Christmas Eva

by Clare Revell

  “You all right?”

  “Several weeks ago there were two girls outside the stage door, wanting autographs. One of them said her name was Eva. What are the odds of it being the same girl?”

  “No idea. What do you want to do?”

  He stepped off the treadmill. “Give me an hour to shower, change, and fight the traffic, and I’ll come to your office to record a message. I’ll pick the scripts up at the same time. Then, the courier can go and deliver the tape before lunch.”

  ~*~

  That evening Harry sat in the makeup chair, the TV news playing in the background. He’d spent the afternoon reading and attempting to memorize the audition scripts, but he couldn’t get the message he’d recorded out of his mind. Or the image of those two girls standing in the rain. He prayed that the message would work, and the girl—whether or not she was the girl in the rain—would wake up.

  But what if she was the same girl? She had made a lasting impression that rainy night. He’d thought about offering the ladies a ride home, but in his line of work he’d become very cautious. An offer he extended as a kindness could easily be misconstrued and end up in a tawdry tabloid, so he’d become distant, closed off.

  The news reader mentioned his name, and Harry jerked up his head and gazed at the TV. “Turn it up for me, please?”

  The makeup girl did so, and returned to working on his makeup. Eva’s picture was on the screen, along with his picture, and the theatre. His stomach pitted.

  It was her.

  “…see his play, The Tide Turns, at the Duke of Clarence Theatre in London’s West End, three weeks ago. She and a friend were involved in a hit and run on the way home. Sue Giles died at the scene. Eva Anderson has been in a coma ever since. Her sister, Felicity, contacted Matthew Lyell’s agent who arranged for the actor to record a message for Eva. This has been played at her bedside constantly since it was received early this afternoon, so far to no effect.”

  Harry winced. He’d said no press, but once again, Frank hadn’t listened.

  The camera changed to a young woman standing outside a hospital. “We are incredibly grateful to Mr. Lyell for recording the message and will keep playing it to her.”

  “Miss Anderson,” one reported yelled. “How do you feel about the fact the driver who hit your sister hasn’t yet been caught?”

  Harry hissed under his breath. “How do you think she feels?”

  The girl paused. “We’re praying he or she does the right thing and comes forward, but our main concern right now is Eva.”

  Harry pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his agent. He got the answerphone. “Frank, it’s Matthew Lyell. Can you let me know what hospital Eva Anderson is in, please? Oh, and thanks for informing the media. I’m all over the evening news.” He hung up and watched in the mirror as the girl finished his makeup.

  She smiled at him. “That was a really nice thing you did—recording that message.”

  “I would rather the world didn’t know.”

  “Even so, not many actors I know would do it.” She paused. “There, you’re done. Just try not to smudge it this time.”

  Harry grinned and stood. “Now where’s the fun in that? See you tomorrow, Annie.”

  He reached his dressing room and picked up the paper, flicking through it. His phone rang. “Hello.”

  “Matthew, it’s Frank, I got your message. I thought the press would like a cheery story for a change. Plus, it might make the jerk who hit the girl come forward, or someone might know who it is and dob them in.”

  “That’s as maybe, but I’d rather my good deeds go unseen, thank you.”

  There was a knock at the door. “Five minutes, Mr. Lyell.”

  “OK.” Harry nodded. “I’m about to go on, Frank.”

  “OK, won’t keep you. Eva Anderson is in the High Dependency Unit of Headley General, in Headley Cross. Why do you want to know?”

  “So I can send her flowers. Gotta go.” Harry hung up and rang the florist he always used to send flowers to his mother. He made up his mind, there and then, to visit Eva after his audition tomorrow. It had to be a God-thing, right? She was in hospital in the same back water town he had to go to. Only this time, the press wouldn’t find out, because Frank wouldn’t know.

  ~*~

  After his auditions, Harry persuaded the driver to stop at Headley General before driving him back to London for the evening performance. He’d rung his understudy, and asked him to be ready to cover if he wasn’t back by curtain up. But he should be, as he had plenty of time.

