One Christmas Star

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘I’m not sure Emily had an hour of need until he ended up in the school shed,’ Jonah remarked, folding his arms across his chest.

  ‘Well, I’m going to come right out and say it,’ Allan began. ‘I think that nasty, vile alcoholic of a man deserved a good Chinese burn.’

  ‘And I think,’ Jonah said, ‘that this is going to have caused Emily a whole heap of distress she doesn’t need in her life right now.’

  ‘I get it,’ Ray said. He took a deep breath in and his Santa belt popped right open. He took it off and unceremoniously dropped it on the table. ‘I’ll make it up to her. I’ll apologise again when she gets home. I’ll help her with these songs she needs before 20th December. I’ll…’

  ‘Take her out to dinner?’ Allan suggested, chomping down on his orange but looking directly at Ray.

  ‘Allan, what are you saying? That’s a terrible idea!’ Jonah exclaimed.

  ‘Thanks,’ Ray said. ‘For making me feel lower than… Ted Bundy.’

  ‘It’s not a terrible idea,’ Allan continued. ‘You said yourself that Emily isn’t eating properly. What better way for her to pep up her diet than by going out for a lovely dinner with her new flatmate?’

  Jonah slumped down into one of the small seats and put his head in his hands with a heavy grunt of frustration. Allan was quick to put fingers on his shoulders and started to lightly massage.

  ‘Sorry,’ Jonah said, his words a little muffled, his mouth directed at the floor. He finally lifted his head. ‘I’m sorry, it’s only because I care about Emily and she’s had such a rough year. I’m trying to make it better for her, you know.’

  ‘Emily’s boyfriend died,’ Allan informed Ray. ‘Crossing over to the Tube station from his office. A driver lost control of the car and… well, that was it.’

  ‘Allan!’ Jonah said, his expression horrified. ‘You don’t blurt out someone’s personal history like that. Emily might not have wanted him to know.’

  ‘She told me actually,’ Ray replied. ‘That Simon had died. Not how he died or anything but… that he wasn’t around anymore.’

  ‘Did she?’ Allan asked, wide-eyed. He started to perform a chopping motion on Jonah’s shoulders. ‘That’s progress, isn’t it, Jonah?’ Allan looked to Ray. ‘She spent many months not telling anyone Simon had even died. Karen and Sammie, her neighbours downstairs, they thought he was away on a business trip until Jonah broke the news.’

  ‘Listen,’ Ray said, undoing the top button of the red suit he couldn’t wait to get off. ‘I’m not here to cause any trouble or upset for Emily. Believe me, that’s the very last thing I want to do.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not a believing-in-the-kindness-of-strangers type of a guy either, but she’s been so good to me, for no other reason than because she’s a great person. And I want to repay that by helping her with this Christmas show… if I’m ever allowed back in the building again.’

  ‘Do you think that lout will try and press charges?’ Allan asked. ‘I mean, can you press charges for someone giving you a Chinese burn? He could ask Emily who you are. Or Mrs Clark could ask Emily who you are. I think Emily might cave if Mrs Clark threatened to put her fingers in the electronic pencil sharpener. Remember, Jonah, that was her greatest fear when we played that silly game in the summer.’

  ‘I feel like I’ve let her down,’ Ray admitted.

  ‘Don’t you regret hurting that swine!’ Two L’s insisted. ‘He was about to wallop his own son. Someone who is younger than him, weaker than him. A typical bully!’

  Ray swallowed. He didn’t disagree at all, but he also knew that bullies came in many forms.

  Allan shuddered. ‘He should be drowning in his own shame right about now but, I expect, once he’s had his wrist reset, he’ll be back to drowning in real ale.’

  ‘I know,’ Ray sighed. ‘But there isn’t any excuse for violence is there?’ Cue a number of recollections arriving like a Netflix recap you couldn’t choose to skip.

  ‘No, there isn’t,’ Jonah agreed. ‘But Allan is right. It would have been worse if Mr Jackson had hit Jayden. I’m just not sure which scenario makes it worse for Emily.’ He checked his watch. ‘Allan, we have to go. I need to get to the hotel.’ He got to his feet.

