A Fairy Tale for Christmas

by Chrissie Manby

  The entry system can’t have been working properly because Vince wasn’t buzzed in. Instead, a young woman came to open the door.

  Thanks to the light in the building’s porch, Kirsty, who was pretending to wait at a bus stop, had a very good view of Vince’s new friend. Though she lived in a student building, the woman wasn’t very young. She was perhaps in her mid-twenties. But that still meant she was a good two decades younger than Bernie. And she was strikingly pretty. She was tall, with a figure that gave Kirsty a quick prick of envy. No Topshop assistant would have suggested she try a larger size. Her black hair was cut into a sharp bob that framed her heart-shaped face to perfection. Her eyes were beautifully made up and her mouth was bright scarlet with perfectly applied lipstick. She was wearing a tight black knitted dress over bright-pink lacy tights and biker boots. She was obviously quite the hipster. And now she was folding Vince into her arms.

  The young woman joined him in leaning against the doorframe for a while, holding him tightly. Then she unwrapped him, just a little, and, taking his hand, led him inside the building.

  ‘Oh, no,’ thought Kirsty.

  What should she do? Was this what Vince had been doing on all those afternoons when he claimed to have migraines, the flu or a vomiting bug? Not just nursing a hangover but sneaking off to meet another woman, while Bernie made excuses at the theatre? It was so unfair. And what did that girl even see in Vince? She was young and gorgeous. When Kirsty first caught sight of Vince rolling down the road, she thought he was a down and out. But Vince did have his own dental practice. He drove a BMW. The young woman probably thought he was loaded and that made him a catch.

  For a moment, Kirsty felt the heat of righteous fury. She should march in there and drag Vince out. At the very least, she should tell Vince she’d seen him with that woman and he was being a fool. If he thought someone like her could really be interested in someone like him for anything but the wrong reasons, he was an idiot.

  But by the time she got back to the flat, Kirsty was already chickening out. It was none of her business. Perhaps Bernie already knew. Kirsty was far more likely to look like a busybody than a heroine if she revealed what she’d seen. All the same, it was hard not to feel differently about Vince now. They arrived at the theatre at the same time the following day and he greeted her with an oddly cheery hello. Kirsty pretended not to have seen him.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Meanwhile, Jon’s CV had been enough to secure him an interview for the Dubai job. Kirsty tried to look pleased though she had been pretending that night when Jon first told her about the position and the ensuing conversation that led to him suggesting she take a secretarial job had never happened.

  The interview would take place in London. The businessman who was setting up the company would be in the UK for just a week, staying at Claridge’s. He was not about to waste a day of his trip on travelling down to Devon to see Jon at work with the NEWTS. Fortunately, he agreed to see Jon on the one and only day between now and the beginning of the run when Jon would not be needed at the theatre.

  Jon did not ask if Kirsty wanted to go to London with him and Kirsty didn’t push it. Jon decided against taking the car because he wasn’t sure the old banger would make it all the way to London and back. Instead, he would take the train. Even booked in advance, a return ticket from Newbay cost roughly the same as a flight from Exeter to Majorca. It was an indulgence that Kirsty could not afford. She was burning through the savings she’d made while working on the ship. And if Jon went alone, he could sleep on a friend’s floor. Together, they would have to get a hotel room. More expense.

  Besides, something had come up that would keep Kirsty busy.

  One evening, at the end of rehearsals, Kirsty met Ben’s mother – Thea’s grandmother Judy – in the theatre lobby. Thea, who was with her grandmother at the time, was very excited to be able to introduce the leading lady. Kirsty was pleased to be able to tell Judy how well the little girl was getting on.

  ‘And how about my son?’ Judy asked.

  Kirsty grinned. ‘He’s doing pretty well too. He’s a natural.’

  And they had good stage chemistry. Though Kirsty was very fond of Trevor Fernlea, there was no doubt she looked forward to her scenes with Buttons much more now that Ben was in the part. She enjoyed the moments they shared when they weren’t on stage too. She and Ben saw lots of things the same way.

  ‘Gets it from his dad,’ Judy said. ‘Performing is in the Teesdale genes.’

