The Country Village Christmas Show

by Cathy Lake

  He gave a low chuckle as she disengaged herself and Goliath whined.

  ‘I’ll be in touch when we have more information.’

  ‘OK, Clare, you do that,’ he said.

  Clare gave him a nod, then set off along the street, Goliath trotting at her side, the cold forgotten as the positivity of knowing she’d recruited at least one member of the village to help with the show kept her warm.

  Chapter 17

  The next week flew by as Clare and Kyle got to work planning for the show. They created leaflets and posters, including a digital one to send via email, and went to see the vicar, who was also head of the committee who ran the village hall, to check that a Christmas show would be allowed. Iolo Ifans was overjoyed at the prospect and didn’t seem at all surprised, which made Clare think that perhaps her mum had already mentioned it to him – and they booked the hall for the last week of November for auditions and for the night of 19th December for the show itself. Elaine even got involved by digging out her old notebook and finding email addresses and phone numbers for the previous members of the drama society. Some of the older members had sadly passed away and one had retired to Tenerife, but there were still enough around who could be approached to audition for, or to at least support, the show.

  On the Friday of the second week of November, Clare and Kyle set off around the village to deliver leaflets and to ask local shops to put posters up in their windows. The reaction surprised Clare, as she hadn’t known if the villagers would be keen to resurrect the village Christmas show, but the majority were very happy about the idea. It was almost as if they had been waiting for something like this, for someone to set the ball rolling, and call them to action.

  As she passed the vets’ surgery on the way to the café, she realised that she could ask if they would put a poster in their window. She stopped to go in, changed her mind, then stopped again and backtracked, before changing her mind again. Something about the thought of going into the surgery made her stomach flutter, but she didn’t want to think too hard about why that was.

  Obviously, nothing to do with a handsome vet . . .

  She was just walking away, reluctant to return to the scene of chinogate when she heard someone calling her name. Turning, she saw him, standing in the doorway of the surgery, his handsome face every bit as gorgeous as she remembered.

  ‘Oh. Hello, Sam.’ She smiled, she hoped nonchalantly, and Goliath tugged on his lead, evidently keen to greet Sam.

  ‘Were you coming in?’ he asked, gesturing at the door.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Well, yes, but then I wasn’t sure.’

  He knitted his brows.

  ‘What I mean is . . . I’m delivering these leaflets and posters and asking local businesses if we can put them on their noticeboards and in their windows, and I was going to see if you and Miranda would mind putting one up.’

  He peered at the folder she was holding. ‘What’s it for?’

  Clare tapped her forehead. ‘Sorry. I’m not making much sense, am I? It’s for a Christmas show.’

  ‘A Christmas show? There hasn’t been a show in the village since the old hall burnt down.’ He gazed into the distance. ‘In fact, there’s been nothing special at the new village hall – not a concert, not a play, not a game of bingo, not a bake sale. Such a shame.’

  ‘Well, we’re hoping to bring the Christmas cheer back to the village with a talent show this year.’

  ‘And you’re organising it, are you?’

  His gaze was so intense that every tiny hair on her arms and neck stood to attention as something else stirred at her core, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  ‘Clare?’ He smiled, flashing his lovely teeth.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I asked if you’re organising the show?’

  ‘Oh. Oh, yes. Yes. Along with my son and my mum.’

  ‘Fantastic. It’ll be such a great thing for the village.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘It will be.’

  ‘So do you think you could . . .’ She waved the folder.

  ‘Of course. I’d be happy to. Give me some leaflets as well and I’ll put them on the reception desk in case anyone wants more information.’

  Opening the folder, she got a poster and some leaflets out.

  ‘Do you have any talents you’d like to showcase?’ she asked, meeting his chocolate brown eyes again.

  The smile that played across his lips told her that she’d just said something he found funny. She ran the question through her mind and cringed inwardly. It sounded so suggestive, more so as she replayed it.

  ‘Goodness! I didn’t mean that how it sounded.’

