The Country Village Christmas Show

by Cathy Lake

  ‘Is that Kyle?’ Sam pointed at two figures over by the tree, gazing up at the lights.

  ‘Yes, it is. He left earlier than us for the switch-on and didn’t even say goodbye to me so he must have been keen to get here. Who’s he with?’

  Sam squinted at the figures. ‘I think it’s Magnus.’

  ‘Of course! From here he looks like a Viking with that big golden beard.’

  Sam laughed. ‘I can see why you’d say that.’

  ‘Kyle seems to like him.’

  ‘It looks mutual.’ Sam watched as his colleague and Clare’s son nudged each other flirtatiously in front of the tree, their eyes locked, their body language revealing their mutual attraction.

  ‘Goodness!’ Clare shook her head. ‘Kyle doesn’t waste any time.’

  ‘Is he fresh out of a relationship?’

  She nodded. ‘I can’t keep up with him to be honest, Sam. My son is a warm and generous person, he would give anyone the shirt off his back, but he falls in and out of love with startling speed. Although, admittedly, it’s not him who does the leaving.’

  ‘At least he’s giving love a chance.’ Sam cleared his throat. ‘Until you came to Little Bramble, Clare, I’d never met anyone I cared about like this.’

  Her mouth fell open and he wondered if he’d said too much.

  ‘I’m sorry . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not very good at this. I haven’t had much practice.’

  She laid a hand on top of his where it cupped his mug.

  ‘I don’t have much experience either. I was married to a man who barely knew I existed most of the time and, apart from that, I’d had a few boyfriends when I was at school and they were hardly serious relationships. However, I think you’re doing just fine. We’re kind of learning together.’

  ‘He was a fool to let you go, Clare.’

  ‘Maybe, but I’m glad he did because there’s so much life to live and I had no idea until now.’

  He leant forwards and kissed her gently, tasting the cinnamon and cloves on her lips, feeling the warmth of her breath and the cold of the tip of her nose.

  ‘You’re cold,’ he said, rubbing her back with his free hand.

  ‘I’m OK. I have over six foot of gorgeous vet to keep me warm.’

  He hugged her to his side. ‘Indeed you do. Not that I think I’m gorgeous – I just meant that you have the vet to keep you warm.’

  She giggled. ‘Shall we go and socialise a bit?’

  ‘Why? Am I boring you, Clare, by keeping you all to myself?’

  ‘Not at all, but I’d like to see what’s going on with Kyle and Magnus and to find out what Mum’s plans are. She said something about going to the vicarage after this, but who knows with her? She’s probably got her toothbrush stuffed up her sleeve.’

  ‘They’re that serious now, are they?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘I’d never have guessed there was anything going on between them.’

  ‘There wasn’t until recently, I don’t think. Iolo has been a family friend for as long as I can remember, but as for romantic interest, I think that’s more recent. And they seem so happy.’

  ‘Are you happy?’ Sam held his breath.

  ‘I really am.’ Clare smiled. ‘Happier than I thought I would ever be again after my marriage ended. Happier than I thought possible before I returned to Little Bramble.’

  ‘Then all is well with the world.’ His heart soared. ‘Let’s go and socialise for now, but I get to walk you home.’

  ‘Deal.’ The glance she flashed him was warm and something sparkled in her eyes as they caught the reflection of the Christmas tree lights. It fanned the flames of the fire inside him and he hoped she could see in his eyes exactly how much she had come to mean to him, this wonderful woman called Clare.

  Chapter 25

  A week and a half later, the afternoon of the dress rehearsal for the show had arrived. In the time since the turning on of the Christmas lights, Clare had settled into her new routine even more. She spent the days with her mum, Kyle and Goliath, doing Tai Chi, walking and baking, and some of the evenings with Sam. She had been to the pub quiz with him again twice, along with Magnus and Miranda – they made a good team. Her mum, Kyle and Iolo had also come the previous Friday and Clare had spent the evening smiling as her family and the man she was falling for laughed and joked, ate and drank, and she had been able to picture a future in Little Bramble, one with all the people she cared about the most.

