The lady behind the piano starts the song again, but Harry still won’t move. Once again, the music stops.
‘Ah, no, that poor kid,’ Gaz says.
Before I have chance to think it through, I am standing up from chair and climbing onto the stage. There are maybe 50 people in the audience, and now that I’m up here, I can feel what Harry is feeling. There may as well be 50,000 people out there; it wouldn’t make a difference.
I crouch down next to him.
‘Hey, you OK?’ I ask. ‘Don’t you want to do your dance?’
Harry shakes his head.
‘Why not?’ I reply softly. ‘You see all those people out there? They only came here because they heard that this is the best dance routine in the world, and they wanted to watch. Look, even Santa came.’
I watch Harry’s eyes widen as he realises Santa is on the front row.
‘I’m scared,’ he tells me.
I wrap an arm around him and squeeze him tightly.
‘Hey, you don’t need to be scared; it’s no big deal. I could dance with you,’ I suggest.
‘OK,’ Harry replies.
‘What’s that?’
‘OK.’
‘You want me to dance with you?’
He nods.
Crap, I wasn’t expecting him to go for that.
‘Yeah, OK, why not?’ I say.
I hurry over to Mrs Snowball.
‘He says he’ll dance if I dance with him,’ I tell her.
‘OK, just…try and be good,’ Mrs Snowball whispers. ‘I’ve got a man from the paper here; he’s writing a review.’
Oh, wonderful, no pressure then. No wonder Harry is so scared, if she’s giving everyone this pep talk. I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to dance to a song that I’ve never heard before, with an already choreographed routine that I don’t know, when I’ve never been any good at dancing.
The music starts up again, and before Harry will make a move, he looks to me, to see if I’m dancing too. There’s no time to overthink things, and given that I don’t know any dance moves, the only thing I can think to do is to perform the only dance routine I know, one that I have seen my sister do a million times, which is the only reason I’ve committed it to memory. A dance routine so simple, with only a handful of moves…‘5, 6, 7, 8’ by Steps.
As soon as I start dancing, Harry joins in the dance routine he’s supposed to be doing, and for what feels like the longest few minutes of my life, I dance the same few steps again and again and again. If Harry is still feeling stage fright, he shouldn’t, because I don’t think anyone’s eyes are on anything else, other than the grown woman, who turned up with Santa, line dancing to a song called Little Donkey.
The final bar of the song can’t come soon enough. As I hop down from the stage, a huge round of applause is bestowed upon me, with Gaz cheering the loudest. As I sit back down in my seat, sinking down as low as possible, I feel my cheeks burning up with embarrassment. Gaz can’t control his laughter.
‘Oh my God, that’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen,’ he tells me.
‘Oh, God, don’t, please,’ I beg quietly, as the play continues. ‘That’s the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done. I just didn’t want Harry to feel embarrassed, or for people to think he’d ruined the play.’
‘Well, people will say you ruined the play now,’ he cackles. ‘But, seriously, I think that might be the nicest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do for anyone.’
Gaz’s tone changes, from amused to sincere. ‘Honestly. You’re an amazing lady,’ he tells me.
I smile. ‘Thank you, Santa.’
I take Gaz’s hand, and give it a big squeeze, before sitting up a little straighter, ready to watch the last part of the play.
As soon as it is over, Gaz and I hang around, while all the other parents filter out, because we said we’d stay so that the kids could meet Santa Claus – something I deeply regret now, because it has allowed almost every last member of the audience to come over and congratulate me on my dance routine on their way out. At least people are commending me for stepping up for Harry like that. No one seems to be just straight-up laughing at me, which is of some comfort. I can’t wait to tell Holly all about it. I always used to tell her how pointless I thought it was, her learning dance routines to songs that I did not think would stand the test of time. Well, today one of those silly dance routines saved one of her kids – she’ll take real joy in her being right and me being wrong, even if it was an argument we had 20 years ago.
With the parents finally gone and the children changed out of their costumes, they all charge towards Gaz, ready to meet Santa Claus.
