The Country Village Christmas Show

by Cathy Lake

  Sam felt like a parent whose child has flown the nest. It was, he knew, ridiculous for him to be so worried about her, but old habits were hard to break, and he just wanted to know that she was safe and happy. Sunday had involved some time in the garden as he tried to distract himself, pruning bushes and clearing leaves from the grass.

  Winter had taken hold of the landscape now, and in the garden and on his walks, many of the trees had shed all their leaves and their dark branches reached into the gunmetal grey sky like gnarled old fingers. Time was passing, the seasons changing as they did every year. Sam was not getting any younger and yet his life was the same as it had been for years. He worked, he slept, he walked the dog, he read scholarly articles, he went to the pub quiz. But something was missing. He hated to admit it, but he was becoming more and more convinced that this wasn’t really living, it was merely existing. It wasn’t that he didn’t have happy times, because he did. Scout’s wet nose tickling his ear first thing in the morning when she wanted to go out made him laugh. Miranda and Magnus, along with his other work colleagues, were warm and caring people who loved animals and together they made a good team. He enjoyed his Friday evenings at the pub, and he’d watched some gripping TV series recently. He was actually happy that Alyssa seemed to be forging ahead with her life, that she had found someone and fallen in love, even if he was scared of seeing her hurt.

  So what was it that he missed? That left him feeling as if something was absent from his life?

  Was it love? Companionship? Knowing that another human being had his back, no matter what?

  A noise from outside drew him to the kitchen window and his chest tightened: Alyssa was home. She came up the ramp from the back garden and he opened the door to her, smiling, glad to see her at last.

  ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Hello, Sam.’

  ‘You just get back?’ he asked, even though he knew she had.

  ‘Yes. I needed some fresh clothes and I thought I’d better check on you.’

  ‘On me?’

  Scout scampered into the kitchen and over to Alyssa, then jumped up, her front legs on Alyssa’s lap so she could lick her face. ‘Get off, Scout.’ Alyssa giggled as she hugged the dog. ‘I’ll have to shower now you’ve licked all of my face.’

  Sam looked at his sister. Something was different. She was radiant, her dark skin glowing, her eyes bright and her hair . . . that was it. She’d brushed her hair out of its styled curls, setting her Afro free, and it was beautiful, natural, magnificent – and just like their mum’s hair.

  ‘Your hair looks great,’ he said.

  ‘Sebastian suggested I brush it out. He said I have great hair. So I thought, why not?’

  Sam nodded. Sebastian clearly had influence over Alyssa. He hoped it would only ever be a positive thing.

  ‘Stop it, Sam.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can see it in your eyes. Stop worrying. Seb’s a good man, we’re in love.’

  Sam swallowed his doubt. Sebastian hadn’t tried to get Alyssa to have a weave so that her natural hair was hidden, he hadn’t tried to get her to have her hair relaxed to make it lie straight – he had encouraged her to be herself, to set her real hair free. That had to be a good thing, surely? Alyssa did have beautiful hair; she was a beautiful young woman. She’d also shed those artificial lashes that gave Sam the shivers. It wasn’t that they didn’t make her look pretty, because they did, but in a fake way, kind of like a doll.

  ‘I’m happy for you, Alyssa. Truly I am.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Before I forget, though, Clare asked me to tell you that she’s planning a village Christmas show. There are posters around the village and I have a leaflet for you with more information. I told her that you have a fabulous voice and I think she’d like you to audition.’

  Alyssa frowned. ‘A Christmas show?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There’s not much time before Christmas to prepare.’

  ‘I think it’s a bit of a last-minute thing, but there’s time and you’d be great. You know you would.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ She rubbed Scout’s ears and the Lab wagged her long tail. ‘If I’m around, that is.’

  Sam inhaled sharply. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well . . . Sebastian’s invited me to spend Christmas with him and his family.’

  Sam blinked hard.