  ‘How it sounded?’ He was grinning now, and she wanted to turn and run. But at the same time she wanted to step closer and see if he smelt as good as he looked.

  Something funny was definitely happening to her. Perhaps it was the regular exercise of walking and Tai Chi improving her fitness levels and sense of well-being, the burgeoning excitement about the show, or finally being free of the shadow of her marriage. Perhaps it was just down to this man and the effect that he had upon her; it could be that their pheromones were a perfect match and her body was letting her know.

  Whatever it was, despite the embarrassment, she liked it. For the first time in a very long time, she felt alive, filled with anticipation about what could happen; she felt as though she might be learning to live her life for herself and not for others. She had needs, desires and wants and she was finding herself very attracted to this man. Each time she saw him, the attraction seemed to deepen, just like her blushes.

  ‘Well, I thought it sounded a bit suggestive, but perhaps I’m wrong.’ She took a moment to rub Goliath’s head, willing her colour to fade, hoping that Sam didn’t think she was a complete idiot.

  ‘It sounded good to me.’ He cleared his throat. ‘However, I’m not sure about my hidden talents, but my sister has a very impressive voice and could possibly be persuaded to take part.’

  ‘What does she sing?’

  ‘Lots of different types of music but she’s particularly good with Adele songs. She has that throaty, husky thing going on and she’s been known to bring tears to my eyes on occasion.’

  ‘That would be wonderful!’ Clare said. ‘Exactly the type of act we’re looking for. Do you think she’d audition? Could you ask her?’

  Sam’s expression changed, the smile fading away and something filled his eyes. It looked like uncertainty and he seemed to hunch over as his mood changed.

  ‘If I see her.’ He nodded slowly. ‘I’ll definitely tell her about it if I see her.’

  The temptation to ask why he might not bubbled in Clare. She thought Sam lived with his sister – she couldn’t recall if he’d told her that or if it was someone else – so surely he’d see her later. Unless, of course, she wouldn’t be home.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem at all.’ He ran his long fingers over Goliath’s head. ‘How’s this boy doing?’

  ‘He’s good.’

  ‘He’s been looking a lot better since you arrived.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘He’s more streamlined because he’s lost some weight. He needed to shed a bit because it’s not good for dogs to carry excess fat. It must be the longer walks.’

  ‘It’s not just him.’ Clare bit her lip, wondering why she’d blurted that out.

  ‘No?’ Sam raised an eyebrow.

  ‘All the walks have helped me to tone up too.’ She lowered her gaze to her feet, suddenly shy at the confession.

  ‘You always looked pretty good to me.’ His voice was gruff now, and when she raised her eyes again to meet his, something crackled between them. She felt sure that if she reached out and touched his hand, sparks would fly.

  ‘You’re too kind.’ The words emerged as a little more than a whisper and they stood in silence, swaying slightly as if to music only they could hear.

  ‘Do you have pla
ns tonight?’ His question broke the spell, bringing them both back to reality.

  ‘Uh, not really. I was going to have a quiet night in. I think.’

  ‘You think?’ That smile was back.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I thought I might go to the quiz.’ He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the kerb and she saw a glimpse of the boy he would have been: serious, shy, unassuming. Sweet. Kind. Also, cold, she realised, as he rubbed his arms and folded them across his chest. He was out here with her in just his shirt and chinos and it was freezing.

  ‘With Magnus?’

  ‘I think so. You’re very welcome to join us.’

  ‘I’ll let you know.’ She nodded.

  ‘OK.’ Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a mobile. ‘Can we exchange numbers then?’

  ‘Of course.’ She told him hers and he typed it into his phone, then her mobile buzzed in her pocket, so she pulled it out and saved Sam’s number.

  ‘Text you later.’

  ‘I’ll put these up.’ He waved the poster and leaflets.

  ‘Fabulous. Now get inside and warm up.’

  ‘I am warm.’ He flashed her a cheeky smile and heat radiated through her chest. She didn’t know about warm, he was hot!

