Gaudete (3 page)

Eventually, Mum called it a day. “Enough is enough, lovey,” she said, switching the grill off. “We’ve got four whole days this year. We’ll do better tomorrow.”

Callum was so relieved to be going home that he ran all the way to the car, even though it meant getting wet because Mum had the umbrella.

By the time they were halfway home, the sleet had turned to snow.

“Too wet to settle,” Mum said wisely, but by midevening the air had turned crisp and a thin crust was building up on top of the hedge and on the shed roof. Callum bounced between thinking it was brilliant and worrying he wouldn’t get to go and play with Jonah after all, because they might get snowed in and start to starve and then have to eat each other to survive (obviously, they’d eat Leanne first, because she was annoying).

“Oh, shut
up
, Callum,” Leanne snapped without looking up from her copy of
Sugar
. “I don’t know why Mum even takes you with her.”

“Is that an offer to babysit, Lee?” Mum called from the kitchen.

“I’d rather
die
,” Leanne proclaimed, throwing herself back over the arm of the sofa in disgust.

“I’d rather you died too,” Callum told her, grabbing her magazine to see what she was looking at. It was yet more pictures of boys, and he squinted at it, trying to see the appeal of whatshisface, the blond one from
S Club 7.
He supposed that, if you were into the whole kissing thing, he looked like he wouldn’t be too slobbery, and—

Leanne snatched the magazine back. “Give it here!”

“You fancy him!” Callum crowed, to distract her. “You want to be his girlfriend!”

“You’re never going to have a girlfriend!” Leanne snapped.

“That’s ’cause I’d never want one,” Callum told her, and he kind of knew he meant it, and that he really shouldn’t.

She let out that really annoying superior laugh she’d started using lately. “Shows what you know.”

“Shows what you know,” he copied, and that proved to be enough fun to keep him amused until Mum had to come through and separate them. By then, there was a good inch of snow on the ground, and even Miss Teenage Stroppy-Pants (and he had to remember to call her that next time her friends came round) wanted to go out and run around in it and toss great handfuls at him.

They did make it to the Christmas market the next morning, although Callum had never known Mum to drive so slow or the car to move in such a shivery, slippery way. The cathedral close looked like a Christmas card, with the big Christmas tree in the middle weighed down with snow, and all the white rooftops framing the spire where it reached up into the clear blue sky. It was bitterly cold, and Callum had to shove his hands into his armpits and dance until Mum finally got the grill going, but that was okay, because he was so busy looking and looking and looking at everything.

When the first customers arrived in their big coats and bright hats and scarves, he twitched because he wanted to draw it so much. He wanted pastels, big smudgy ones to show how soft the lines of the snow were and how bright it made everything look.

Then Jonah came out of one of the old houses, wearing his usual green cloak over normal clothes. He was accompanied by a skinny, completely bald bloke in black robes, and they came straight over to the stall, Jonah trotting a little to keep up.

Callum shot out to meet them. “Hi. Isn’t this the most awesome snow ever? How come you’re wearing jeans?”

“We have girls now,” Jonah explained, shrugging. “They’re doing the morning service today, and we’re doing evensong, and then we’re singing together for the rest of the week, for all the carol services and the procession and everything.”

“I suppose that’s one use for girls,” Callum said, and was taken by surprise when a firm hand landed on his shoulder and propelled him back toward the stall.

“Come along, boys,” the bald bloke boomed above them, and stepped forward to speak to Mum. “And a very cold bleak midwinter it is, today. I understand young Callum here has been invited to tea with us this evening, and I was wondering if I could offer him a little extra hospitality, given the chill in the air. We have a day of quiet activities planned for our choristers, and he is very welcome to join us for as long as you’re willing to part with him. We always welcome friends and family when the children are here outside term time.”

“We have hot chocolate,” Jonah said, beaming at him, “and we get extra cake on Sundays, and we’re going to watch
The Box of Delights
, and maybe make igloos on the rugby pitch.”

