Journey to Christmas (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza)

by Clare Revell

  Paiton turned, her normally clear blue eyes clouded, and a worried frown creased her brow. “Yes?”

  “Eddie and I reporting to learn our new lines as instructed.”

  “Good. Here are the new scenes.” Paiton handed him four sheets of paper. “The blue ones are the first part of the journey, scene two—it replaces the one the both of you first had. The yellow one is the penultimate scene, just before he finds the manger. Or is it the last? I don’t know. I need the whole script. Where did I put it? Did I give you the yellow sheets?” She turned around, her voice quivering with panic.

  Fraser had to calm her down fast. He handed Eddie two of the sheets. “Can you go read these outside a second while I have a quick word with Miss Underwood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Eddie headed back into the corridor.

  Fraser pulled Paiton into his arMs “Hey, sweetheart, calm down. It’s all right.”

  Paiton shook her head. “There is so much resting on this. What if…?” She sucked in a deep breath. “Mr. Fotherington-Smythe caught me earlier. Told me his report would close us down, and there was nothing we could do and…”

  He put his fingers over her lips. “No what ifs. God’s got this, remember? Isn’t that what you said?”

  “I don’t…” Paiton bit her lip, her tone showing how close to tears she was.

  Fraser wound his hand gently through her hair, playing with the wisps over her ears. “Shh, love.” He kissed her gently, lightly, then deeper, feeling her relax into him.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, visibly calmer now than she’d been a few minutes earlier.

  “It’s OK. Now, are you ready to do this?”

  She nodded. “Do you calm all your staff like that?”

  He chuckled. “Only if they happen to be my girlfriend. Shall I bring Eddie back in?”

  “Yeah.”

  Fraser headed to the door and opened it, almost bowled over by an excited Eddie.

  “This is brilliant, Miss. I think this should be the very last scene,” Eddie yelled, waving the yellow sheet of paper at her.

  “The very last one is the manger scene,” Paiton said.

  “Yes,” Eddie said, “but this is meant to be my journey to Christmas. So we should change the last bits around. So it’s the last ever scene somehow.”

  Paiton frowned. “Ummm…how about…” She paused and then nodded. “How about we dim the stage to almost darkness. Just have the manger and you lit. Then Mr. Quirke comes on in costume and repeats the question you ask him at the beginning and you then tell him everything that you’ve learned? As it’s written there.”

  Eddie and Fraser nodded.

  “But can you learn all this before the main rehearsal tomorrow?”

  Eddie jerked his head up and down several times. “Sure. If I can use the paper today.”

  “We can practise as much as you want,” Fraser told him. “I’ll simply clear your class schedule, and then we can attend the tech and music rehearsals.”

  “OK.” Paiton checked her watch. “You have half an hour before tech rehearsal begins. I need to run and get copies of this to the tech crew.”

  “Miss Underwood.” Fraser’s eyes twinkled. “Deep breaths.”

  “Yes.”

  Eddie laughed. “Yes, Miss Underwood. Calm down. We don’t want you falling off the stage again. Nine times.” He winked.

  Paiton stared at him. “Nine? I thought it was seven.”

  Eddie laughed. “We changed it. Some of us wanted to make it twelve, but others thought that was mean. So we compromised at nine.”

  Fraser looked from Eddie to Paiton. “Am I missing something?”

  “Nope,” Paiton said quickly. “Nothing at all. Now start practising while I run this up to the tech crew in the hall.”

  “I hope that isn’t a literal run,” Fraser warned.

  Paiton looked at him innocently. “Now, would I do a thing like that?”

  “Depends if you want detention, Miss,” Eddie said.

  Fraser’s lips twitched, and he could see that Paiton longed to say yes but didn’t dare.

  Her eyes shone with restrained laughter. “Just rehearse, the pair of you. See you in the hall in half an hour.”