  ‘I won’t if you don’t want me to, Sam, but I’d really like to spend it with him.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Sam’s voice wavered so he coughed, swallowed hard. ‘Absolutely fine. You should spend the day with Sebastian.’

  ‘Not just the day . . .’

  ‘Oh. OK.’ He nodded. This was fine; this was how it should be. It was moving quickly between Alyssa and Sebastian, but sometimes relationships did.

  ‘Will you be all right?’ she asked, her eyes filled with guilt and concern fixed on his face.

  ‘Of course I will.’ He bobbed his head and gave a small laugh. ‘It’s just Christmas.’

  ‘I know how you love the build-up and all that.’

  ‘Honestly, Alyssa, it’s fine. I’ll probably be on call anyway and I’m old enough and ugly enough to fend for myself. Besides which, it’s you who loves Christmas and I go along with all the fuss for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She held out a hand and he took it, hoping he hadn’t made her feel bad.

  ‘What date is the show?’

  ‘I think Clare said it’s the nineteenth of December.’

  ‘I’m sure I can make that.’ Alyssa smiled. She was offering him something in exchange for him having to be alone over Christmas. But then he was a grown man and the holidays had always been about Alyssa and her joy, hadn’t they? The gift buying, the festive movies, the anticipation . . .

  Or had she been doing it for Sam?

  Times were changing and Alyssa was moving on.

  It was high time that Sam did too.

  Kyle set a mug of coffee in front of Clare, then sat opposite her at the kitchen table.

  ‘Come on then, Mum, let’s hear what’s been on your mind since Saturday.’

  It was Tuesday already. She’d gone to Old Oak Stables on Saturday and since then she’d been thinking about Verity’s offer, aware that she needed to text the stable owner with her answer. She’d gone to do it several times, but nerves had stopped her. Was she qualified enough to do it? What if she started there then Verity found her lacking? What if she’d forgotten how to ride?

  ‘I’m OK.’ She nodded.

  ‘But there is something bothering you, right?’ He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Not in a bad way. Not really. It’s just that I’m a bit nervous about something.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me, or do I have to tickle it out of you?’

  She smiled. ‘No, it’s fine. On Saturday I went to Old Oak Stables.’

  ‘Where you used to horse ride?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I met Verity Baker there. She was just a child when I last saw her but, obviously, she’s a grown woman now. She’s managing the stables and needs someone to work there from February.’

  ‘That sounds interesting.’ Kyle grinned over his mug.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Clare sipped her coffee. ‘She asked if I’d be interested. She advertised and didn’t have any takers and said she knows me and how much I love horses and that I’d be ideal.’

  ‘This is brilliant! I hope you said yes.’

  ‘But it would mean that I’d be staying in Little Bramble indefinitely.’

  ‘It’s not a ball and chain around your leg, Mum, it’s a job. If you don’t like it, you can always quit. But from what you’ve told me over the years about how much you used to love spending time there, I’m sure it would be a good thing for you. Get you some of your sparkle back.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I always wondered why you didn’t go horse riding anymore.’

  ‘I was too busy for star
ters. Weekends were for you and . . . your father . . . and as time went on, it seemed like one of those things I’d left behind.’

  ‘Well, now you have the opportunity to get it back.’

  ‘You think I should accept?’

  ‘Absolutely. I mean, what else are you going to do? We’ve a busy time up to Christmas, and January would be a rubbish time to look for work. Then if you decided to leave the village it would be hard to find somewhere to live. I think this is a chance for you to get you back.’

  ‘Get me back?’ She giggled.

  ‘Yes. Text Verity now and say yes.’

  Clare swallowed more coffee to try to push her anxiety down. Accepting the job would be a big deal and she wouldn’t be able to go back on it because that would mean letting Verity down. Clare had looked at the job description that Verity had sent her and she knew it was hard graft for not much money, plus it was three days a week so wouldn’t provide enough money to pay rent or a mortgage, but she had money in the bank from the house sale and some savings and could always find something else to do around the days at the stable. Best of all, she’d get to be around horses, to ride sometimes, and it would be a positive step towards putting her life back together.

