One Christmas Star

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘Oh, that’s OK,’ Emily said immediately. ‘I’ll struggle on for a bit, extra jumpers when it’s cold and bikini tops when it’s not. See if I can track down the seemingly uncontactable landlord.’

  ‘Seriously,’ Ray found himself continuing. ‘My dad was a heating engineer before he retired. I know almost all there is to know, without the qualifications but, I promise I won’t blow your place up.’

  ‘That’s awfully kind of you but…’

  Walk away, Ray. You fixed the shelves. You asked her about the photos. You have no other reason to offer anything else. She might have felt amazing in your arms, but you don’t do relationships and Emily is nice. Too nice for someone like you. Now he could hear someone else’s voice in his head. He needed to banish that and quickly.

  ‘Listen, what sort of man would I be if I left here with all these tools knowing that they could have been put to more use.’ He lifted up one of the bags he’d brought – items from his stuff in Gio’s storage locker Deborah had managed to secure him access to.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  She looked a little awkward. Like he was pushing this on her. What was his motivation here? Obviously, it was nothing but the idea of pure distraction. Filling his evening with anything but going to the nearest pub and waiting hopefully for a text telling him he had a new rental to go to, whilst avoiding scrolling through social media and ignoring the judgemental looks from other bar patrons…

  ‘Listen, you’d be doing me a favour,’ he admitted. Now he was the one who felt awkward. ‘I’m at a really loose end tonight waiting for something from my agent and your central heating issue is arousing the unfulfilled engineer in me. If I go now, I won’t be able to stop thinking about this problematic boiler and then the paparazzi are bound to catch me, head in my hands or a frown on my forehead and it will be with tomorrow’s headline…’ He made quotation marks with his fingers. ‘Stone At Rock Bottom. And all it will be, will be a photo of me thinking about your heating dilemma, and you not letting me help you will just keep this bad press going.’

  ‘OK,’ Emily said, a curve of a smile on her mouth.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ Ray replied.

  ‘But you must let me pay you if you manage to fix it,’ she insisted.

  ‘Seriously?’ Ray asked. ‘For all this fun I’m going to have?’

  ‘I’ll finish packing up,’ Emily said.

  Seventeen

  Islington

  Emily had no idea what she was doing right now. It was as if this week had turned into an episode of Wayward Pines and someone else was controlling what happened in her life. Why had she agreed for Ray Stone – celebrity known to the entire planet – to come to her flat and look at her central heating? And, come to that, why had he offered? Yes, he had said he needed a distraction from the fallout of his life that was almost-BBC-Breaking-News-alert-worthy, but, surely, someone with his connections had more available to him than tinkering with her thermostat. What did celebrities do when they weren’t being celebrities? Were they ever really not celebrities once they hit a certain ceiling? If the Tube ride home had been anything to go by, she already knew the answer to that.

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ Ray said as they burst into the freezing air, fresh out of the station.

  ‘It’s OK.’

  It wasn’t OK. Emily had felt for him. They had been packed into a carriage hurtling away from Stretton Park towards Angel and commuters had started getting out their mobile phones and taking photos of him. It was subtle at first, twisted screens and surreptitious looks and then it was more obvious and uncaring. The moment it had started, Ray had ceased all conversation with her, turning sideways as he gripped the bar above his head. He had said nothing. Not to her. Not to anyone violating his privacy. The behaviour of the British public had made Emily cross. Was this how his life was? Unable to just get on a Tube without someone snapping a shot of him?

  ‘It wasn’t that I didn’t want to continue our conversation about Christmas. I just didn’t want them to take photos of you… with me. I’m not a good look right now and if your headteacher is really intent on making your life hell like you said three stops ago, then I’m not going to win you kudos.’

  ‘You might,’ Emily replied, her breath visible in the night as they turned a corner and she led the way through Canonbury towards her home. ‘If you fix my central heating. Because the constantly changing temperature alters my mood. One minute I’m Mary Poppins, the next I could be Tywin in Game of Thrones.’

  ‘Shit,’ Ray said, exhaling with a throaty laugh.