  Judy’s words caused Kirsty a brief but painful moment of reflection as she remembered her father Stu telling her she had a tendency to drama on her maternal side. Thankfully, Thea broke Kirsty out of it by asking her to show Judy a photograph of the mice, which Kirsty had snapped on her iPhone.

  ‘We must get home,’ Judy announced after a few minutes. ‘We’ve got a hundred mince pies to make.’

  ‘Why so many?’ Kirsty asked.

  ‘For the senior citizens’ party tomorrow lunchtime,’ Judy explained.

  Kirsty knew from having spoken to Ben that his mother managed an old people’s home on the outskirts of town. ‘Thea is going to help me with the baking. And Ben—’

  Ben shuffled out of the auditorium, all wrapped up in his coat and scarf.

  ‘Well, Ben is in charge of entertainment.’

  ‘He’s going to sing,’ Thea explained.

  ‘I’m going to work a karaoke machine,’ Ben corrected her.

  ‘But he should sing,’ said Judy. ‘Don’t you agree, Kirsty? You know, I’ve just had an idea. What are you doing tomorrow afternoon? Many of my old ladies and gents were big supporters of NEWTS when they were still able to get out and about. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could take a little piece of the theatre to them? You and Ben have duets in the show, Thea tells me. If you could pop along and perform just those songs, I know everyone would be thrilled.’

  Kirsty looked to Ben to try to get a handle on what he wanted her to say. As far as she was concerned, it sounded like a very easy way to spread a little Christmas cheer. Jon was going to be at his interview. Kirsty had nothing planned for the weekend.

  ‘I’m game. I was just going to be at home writing my Christmas cards,’ she said.

  ‘Fantastic,’ said Judy. ‘Though I’m afraid I can only pay you in mince pies.’

  ‘That sounds like a bargain to me,’ Kirsty assured her.

  ‘You’re doing what while I’m in London?’ asked Jon when Kirsty told him the plan.

  ‘I’m going to sing at the old people’s home Christmas party.’

  ‘Rather you than me,’ said Jon.

  ‘Well, I think it’s going to be fun,’ said Kirsty. ‘And I like the idea of giving something back to the community. Everyone’s been really nice to me since I moved here with you.’

  ‘Probably because you moved here with me,’ said Jon. ‘You should sing “Feet’s Too Big”. They’ll know what one.’

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ said Kirsty.

  ‘Oh, come here,’ said Jon, pulling her towards him. ‘You know I love you from your head to your great big massive toes.’

  Chapter Forty

  But before the weekend and the Christmas party, Kirsty was due to visit her dad. When she first told him about the plan, Jon agreed to accompany Kirsty to her father’s house, which was an hour and half’s drive from Newbay. They would be staying overnight. On the day itself, Jon was not so keen.

  ‘I can’t spare the time,’ he said. ‘You’re asking me to take a whole day out at the most crucial moment in the process. I’ve got to chase up the set designers, talk to the techs, talk to Wardrobe … I’ve already got to take a day out for that interview.’

  Before he could tick off any more reasons, Kirsty said she would go alone.

  The drive was an opportunity to listen to the music she liked, at least. She and Jon had very different taste in music and at the flat they generally listened to the music he preferred because, if Kirsty tried to force one of her favourit
es on him, he would complain so loudly that she couldn’t hear it anyway. Without him, it was disco all the way up the A303.

  Though Kirsty had never lived in the house her father, stepmother and little sister had moved to five years previously, there was still something about heading there that felt like going home. That’s what home is really, Kirsty mused. Not the place but the people inside it. She was really looking forward to seeing them all. Particularly India.

  Indeed India, Kirsty’s sixteen year old half-sister, was first to the door. She must have heard Kirsty’s car because Kirsty didn’t even get a chance to knock. While she was still getting things out of the boot, India threw the front door open dramatically, as though she were about to run out rather than let someone in.

  ‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ she said. ‘You can take the pressure off.’

  ‘Hello to you too, little sister.’

  India threw her arms around Kirsty. ‘I’ve missed you, Big Sis!’

  ‘So, what’s happening? Why so dramatic?’ Kirsty asked.

