by Jules Wake
Apparently a couple of parents had complained, wanting to see the full script, although the lady in the office had dismissed the complaints with a wave of her hand. ‘Competitive parenting. They just want to see how many lines their child has compared to another and then they really will complain.’
‘That’s OK, George. You’re doing great.’ But now I had him one-to-one, I might as well give him a bit of extra guidance. ‘Have you got any brothers or sisters?’
‘Three brothers.’
‘OK. Imagine how cross you’d be if one of your brothers woke you up. Came and jumped on your head. And then they wanted something and you wanted to go back to sleep.’
George scrunched his face up. ‘I’d be mad.’
‘Yes, like the innkeeper was. He didn’t like being woken up. So just go out and read the lines. You don’t need to know them off by heart yet.’ I stopped. He was only seven and kids learned at different ages. ‘You can read, can’t you?’
He looked scornfully at me, his usual cocky attitude reasserting itself. ‘I’m not thick.’
‘You’re going to make a really good innkeeper.’ I held out my fist again. This time he brought his hand up to touch mine. ‘You’ve got this.’
With a quick shy grin, he nodded.
George lumbered onto the stage, already in character. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as if he’d just got out of bed. He was a natural.
He squinted down at the audience. ‘Do you know what time it is?’ he asked angrily, with his hands on his hips. ‘This is the fourth time I’ve been woken up today. First it was shepherds who were lost. Then three kings on their way to a birthday party. Then an angel, looking for the son of God.’ He showed his exasperation beautifully. ‘What do you want?’
A very timid shepherd, one of nine I’d allocated parts to, whispered her lines back at him.
‘There’s no room. We’re full.’ George mimed closing the door and stomping back up the stairs, even pretending to climb back into bed and throwing a blanket over him. I grinned. George had nailed it.
There was a quick solitary round of applause from behind me which came nearer and I turned, surprised to see Nate walking across the hall towards me. I’d suspected after yesterday he’d avoid me and keep his distance.
As he clapped his sleeve rode up and white shirt peeped out, the cuff revealing the dark hair covered wrists which I seemed to have developed some kind of obsession with. The brief glimpse of bare skin made me wonder what the rest of his body was like and stirred a low ache of longing. My body, it seemed, refused to accept that Nate Williams was out of bounds. I focused on the slim white-faced watch with a black strap, as if my life depended on me committing its exact details to memory. The watch summed him up, elegant, smart and understated and, darn it, those bloody dark hairs reminded me of his masculinity and yesterday’s taut T-shirt stretched over his chest.
Clearly I had issues with my hormones. It had been a while since I’d had sex and I was fidgety just looking at a flaming wrist. Maybe I’d take a look at Tinder again.
So much for my resolution yesterday that I’d avoid him wherever possible in the future. I’d got it all worked out for today. I was going to drop in at his house after school and put the finishing touches to the gingerbread house with Grace and Svetlana before he got home from work, so as to make it quite clear that I had no designs on him.
Ignoring Nate’s presence, I cued Grace, who was next on stage. She bounced on and marched over to the sleeping George, hands on hips, snippiness in her stride.
‘Mr Innkeeper!’ she bellowed.
George let out a snore, followed by a snuffle and then a snort.
Interestingly, among her friends, Grace was a very different child, a lot less anxious and in need of approval and a lot more bossy, especially with the boys on the row in front of her. It was as if her natural character asserted itself at school, which made me feel sad for her all over again.
‘Mr Innkeeper!’ she shouted even more loudly. A couple of the children giggled. Grace glared.
George sat up, rubbing his eyes. ‘What is it now? I’m trying to sleep.’
‘Why is there a flock of sheep in my front garden, eating my prize roses?’
George groaned, threw back his imaginary covers and marched off stage to sort things out, muttering under his breath, ‘Pesky shepherds.’
Grace shook her head, hands still on hips. ‘Pesky husbands.’ And she followed him off stage.