  13

  Paiton peeked around the stage curtains at the excited, chattering children filling the main hall. The Year Six primary school kids from their six intake schools waited eagerly to see the first dress rehearsal. Fraser had told her he intended to watch the whole thing and wait no longer for this mysterious extra song that 7ET had written.

  Backstage was chaos. The young actors whispered and rushed around, checking their lines and makeup. But that was nothing compared to the hornet’s nest in her stomach.

  Fraser appeared, looking so different in his costume and dirt streaked face. “Nervous?”

  “Yeah, you?”

  He dodged several students. “Nah. Yes.”

  “Make your mind up.” Paiton grinned at him. “You can’t be both.”

  “OK, a little. Would you like dinner tonight before the next performance?”

  Aware of the students listening eagerly, Paiton studied him. “Dinner?”

  “Yeah, you know a knife, fork, plate, and food. Dinner.” He winked. “I do a mean lasagne and salad.”

  “I’m not sure what I’m…” she paused. Yes, she wanted dinner with him more than anything, but was a room full of students the place for this conversation?

  Eddie grinned. “I think he’s trying to ask you out, Miss.”

  Fraser’s cheeks turned pink under the makeup.

  Paiton chuckled. “You think so?”

  Eddie nodded. “I think you should say yes. He looks at you the same way Dad looks at Mum and they’ve been married forever.”

  “Does he?” She turned her attention to Fraser and smirked. “Then I will definitely take you up on the offer of dinner, Mr. Quirke.” She turned to the growing crowd. “And I shall let you all know later whether this lasagne is as good as he makes it out to be.”

  Fraser leaned in. “You are an evil woman, Miss Underwood.”

  “Me?” She looked at him innocently. “You’re the one who asked me out in front of a room full of kids.”

  “Will you kiss her, sir?”

  Paiton’s cheeks scorched.

  Fraser shook his head. “That would be extremely unprofessional, and I’m due on stage because that is the rehearsal bell. Off you go to the holding areas.” He pulled on the hat free from his pocket and tugged the beanie over his ears. “How do I look? Sufficiently tramp like?”

  Paiton grinned and redid his cardigan so it was fastened unevenly. “My tramp,” she whispered. “Go break a leg.”

  He smirked and flicked her nose. “That is your job, Miss Underwood.” He glanced around. “I think we’re alone now.” He leaned closer, kissed her, then vanished.

  Paiton just stood there, pulse thudding in her ears, lips burning with his touch.

  Liam approached from the stage door. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, umm…”

  He winked. “No one saw. Just invite me to the wedding. Now get out there and do the welcome. Your public awaits.”

  Paiton tugged her jacket straight and did up one button. She walked onto the stage and welcomed the visiting children. She introduced the play and then headed down the steps, intending to sit and watch.

  Jackie, the school secretary, crept over to her. “Sorry, Miss Underwood. The chairman of the school governors is here. I told him you were busy, but he’s insisting on talking to you. He says it can’t wait.”

  Paiton sighed. “OK. I’ll see him in my office.” Hopefully, this would only take a few minutes and then she could come back and watch. The first dress rehearsal was one she needed to see. It was the last chance to change anything that wasn’t right or pick up on scenes that needed a little tightening.

  She headed the short distance to her office.

  The chairman of the governors paced the hallway, a scowl on his face. Must have a
bee in his cap about something. Maybe this would take longer than she’d hoped.

  “Mr. Mayer. Please come in.” She allowed the short, bespectacled man to precede her and shut the door behind them. “How can I help you? As you can see, I’m busy this morning with the play.”

  “Oh, this won’t take long.” His nasally voice grated. “I just wanted to let you know that there has been an incident that needs immediately rectifying. With your resignation.”

  Paiton’s stomach pitted. “My what?”

  “It’s come to my attention that there have been improper relations between you and the headmaster. School policy forbids this. If you don’t resign and break things off between the two of you, I shall be forced to take it further. Neither of you will teach again. Ever. You have until the end of the week.”

  “What improper relations?” she asked. “I haven’t done anything. Nor has Mr. Quirke.”