  ‘You’ll see. Come on in. Quick. Mum’s making chilli.’

  ‘My favourite,’ said Kirsty.

  In the kitchen, Kirsty’s stepmother Linzi was standing at the hob, stirring an enormous pot. It smelled delicious. She turned to give Kirsty a half-hug without breaking off from her cooking.

  ‘I always end up burning it to the bottom if I stop stirring for even a second,’ she explained. ‘Your dad’s just on the phone about work. He’ll be down in a second.’

  He was literally a second.

  ‘I finished my call as soon as I heard your car.’

  Stu folded Kirsty into a big bear hug that left Kirsty wondering why she had stayed away for so long. There was no trace whatsoever of the tension that sprang up between them when they were last together and Stu criticised Kirsty’s choice of vocation. He just seemed pleased to see her.

  ‘You’re looking well,’ he said.

  ‘Fat,’ said Kirsty.

  ‘I said well,’ said Stu.

  ‘You’re looking gorgeous,’ said Linzi. ‘Where did you get that dress? It’s lovely.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Kirsty gave a little twirl.

  ‘Looks a bit cold,’ said Stu.

  ‘I’m wearing thermals underneath,’ Kirsty joked. Her father was always about practicality.

  ‘How was the drive?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh. Easy,’ said Kirsty. ‘Hardly any traffic.’

  ‘Remind me to have a look at your tyres before you set off again tomorrow. It’s going to get icy over the weekend. You want to make sure you’ve got enough grip.’

  Kirsty smiled. This was her father’s way of showing love, she knew. Making sure that she was safe. He asked when she’d last checked the oil. The windscreen wash? The headlights?

  ‘I’m getting a moped,’ India interrupted.

  ‘No you’re not,’ said Stu.

  ‘But you’re always complaining about having to drive me places.’

  ‘I’d rather drive you places than have you drive a motorbike into a ditch.’

  ‘It’s not my fault anyway,’ said India, immediately on the defensive. ‘If we didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, I could just get on a bus.’

  ‘There’s a bus that leaves from the bottom of the lane,’ said Linzi. ‘That takes you straight into town.’

  ‘Yeah. But it only goes once a day and I’ve got to come back again at seven o’clock.’

  ‘Late enough for a sixteen year old,’ said Stu.

  India rolled her eyes. Kirsty winked at her. This was a replay of a discussion she’d once had with Stu herself. Many years before.

  ‘Will you girls lay the table, please?’ Linzi asked.

  ‘Come on,’ said Kirsty to India. ‘You need to show me where everything is.’

  When they were alone in the dining room as they laid out the tablemats and cutlery, India pleaded for her sister’s support.

  ‘They treat me like I’m a child. Will you just keep backing me up tonight, please? I’m sixteen. I’ll be seventeen in eight months. I’m legally allowed to work. I’m legally allowed to ride a motorbike. I think I’m even legally allowed to join the army without asking their permission. When are they going to face the fact I’ve grown up?’

  ‘I’m not sure parents ever see their children as grown-ups,’ said Kirsty.

  ‘Ugh. It’s so boring. I wish I could leave home tomorrow.’

  ‘Then you’d have to do your own cooking, your own washing, pay your own bills …’

  ‘Yeah. But I’d have my freedom. I am going nuts here, Kirsty. You don’t know what it’s like.’

  ‘I think I have an inkling,’ Kirsty said. ‘You and I share a dad, remember.’

  ‘What are you two talking about?’ Stu joined them then. ‘Would you like a glass of wine, Kirsty?’

  ‘I’ll have one,’ said India.

  ‘No you will not. You’re not eighteen yet.’

  ‘You can drink when you’re five if you’re drinking at home,’ India told him.

  ‘That’s not true,’ said Stu.

  ‘It is. Look …’ India fished out her smartphone and Googled ‘legal drinking age UK’. She read out loud, ‘It is not illegal for a child aged five to sixteen to drink alcohol at home.’

  ‘It may not be illegal but it isn’t right,’ said Stu. ‘School term hasn’t finished yet. Do you want to be doing homework with a hangover?

  ‘See?’ India appealed to Kirsty. ‘See what I have to put up with?’

