Little Donkey (4 page)

We took a moment for everyone to have a good look, and then there was silence for a moment because everyone seemed to have lost the thread.

‘Well,’ said Mr Wivenhoe, appearing unnervingly out of the darkness to get us all back on track. ‘Wasn’t that exciting, everyone? Now, where had we got to? Oh yes. It’s time for Mary and Jesus to depart for Egypt and we shall sing ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’. Everyone’s favourite. When you’re ready, Colin.’

The opening chords echoed through the church, joyful and jubilant, but something was wrong. All the light and excitement had disappeared from Charlie’s face. Stricken, he looked up at Andrew, tried to say something, failed miserably, sat down on a bale, and burst into tears. Marilyn surged forwards but even this wasn’t enough to calm him. Andrew stepped over the bale and sat down beside him. ‘What’s the matter, Charlie?’

Whatever it was, it was serious. He was heartbroken. Inconsolable. Shaking with sobs. Andrew patted him on the shoulder. ‘Tell me, Charlie. Maybe I can fix it.’

Around us, no one was singing. The organ petered out, uncertainly. Mr Wivenhoe appeared again and somewhat creakily crouched beside him. ‘Charlie, my dear boy. Whatever is the matter?’

He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Already, his mother was bustling towards him.

His face was blotchy with tears. ‘You forgot me. You forgot what I was supposed to say.’

‘Oh, my goodness me,’ said Mr Wivenhoe, in horror. ‘So I did. Whatever was I thinking? My dear Charlie, I am so sorry. But I think we can put this right.’

He stood up. ‘Your attention please, everyone. Charlie has a very important announcement to make.’

He stepped back. Andrew helped Charlie up onto the bale and handed him his pole. The golden star dangled bravely above his head. He took a deep breath, trembling with excitement and nerves.

I saw his mouth open but no words came. My heart went out to him.

Marilyn pushed her head forward and nibbled gently at his tunic.

He took another huge breath and closed his eyes.

‘BeholdIamtheStaroftheEast!’

There was a moment’s silence and then thunderous applause echoed throughout the church.

I clapped as hard as everyone else. My face was wet with tears. And not just my face. And not with tears. Why was I all wet? Oh no! Not now!

I leaned forwards to try and ease the pain.

‘Mrs Checkland?’ said Sharon, in sudden concern.

‘Shh!’ I said. ‘I’m fine. Just a twinge. It will pass in a minute.’

Behind me, the door opened and a sudden draught swirled through the church, making the candles flicker. He was here. Russell was back. Of course he was. He’d only been bringing sheep down off the moor, not invading a small country. How stupid was I? And if I tried to tell him how worried I’d been, he’d just laugh at my pregnancy nerves.

I peered around. Not Russell. Tanya stood quietly at the back of the church. She’d made it back from Germany, despite the weather. A small miracle in itself. How happy Andrew would be. Then I lost sight of her as she slipped into a pew. Had he seen her?

No. He was chatting quietly to Charlie Kessler. The two of them sat side by side on their straw bale. Marilyn was investigating Charlie’s pockets, just in case either of them had missed anything edible. I wondered if Tanya was watching Andrew and thinking, as I was, what a great dad he would make. Not for the first time, I wondered what sort of father Russell would turn out to be. Too late to worry about that now.

And at last it was time for the final hymn. Colin had another go at the opening chords of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ and everyone got to their feet. Except me. I concentrated on a knot in the pew in front of me. The pain was swift and strong. I leaned forward again. Mrs Crisp sat beside me.

‘Just breathe deeply, Mrs Checkland. In a few minutes, we can bring the car round and take you home.’

I nodded. Around me, voices swelled in song. Everyone likes ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’. It was the final hymn and everyone was giving it all they’d got.

In the stable, Mary and Joseph gathered up the mercifully uneaten Baby Jesus and departed for Egypt with Andrew and Marilyn and Charlie, who refused to be parted from his new friend. No one seemed to mind. The shepherds and wise men followed on behind. The sheep stayed put. I rather envied her.

Mr Wivenhoe said a few words, none of which I heard and after the blessing, the congregation filed out. We sat and waited for everyone to leave.

The wind sounded very loud in the suddenly silent church. I began to shiver. Was Russell still out in this? Where was he? I suddenly remembered the old superstition that for every new arrival in a family, another member must depart. Suppose Russell was making room for this new child?