I clapped. ‘Very good, guys. Can we have all the sheep on stage now? And remember that when Grace says “Pesky husbands” and comes off the stage on that side, it’s your cue to come on stage on the other side.’
I hastily scribbled a note to myself, making a list of all the different cues for the children to come onto stage. I’d quickly realised that was the main area they needed help on.
‘It’s shaping up already,’ said Nate, standing a lot closer than I wanted him to. ‘You’re doing a great job.’
‘Thank you.’
God, it all sounded so formal.
The sheep milled about on stage, pretending to eat the roses, until I waved the nine shepherds on stage.
‘I just popped in; I can’t stay. I’m sorry to …’ I looked at him and realised his face looked taut and tense, nothing like the easy relaxed man of yesterday talking Game of Thrones and stealing chocolate buttons.
‘What’s wrong?’ I glanced at the stage. A couple of children were chasing each other in circles and I could see that bedlam was about to ensue.
‘Shepherds, round your sheep up and lead them to the stable.’ Twice round the stage like we practised last time.
‘Nate?’
He let out a long low sigh. ‘Svetlana came back late last night. Her mother’s taken a turn for the worse and she wants to be with her. She’s going home today but she’s decided she’s not coming back.’
‘Oh, heck.’
‘Yes, Grace doesn’t know yet. I didn’t want to tell her this morning before school. Svetlana decided it would be too upsetting to say goodbye; she’s already upset about her mother. I’m not sure I agree but …’ he spread his hands out and shrugged ‘… Svetlana doesn’t work on Monday mornings, so Grace didn’t question it this morning.’ He winced. ‘Svetlana’s been a constant in Grace’s life since Elaine went. I’ll need to break it to her gently after school. I’ve just been to see the head to explain and I had to pop in to tell you. I’m sorry but there’s no way I can come in and help for the rest of the week.’
I waved encouragingly at the shepherds as they rounded the sheep up and led them round the stage, towards what would be the stable.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said, wanting to ease the strain tugging at his eyes. ‘Things are already well on track.’ I waved blithely towards the stage, ignoring the small jump of panic in my stomach. ‘I can manage.’ Only this morning, on my way in, the school secretary had grabbed me, asking when the letter about the costumes would be going out, who was in charge of props and painting the backdrop and what did I want to do about the programmes?
‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got a lunchtime meeting and I need to be back to pick up Grace.’ He rubbed a hand through his hair. ‘Brief one of my colleagues about a case. Switch all my meetings to midday. See if I can find a temporary nanny for the next couple of weeks.’ He’d already retreated and I could see he was mentally running through a list of what he needed to do.
There was an outraged scream from the stage. I gave Nate a quick reassuring smile and went to sort out the small altercation between shepherd one and shepherd three.
I didn’t even see Nate leave. By the time I’d calmed things down and organised shepherds and sheep into a loose choir arrangement, he was long gone.
I allowed myself a small sigh and then turned to the children. ‘OK, and this is where you sing Silent Night. You’re outside the stable. Everyone has arrived and Stan –’ I pointed to a very tall, lanky boy ‘– you say your line.’
He gave me
an irrepressible grin, which seemed his default expression. I smiled back at him. ‘And try and look very serious. This is a big deal; baby Jesus is just about to be born.’
‘Yes, miss,’ he said, his grin widening even more.
He delivered the line as I walked to the piano.
Poor Nate. He’d looked so troubled and I got the impression the thing that worried him the most was breaking the news to Grace. Being a single parent was such a responsibility. I knew from helping Bella out so often, and she did have a husband, even though he was frequently absent.
‘Miss,’ prompted a voice.
Oh, God, I needed to focus on the children. Being in sole charge of sixty of them was a responsibility.
‘OK. One, two, three.’ I began to play, forcing Nate to the back of my mind. There was nothing I could do and I had enough on my plate. I really was on my own with the nativity now. Thank God for the music teacher who came in in the afternoons; she’d been helping to teach the children the carols and she’d taught them well. I lifted my head and watched the children on stage. Already they were singing beautifully, nice and loud and with that clear piping quality that children had. I singled out a couple of the girls and one particular boy; each of them had beautiful voices. I listened hard, tipping my head to one side. Yes, the three of them would harmonise perfectly.