  ‘That time already, is it? Time for me to eat all alone while you make delicious food for rich people.’

  ‘You’re going to eat more?’ Jonah asked. ‘You ate most of the food at the school.’

  ‘I can’t help it if you’re the best chef a boy could have.’

  Jonah headed out of the room and Ray caught Allan’s arm, urging him to wait.

  ‘So,’ he said, less than confident he should even be asking this question. Dates were meant to be off his agenda. Except this was about repairing the damage he was at the centre of. Something to try and make up for the shit Emily was probably dealing with right now with her boss. ‘If I did decide to take Emily out somewhere… just for something to eat… as flatmates… what kind of food does she like the best?’

  Allan’s lips widened into a delighted smile you might see on the face of someone who had just been told they had won Domino’s pizza for life and their mortgage paid off. ‘Well now, for Emily it’s more about the ambience than it is about the actual food… but she does need to eat more than a bag of crisps and a Bovril. Nothing too fancy with half a dozen different knives and forks. She hates that because she was brought up with it. So, I’d say, for a planned treat think cosy and authentic. Or for a casual “I know, let’s go out for supper” idea, then somewhere that serves hearty meats with sumptuous breads.’ Allan gasped. ‘God! This is making me hungry!’

  ‘Allan, are you coming?’ Jonah called.

  ‘Coming!’ Allan answered. He then adopted a more serious expression, one that a member of the Mafia might use if they were determined to get prime information on a rival faction. ‘I have only one question. I think I already know the answer, but Jonah’s mind needs putting at rest.’ Allan took a ginormous breath that seemed to inflate him like he had turned into Aunt Marge from Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban. ‘You aren’t the man they’re depicting in the news, are you? You haven’t and you would never hit a woman, would you?’

  He shook his head straightaway. ‘No,’ he answered with as much pure honesty as he had. ‘I haven’t. And I would never, ever, do that.’

  Allan smiled, then deflated, but in a good way. ‘I knew it.’ He winked then and gave a grin. ‘I like you, Ray. And I think Emily likes you too. You should know that she wouldn’t ever let me or Jonah touch that Christmas tree you’ve put up in the lounge, even when Simon was alive.’

  ‘Allan!’ Jonah shouted.

  ‘Hearty meats… or actually, no, think cheese. Yes!’ Allan exclaimed. ‘I can’t remember the last time Emily had good cheese that wasn’t half-price or half-out-of-date. And she really does love good cheese!’

  Then, leaping like one of Santa’s happy little elves, Allan was gone from the kitchen and Ray was left clenching and unclenching his hurting hand.

  Thirty-Six

  St Martin’s Chambers

  Emily didn’t really know what she was doing outside her parents’ place of work, she just knew she was craving the pub and the largest gin and tonic in herstory. And she didn’t want to ever give in to that feeling. She didn’t really want to see her parents either, but in some way, a little tiny corner of her heart had been chipped away by the dressing down she had just received from Susan Clark. What she needed to know was that there was a life existing outside Stretton Park Primary if her teaching options were suddenly taken away. Not that she wanted to work in a chambers, or for her parents, or anywhere except at her beloved school, but if she kept messing up, she might not be the one who held the options cards anymore.

  Her breath was a dense fog in the cold air as she stood outside the ancient stone building that seemed to emanate ‘important’ and ‘rich list’. Stamping her feet against the pavement, she willed the circulation back into her toes. Her pale trousers weren’t e
xactly outside attire and her coat, although a magnificent example of 1940s military chic, wasn’t the warmest either. And she didn’t even know her parents were actually still inside. If they weren’t inside they could be anywhere. At their mansion. At the Court of Appeal. At someone else’s mansion. On a boat called Destiny III… She’d texted her mother, an hour ago, but there was no reply. She should just cut her losses and head back to her flat. Although she didn’t really know what to say to Ray yet.

  ‘Emily?’ It was Alegra’s voice, clipped and beautifully enunciated. ‘Emily, is that you?’

  Your own mother needing closer visual confirmation that it was indeed the offspring she had birthed wasn’t a great start. Why did she always convince herself that if she made the effort to reach out it was going to be absolutely any different to all the other times she had reached out and been disappointed?