  ‘See what I have to put up with?’ Stu echoed, as he poured a glass of wine for his elder daughter only.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Kirsty wasn’t overly worried about the way her little sister and father bickered. It was normal, wasn’t it? India was pushing against the boundaries. Stu was busy trying to keep them intact. At some point he would give up. Then India would get what she wanted and find out it really wasn’t worth all the fuss. She would probably even come to agree that Stu had been right all along. When one day her own children wanted mopeds and wine with their dinner, she too would be suitably outraged. For now, however, Kirsty knew that India’s bid for freedom was the most important thing in her life. No amount of telling her that things would be different in a couple of years would persuade her to stop arguing now.

  ‘So what happened to your boyfriend?’ Stu asked, ignoring India’s bid to convince him she was old enough for a motorbike and Merlot. ‘I thought he was coming with you tonight.’

  ‘He’s not feeling too good,’ Kirsty lied, not sure why she didn’t feel like mentioning Jon’s upcoming interview. ‘There’s a bug going round so I told him he’d better stay home rather than come here and make you guys ill as well.’

  ‘That’s thoughtful,’ said Stu. ‘Nothing worse than getting ill at Christmas. It’s a shame though. We’d have liked to meet him. Is he still doing the show business thing?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kirsty. ‘We both are.’

  Linzi brought the chilli to the table. It smelled delicious and Kirsty was secretly glad that Jon hadn’t come after all. She could imagine him sitting across the table, putting his hand across his plate to stop Linzi from overloading it, signalling with a look that Kirsty should do the same. But he wasn’t there and he couldn’t see how much she was going to eat so she decided she would eat as much of Linzi’s chilli as she wanted. And she would load it with cheese and sour cream and guacamole. Linzi seemed pleased by the endorsement.

  ‘You’ll have to show me how to make this,’ Kirsty said, though she knew after one bite that she would never be able to make it for Jon. Way too hot.

  ‘So, tell us what’s been going on?’ Linzi said. ‘How are you liking Newbay? I used to go there on holiday when I was a child. Is the pier still there?’

  ‘They’re planning to refurbish it next year.’

  ‘Oh, I loved going on that pier. Me and my brother would be given a pound each to play the slots. He would spend hours on those machines where you
try to make the pennies cascade down. I would always spend my money on the fortune-telling machine. It was a glass box with this model of a wizard in it. You stuck ten pence in. The lights would start flashing and the wizard’s head would roll around a bit then the machine would spit out your fortune on a little piece of card. I ended up with hundreds of them.’

  ‘Load of rubbish,’ said Stu.

  ‘Well, it foretold that one day I would marry a handsome man,’ said Linzi, looking at him fondly. Before she added, ‘I suppose that must be my second husband.’

  ‘Ha! Good one, Mum,’ said India.

  ‘Don’t speak with your mouth full,’ said Stu.

  ‘That fortune-telling machine still exists,’ Kirsty told Linzi. ‘But it’s in a cafe on the seafront now. They’ve got a few of the old machines from the pier.’

  ‘Did you try it?’ Linzi asked. ‘What did it say?’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t try it,’ Kirsty lied. She didn’t want her father to pooh-pooh the message on the piece of card she had been carrying around ever since that glorious afternoon when the autumn sunshine, Jon’s good mood and the automatic fortune-teller had convinced her that she was in the right place. You are where love is. That feeling was a little fragile now.

  ‘I thought Newbay was the most glamorous place on earth,’ said Linzi.

  ‘When you were five,’ said Stu.

  ‘It does have a sort of faded beauty still,’ said Kirsty, surprised to find she wanted to defend the town that had been home for such a short time. ‘And you can’t deny it’s in a beautiful setting. The beach is wonderful. As the sun goes down, it’s really magical. The pink light on all the white buildings. I can see why people used to love it. If the weather weren’t always so dodgy, I’m sure people would love it still.’

  ‘Cheaper to go to Spain,’ Stu observed.

  ‘But what’s going on with you?’ Kirsty asked her little sister. ‘How are you getting on at school?’

  ‘Good question,’ Stu mumbled.

  ‘I got a really good report,’ India reminded him.’