Mum was continuing to talk quietly to the bald chap, but Callum knew what he wanted. A whole day with Jonah was about a million times better than just hanging around yet another stupid market. “Muuuuuum!” he whined. “Please.”

“If you’re after quiet, I’m not sure you want Callum for that long,” Mum said wryly.

“I am a great believer in letting children be children. He’ll be no trouble.” There was a slight hint of iron in his voice there, one that made Callum stand up a little straighter.

“I’ll try my best, sir,” he said, and honesty forced him to add, “My best isn’t very good. I can’t help getting too excited.”

“Then we will channel your excitement in a useful direction,” the bald bloke announced (everything he said seemed to ring with certainty, and it took Callum a while to realize it was his voice that did it, and that Jonah could do it too, when he got to talking about things he loved).

And, to Callum’s amazement, they did. It wasn’t like going to play at a school friend’s, where their parents didn’t seem to get that there was a line beyond which Callum just
couldn’t
calm down again, but would keep getting more and more hyper. This was more like school but without the lessons, where everything was organized and the housemasters (as Jonah called them) were fun and jolly, but would tell you to stop before it all went wrong.

He stuck by Jonah’s side all day, though he got to meet all Jonah’s friends too: Sam and the two Jameses and Oscar, and later, after they got back from the cathedral, Naomi and Katie too. They were all pretty cool, though Naomi was bossy, but Jonah was the best of the lot. He had a way of thinking about everything before he acted, which Callum envied fiercely, and he managed to be quiet without letting anyone push him around. He listened to Callum too, even when he knew he was talking far too fast.

The igloo building went pretty well, not least because Naomi had a plan. “We have to make it good enough to live in for real,” she explained, her fists on her hips and a dark look on her face. “When all the planes crash and the computers stop working because of that Millennium Bug, we’ll have to survive on our wits.”

“Can’t we just stay in the boarding house?” asked Katie, looking worried.

Naomi cast a look of scorn her way. “Don’t be silly. We’ll have to hide from the looters, and out here we’ll be disguised by the snow.”

Callum hadn’t realized the end of the world was upon them, but he’d played enough computer games to know she was missing something. “What about the zombies?”

She hesitated, looking taken aback. “Well, um, obviously….”

“They won’t come out until the snow melts,” Jonah said. “They can’t dig through frozen ground.”

“That’s exactly what I was about to say. And then we’ll just take shelter in the cathedral, which is consecrated ground, so zombies aren’t allowed on it.”

“I thought that was vampires,” Katie said, looking even more worried.

After some moments of debate, they decided to go and check with Dr. Andrewson, which, it turned out, was the real name of the bald choirmaster. He confirmed that they would indeed be safe from zombies inside any church or cathedral, but reassured them they really didn’t need to worry. Then, with a smile, he sent them back outside. “Make sure you keep warm enough. I don’t want any sore throats next week.”

They bundled out again, laughing, and Callum went with them, shaking his head in amazement. If he’d gone charging into the staffroom with a daft question like that, it would have been another angry phone call to his mum. Posh schools were weird.

When they got back outside, the igloo building had turned into a snow fight, with the half-built walls now forts. They hurled themselves into the fray and had pretty much scraped every bit of snow off the grass before they were all called back inside for more cocoa and biscuits. It was then Callum remembered something Jonah had said the day before, and he demanded, “Why don’t you have a house in England?”

The others had all wandered off, so it was just him and Jonah stuffed into a corner of the refectory (which was what they all called the lunch hall, and Callum was starting to think they were just weird for the fun of it). Jonah put his mug down and looked sad and serious for the first time all day. “My parents don’t live in England.”

“But you do?”

“In term time, yeah. Mummy’s in Singapore, and Dad and my stepmum are in Dubai.”

“But they come and visit, right?”

Jonah shrugged and didn’t meet Callum’s eyes. “We spend the summer together. Usually in a hotel somewhere.”

Callum narrowed his eyes. He might be a bit hyper sometimes, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. “What about Christmas?”

Jonah looked uncomfortable again. “Well, I have to be here for most of the Christmas and Easter holidays, which makes them too short to be worthwhile, so I stay with my Auntie Carrie in Oxford.”