  She had also been back to Old Oak Stables and had an informal interview with Verity. They had discussed what the role involved, what the possibilities of future work would be after Briony returned from maternity leave, and then Clare had gone for her first ride in years. It had been nerve-wracking, exciting and wonderful. She’d been cautious at first getting back on to a horse, but as they’d trotted out of the stable yard, then cantered across a field, Clare’s heart had soared. She had missed the exhilaration of being on a horse, the adrenaline rush that came as they galloped across the grass, the wind in her face, the muscles of her body taut and strong, and she felt herself becoming one with the magnificent beast. When they’d finally returned to the stables, Clare had felt alive, brimming with enthusiasm for her new job and for what it would bring to her life. Verity had told her to return whenever she wanted over the next two months to get to know the horses and other staff before she officially started work there, and so Clare had already been twice more, unable to resist now that her love of riding had been rekindled. It had taken her a few days and several hot baths to soothe the ache in her thighs and abdominals after the rides, her body being unused to riding after so long, but she was confident that it would soon adapt and that she would be stronger and the post-ride aches would ease.

  ‘Are we ready for this then?’ Elaine asked as they took their seats in front of the stage to watch the dress rehearsal. The acts were all backstage but had been told to take seats in the hall when they had performed to give everyone a sense of what it would be like with an audience.

  ‘Absolutely!’ Clare nodded, and Kyle did too.

  The lights dimmed, then Slade’s ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ started to play and the spotlight came on the stage. There were a few whoops and whistles as the free-running firefighters trooped onto the stage, all wearing Christmas jumpers with jeans and red Christmas hats. Clare gasped and sighed as she watched their routine. It seemed even more daring than the one they’d done at their audition as they hopped on and off tables, somersaulted over one another and were as light as rabbits on their feet, as agile as cats.

  The next act was Iolo in his Lycra – this time green and red with rubber elf ears attached to his head on a band – and as he bent himself into positions that made Clare’s eyes water, her mum hooted and clapped and Kyle expressed his awe.

  ‘He’s teaching me, you know,’ Elaine whispered as Iolo bowed at the end of his performance. ‘What with that and Tai Chi, I’ll be the most supple grandmother in Little Bramble.’

  Kyle snorted and even Clare laughed; it was just too funny not to.

  The lights went down again and Pavarotti’s voice singing ‘O Holy Night’ filled the hall, making goosebumps rise on Clare’s arms. The spotlight on the stage found the large fawn and white bulldog Mr Spike and when the dog began howling along, Clare actually thought she might start to cry. Mr Spike hit the high notes with the talented singer and seemed to really enjoy his performance.

  ‘That’s going to be a firm favourite with the audience,’ Kyle said as Amanda King led Mr Spike off the stage, his small tail waggling as Clare, Elaine and Kyle clapped and whistled.

  Next up were the salsa dancing ten-year-olds, whose fast and furious performance was wonderful and had everyone clapping along, then came the teenaged boy, John, and his girlfriend, Milly, who performed ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’, him on acoustic guitar while Milly sang and shook her tambourine.

  When Miranda Fitzalan took to the stage, Clare
sat up, keen to listen to the woman’s clear, calm voice as she read ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas’. As the words floated out from the stage, she was transported into the scenes, seeing the night before Christmas, the tree, the stockings by the fireplace, the family safely tucked up in their beds.

  ‘Your dad used to read this to you,’ her mum whispered.

  ‘I know.’ Clare nodded. It had been his Christmas Eve tradition and, even now, she could remember the excitement as he’d opened the book with its beautiful illustrations, as he’d turned the pages and pointed at the scenes, as the words had created far more detailed images in her mind than the pictures ever could. That had been a special tradition and one she had tried to recapture with Kyle, reading the same poem to him and savouring his youthful awe and excitement. Little traditions like that were special, to be treasured, and she hoped that they were creating a new one as a family.