I stopped playing, feeling confident that at least with the musical side of things I knew what I was doing. ‘OK, I’m going to make a couple of changes.’
By the time I’d finished my practise, having nipped home and changed into one of my performance black dresses, I was running late.
‘What time do you call this?’ Mum called as I let myself into the apartment.
‘Quarter to two,’ I said, standing in the doorway of her study where she was ensconced in the chair with her laptop. I held up a Gail’s paper bag. ‘But you have warm fresh bread.’
‘Hmph,’ she said, pushing her glasses up onto the top of her head. ‘Late lunch, then.’
‘Better than no lunch at all,’ I called over my shoulder as I headed into the kitchen, dumping the stack of scripts I’d been asked to mark up for the children for the next rehearsal tomorrow morning. After two hours’ practise, the anxious restlessness that had dogged me since I’d woken up in Mum’s spare bedroom this morning had calmed. I didn’t like being away from my flat and my usual practise routine; it made me feel unbalanced.
Quickly pulling out the breadboard, I sliced the bread and heated up the soup, singing Silent Night softly to myself, working out the harmonies I was going to teach those three children.
Funnily enough, when I served lunch at the kitchen table Mum was able to hobble quite happily from her study to come and sit down to eat. I felt as if I’d been chasing my tail all day and it was only halfway through. I still had to come back and cook something for dinner before I headed into the theatre. Thank goodness I’d taken the precaution of changing into one of my many black performance dresses already.
It was only when I washed up the soup plates I noticed the pile of Tupperware boxes of gingerbread house parts. Now Svetlana wasn’t coming back Nate would have to do it on his own with Grace. I’d drop them in to the house after I’d taken the scripts back to school. It wasn’t difficult as long as you had two people on hand. Grace was sensible enough to help him.
That would still give me time to get back here to cook dinner for Mum. Suddenly I was very glad that I’d bought up half of Waitrose’s ready meal selection. I would shove the chicken and leek pie in the oven along with the pack of pre-prepared rosemary potatoes and put on some frozen peas. Sorted.
Feeling at last that I was on top of things, I sat down at the kitchen table with the pile of scripts and steadily worked my way through them, only interrupted a couple of times by Mum wanting more coffee and the television switching on. Of course I lost track of time and suddenly it was three-thirty.
I was out of breath when I rushed into the school reception and as it was ten minutes after the end of the school day I was relieved to see that the office was still a hive of activity.
‘Phew, I thought I might have missed you,’ I said, still panting from the undignified dash down the street clutching the Tupperware boxes.
‘No, you’re all right. We still have a few strays waiting to be picked up.’
I looked over her shoulder and recognised the sad little person sitting in a big office chair, her legs dangling over the edge, looking small and rather lost. She was playing with a small stuffed toy on her lap, talking to it and then snuggling it into her neck.
‘Hello, Grace.’
‘Hello.’ She looked the picture of indifferent boredom and I could have been anyone. I recognised in it a defence mechanism.
‘What’s happened to you?’
She shrugged. ‘Daddy’s late.’
‘Oh, dear. That’s a shame.’ I frowned and looked at my watch. I was on a tight time schedule. Maybe I could leave the gingerbread pieces for Nate to take back.
The other woman at the desk called over to Alison, the secretary, ‘I can’t get hold of Mr Williams. His phone keeps going to voicemail.’
‘Keep trying.’
‘Grace, did Daddy definitely say he was picking you up today? What about the lady who normally picks you up? Are you sure it’s not her picking you up? Shall I call her?’
‘Daddy said he was coming today,’ said Grace with stubborn insistence.
I knew from my conversation with him this morning she was correct.
‘I did speak to him this morning and he did say he was picking her up,’ I interjected.