  ‘Emily, you’re shivering. Oh! What on earth is that you’ve got on?’ Alegra asked, grabbing hold but keeping her at arm’s length. ‘It looks like something they had on in the trenches.’ She tutted. ‘Is this what a schoolteacher’s salary has come to now? Buying clothes from the Army surplus store?’

  She was about to say it was actually vintage and from a lovely little boutique near Hyde Park, but what was the point?

  ‘Alegra, what are you doing? Who are you talking to? Where’s the car?’

  It was her dad, William, trotting down the steps of the ancient building swathed in a black wool-rich coat, wearing a rather natty fedora Emily had never seen on him before. It actually quite suited him.

  ‘It’s Emily,’ Alegra stated. ‘Dressed in virtual rags.’

  ‘Mum!’ Emily exclaimed.

  ‘Emily?’ William answered, as if he had no recollection of anyone in his life circle with that given name.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Emily said. ‘I shouldn’t have come here at such short notice. You’re obviously busy and on your way somewhere so…’

  ‘Emily!’ William exclaimed suddenly as he reached them, as if he had only just noticed she was standing there. ‘What are you doing here? We didn’t know you were coming.’

  ‘I… didn’t know I was coming either.’ Until an hour ago when she’d sent the text message. After at least thirty minutes of listening to Susan saying phrases like ‘unprecedented debacle’ and ‘shocking, scarring scenes’. Her boss had obviously never watched an episode of Killing Eve.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Alegra asked, eyes penetrating. Emily flinched as if she were a guilty party about to be found out in the courtroom. She would so hate to be up against her mother in court. ‘Has something bad happened? Something bad that means you can’t make it next Friday?’ Alegra gasped then, as if Emily not making it was right up there with ‘the Queen has died’.

  ‘I…’ Did she really want to tell her parents how she was feeling? About the incident at the ‘What Christmas Means to Me’ event and the pressure she was under with the show and pushing forward towards her career goal and… everything?

  ‘No, nothing’s wrong.’ Only her entire life and everything in it. Just for once it might have been nice to have some management over her existence. Emily longed for the one time when she might announce something she was off-the-scale excited about to her parents and have them throw their arms around her in a never-before-seen display of genuine thrill.

  ‘And you can still make that Friday?’ Alegra carried on. Her mother had reached into her handbag now – it was leather and glossy and dripping with gold nameplates she was probably supposed to recognise – found a lipstick and was sheening it over her lips as she spoke. Without a mirror it was impressive. Not a smidge out of place.

  ‘Yes,’ Emily breathed. ‘I can still make the Friday.’ Although she was going to hate every minute of it. Having your ideas of good for the community picked at like vultures over the corpse of a dead animal never got any better. Every suggestion she made was joked about to begin with. You want us to actually make gardens for the nursing home? Dig with our hands? Touch soil? Until they realised that what Emily had come up with hit every spot of their remit and would make them look extraordinarily caring, clever and celebrated.

  ‘Jolly good.’ This came from her dad. ‘It wouldn’t be the same without you. Right, are we done?’ William clapped his hands together. ‘Where’s that bloody car? Are you sure you ordered it?’

  ‘Yes, darling, I’m sure,’ Alegra replied. She shook her mane of hair like a feisty polo pony invigorated for the sport. ‘It’s getting worse though, isn’t it? All these people thinking they can get an exec car because the other ones aren’t available.’

  Coming here had been stupid. It was making Emily feel worse not better. How would her parents even begin to understand what was happening in her life when they had no concept of it, even now. Nor did they seem to want to. She started to back away, head towards the Tube that would take her home.

  ‘See you a week Friday, Emily! Mwah!’

  As Alegra aired-kissed the frosty night Emily let out a breath. What did she do next? Well, she really only had one choice, and that was facing the music.

  Thirty-Seven

  Crowland Terrace, Canonbury, Islington

  Ray heard the key in the door of the apartment and his body reacted immediately. Since Jonah and Allan had left, he had gone through multiple scenarios in his head. What was Emily going to say to him? What should he say to Emily? Did he need to let her speak first, or should he offer a full, complete and deeply sincere apology before she could even get her coat from her shoulders. None of them felt quite right. It was overthinking. Except, he knew, if the roles were reversed and it was Emily who had Chinese-burned a parent in front of the whole class, he would probably insist that Emily packed up and left. Which was why his rucksack, one guitar and other possessions were behind the living room door.