  ‘I’ll do it!’

  She composed a text to Verity, asking if the job was still available and expressing her interest, then sent it and placed her mobile back on the table.

  ‘Well done,’ Kyle said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’m very proud of you.’

  Clare beamed at his praise, then jumped as her mobile pinged. It was Verity. She swiped the screen, then read the message aloud to Kyle.

  Great news! This is so exciting! We’ll need to have a proper chat and you must come and spend some time here to check it’s what you want. Let me know when is good for you. Much love, V. Xx

  ‘There you go then.’ Kyle clapped his hands. ‘You have a job and will be staying in L.B. Now you just need to find somewhere to live.’

  Clare coughed nervously. ‘One thing at a time!’

  ‘Then back to our other business.’ Kyle gestured at the table where they’d laid out their show plans.

  ‘I can’t believe how many people responded.’ Clare stared at the list on the table. There were twenty-five possible acts for the show and all would need to audition the following week.

  ‘It’s very exciting, isn’t it?’

  ‘Are those cookies you made cool enough to eat yet?’ Clare sniffed the air appreciatively. Kyle had made a batch of peanut butter cookies and they smelt amazing.

  ‘Almost ready, Mum, be patient. It’s only two minutes since you last asked me.’ He winked. ‘They need to cool down first or they’ll be too soft.’

  ‘I guess I can wait.’ She smiled at her son, love filling her heart.

  ‘So, what acts do we have?’

  Clare put her glasses back on and looked down at the file pad in front of her. ‘We have a choir from the local primary school, a magician, a contortionist, several singers offering different cover versions, one of them operatic, a dance duo, a parkour group made up of local teenaged boys, a free-running group of local firefighters, a trampoline act and . . .’ She scanned the list. ‘A reading from any Shakespeare play that we choose.’

  ‘Quite a mix then.’

  Sitting across from her, wearing a checked shirt, his arms folded on the table, Kyle looked so grown-up. Some days Clare could hardly believe that he was her son, that she had carried him in her womb and delivered him into the world. When did he get so big, so handsome, so mature?

  ‘Mum, stop looking at me like that.’ His Adam’s apple bobbed.

  ‘Sorry, Kyle. I’m just . . . I love you so much.’

  He peered at her from under his lashes. ‘Don’t get all soppy now, Mum.’ He chuckled. ‘But I love you too. You know that, right?’

  She nodded, a lump of emotion making her throat ache.

  ‘Thank you. I’m so proud of you.’

  ‘I know your game!’ He clapped his hands. ‘You’re just after a cookie.’

  She covered her heart as if she’d been shot. ‘You know me too well.’

  He waggled his eyebrows at her. ‘It’s a trick I’ve used a few times myself.’

  ‘Don’t I know it! Ooh, did you have a chance to check if the hall will be ready for us to use next week?’

  ‘I spoke to the vicar this morning and he said it’s absolutely fine.’

  ‘Brilliant. I just didn’t want us to clash with the WI or a yoga class or something.’

  ‘I’m not sure how much use the hall gets.’ Kyle was shaking his head. ‘I think it needs something, like this Christmas show, for instance, to bring the community together again.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘OK . . .’ He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Cookies should be ready now. Why don’t we wrap up warm and have our coffee in the garden, Mum?’

  ‘That sounds like a nice idea.’