  Turning to walk away, Clare didn’t feel the cold, in spite of the grey sky and biting wind. Not only had Sam agreed to display the poster about the show, he had asked her out that evening (she knew it wasn’t a date, but that was fine) and she had learnt a bit more about him and about herself. It seemed that every interaction she had in her home village was teaching her something new – or was she simply relearning what she’d already known once upon a time, before she gave herself to her life with Jason, before she lost who she really was?

  Chapter 18

  Clare had stopped by the salon before heading home, to see if they’d put a poster up and to check how Jenny was getting along, and she’d been filled with concern when another stylist had told her that Jenny had phoned in sick that morning. Clare determined to go straight to Jenny’s house to see how she was.

  She stopped at the small village shop and purchased some tins of soup, ginger ale and ginger biscuits, then walked quickly to Jenny’s house. When she got there, she realised she still had Goliath with her and took him back to her mum’s first.

  Outside Jenny’s, she admired the stone façade with the climbing ivy, the roses around the door – currently bare but presumably beautiful in the summer months – and regret filled her. This was the house her friend had raised her children in, the home she’d made with her childhood sweetheart, a place Clare would have liked to visit more often over the years.

  She peered up at the bedrooms, wondering if Jenny might be sleeping, but the curtains in the two front rooms were open, so she could well be downstairs. She knocked quietly on the front door, the reusable shopping bag swinging on her arm, the cans clinking together. She’d bought three different types of soup, not able to recall what Jenny’s favourite was and knowing that morning sickness made even your favourite foods smell funny anyway, so it was better to have a variety for Jenny to choose from. Ginger biscuits and ginger ale had been helpful when she’d experienced morning sickness herself so she hoped they would help ease Jenny’s as well, and soup was always soothing.

  Presumably, hopefully, Jenny’s girls would be at college at this time on a Friday and Martin would be at work. That would give Clare and Jenny a chance to talk freely. Clare wasn’t sure that Jenny hadn’t told her family about the pregnancy yet. She hadn’t liked to ask again and Jenny hadn’t volunteered the information.

  A noise inside, like a door closing, made her step closer to the front door. She could see movement behind the stained-glass pattern that was like a rainbow at the top third of the door. When the sunlight caught it, Jenny probably had a rainbow across her hallway. Colour and light, two beautiful things to provide comfort and lift spirits.

  There was a click, then the door opened slowly, and Jenny peered out. Her blonde hair hung lankly around her face and her skin was a horrid shade of grey.

  ‘Clare?’ Jenny said, frowning. ‘Was I expecting you?’

  ‘No, lovely, but I went to see you at work and they said you’d called in sick. I brought you some bits and bobs.’ She held up the bag. ‘Just some soup and biscuits to help with nausea.’

  Jenny stepped back and opened the door and Clare followed her inside. The hallway smelt of cooking, and as she followed Jenny, she got a waft of unwashed hair. It wasn’t like Jenny to slack on personal care, so her friend must be feeling seriously rough. Clare looked around as they passed through a hallway with a staircase that curved around to a galley-style landing that led off in two directions. There was a large gilt-edged mirror on the wall opposite the door and it added extra light to the space, created the illusion of the hallway being bigger than it was, though it wasn’t small by any means. There were plants in large pots dotted around the hallway, a yucca and a few that she recognised as ferns and palms.

  Walking into the kitchen-diner, Clare’s mouth fell open. Apart from the fact that Martin was a lovely man, there were clearly other advantages to being married to a builder. It was huge and had clearly been extended into the garden. It had Velux windows in the ceiling of the extension that bathed the room with natural light and off to the left was the kitchen, complete with granite-topped goose grey units and a range cooker. There was a large island at the centre of the kitchen, with four high stools tucked underneath, and on that was a sink and one of those fancy taps that provided water in any form you wanted, from still to sparkling to boiling, that Clare had seen advertised. She tried to ignore the dirty dishes piled on the counter and the pile of washing dumped in the doorway to the utility room.