  ‘I didn’t realise it was quite so bad,’ Emily admitted as they strode on, past the upmarket terraced houses and patches of iron fenced parkland.

  ‘Bad?’ Ray asked. ‘That was just normality. Bad is the paparazzi on your tail. They can be relentless and ruthless and they really don’t care what they do or how they do it.’ He turned his head to smile at her then. ‘Everyone wants to be famous, right? Glitz, glamour and invites to all the red-carpet events.’

  ‘It’s not at all like that?’

  ‘It is in the beginning. When it’s all new and fresh and you are all new and fresh and not jaded by the endless exhausting round of being nice to everyone when they ask the same questions over and over and over again.’ He shook the two tool bags in his hands with a good degree of frustration. ‘God, I sound like the most ungrateful bastard in the world.’

  ‘Everyone has parts of their life they want to change. There must be good things about being a musician though, or you wouldn’t keep doing it.’

  ‘What parts of your life do you want to change, Emily?’

  This had thrown her. She had been more than happy to hear about his life. It was interesting and diverse. It wasn’t making festive shoeboxes to send to Bulgaria or trying to stop rap battles in the lunch queue.

  ‘I’d settle for a change in my apartment’s climate control for now,’ she answered, giving nothing. What did she have to give? She didn’t understand her parents and the love of her life was dead? That would kill the mood. And she did feel strangely upbeat. Like this diversion from her routine was welcome.

  ‘That will be sorted within the hour,’ Ray replied. ‘So, after that? Do you want your headteacher’s job? Is that why she has it in for you?’

  Emily shook her head immediately, slowing a little as she prepared to lead them across the road. Christmas had begun on this street. There were bright coloured lights and reindeer all along the eaves of half a dozen houses, hanging garlands in the large windows, Christmas card collections beginning on ledges. Families with children were more than ready. Families without children would be catching up in a week or so. If it wasn’t for her thirty-three pupils she’d be struggling to make any effort at all…

  ‘Being a headteacher is the goal for most teachers when they start out. It’s like working your way up to becoming the CEO.’ She sighed. ‘Except I’ve done what you shouldn’t do as a teacher. I’ve become attached to Stretton Park.’ She smiled then, leading the way over the road to the opposite pavement. ‘My Year Sixes this year, I’ve known them since they were in Reception. Not all of them. Some of them joined the school late, but Jayden and Frema and Felix and Angelica and Alice, they’ve all been familiar faces for so long.’ She felt herself blushing despite the cold temperatures. ‘That sounds ridiculously sentimental, doesn’t it? And I know they’re leaving in July, to start a whole new life at secondary school, but, well…’ She took a breath. ‘I feel comfortable at Stretton Park.’

  ‘So, you are after the Head’s job,’ Ray said with a smirk.

  Emily shook her head. ‘No, you don’t usually get the top managerial position at the school you’re already working at. Susan is a good few years away from retirement and I should get experience at another school to widen my abilities but…’ She’d stopped talking because she didn’t know if she really wanted to say any of this out loud, to Ray, or even so she could hear it herself.

  ‘But…’ Ray prompte
d.

  ‘I’m not ready to leave yet.’ She sighed. ‘What I’d really like is the Deputy Head position at Stretton Park until I am ready to move on.’

  ‘Have you applied?’ Ray asked.

  ‘No,’ Emily said. ‘Because it hasn’t been advertised yet. And the longer it goes on not being advertised and Susan carries on talking about budget restraint and cutbacks, I’m thinking she’s going to say we don’t need a Deputy Head at all. Or she’ll give the position to Linda Rossiter as some sort of un-paid promotion. And Linda Rossiter is the type of person to take that, for no more money, and be ridiculously grateful.’

  ‘And I thought I had problems,’ Ray said.

  Emily laughed. ‘I can’t wait to show you my boiler.’ What was she saying? That had sounded like a euphemism, which it definitely was not. This was such a bad idea. She should have simply asked her mother for a few hundred pounds when she’d called earlier. A few hundred pounds was a couple of rounds of drinks at her father’s members’ club. No, she would have to be literally about to become destitute before she would ask for help. And even then she might consider crowd-funding her weekly food shop before she asked her parents. And her landlord should be sorting this!