Both of them looked disapproving and looked back at the big clock just above Grace’s head.
I stood there wondering whether I dared ask if I could leave the Tupperware box with Grace and explain to her that I’d go over tomorrow instead of today but, looking at her impassive little face, I couldn’t do it. I looked at my watch again, mentally recalculating my plans.
‘I’ll try again,’ said the secretary. I watched as she made the call. She shook her head and spoke in the sort of voice that meant she was talking to voicemail. ‘Mr Williams, it’s Grove Leys School. I’m afraid no one has come to pick up Grace. Please can you call the school urgently.’ Her loud voice carried, full of accusation, and I felt the injustice of it. It wasn’t poor Grace’s fault.
The secretary’s mouth tightened and she looked at the clock. ‘I need to go soon,’ she said to her colleague.
Just then the phone rang and she grabbed it.
‘Mr Williams … Oh … The office closes in five minutes.’ She shook her head and her mouth tightened. ‘Is there anyone else that could pick Grace up?’
I couldn’t hear his response but I could tell she wasn’t impressed with his answer.
‘Excuse me.’ I leaned forward. ‘Do you think I could speak to Mr Williams?’
Her beady eyes homed in on me, sharp and inquisitive, scenting a possible resolution. ‘Just a moment, Mr Williams.’ She covered the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘Could you take Grace?’
‘Let me speak to him.’
Grudgingly, she handed the phone over to me.
‘Nate, it’s Viola. I just happened to be in the office. Look, I could take Grace home for an hour or two.’
‘Viola?’
‘Yes. I’m at the office now. Do you want me to take her until you can get home?’
‘Could you? Oh, God, that would be amazing. I’ve been stuck on a train outside Waterloo without a phone signal. There’s been a fatality on the line but we’ve just started moving and I’ve only just got a phone signal. I should be home in the next hour. Grace has an emergency key in her school bag. If you could take her home, that would be … really, really helpful.’
‘As long as you’re back by six-thirty. I can look after Grace until then, but after that I absolutely have to leave. I have to get to work.’
‘Yes, of course. And thanks, Viola. I’m really grateful. This has never happened before.�
� There was a pause before he asked, worry softening his voice, ‘Is Grace OK?’
I looked at her; she was watching my face with furtive hope.
‘She’s fine,’ I said, lying because I could tell from her straight, tense posture that she wasn’t at all, but I figured Nate probably knew that and didn’t need it rubbed in.
‘OK, I’ll see you at the house. And thanks again, Viola. It’s really kind of you. I’m on my way.’
The secretary was making signalling gestures. ‘I think the office wants to speak to you again.’
‘OK, see you soon.’
I handed the phone back.
‘I gather, Mr Williams, that Miss Smith is going to take Grace home,’ she said. ‘Can you confirm that you’re giving permission?’ She nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Williams.’
She put down the phone and, with a complete about-turn of attitude, gave me a grateful smile. ‘Thank you, Miss Smith, it’s very kind of you. Don’t get me wrong, I sympathise with Mr Williams, he’s always been so reliable, but it’s a difficult one. We have to be strict.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Otherwise we’d end up running a crèche in here and I need to go and pick up my own kids from after-school club. I get fined if I’m late.’
‘I understand. It must be difficult.’
‘Grace, do you want to put your coat on? You’re going home with Miss Smith.’
I smiled encouragingly at Grace, who hopped off the chair and carefully put the toy down with a quick kiss to its head before gathering up her bag and her coat. The bossy, chatty, leader of the pack little girl of this morning had disappeared.
I waited for her at the glass doors and she was buzzed through and I felt the weight of responsibility as she was released into my care.
Chapter 12
It felt a little weird letting myself into Nate’s house and, with Grace leading the way, I was the child and she was the adult.
I put the box of gingerbread on the table, thinking it looked messy and out of place, as I took my coat off. Elaine probably wouldn’t approve; it wasn’t your usual hall dumping table where you left car keys, the post, sunglasses and shopping bags.
