lips. ‘You two?’

  ‘Of course, Nanna.’ Kyle nodded. ‘I have drama experience, as you know, and Mum’s a pretty useful creature. Don’t underestimate her.’

  Clare glowed under her son’s praise and her heart shifted. Even if her mum would never see her as she would like, her son did, and it was wonderful. He loved her and appreciated her more than she had realised, and his kind words made her feel like she was walking on air.

  ‘All right, then,’ Elaine rested her elbows on the table, then steepled her fingers beneath her chin. ‘If you’re both prepared to help out, I’ll give it some serious thought.’

  The next morning, Clare took Goliath on a long walk. She got up early for Tai Chi, fed him, then had some breakfast, and was ready to leave before the post was due. They were just heading down the drive when Marcellus arrived, his black lace-up boots practically screeching to a halt when he spotted the dog.

  ‘Good morning, Clare.’ His warm tone brought a smile to her lips.

  ‘Good morning, Marcellus. How are you?’

  He nodded. ‘Not bad, not bad at all, although it is getting colder and darker by the day, which makes my morning rounds a bit less enjoyable.’

  ‘Winter has truly arrived,’ she said, enjoying the easy sharing of banalities.

  ‘Indeed it has, and it will soon be Christmas.’

  ‘Talking of Christmas . . .’ Clare tilted her head. ‘Didn’t you used to be in the village drama society?’

  He gave a booming laugh. ‘I did, yes, but that was a long, long time ago, back when your dad was still with us and when we had the old village hall. It used to be a lot of fun in the old days, Clare, let me tell you. We used to put on plays, pantomimes, talent shows . . . you name it. Every single one was an absolute blast! Then,’ he looked around as if not wanting to be overheard, ‘it all got a bit too serious for me.’

  ‘Serious?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘New people coming to live in the village, all thinking they were Anthony Hopkins, Whitney Houston and the like, giving it their shiny Shakespeare and their best Brecht.’ He dropped into a low bow, making a sweeping gesture with his arm, and Clare laughed. ‘They didn’t have room for the likes of me with my sense of humour, you know. Some of the lines – like Shakespeare’s puns and things – were so funny and I’d often end up in hoots of laughter.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Anyway, according to some of them, I wasn’t taking it all seriously enough – but Clare, life is too short to be serious all the time.’

  ‘You’re right there but I’m sorry the drama society didn’t work out for you.’

  ‘Not your fault, little Clare. Sorry! There I go again,
still calling you little! Old habits are indeed hard to break. But it’s not for you to be sorry. I went and found a different hobby. All’s well that ends well.’

  Clare smiled. ‘I see what you did there.’

  He winked at her and chuckled.

  ‘The drama society hasn’t been together for a while though, has it?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not since the old hall burnt down. It was a terrible tragedy.’

  ‘Such a shame,’ she agreed. ‘But we were thinking that it might be nice to get things going again.’

  Goliath tugged at the lead, trying to get closer to Marcellus so he could sniff his Royal Mail messenger bag. Marcellus stepped back. ‘Just in case he’s after the letters.’

  Goliath licked his lips and Marcellus stepped back again, widening the distance between him and the dog.

  ‘Would you be interested in auditioning for a Christmas show?’

  Marcellus stared off into the distance and Clare watched his face carefully. His silence went on for seconds, but it felt like much longer, and Clare stepped from foot to foot to try to keep warm.

  ‘Auditioning, you say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What type of show?’

  ‘A combination of music, recitals, dance and more. A kind of showcase of talents.’

  ‘I’ll be honest, Clare, I’m not that keen on the idea of auditioning.’

  ‘Oh . . . OK.’ She felt herself deflate. What if everyone they asked reacted in the same way?

  ‘However . . .’ He grinned. ‘I’ll be happy to help out backstage with lighting, electricals, props and scenery. Or I’ll sit on the door and take the tickets.’

  She couldn’t help herself, she skipped forwards and hugged him. ‘Thank you so much, Marcellus!’