‘OK, OK, children, we need to do this in small groups so that everyone gets a turn. If you all sit on the floor in your colour groups, I will bring you one at a time.’ Mrs Snowball turns to us. ‘Santa, if you’d like to stand on the stage, I’ll bring the kids to you in groups.’
‘OK, sure,’ he replies.
‘No more dancing,’ she jokily calls after us.
‘Oh, man, I am never going to live that down,’ I say quietly.
Gaz and I sit on the stage, on plastic chairs, as Mrs Snowball brings up small groups of children to meet him. Eventually, it’s Chloe’s group’s turn.
‘Auntie Ivy, is Santa your boyfriend?’ she asks.
‘What?’ I laugh.
‘I saw you two holding hands,’ he says.
‘But what about Mrs Santa?’ another kid asks.
‘Maybe they got divorced,’ a small boy with big brown curls suggests. ‘Couples get divorced sometimes. Maybe Santa is with Chloe’s auntie now.’
I glance over at Mrs Snowball, who looks like she’s about to have a heart attack.
‘No, Santa isn’t my boyfriend,’ I quickly chime in.
‘But doesn’t he live with you?’ Chloe asks.
‘No…’
‘But he’s at your house a lot.’
‘Because my house is above my work, and he works with me,’ I assure the kids – and Mrs Snowball, because she looks the most concerned by all of this.
‘And his clothes were in your bedroom. I saw them the last time we were over,’ Chloe persists.
God, I wish this kid paid less attention.
Mrs Snowball’s jaw drops.
‘Another perfectly innocent explanation: I wash Santa’s suits for him,’ I say.
This is completely true. A couple of days ago, Gaz spilled a full cup of coffee all over his suit – luckily it was cold, because he’s still not quite mastered the coffee machine, but it left a big, brown stain all over his pants, that you just don’t want to be there, not if you’re inviting kids to sit on your lap all day.
‘Maybe they’re having an affair,’ a tall brunette kid suggests.
‘Emma Parker, that’s enough,’ Mrs Snowball snaps at her. ‘We don’t say such things in this school. Chloe’s auntie and Santa Claus are obviously just friends and work colleagues. That’s all there is to say.’
There’s an awkward vibe, for the rest of our time at the school. Mrs Snowball keeps giving us evil eyes – me specifically. I think she thinks I’m having a fling with Santa now, and she’s not happy about it. I don’t know if she’s jealous, or if I’ve just ruined her festive spirit by supposedly getting it on with Santa Claus as well as ruining her nativity by dancing the Steps routine.
As soon as we’re done talking to the kids, Mrs Snowball shows us straight to the door.
As she opens it she purses her lips, and gestures for us to leave.
‘Never meet you heroes,’ I tell her with a serious shake of my head, as I walk past her, hurrying in the direction of my car.
Chapter 19
I know what you’re going to say, that I have enough on my plate at the moment, but no matter how many problems of my own I have, I am worried about my sister.
Holly is my twin – we’ve been together since before we were even born. If something is wrong with her, I need to help her, whether she wants
me to or not.
That’s why, today, Gaz is running things at the shop while I spy on my sister. I parked outside her house, hiding just out of sight, waiting to see if she went anywhere – or if anyone came to see her. Eventually, after a couple of boring hours, Holly headed out in her car and I followed her, and now here we are, on the way into town.
Holly pulls into a car park in town, and I make sure to park on the street much further away. I get out of my car and watch her, and she buys a parking ticket and places it in her car. But, rather than walk in the direction of the shops, she heads into the doctor’s surgery.
I begin hurrying across the road, when I hear the screeching of brakes.
I turn around to see Seb jumping out of his car, angrily walking over to me.
‘There you are,’ he says.
‘Not now, Seb,’ I say.
‘You’ve gone too far this time, Ivy,’ he replies.
‘What have I supposedly done now?’ I ask, keeping one eye on the surgery, in case Holly walks back out. Perhaps she’s just popping in for something, like painkillers, or…I don’t know. ‘Come on, what?’
Seb points towards his car, so I walk over to it and look. His previously pristine black Porsche has red and green glitter paint all over the bonnet.