Strangely, when I mentioned this theory, no one seemed inclined to take it very seriously.

‘Please try and stay calm, Mrs Checkland,’ said Sharon, her own voice wobbling and so I made a massive effort not to panic. Which didn’t mean I stopped worrying on the inside. I was shivering – with cold, with fear, with shock – and trying desperately not to cry, because surely all this was too early, when, suddenly, over the various smells of church, candles and agitated sheep, there it was. At long last, there it was, bringing back the memories of safety, security, and a big golden horse whose eyes were soft with love.

I smelled warm ginger biscuits.

And then Tanya was here.

‘You will sit back, Jenny, and breathe slowly. That is good. Has anyone thought to time the contractions? Sharon, you will do so. Kevin, please ask Andrew to join us. And I am not at all surprised at having to ask this, but where is Russell?’

No response. She sighed, heavily.

‘Kevin, can you please take Marilyn home?’

‘Yes,’ said Kevin thankfully making himself scarce, because this was Women’s Work.

I smiled to myself. This was Thomas’s doing. If he couldn’t come – he sent. And here was Tanya, miraculously appearing out of the East, taking charge and effortlessly organising us feckless Checklands back into line.

The next ten minutes were a bit of a blur – everything was lost in the business of getting me to the car so we could drive the couple of hundred yards back to Frogmorton. The snow was coming down heavily now. And if it was heavy here, how bad must it be up on the moor? Half way home, we overtook Marilyn and Kevin, making their way homewards. The two of them were dancing in the snow, jumping in and out of snowdrifts, kicking great heaps of it at each other. Having the time of their lives. Kevin waved as we went past. Marilyn looked a picture in her beloved tartan dog-coat. I had a horrible feeling she wouldn’t be parting with it until at least July and possibly not even then.

I’m not going into the details, but our daughter was born an hour or so later, at Frogmorton, in a proper bed, delivered by a tunic-wearing vet; his girlfriend; the forensic accountant, and Mrs Crisp – whose role apparently consisted of boiling up vast reservoirs of water. I have no idea what she did with it all afterwards.

After it was all over, and I had stared and stared at our daughter until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I lay back and slipped in and out of sleep. The sounds of bleating sheep, clattering hooves, and voices in the yard all swirled together in the winds of my dream, and when I opened my eyes, Russell was standing at the foot of the bed.

It took a second or two to register. I blinked and forgave him instantly because he’d obviously had a rough afternoon, too. He still had snow in his hair. His eyes were shadowed with anxiety, and he looked completely worn out. He smelled very strongly of sheep and horse.

I reached out my hand. ‘Got lost, did you?’

He didn’t move. ‘I promised I’d be here. I’m sorry. Are you angry?’

I leaned over and lifted the baby out of her cradle. ‘Of course not. Come and see.’

He sat very carefully on the bed, squashing neither me nor the baby. I felt my fears subside. He was going to be a great father. Unconventional, maybe. And definitely noisy. But no child of his would ever be lost or alone or afraid or ignored.

He tucked my hair behind my ears. ‘I don’t know, Jenny, I leave you alone for one afternoon and look what you get up to. I was thinking of trotting off to London next month for that exhibition at the Tate Modern and now I’m worried I’ll get back to find you’ve had triplets.’

I ignored him. He was just putting off the moment. ‘Do you want to hold her?’

 ‘Should I …? She’s very small … I don’t want to …’

‘Yes, just support her head.’

‘Like this?’

She looked smaller than ever in Russell’s arms.

Astonishingly, he said nothing. I think, for once, he couldn’t find the words. He smoothed her little tuft of hair with one finger. She opened her eyes wide at him and waved her little fists. He touched her face, gently outlining her features. She stared up at him. The room was completely silent, just the gentle spatter of snow on the window panes. He stroked her tiny hand. She unclenched her fist and took a good grip on his finger. He made a slight sound.

‘I think she likes you,’ I said, offering him the opportunity to say, ‘Of course she likes me. Everyone likes me. I’m very likeable’ and, astonishingly, he didn’t. He didn’t say anything.

Slightly concerned, I leaned forward to see his face and said, ‘Russell?’

He was crying.