  He strummed at the acoustic guitar in his hands when Emily didn’t appear in the living room. Was she going to avoid him completely? That would mean not coming into the lounge and therefore not getting to the kitchen. Had she gone into the bathroom or her bedroom? Or was she checking to see if all his things had gone from the wardrobe of his room. His room. It hadn’t been his for very long.

  Another line for the song came to him and he pulled the Biro out from behind his ear and wrote it down on the pad he was balancing on his knee in front of the guitar.

  Still no Emily. Maybe she had collapsed in the hall. What had Jonah said about her having too much stress in her life already…

  Ray got up and walked towards the door. Not barefoot tonight. His boots were on, ready to hit the pavement if he had to. When he got to the hall it was to see Emily, standing with her back to the wall, eyes closed. She hadn’t even put on the light. He reached for the switch, then thought better of it. Should he speak? Or keep quiet? What would she want?

  And then her eyelids snapped open and she was looking at him. He swallowed, suddenly deep-filled with regret like an over-stuffed mince pie.

  ‘Emily,’ he began. ‘I just want to say, again, that…’

  She held her hand up and he stopped talking.

  ‘Don’t say sorry, Ray, please.’ She inhaled. ‘I’ve said that word at least a million times this afternoon.’ She breathed in again. ‘I said it to Mr Jackson while Mrs Jackson held peas wrapped in a tea-towel to his burning wrist. I said it to Makenzie’s dads and Frema’s parents and Charlie and Matthew’s mum and dad and gran and grandad and everyone else’s relatives who had come to see what Christmas means to the children they have in my class.’

  ‘Emily,’ Ray started again.

  ‘And, do you know what they all now think Christmas means to Stretton Park?’ she asked. ‘Do you?’

  He didn’t have an answer. He suspected that anything he did say wouldn’t be the right thing. Was there even a right thing for this kind of situation?

  ‘They think,’ Emily continued, ‘that Christmas means Santa Claus fighting in the assembly hall. They think that the man they still believe in, someone th
ey practically idolise throughout the entire month of December, is someone who attacks parents.’

  ‘I realise that,’ Ray told her.

  ‘Do you?’ Emily asked. ‘Do you really?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ he said, leaning back against the door frame. ‘And I deeply and sincerely apologise for hurting him. I shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t.’

  ‘But I’m not going to apologise for intervening,’ Ray said firmly. ‘I’m not going to apologise for stopping him from hitting Jayden. Yes, I shouldn’t have grabbed his wrist. I should have maybe… I don’t know… got him in a headlock and taken him outside or something.’

  ‘Got him in a headlock?!’ Emily exclaimed, her arms going up as if exasperated. ‘We weren’t in a wrestling arena! We were in a school!’

  ‘And a father was about to smack his son! You wanted that instead of this?!’ Ray shouted.

  ‘I didn’t want any of it!’ Emily yelled back. ‘I don’t need any of it!’

  Ray watched the quick change in her expression. It happened in an instant. It was like that moment after the sun was all fierce and feisty, when the clouds blackened and the storm arrived and then the rain fell like a violent waterfall. Emily’s face creased up and tears began escaping rapidly as full-on sobs racked her shoulders. It took him a micro-second to decide what to do. In one stride he was across the hall and he gathered her weeping form into his arms, supporting her frame, holding her tightly, taking her weight as she gave in to the emotional meltdown.

  ‘You’re OK,’ he whispered, her sobs pounding at his own heart. ‘You’re OK.’ He rocked her in his arms.

  Still the crying came, loud and hard and soul-destroying. He clung on, his body sheltering her, as she seemed to lose the ability to keep upright, her body heavy and appearing like it wanted to sink to the floorboards.

  ‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve got you. It’s OK.’ He cradled her close. She was cold, shivering, despite the ambient temperature he had set the heating to. He wanted to wrap her up, give her his body heat, take away her pain… after all, he was to blame for at least some of it.