  Harry jumped from the car outside the hospital’s main entrance and ran up the steps, taking them two at a time. Then, he made a beeline for the reception desk. “Hi, can you tell me where HDU is, please?”

  The receptionist furrowed her brow as if she possibly recognized him, yet wasn’t sure. He hoped she wouldn’t call him on it. He was just one of thousands that pass through these doors every day.

  “Sure. Follow this corridor and the blue signs to South Block. Then take the lift to the third floor, and follow the green signs.”

  “Thank you.” It didn’t take him long to find the ward where a whole group of people waited. He recognized one of them from the TV report the previous evening. That should make this easier. “Excuse me?”

  The girl turned. “Oh…aren’t you?”

  Harry smiled and held out a hand. “Matthew Lyell. And you must be Eva’s sister, I saw you on the news last night.”

  She shook his hand. “Felicity Anderson. I wrote to you. Thank you so much for replying and sending the tape, and for the flowers. I wasn’t expecting you to come and visit as well.”

  But even with her smile, obvious worry radiated from her and the older couple with Felicity.

  “I was in the area, so thought I’d pop in. How is she?”

  “No change. These are my parents, Neil and Juliet.”

  Harry shook hands with them. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m just sorry it’s like this. Would it be possible to see Eva for a few minutes? I’m due back in London at seven thirty. I thought perhaps if I spoke to her in person...”

  Mrs. Anderson nodded. “Sure.”

  “Thank you.”

  His stomach a bundle of nerves, Harry followed them to the ward door and waited while Mrs. Anderson spoke with the nurse on duty. Then, he washed his hands and followed Mrs. Anderson to the bed.

  Eva lay completely still, wires everywhere. Her long hair was either gone or under the swathes of bandages covering her head. The flowers he’d sent were in a vase at the side of the bed; a potted plant sat on a table to one side. Machines hissed and beeped, recording every beat of her heart. He wasn’t going to pretend he knew what they all meant, despite having played a doctor on TV for a couple of seasons.

  “They had to cut off her hair,” Mrs. Anderson said quietly. “And I put the signed photo where she could see it. She’s always wanted your autograph. She’ll be thrilled when she wakes and sees that.”

  Harry nodded, not about to suggest they check Eva’s phone. It was up to her to tell them about the photos when she woke…if she woke. He sat by the bed, again praying for Eva and that God would see fit to restore her. He didn’t want to think that God’s plan might be to take Eva to be with Him now.

  Eva’s hands rested on top of the covers. She didn’t wear any rings, so chances were she was single.

  He mentally shook himself. Why did that matter?

  He gently took one of her hands in his. She was cold. Automatically, he gently rubbed her fingers in an effort to warm them.

  “Hi, Eva. I, uh, figured as my taped message didn’t wake you, I’d come here in person. I’m really sorry this happened on the way home from seeing the play. You know, no one has ever thanked me for being an actor before. So you standing there, in the pouring rain, waiting for ages after the show ended to do so, meant a lot. Means a lot,” he corrected.

  Did he imagine her hand moving in his? Such a tiny movement…

  He squeeze
d her hand. “I mean, I get fan mail and marriage proposals by the dozen. What actor doesn’t? I even get awards. So I know people like what I do, but to actually be thanked and told in person how much a performance has moved someone, is really something else altogether. It actually means way more than the BAFTA sitting on my shelf at home does.”

  The monitors beeped faster, and Eva’s hand definitely moved.

  Mrs. Anderson stood. “Nurse?”

  Harry kept talking. “So, I was in town today and thought I’d call in and see how you were doing. Don’t tell anyone, but I had an audition for the pantomime at the Adelphi theatre in the center of town. They want me to be a pirate.”

  Eva’s fingers laced into his. His heart rate increased at her touch.

  “Keep talking to her. She’s responding to you,” the nurse said. “Someone page Dr. Jameson stat.”

  Tears rolled down Mrs. Anderson’s cheeks, and Harry swallowed hard, feeling pretty choked himself.

  He rubbed her arm gently with his free hand. “I mean, a pirate?”