  To her right was a large rectangular table with grey leather chairs, then off at the end of the extension was a large grey leather sofa with plump cream and yellow scatter cushions. In here, the food smell was, ironically, fainter, and there was an overriding aroma of lavender and coffee.

  Jenny went straight to the sofa and slumped into the cushions. It wasn’t lost on Clare that she cupped her stomach as she sank down or that she winced as if in discomfort.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ Clare set the bag she’d brought on the floor, removed her coat and gloves, then perched on the sofa next to Jenny. ‘I don’t think it’s just the morning sickness, is it?’

  Jenny’s eyes shone and she pressed her lips together until they turned white.

  ‘I . . .’ She blinked rapidly then rubbed her eyes with balled-up fists. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Clare took Jenny’s hand between both of hers.

  ‘It’s such a mess.’

  ‘Why is it a mess?’

  Jenny stared out of the bifold doors at the perfect square of garden with a neat green lawn and tall trees edging the rear fence. They must have lost a fair bit of the garden to the extension, but there was still enough for a table and chairs and a small shed.

  ‘The girls have been arguing a lot lately and Martin is working really hard to get a build finished before Christmas and I just don’t feel well. I have no energy and I want to sleep all the time to escape the nausea. It’s as if, since doing the test, my body has decided to go full-on with pregnancy symptoms.’

  ‘Have you told Martin?’

  Jenny shook her head. ‘He’s been so tired lately, and I started to try to tell him a few times, but then I look at him and see him for the forty-five-year-old man that he is, and my heart breaks a little. How can we possibly have a baby now? How can we go back to sleepless nights and nappies? I mean, when the baby is ten, I’ll be fifty-five, almost fifty-six. He or she will have sisters who are nineteen years older. Then there are all the things that could go wrong. The risks are so much higher for me as an older mother and for the baby. It’s just not a good thing.’

  Clare held Jenny’s hand, knowing that her friend needed to get everything off her chest.

&nbs
p; ‘Shall I make us a cup of tea?’ Clare asked after a bit.

  ‘Please.’ Jenny nodded, so Clare got the packet of ginger nuts out of the shopping bag and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. She hadn’t registered the table when she’d sat down, because she’d been so concerned about Jenny, but now she looked, she saw it was gorgeous. Clare couldn’t help running a finger over its surface to see if it was as smooth as it looked. ‘It’s black walnut with a blue resin river. It cost a fortune, but Martin bought it for my fortieth.’

  ‘It’s incredible.’ Clare said, knowing that whatever Jenny felt right now, she would be OK.

  When she’d made tea, she took a tray over to the table and set it down carefully then opened the biscuits and placed two on Jenny’s knee. ‘Try to nibble them if you can.’

  Helping herself to a biscuit, Clare dunked it in her tea, then bit into it, enjoying the familiar flavour and heat of the ginger. She would have reached for another just weeks ago, but now she didn’t feel the need. One was enough, and she liked the way that her jeans were looser on her hips and thighs, the way that her belly had stopped folding over itself concertina-style when she sat down.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re home, Clare.’ Jenny had a bit more colour now. ‘I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything, Jen.’

  ‘But you have. You were there with me when I did the test and now you’ve come here when I really, really needed to speak to someone.’ A tear rolled down Jenny’s cheek and plopped onto her stained pyjama top.

  ‘I’m always here, Jen.’ Clare squeezed her hand gently. ‘Look, I’m free this afternoon and evening . . .’ She swallowed her thoughts of meeting Sam later. ‘So how about if I stay for a few hours and help you out a bit? I can tidy up while you have a shower or a soak in the bath, then I’ll make you something to eat.’

  ‘Oh, Clare, are you sure? It’s just that Martin’s working late and the girls are going straight to the cinema from college and normally I’d be delighted at the thought of having the TV to myself and a few glasses of wine, but today I’m just so tired and I didn’t even have the energy to tidy up after breakfast.’