It took a heroic effort, but Callum managed not to say anything, though he had to bite his tongue to stop himself, which hurt. “Ow.”

“Are you okay?” Jonah asked hurriedly, his eyes getting that worried look.

“Bit myself,” Callum admitted, and took a hearty swig of hot chocolate to wash away the pain. “So, what’s up now?”

The whole conversation niggled at him for the rest of the day, though, right up until he got home that evening. Sitting at the kitchen table, kicking the chair legs to help himself think, he poured it all out to Mum and Leanne. His sister, proving to his surprise that she was probably only 90 percent a monster, was almost as indignant as he was. Mum, who’d had another long chat with Dr. Andrewson that evening, sighed a little and said, “Every family has its own little ways, Callum. You mustn’t judge them.”

“He doesn’t get to see his parents at Christmas,” Callum repeated furiously. “Can we adopt him?”

“He might fit in the spare room,” Leanne suggested, which was a sacrifice, because she’d taken over all the wardrobes in there months ago.

Mum laughed at them both. “No, my loves, but Callum here can be a good friend, can’t you?” She shook her head and added softly, “No wonder he’s such a solemn little thing.”

“What’s solemn mean?” Callum asked.

“Serious.”

“He’s not! He laughed all day today!”

Mum smiled at that and scooped him up to give him a tight sideways hug. “You’re a good boy, Callum James, and don’t let anyone tell you different.”

He made a face but hugged her back this time. They were broke, and Dad hardly ever came home, and he had to put up with Leanne, but on reflection, he’d pick his family over Jonah’s any day.

J
ONAH
’
S
GOOD
mood lasted all afternoon, that warm sense of certainty lodging in his chest to warm him through. It made him want to sing, and he kept having to catch himself as the music slipped out of him and he began to sing as he worked.

The third time he stopped and apologized, Janice laughed at him. “Sing away. There’s no one else here to distract, and at least you’re coming up with something more tuneful than that rubbish my daughters listen to. Had a nice lunch, did you?”

“Bumped into an old friend,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual. “Someone I haven’t seen since I left here.”

Janice grinned at him impishly. “Pretty old friend, was she?”

“He,” Jonah corrected, and waited for the inevitable moment where she paused to stare, reassessing him. It was funny how people always seemed taken aback. Given the amount of grief he’d been given at school for not being part of the whole macho rowing and rugby crowd, he’d have thought people’s assumptions would run the other way.

After a moment, she nodded. “Handsome, then?”

Jonah gave her a sheepish smile but went back to work, letting the old songs bubble out of him. His adult voice wasn’t good enough to make a career from, but he could still sing and he knew this music, better than he knew himself, a lot of the time. He just hadn’t felt like singing for so long.

He and Janice finished at half five, which gave him a few hours to fill, so he went to evensong. He didn’t believe in a Christian god anymore, nor did he attend church services, not when he knew the church didn’t want him, but he took comfort in the rituals. They had given shape and structure to his childhood, and there was a comfort in falling back into those old routines. As a child, he had thought the cathedral was the world in miniature, with a role for every person and a deeper meaning to every act. Reality wasn’t anywhere near so orderly and measured, though. It was more like the market outside, vibrant and messy, full of excitement and avarice, rash choices matched by thoughtful calculations, and everyone mingling together in a fast, sometimes frustrating, muddle of humanity.

It was a relief to step outside after the service, though the crisp night air made him catch his breath and hitch his scarf a little higher. He wasn’t sure whether Callum’s invitation had included food, but he wasn’t really hungry. A twist of nerves had settled in his stomach. It had felt right to flirt with Callum, as if finally he’d found the true path in his life again, but he wasn’t sure how to turn that conviction into reality. It might turn out to be nothing, but he knew it was one of those things he had to try. He could still just about remember the very first time someone had told him he could be a chorister, and the determination that had flooded him then. He had made that choice in an instant, and it had been right. He had chosen his course of study just as fast, and that had been right. Callum felt right in the same way.