‘Well?’
‘Well?’ I echo. ‘Wait, you think I did this?’
‘I know you did it,’ he replies.
‘What are you talking about?’ I laugh. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘I’ve seen this paint somewhere before,’ he says. ‘On your hands, and on the sale signs you put up in the shop.’
I examine the bonnet again and, unlucky for me, it does look like the same paint.
‘Seb, I wouldn’t do that,’ I insist. ‘Come on, you know I wouldn’t.’
‘I don’t know that at all,’ he replies. ‘When I first met you, I thought you were this nice, cool person, and now…you’re spreading rumours about me, you’re trashing my car.’
I glance over at the doctor’s surgery, wondering why my sister hasn’t come out yet.
‘Ivy? Are you even listening?’ Seb asks.
‘Look, I’m not saying it was me – it wasn’t – but if it really is the same kind of paint, it’s kids’ paint. It should just wash off.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ I reply.
‘I’m still angry,’ he says, heading back to his car. ‘I never thought you’d resort to this.’
I just ignore him, instead waiting until he has gone and then calling Gaz.
‘Ivy,’ he sings as he answers the phone.
‘Gaz,’ I reply. ‘What did I say about no underhand tactics?’
‘Not to do them,’ he confirms. ‘And I didn’t.
‘You didn’t cover Seb’s car with the red and green sparkly paint from the shop?’
‘Well, I did,’ he replies. ‘But that wasn’t an underhand tactic, that was just because I was pissed off.’
‘I see. Well, you’re in luck on two counts. First of all, because it’s kids’ paint, it should just wash off, and second of all, he thinks it was me.’
‘Do you want me to own up?’ he asks.
‘No, just leave it to blow over,’ I reply. ‘No real damage was done.’
‘Are you sure, because—’
‘Gaz, I need to go,’ I say quickly, spying my sister heading back to her car.
I hang up and hurry across the road, where I find my sister, sitting in her car with her head in her hands, crying her eyes out.
I tap on her car window, making her jump.
‘Ivy, what are you doing here?’ she asks, wiping her eyes, as though that might disguise her tears.
I hurry around the other side of the car and climb in the passenger’s seat. ‘Holly, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ she replies.
‘At some point, you’re going to have to stop saying that and talk to someone,’ I tell her. ‘I’m your sister, please let me help you.’
She nods as tears flood her eyes again.
‘Are you ill?’
‘I had a few, erm, women’s issues,’ she tells me. ‘I thought maybe I was pregnant, so I took a test and it was negative. I had some bleeding.’
‘Right,’ I reply, feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of anything happening to my sister, but doing my best to keep cool.
‘When you came in yesterday, I was taking a pregnancy test,’ she says. ‘Sorry if I seemed odd.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ I tell her, taking her hand. ‘What did the doctor say?’
‘Well, I was terrified about cancer. I think I’d pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I had it and that was that – it was all I could think about. The doctor checked me out and couldn’t find anything wrong. She gave me a pregnancy test today and…it’s positive.’
‘It’s great news that you’re not ill,’ I tell her, unsure whether or not to enthuse about her pregnancy, because she’s giving nothing away with her emotions. She looks terrified.
‘It is,’ she replies. ‘I know so many people are less fortunate, and that I should be on top of the world, being pregnant, but…it’s just so hard already, looking after two small kids on my own, with Lee being away all the time.’
‘I know it is, but you have me,’ I reassure her with a smile. ‘And, let’s face it, my life is pretty empty anyway, but it’s about to get a whole lot emptier.’
Holly laughs. ‘Your life is not empty,’ she says with a smile. ‘You’re amazing and we’d be lost without you.’
‘Thanks, sis. Just know that, whatever you decide to do, I am here for you, OK?’
‘OK,’ she replies. ‘I guess it would be nice to have another baby. I’ve really missed having a cute little baby.’
I smile. ‘It would be amazing to have another baby around – you’re an incredible mum, and I would love to be an auntie again.’