  Eva’s eyes flickered and opened, fixing on Harry’s face.

  Mrs. Anderson gasped. “She’s awake!”

  The nurse looked at him. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Lyell. It’ll be family only now.”

  Harry nodded and stood, aware of Eva’s eyes fixed on him. “I have to run. Still think you’re pretty,” he grinned. “See you around.” He backed out of the ward, praying hard, as medics and the rest of her family rushed in.

  2

  Eva sat by the window looking out at the cold November rain. She tugged the blanket tightly around her shoulders as she mentally repeated the chant her father had taught her to quell an oncoming panic attack. She hated the rain. Simply the sound of it hitting the window, or even the shower running, could be enough to trigger a full blown crisis. Not so much now, but when she first came home, it happened every single time.

  She solved that problem by bathing rather than showering and staying away from the windows. Now, with help, and so long as she stayed inside when it rained, she was all right. Or, maybe she stayed inside in case it rained. Or she just stayed inside—full stop. If the forecast looked good, she might let her parents take her to church, but that rarely happened. She’d rather listen online. It was safer that way.

  “Eva?” Felicity’s voice and rapid footsteps echoed through the house. How could one person make so much noise? And why was she home in the middle of the day? Had she been fired? Maybe she’d actually taken a lunch break for once rather than grabbing something to eat in her office or as she walked along the busy corridors of the local theatre where she worked?

  “In here.”

  Felicity ran in, letting a blast of cold air with her. “Guess what?”

  “You got the promotion at work.” Eva studied her sister’s reflection. Her eyes were bright, she was out of breath, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold air outside. She looked the picture of health and vitality.

  “Well, yes, but better than that.”

  Eva released the brake on the wheelchair and pushed the wheels, slowly turning the chair to face Felicity. “Huge pay rise?”

  Felicity tossed her hat, gloves and scarf to the sofa. “Well, a little one.”

  “They forecast snow?” Eva gave one more guess. Her sister loved snow, almost as much as Eva did.

  “No, unfortunately. Although it’d be good if they did, and that’s your third guess.” She perched on the arm of the sofa, a huge grin on her face. “So I shall just have to tell you.”

  “Go on then. The suspense is killing me…” Eva rolled her eyes dramatically.

  “The pantomime rehearsals started today at work. I got a flyer for it, and I can get tickets for the matinee on the opening day at a reduced rate. I thought we could all go, just like we used to when we were kids.”

  Eva stifled a sigh. “Why would I want to go to the panto? I’m not a kid anymore. Neither of us are.”

  “Oh, yes we are.”

  “Oh, no we’re not.” The automatic panto reply was out before Eva realized.

  “See.” Felicity elbowed her. “Look at this.” She dropped the flyer onto Eva’s lap. “And no, I didn’t arrange it. Hiring actors isn’t in my remit—that’s up to the individual directors. I’m just deputy manager. Well, I am now.”

  “Really? Deputy GM at the Adelphi? Congrats.” Eva leaned forwards hugging her sister tightly. She didn’t understand why Fi hadn’t just come out with that right off instead of hiding it in the midst of something else. “That’s a huge thing. I’m so pleased for you.”

  Felicity nodded. “Second in command to April. And I have a proposition to make, but first read the flyer.”

  Eva glanced down. The flyer had landed face down on her lap. “Peter Pan.”

  “It used to be your favorite book, remember.”

  “No, that was The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.”

  “OK, second favorite. We’ve been to JM Barrie’s house in Scotland.”

  “I remember.” She glanced back down. “Introducing Lily Raines as Peter Pan, Bill Watts as Dame Able Mabel and Deanna Cline as Wendy,” she read. “I’ve never heard of any of them.”

  Felicity sighed. “Read the front.”

  Eva turned the flyer over and gasped. Matthew Lyell’s face, under a long black curly wig, smirked at her, with a twinkle in his eye. Peter Pan, the headline screamed, starring Matthew Lyell as Captain Hook.

  Felicity’s grin was huge. “So, I figured we’d go, you could see him and—”

  Eva shook her head. “No.” She put the flyer on the windowsill.