  When Miranda had finished to a round of applause, she left the stage, then Alyssa Wilson took her place. Wearing a red sparkly dress with black boots and a headband with reindeer antlers holding her hair off her face, Alyssa started to sing her a capella version of ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’. Her voice was clear, beautiful and the words made Clare think of Christmases gone by. Once upon a time, she had wanted Jason, had danced to this song on Christmas morning with a baby Kyle in her arms, had sung it with the staff from the library at the Christmas party but now the words swirled around her, wrapped her up in their joy, made her think of Sam and what he meant to her, about what they could have ahead of them and anticipation filled her.

  When Alyssa fell silent, it took everyone a few moments to compose themselves. Clare noticed Elaine dabbing her eyes and Kyle sniffing and she couldn’t blame either of them for being so moved.

  The penultimate act was an elderly gentleman named Greg Patrick. He’d lived in the village all his life and, along with his wife, Dawn, had been involved in the drama society. Dawn had passed away three and a half years ago, aged eighty, which Greg had told them at his audition, but Clare had already been aware as her mum had told her when Greg had applied to audition. He walked slowly across the stage in grey slacks, a red jumper and stripy red and green scarf, then stood in front of them and offered a small smile, the spotlight catching on his glasses as he moved his head to peer out at the audience.

  ‘I would like to thank you again for letting me be in the show. It means a great deal.’ His voice was quiet but clear. He cleared his throat. ‘I am dedicating this song to my beautiful wife, Dawn, who I miss every single day.’

  The opening notes of ‘White Christmas’ floated from the speakers, and Greg began to sing. His voice was as warm and full as Bing Crosby’s, his frail-looking frame belying how well he could sing. Clare was right there with him, singing along in her head, when suddenly he fell silent, raised a hand to rub at his brow, then coughed nervously. The music continued, Marcellus, who was operating the stereo, seemingly unaware of eighty-four-year-old Greg’s distress. Kyle got up and hurried to the back of the hall where Marcellus was, then the music stopped.

  Greg stared out at the audience, his brow furrowed.

  ‘I . . . I forgot the words. Can I start again?’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Elaine said, then the song began again.

  Greg got through the first few bars, then his face fell and he seemed to crumble in front of them, hunching over and holding his stomach. Clare turned to her mum to ask what they should do, because she hadn’t been prepared for this, but Elaine was already making her way onto the stage, Alyssa hot on her heels.

  Elaine held up a hand and the music stopped, then she took Greg’s arm and Alyssa took his other hand.

  ‘From the top, Marcellus!’ Elaine said, and Clare’s heart swelled with love and pride.

  With the support of the two women, Greg sang through ‘White Christmas’ without hesitation, and their three voices filled the air, harmonising perfectly, so that when they finished singing, Clare couldn’t see for tears.

  This was what family, friends and community was about. Coming together, supporting one another and creating some good old Christmas magic.

  The final act was the school choir’s Christmas medley, accompanied by their head teacher on piano and Elaine singing. So that was her surprise act, then, Clare realised. And as her mum stood on stage with the children, she smiled broadly, her face glowing in the way that Clare remembered from years gone by. The children stood proudly on stage, in equal numbers either side of Elaine, in their festive jumpers, red hats, faces lit up with excitement and enjoyment. The audience clapped along, the children and Elaine swayed from side to side and the dress rehearsal came to a cheerful end.

  ‘If the actual show goes as well as the dress rehearsal, then the villagers are in for a real treat,’ Clare’s mum said after she had come down from the stage.

  Clare nodded. She couldn’t speak because she’d found the whole thing extremely moving. It had been a wonderful afternoon and she had enjoyed the acts, enjoyed seeing her mum regaining her former zest for life and enjoyed being part of a community once more.

  The only thing missing was her dad, but she had felt during the rehearsal that he was there in some way, and even if it was only in her heart and her memories, then that was enough, because she knew she would always carry him with her. He would never be far away.