  ‘Your boiler won’t know what’s hit it,’ Ray replied with a wink.

  Emily put her key in the door and pushed while Ray checked out the view across the street from the landing window. This was a nice area. It was in the thick of things, but it was also tranquil with its tree-lined streets and large park across the street. He imagined that in summer those bare boughs would be plump with greenery and the bitter-cold park they had walked through would become a haven for picnickers or office workers on their lunch breaks. It wasn’t anything like New North Road and it also wasn’t like Gio’s rental property with its high metal gates you had no chance of seeing the property through and decked outside space for low maintenance. He had never changed anything at that place, not even to add photos or personal items. Because it was a rental? Or because it wasn’t a home? He already suspected that behind Emily’s apartment door would be more ‘home’ than anything else…

  ‘Surprise!’

  Emily let out a scream and on instinct Ray dropped the tool bags and stepped forward from behind her. The sound of festive Andy Williams singing ‘It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year’ struck up and there were party poppers popping, the paper foliage hitting him in the face. The entrance hall suddenly felt crowded with two men bursting from the inside to greet them with this unexpected revelry. Hadn’t Emily said she had an ex-flatmate earlier?

  ‘Shit! It’s Ray Stone! Jonah, are you seeing this? Emily’s brought home Ray shitting Stone.’

  Ray put his hand forward to this same-height-as-him ginger-haired man. ‘Hi, Ray shitting Stone, pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Sorry,’ the ginger man replied, cheeks turning almost the same colour as his hair. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just Emily bringing any man home is big news around here and you’re…’

  ‘Here to fix the central heating,’ Ray replied.

  ‘Jonah. Allan. What are you both doing here?’ Emily said. Her hand was still clasped to her chest.

  ‘Forget that,’ Jonah said. ‘What are you doing with Ray Stone?’

  Emily turned to face Ray directly then. ‘I am really sorry about my ex-flatmate who I am considering depriving of his second key rights. This is Jonah and his partner, Allan.’

  ‘Hello,’ Ray greeted, picking the tool bags back up.

  ‘It’s amazing to meet you,’ Allan picked the conversation up. ‘Are you really real? Can I check? Would it be OK to squeeze your arm?’

  ‘Allan, for God’s sake,’ Jonah said, rolling his eyes. ‘I’m right here.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Emily said again. ‘They’re usually such normal individuals. I don’t know what’s got into them and I don’t know what they’re doing here in my flat with…’ The music changed to ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree’. ‘…With Brenda Lee on the stereo and… playing with things that should be saved for Christmas Day.’ She picked a piece of party popper plumage out of Allan’s hair.

  ‘Allan had some good news at work and we wanted to celebrate so we bought festive eats at the shop and we thought we’d celebrate with you.’ Jonah beamed.

  ‘Have you lost your job?’ Emily asked him as she checked out her watch. ‘Because most hotel restaurants require their head chef to be in the kitchen at this time of night, doing whatever head chefs do.’

  ‘I’ve got a couple of days off before the real Christmas madness sets in,’ Jonah informed.

  ‘Well,’ Emily said, bustling past them, ‘you should be spending it doing something productive or having a Brighton mini-break. Not worrying about me.’ She turned to Ray again, her cheeks flushed. ‘The boiler is this way, but if you’ve decided to take your tools and run in the opposite direction, I won’t blame you.’

  ‘I’d be a bit miffed,’ Allan admitted as Ray followed Emily inside. He took in the large windows and the cosy furnishings. Soft. Comforting. A real home.

  ‘Could you sing the chorus of “Loved By You”?’ Allan giggled. ‘Just a snippet would do.’

  ‘No, he couldn’t,’ Emily called as they reached the kitchen. ‘I don’t ask you to read me lawyer contracts when you come round. Neither do I expect to stand and narrate the lesson I taught to the children for your pleasure. I don’t ask Jonah to cook.’ She stopped talking and turned around. Ray watched the two men squeeze into what was a rather compact kitchen space. ‘OK, that last one was a bad analogy,’ Emily admitted. She sighed. ‘Why don’t you two open a bottle of wine, if you’ve brought wine, and I’ll come through in a minute?’