Now that Holly isn’t freaking out, it’s so nice, to see her getting excited about it. I feel a combination of exited for my sister and weirdly envious. Baby news before Christmas…it’s the stuff of dreams for some women.
‘This is great, isn’t it?’ she says, possibly for reassurance, but she does seem like she’s come around to the idea now.
‘Have you told Lee?’
‘I haven’t,’ she replies. ‘I’ll call him now.’
‘I’ll give you some privacy,’ I say. ‘I need to get back to work.’
I hug my sister and say goodbye, and as I walk towards my car I glance back and see her on the phone, smiling widely, obviously gushing about her news to Lee, who must be just as excited as she is. It’s amazing to see her so happy, with her perfect little family. I know that I’m a part of it but I can’t help wanting what Holly has, and I just don’t feel like I’m ever going to get it.
Chapter 20
‘So amazing of you to donate your time, as always, Ivy,’ Prue says as she leads me through the town hall and into the room full of tables, all heaped high with wrapping paper and various other wrapping supplies, like bows, ribbon, and tape.
‘Always happy to help,’ I lie – the truth is, I’m usually happy to help, but this year it would be easier not to.
‘Turn the music up, Roger,’ she says as she passes a man sitting at a desk. Roger obliges, cranking up Shakin’ Stevens’ ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’. Ergh, normally I’d be in my element here, but I’m just not feeling the festive spirit today at all.
Prue leads me to a table, where my wrapping partner is already waiting for me, and just when I think things can’t get any worse for me, it turns out that I’ll be working with Seb.
‘I figured, what with you two already having a working relationship, you’d be perfect together, to fly through wrapping your pile of presents.’
At the end of each table sits a mountain of presents that people have brought in to get wrapped, in exchange for a ‘pay what you like’ donation. I take part in this event every year and we always raise a ton of mone
y for good causes, but all I want to do today is run out screaming.
‘I’ll be back to check in on you soon,’ she sings, leaving us alone.
I reluctantly sit down next to Seb.
‘I didn’t think this would be your scene,’ I say, noticing the poorly wrapped present on the table in front of him. ‘Or your forte.’
‘It isn’t,’ he replies. ‘But after Prue had words with me, I had to do something to get back on her good side. This is it.’
‘Oh.’
‘My car cleaned up, in case you were wondering,’ he tells me, as he gets to work on a second present.
‘Good,’ I reply.
‘It’s a good job that, even though you didn’t do it, you knew all about the kind of paint it was.’
‘Just a good guess,’ I reply.
‘Right.’
The atmosphere here is as frosty as the weather outside, but only at the table. Everyone else is dressed up in festive jumpers, Santa hats, elf ears, and various other sparkly bits. I turned up in a black jumper dress, because I felt like it matched my mood this morning, and Seb is, of course, wearing his suit, with his jacket off, sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. So, with everyone else dressed up, and Seb and I looking like we’re about to attend a funeral, this is very much the gloomy end of the room.
My phone vibrates on the table in front of me. It’s a message from Gaz, which reads: ‘Train missing. Seb?’
I angle my phone, to make sure Seb can’t see our conversation.
‘What do you mean, the train is missing?’ I reply.
‘Someone has stolen it!’ he punches back.
I feel my brow furrow in puzzlement.
‘Did the driver leave it unlocked?’ I ask.
Gaz is typing…
‘Everything OK?’ Seb asks.
I nod.
‘Do you think you can help then?’ he suggests, nodding towards the present in front of him.
A message from Gaz finally comes through.
‘What are you talking about? The little train from the shop.’
Oh! I thought he meant the one we hired to ferry people back and forth from town. He means the antique steam train from the shop, the one my mum has had since before I was born. Is this some kind of petty revenge act from Seb then? He thinks I’ve ruined his car so he’s stolen my train? If he thinks he’s going to get a rise out of me here, he can think again. If Gaz hasn’t noticed, I’m not sure when I would have. Which means, if Seb has stolen it, if he wants a reaction, he’s going to have to prompt one out of me. Let’s see if he brings it up.
Love and Lies at the Village Christmas Shop Page 14