  The next few days leading up to the show were busy with selling the rest of the tickets, building the finished set (which the village primary school helped with) and confirming the final list of volunteers to run a raffle, sell tickets, provide hot and cold drinks and snacks and to clear up afterwards. There was a very small village hall committee, but people had been lax in their duties because the hall hadn’t received the same love and use as the previous one. However, Clare had sensed a shifting in the village over the past few weeks, as if the community had started to embrace the new hall and this had breathed life into the place.

  Similarly, the preparations for the show had definitely helped Elaine come through the low mood she had been in when Clare had first got to Little Bramble. Things between them were still stilted at times and Clare wanted to find a time to have a proper conversation about the past with her mum, but she kept putting it off, fearing she’d upset her and garner her disapproval. Elaine’s relationship with the vicar was also having a positive effect upon her, and she did seem far happier, as if she too had shut herself off from life and was beginning to wake up – just like the village hall.

  Sam had been busy with the surgery. It seemed that as winter set in animals were more prone to injury and he had to be on call more regularly during the nights. He and Clare hadn’t yet spent a night together, but they had talked about it, and Clare was happy to take things slowly. She wanted to get to know Sam better first, for them both to be sure about each other before they sealed their relationship on a physical level. Besides, she was enjoying the time they spent together, kissing and cuddling, acting like teenagers and savouring every moment.

  Today, Clare was going Christmas shopping with Jenny and she was really looking forward to spending the day with her friend. There was a shopping centre thirty minutes from Little Bramble and they had planned to go early because it was likely to be busy.

  Martin had offered to drive them, so he could go off and do his own shopping, then he’d meet them at the end of the day to bring them home, so Clare was waiting on the front doorstep for him and Jenny to arrive. She checked her watch to see if she had time for one more psychological wee, just in case they did get stuck in traffic, and saw that she had five minutes to spare.

  When she came back downstairs again, Goliath was waiting by the front door.

  ‘Oh no you don’t, mister! Come on, back to the kitchen with you.’ She ushered him back through the house and he looked up at her with what she’d have described as disdain if he’d been human. ‘And stop looking at me like that, you big oaf!’

  He blinked and guilt coursed through her. How did dogs do that? Th
ey definitely had facial expressions and she felt certain that Goliath had more than most.

  ‘Shall I get you a treat?’ she asked him, hating the thought that he might think she didn’t adore him, and his ears pricked up. ‘How about one of those chewy kebab things that you like?’ She opened the cupboard where her mum kept his food and located an ostrich kebab, then turned back to him. ‘Now, if I give you this, you have to promise to love me.’

  ‘Oh, I see, Mum, buying a man’s love now, eh?’

  Kyle was standing in the kitchen doorway in his dressing gown, his hair sticking up as though someone had turned him upside down and used him to mop the floor. He had come down first thing for Tai Chi, then gone back to bed.

  ‘Ha! Ha! I felt bad because he wants to wait for the post just so he can terrorise poor Marcellus David, but I made him come back out here. The treat was also, I’m afraid, my attempt to buy his love, but what can I say?’

  Kyle closed the door and trudged to the fridge. ‘You’ve really taken to that dog, haven’t you?’

  Clare held the kebab up and said, ‘Sit!’

  ‘Sorry?’ Kyle frowned.

  ‘I was talking to Goliath.’ The dog was sitting in front of her, drool trickling from his jaws. ‘And paw?’

  Goliath held up a paw and Clare shook it.

  ‘You really have him trained, eh?’ Kyle came to stand next to her as Goliath gently took the treat from Clare’s hand and carried it to his bed.

  ‘He’s a good dog.’

  ‘You’ll miss him when you leave this cottage.’

  Clare started. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, Mum, this isn’t a long-term arrangement, is it? I mean, you can’t live with Nanna indefinitely, can you?’

  Clare knitted her brows together and exhaled slowly. ‘I-I haven’t been giving it much thought this past few weeks, but no, you’re right, I can’t live with Nanna for ever.’

  ‘So, what will you do?’

  ‘If I decide to stay in the village permanently, I’ll rent somewhere or buy a place of my own.’