  “A week,” he repeated. “And I need your resignation and assurances you won’t see him again. Because, believe me, I will know.”

  “Let me get the play out of the way first,” she asked. She wouldn’t lower herself and beg. “I need to concentrate on that. Give the kids their five minutes of fame. They’ve put so much hard work in that it would be a shame to deny them that.”

  “Fine. Two weeks.” Mr. Mayer spun and left, slamming the door behind him.

  Paiton sank into her chair and buried her head in her hands. Now what did she do? She couldn’t take Fraser down with her. He didn’t deserve that.

  ~*~

  Wondering where Paiton was after the final curtain call, Fraser hurried to her office. He didn’t bother to remove the makeup. There would be time for that later. Her door was shut, the busy sign showing.

  Hmmm. He went into his office and stood on the other side of the connecting door. He couldn’t hear another voice. Or Paiton’s. He knocked and opened the door in the same instant.

  Paiton sat at her desk, a pile of folders next to her. She chose marking over the performance she’d insisted on watching? Had she seen any of it after putting so much effort into the show all term?

  He coughed to get her attention. “Did you see any of the play?”

  “No. This marking needed doing. I’d put it off for too long. I’ll catch the next performance. I’m sure it was fine.”

  Hmm. Something wasn’t right. “Just out of interest, how many fire practices are mentioned in 7ET’s song?”

  “Twenty,” she said listlessly.

  “Why so many?”

  “Because you’ve done at least one a week all term. So the kids decided that was far too many and made a joke of it.”

  “They need to learn how to do them properly.” He crossed the room. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, not looking at him. “Just busy.”

  “You still on for dinner tonight?”

  “I can’t. I need to get all this marking done and the Year Eleven projects graded.”

  He stood there, wanting to probe, ask what was bothering her. Her cheeks looked red, and he’d bet her eyes were puffy if the crack in her voice was anything to go by. “Paiton…”

  “Please, just leave. I have a lot to do.”

  Fraser hesitated a moment then nodded. If that’s what she wanted, he’d go. “OK.” He went into his office, shut the door, and leaned against it. What could possibly have gone wrong in the two hours or so since he’d last seen her?

  ~*~

  Somehow Paiton managed to avoid Fraser for the rest of the day. She watched the final dress rehearsal from the back of the hall, overjoyed at how it had turned out. She mingled with the elderly audience, getting their feedback and sharing tea and cake with them.

  Her heart broke afresh at the thought this would be the last Christmas, the last time she’d do this. Perhaps it was God’s way of punishing her for the pride she’d taken in writing the whole production. For the pleasure she took in seeing her story come to life on the stage. On one hand, she knew that was silly. God didn’t work that way, but on the other hand, a tiny voice in her head told her otherwise.

  Slipping out as soon as she could do so politely, Paiton headed home. She walked, having left her car as always because Fraser had picked her up. She sent him a text, telling him she’d drive herself in the morning and then turned her phone off, not wanting him to ask why and insist on driving her.

  He’d only ask questions she didn’t have answers to. Perhaps if she just eased things off, didn’t spend every out of school hour she could with him, it would be simpler to end things. Let the relationship die a natural death. But she didn’t want that. She’d hoped for a future with him. But that wouldn’t happen. And the sooner she came to terms with that, the better.

  ~*~

  Fraser sat in his office.

  Mr. Fotherington-Smythe and Stacey O’Halloran, head of Ofsted, were seated on the other side of his desk. Fraser wanted to wipe the smug look off Mr. Fotherington-Smythe’s face, but that would only make things worse. The cup froze in his hand as Ms O’Halloran finished speaking. Somehow, he placed the cup back on the saucer. “You’re recommending we close?”

  Ms O’Halloran jerked her head. “At the end of term.”

  “Why?” Fraser asked bluntly. “I have addressed all the issues you raised. We have gained places in the maths and science tables. We now have an 82% pass rate in internal tests in those subjects. Discipline has improved.”

  “Drugs,” she muttered.