I put my arms around him. He put one of his around me and held me tightly. I could feel his tears wet on my face.

I said, ‘Hey,’ and wiped them away.

‘I never thought I’d have this, Jenny. Back when my life was so … so bleak. I never thought I’d have anything like this. Did you?’

I thought back to my life before Russell. That great long empty expanse of nothingness. Endless day after endless day. No future. No past. No purpose. ‘No. No, I never did.’

He carefully handed her to me. ‘I’m wet, cold, and dirty. I’m going to nip off and have a shower. I’ll use the other bathroom so as not to disturb you and then, if you like, we’ll have our first dinner together. Just the three of us. You can tell me about Marilyn’s debut.’

I remembered. ‘Did you see Tanya?’

‘Yes. Andrew’s taken her home. While they could still get back to Rushford. It’s quite bad out there.’

I remembered again. ‘Where were you all this time? What happened up there?’

He paused from yanking clothes from drawers. ‘Oh, yes, I was going to ask you. Do you know anyone who’s got a big horse up on the moor? A really big horse?’

My heart thumped. It took me several seconds to say, ‘No.’

‘Well, someone has. It all went wrong, Jenny. It took far longer than we thought to find the sheep and then we had to dig most of them out. Which also took forever. And then, somehow, we got turned around. It happens so easily. We couldn’t find the path down. Everything was covered in snow. The sheep were useless – all the sense of direction of a sock. And then Boxer neighed and something answered and we saw it standing on the hill ahead of us. Biggest horse I ever saw in my life. We couldn’t get close, but I followed it down. And the sheep followed me. Martin brought up the rear. And here we are.’

He disappeared. I heard him clattering off down the landing, singing. A door opened and closed.

Silence fell.

A special sort of silence. The silence of expectancy. The expectancy of a dark, snow-filled night on Christmas Eve.

I looked over to the dim corner of the room and smiled. ‘I can see you, you know.’

He came towards the bed, swishing his tail and filling the room with his smell of ginger biscuits.

‘
Jenny, my dear friend.
’

I could hardly speak, but he would want me to make an effort. ‘Thomas.’

‘
How are you?
’

‘Well, thank you.’

‘
And the little one?
’

‘See for yourself.’

I pushed back the bedclothes, wobbled to my feet, and brought her over.

She stared up at the big, golden horse and the big, golden horse stared down at her.

‘
Jenny, she is quite beautiful.
’

‘Yes,’ I said proudly. ‘She is, isn’t she?’

‘
Does she have a name?
’

‘Yes, I named her after you.’

That startled him. ‘
You named her Thomas?
’

‘No. I named her Joy.’

She screwed up her face, smacked her lips, and tried to suck her tiny fist.

‘
Jenny … She’s an angel
.’

I smiled at him. ‘I always remember the last time I saw you. Up on the moor. Galloping away over the crest of the hill. And then, just before you disappeared, you kicked up your heels for the sheer joy of living. So I named her Joy because you bring me joy. Even when you’re not actually here. Speaking of not being here, thank you for bringing Russell home safely.’

‘
He was lost, Jenny. He didn’t know which way to go.
’ He sighed. ‘
He hasn’t changed much, has he?
’

‘Actually, I think he has. He doesn’t drink so much. He doesn’t shout so much …’

‘
But …?
’

‘But he doesn’t paint so much, either. It’s as you said – he doesn’t know which way to go. He’s lost,’ I said sadly, silently cursing my lack of life experience. ‘I should be helping him through this and I don’t know what to do.’

‘
Jenny, I think you’ve already done it. I think he draws his inspiration from his own life as he is, at that moment, living it. When he was younger, more brash, more confident, his work reflected that. Now he is older. He’s had had his fair share of disappointment and heartbreak. Just as all of us do, Jenny. It’s called life. He is, at the moment, very unsure of himself, especially in this new role as father – a very novel sensation for Russell Checkland and one which won’t do him any harm at all. He will emerge. You wait and see. And now, you’ve given him this little person to care for.
’

I smiled. ‘And you, Thomas, how are you?’

‘
I’m well, and, as always, all the better for seeing you. Sometimes, I miss you very much.
’

‘I miss you, too.’

‘
Ah, but you have this little one now. Sometimes …
’

‘Yes?’