  ‘Oh, we’re not having our little soirée in the lounge,’ Allan informed. ‘We’ve set up the roof terrace.’

  ‘The patio heaters are on, the table is ready, the lights are glowing and any second now the timer on the oven is going to go off telling us the first batch of hot snacks is ready.’ Jonah smiled. ‘I haven’t handmade them all. We went to Iceland for some of it. Don’t tell anyone. Especially your mother.’

  ‘Fine,’ Emily replied. ‘I’ll be out in a second.’

  ‘We got you a bottle of the Morello cherry fizz you like,’ Allan informed, opening the half-glazed door that seemed to lead from tiny kitchen to outdoors. ‘And the elderflower tonic.’

  When the men had left them alone Emily let out a heavy sigh. ‘I’m so sorry about them.’

  Ray shook his head. ‘I’m just the repair man.’

  ‘Jonah used to live here. He seems to forget he doesn’t still live here sometimes.’

  ‘On the plus side, they’ve brought you food that does smell good,’ Ray replied. His stomach was starting to need something now. He hadn’t eaten since the breakfast of earlier.

  ‘You’re welcome to join us,’ Emily said, putting her bag down on the small table for two. ‘Part payment for looking at the boiler. Even if you can’t fix it.’

  ‘Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ll just take a look at this beast and I’ll be out of your hair,’ Ray said, stepping towards the boiler on the wall.

  ‘Would you like a coffee?’ Emily asked.

  He would actually have killed for a beer, but he found himself nodding. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘A coffee would be good.’

  Eighteen

  The roof terrace, Crowland Terrace, Canonbury, Islington

  ‘Jonah! Get the girl a glass of Morello cherry fizz right now! Come here! Come and sit right down here and tell me everything!’

  Allan’s words were so loud Karen and Sammie could probably hear in the flat below and, balancing a tray of snacks on her arm, Emily quickly shut the door to the kitchen where Ray was currently wrist deep in her boiler…

  ‘Sshh!’ she insisted, heading quickly to where Jonah and Allan were sitting beneath her two ancient-but-still-working patio heaters in a cosy, festive snug of candles and fairy lights they had created. There were lights entwined round the pergola and
round the evergreens in pots that had taken the place of the summer blooms they’d had earlier in the year. Despite the cold temperatures, it felt warm and inviting and she put the snacks down and hurried to take a seat on a vibrant cushion Jonah had obviously got out from her lounge cupboard. Should she reset boundaries now he definitely wasn’t living with her? Or was she just worried he might have noticed one of the photos of Simon he had put away was back out again…

  ‘Never mind “sshh”!’ Allan continued at full volume, unrelenting. ‘You’ve brought a fucking pop star home! That needs to be discussed!’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ Jonah agreed. Her best friend didn’t look quite as excited as Two L’s. In fact, he looked a little concerned. What had happened between yesterday and today? Yesterday he was pushing men at her hoping for awkward flatmate dating scenarios. Now he didn’t seem to like it that she’d bought someone in to look at her heating. It made no sense.

  ‘There isn’t a lot to tell,’ she answered. That was a lie. More had happened to her in these past few days than had happened in her entire career.

  ‘Oh, so, you were just there at school, teaching about Good King Wenceslas or whatever, and in walks Ray Stone and then you ask him to mend your central heating?’ Allan announced, verging on hysterical. ‘Jonah, are you getting this? Ray Stone is currently in the kitchen, metres away from us, getting all oily trying to fix a boiler. I mean, what universe are we currently living in? Forget the whole EU debacle! This is off the scale!’

  ‘He saved a hedgehog,’ Emily said, picking up a glass of red liquid from the table and taking a sip. ‘At school. He was there, in the playground, with it in his hands and it had a broken leg, or something.’

  ‘I might pee myself!’ Allan announced, hands flapping. ‘I might actually pee myself!’

  ‘And you asked him to fix the boiler?’ Jonah asked, frowning.