  “Evie?”

  “No. It may be part of a traditional English Christmas, but panto is for kids. I mean, come on, Fi, the hero is a woman dressed as a man, the dame is a bloke dressed as a woman, and the heroine is a woman who needs constant rescuing.”

  “And you love the whole pantomime thing. The slapstick comedy, singing, he’s behind you, oh no he isn’t and so on.”

  Eva folded her arms tightly across her chest. “It’s for kids.”

  “It stars Matthew Lyell.”

  “And the last time I saw him was shortly before this happened.” She pointed to the chair.

  “Actually, the last time you saw him was in the hospital when you woke. He was holding your hand and talking to you.”

  Eva pushed a hand through her hair. “I don’t remember that. Anyway, I said no. I don’t want to go. There’ll be too many people looking and pointing at me.”

  Disappointment etched on her face, Felicity stood. “OK.” Her tone was flat as she scooped up her hat, scarf, and gloves. She shoved them into her pocket and turned to the door.

  “What else did you want to ask?” Eva frowned focusing on the heavy downpour. Fi had said something about a proposition, but whatever it was probably involved leaving the house anyway.

  “Nothing important. It can wait.”

  “OK.” Eva shrugged and turned back to the window. “Sorry, it’s raining…and I hate the rain.”

  Felicity hugged her briefly. “I know.” Then she hurried from the room.

  Her mother’s and sister’s voices floated down the hall from the kitchen.

  “Well, I tried, Mum. She won’t even contemplate the idea.”

  “Give her time.”

  “It’s been months,” Felicity replied. “And she barely leaves the house or even gets dressed some days, unless she has too. I just thought it’d be fun. A blast from the past.”

  “And it will be,” Dad said firmly. “We’ll come with you.”

  “Do I get Grotbags a ticket or arrange a babysitter for her?”

  Eva rolled her eyes. She hated the nickname Grotbags and Felicity knew it. But she had every right to be grotty, didn’t she? Sue was dead, and she was stuck in a wheelchair. All because some idiot shot the lights.

  She pushed her chair into the hall, and slowly down the narrow corridor to her room, or rather, the dining room they’d turned into a tempora
ry bedroom for her.

  She managed to get the chair through the doorway and into the room.

  The signed photo of Matthew Lyell, now framed, stood on the table, three dried flowers from the bouquet he’d sent her next to it. She picked up her phone to see the photo of her, Sue, and Matthew Lyell on the lock screen.

  “It’s not fair.” The constant, familiar prayer-come-complaint fell from her lips.

  Why? Why was I worth saving when Sue wasn’t? And why leave me like this? What use am I to anyone with a broken back?

  She couldn’t go anywhere public—church didn’t count. There at least people didn’t stare at her and talk over her as if she weren’t there.

  She needed to move on with her life, but doing what? She did makeup and hair and that was not a sit down job. She couldn’t go back, not in a wheelchair. She needed to move forward with her life, but how?

  ~*~

  Harry left his dressing room at the Adelphi, and headed for the main auditorium. Rehearsals were in full swing. Despite his initial misgivings, he was having a ball and loving every minute of it. He’d discovered a gift for comic timing he didn’t know he had. He’d always assumed the character of James Hook was evil, but actually, Harry felt he was just a ‘lost boy’ in a man’s body. Harry’s tendency to adlib had left the cast in stitches and the director rolling his eyes, but usually his lines stayed in.

  And he got to sing. He loved singing. He wasn’t sure why he had to learn a song about a cow and the number of legs it had, especially as there wasn’t a single cow in Neverland anyway. Maybe he should change it to a squid or something. Or he insisted on having a cow on board the ship. But he had to face it; everyone loved the pantomime horse or cow. And the final number was one of his favorite pop songs which was an added bonus.

  He passed the new assistant general manager just as he reached back stage. “Congrats on the promotion, Miss Anderson…Felicity,” he corrected. He’d been surprised to discover Eva’s sister here.

  Felicity smiled. “Thank you. How are rehearsals going?”