  “And I dealt with that,” he snapped. “We cooperated fully with the police investigation. There hasn’t be a recurrence. And before you bring up the amount of suspensions this term, they were all justified. I don’t tolerate bullies, no matter who they might be.” He looked pointedly at her and the spy in their midst. “I have CCTV on all the gates and playgrounds. There is a stringent entry policy now, and no one gets onto school grounds without a very good reason.”

  Mr. Fotherington-Smythe snorted. “You shove Christianity down the kids’ throats.”

  “Children,” Fraser corrected. “Kids are baby goats.” He paused. “And we are a Christian school. Parents chose to send their children here knowing we will only teach things from a Biblical viewpoint. We don’t hide the fact. It’s in all our literature that goes out with the Year Six school information packs.”

  Mr. Fotherington-Smythe frowned. “As for this play…”

  Fraser held up a hand. “You don’t believe. That’s fine. We don’t force the children to. We sing hymns, pray in assembly. So do most infant schools. It promotes community spirit within the school and that, I’m sure you’ll agree, is important. The children love being involved with outside organisations. By closing us, you’ll be denying not only them but also the local old people’s home, the chance to grow and develop the fledgling relationships we’ve started over the last week or so.”

  Ms O’Halloran frowned. “I didn’t hear about that.”

  “Of course not,” Fraser muttered. “Why would he want to say anything good? We can’t have his reputation called into disrepute, can we?” He drummed his fingers on the desk and filled the woman in on the adopt-a-grandparent scheme, which had been well received by the old folk, children, and parents alike. He finished by staring her down. “I would like the chance to address the full committee before the decision is made. I have some issues of my own regarding the report and Mr. Fotherington-Smythe himself—”

  “It’s too late,” Ms O’Halloran told him. “December 21st, the school shuts. No more discussion.” She stood.

  “In that case, I want him,” Fraser stabbed a finger across the desk, “out of my school now.” He didn’t even bother getting up to see them out. Instead, he remained seated in his office and sighed.

  What did he do now? Pray a voice inside him said. That was a good idea, but it would take more than just his prayers. Picking up the phone, he dialed the manse. He’d spoken to Pastor Jack after the service on Sunday and knew the pastor would pray. Maybe if he had a man of God in his corner,
things would begin looking up.

  And if not, if this was what God wanted, then he would find a job elsewhere so long as he and Paiton were together. Then he could face anything.

  ~*~

  Opening night arrived. Paiton was ridiculously nervous. The local paper had given them a rave review and a lot of people had been calling the office requesting tickets. Having discussed the situation in a staff meeting, she agreed to add five more performances, taking them into the following week. This in turn would triple the amount of money raised for charity. The school was definitely going out on a high note.

  The children were milling around the holding areas. She didn’t want to believe all this was over. Fraser had called a staff meeting after school that afternoon and broken the news to everyone. More than a few tears and shouts of outrage greeted the announcement. Liam and Dawn were both beyond indignant and were planning something, Paiton had no idea what. But either way she was leaving. The school and Fraser. He needed his career. Whereas her?

  She could find a tiny place somewhere else. In the middle of nowhere. Teach primary school or work in an out of hours club or something.

  “Miss Underwood, Mr. Quirke is looking for you.” Darius’s voice jarred her out of her thoughts.

  “He can come find me later,” she said, determined not to be there later. “I have to go and sit up in the gallery with the tech crew. I’m grading them tonight, but they don’t know it yet.” She headed around the back of the hall and up the small flight of stairs that led to the gallery. Inside the small dark studio, total chaos reigned. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t find the script. I had notes all over it and now it’s gone and no one said they’ve moved it and…”

  Paiton laid a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Breathe. You gave it to me for safekeeping.” She handed over the sheets.

  “Thanks, Miss.” Patrick sighed. “This really matters, not just for the exam points. My gran is coming tonight.” He beamed. “My new adopted one, that is. She had dinner at our house, and Mum and Dad say she’s right lovely.”