  They grabbed coats and hats then took their coffees and cookies outside, sitting on the wooden bench under the pergola. The air was icy and laced with woodsmoke. It nipped at her fingers and the tip of her nose, making her think of times gone by – as a child, as an adult – when she’d felt a rush of excitement that Christmas was on the way, bringing festivities and cosy family times. There were so many wonderful things to enjoy in life and Clare believed that she had appreciated the good times, had paid attention when it had mattered most; that she hadn’t always been looking ahead, yearning for more, when she needed to appreciate what was right in front of her. She had loved her husband and her son, had done everything in her power to make them both happy and comfortable. She had sacrificed her own wants and needs many times, believing that was what good mums did. Her own mum, after all, had set a different kind of example and Clare had vowed that she wouldn’t be as distant as Elaine had been, had tried to be more present for her child, more loving, more supportive. In doing so, though, she had lost herself, had forgotten to allow herself some time to consider what it was that she wanted and needed.

  Something deep inside her wobbled and she took a few slow, deep breaths. Putting herself first did not come naturally and it irked her, made her uncomfortable, reminded her of something her mum had accused her of being on more than one occasion . . . memories she tried to push away and ignore.

  You’re being selfish, Clare, wanting me to stay home when other people need me and I’ve things I need to get done. You’re perfectly capable of putting a sandwich together. I can’t be home all the time, I have a show to organise, rehearsals to oversee, Christmas to prepare for . . .

  And there it was. The sum of her fears. That her mum had always been right, and that Clare was, indeed, selfish. She had striven all her adult life to be selfless, not to become the person her mum had seemed to believe her to be.

  Focusing on the present, on her surroundings, she returned to the moment and looked around her. Everything needed a lick of paint, some TLC, and Clare decided then and there that she would help her mum to spruce the place up after winter had passed. There was no point painting the pergola or outdoor furniture right now, but come spring, it would be something to do to help her mum. And seeing as Clare now had a job, she had committed to being here in the New Year.

  ‘These are delicious,’ Clare said in between chewing bites of cookie. ‘You are such a good cook.’

  ‘I learnt from the best.’ He nudged her. ‘You and a few of my . . . friends.’

  It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about his ‘friends’ and Clare swallowed her concerns. Kyle was a man now and she had to trust him to be careful, to look after his body, heart and mind. She couldn’t wrap him up in cotton wool for the rest of his life, as much as she sometimes wished she could. The little boy who had swung high on the garden swing, who had ducked under the water in the swimming pool for so long that she’d dived in after him more than once to check he wasn’t drowning, who’d made her legs weak when he’d fallen and cut his knee
s, broken his arm and chipped his front tooth, was still here, but he was capable of looking after himself now. Still, she knew that however old he got, she would always be his mum and always worry about him. It came with the job.

  Again, she wondered at Jason’s behaviour, heading off like that for goodness knew how long. How could he do it? What if Kyle had needed him, wanted to spend time with him, missed him? But then, Jason knew that Kyle always had Clare. Jason had that security, whereas Clare knew she’d be unable to trust in Jason to be there for their son. He was just too selfish, too full of his own self-importance, too egotistical. It wasn’t that he was a bad father, he just wasn’t the one she would have chosen for Kyle, had she the opportunity to do so all over again.

  And yet she knew that she had made her choices for reasons that were right at the time. She didn’t have many regrets, but her main one was falling out with Jenny and not seeing her for all that time and, perhaps, not looking out for her mum as much as she could have done. But when she’d got together with Jason she had loved him and they had, for a time, been happy. Kyle had been a baby born from love and that, surely, was the right way to go about having children?

  ‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it, Mum?’ Kyle shuffled closer to her on the bench and she was glad of his warmth. Their breath puffed out white in front of them like smoke, catching the light that shone through the kitchen window.

  ‘It is. It always was.’

  ‘After living in Reading and Bath, what I can’t get over here is how quiet it is. There are animal sounds, obviously, but no traffic, no sirens, no drunks . . . It’s like a different world.’

  ‘I know.’ Clare nodded. ‘I’ve found that since I came back, I’m sleeping better. I feel more relaxed . . . It could be the clearer air and the exercise, I guess. It’s probably all linked, actually. We should have visited more often when you were younger.’