The Magic of Christmas (37 page)

‘There’s two of every darn thing — except t’unicorn. Yon’s not going to breed on its own, Wife.’

‘Well,’ said Mrs Noah, reluctantly looking up from her knitting, which was presumably a late Christmas present she was keen to finish, ‘there’s no more of ’em. Reckon that’s the end o’ the line for t’poor little beast. I never did see much use for it, though it’s proper bonny.’

‘It attracts virgins, so they say,’ said Noah.

‘Well, it’s just thee and me now, chuck, so I reckon them have died out an’ all,’ said Mrs Noah. ‘Knit one, purl two!’

After the Ark scene we always have a break before the Nativity, so all the little animals can see Father Christmas before going home. By now Annie and Gareth had arrived together and helped Miss Pym shepherd the excited children through the arched gateway to be lined up again,
sans
masks, outside the front door of Pharamond Hall.

The rest of us went through the kitchens the back way to the cavernous hallway, where a log fire roared and the fairy lights flickered on the huge tree like so many weak fireflies (and I am sure they are not supposed to do that). Roly was sitting in an ancient carved chair next to it, dressed in the red, fur-edged hooded suit and black boots traditional on these occasions, and puffing at a cheroot, which was not. Over the years his wig and beard had yellowed with nicotine, so that I’m sure the scent of tobacco would forever remind successive generations of local children of Christmas.

In the shadows just behind the chair lurked Caz Naylor, the largest elf you ever saw, wearing pointed Spock ears and with his hat jammed down hard over his eyebrows, waiting to hand the presents to Father Christmas. What always surprised me was the way he could move so silently when his outfit was entirely covered in little bells. Perhaps he’d stuffed them with something?

The fire glowed in the huge hearth, and the candle bulbs in the cartwheel of evergreen foliage that was suspended from the ceiling were dimmed. The house smelled of cinnamon and burning fir cones, hot mince pies and spiced punch from the bowl on the trestle table laid out ready.

From beyond the great oak front doors came the sound of a lot of reedy young voices belting out ‘Good King Wenceslas’ at the top of their lungs: distillation of pure Christmas magic, again.

‘Here we go,’ Unks said, regretfully removing the stub of cheroot from his mouth and tossing it accurately into the fire. ‘Let the little blighters in.’

Nick swung the door open and a tide of children rushed forward, only to be halted in their tracks by Miss Pym, who has a presence and voice that could command armies.

‘
Stop!
’ she commanded.

‘Ho, ho, ho,’ Unks said benevolently. ‘Come in, one and all!’

Joe Gumball activated the CD player and ‘White Christmas’ began to chirrup merrily in the background.

There was a gift for every child, and while Miss Pym orchestrated the queue, the adults fell on the food and drink. A few older children appeared as parents began to turn up to collect their offspring, but there was a bag of extra gifts for this contingency, so no one went away empty-handed.

By now Jasper had arrived too, and was talking very seriously to the vicar in the corner. At a rough guess, I’d say they were discussing the eating habits of Biblical folk or something like that, unless Gareth had a personal hobby horse and a stronger will than Jasper’s. Annie had gravitated across to join them, and Trinny, wearing a collar of tinsel, was circling Ginny in a vaguely menacing manner, probably trying to decide which end was which.

Jasper picked Ginny up and Trinny immediately lost interest and wandered off under the table, where there were rich pickings in crumbs and discarded pastry. Mrs Gumball’s idea of children’s party food ran to miniature pork pies, tiny triangular sandwiches, and little jellies in paper cases with a blob of cream and a diamond of angelica on top of each. The hot mince pies and punch were strictly for the adults.

Eventually Santa announced that the reindeer were getting restless and he had to leave, which was the cue for the last of the tired but happy children to be taken home. As the final car vanished down the drive, Clive Potter firmly rounded the cast up for the final part of today’s rehearsal: the Nativity, and another song or two from the Mummers.

Jasper had already gone home and Nick was helping Roly out of his robe, boots and wig, but the rest of us trooped out again into the growing dusk, warm, full and a bit reluctant. Marian and Kylie made for the loose box changing room to adjust her Mary costume, while our Joseph, Dave Naylor, leaned against a wall in his striped robe, smoking a cigarette.

‘Where’s Ophelia?’ Jojo asked, looking around him vaguely. ‘We’re supposed to be playing “While Shepherds Watched” before the next scene starts.’

‘Dunno. Haven’t seen her for ages,’ Mick said, then cupped his hands round his mouth and bellowed, ‘Ophelia!’

‘That’s funny,’ I said. ‘Now I come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing her in the Hall, either. Has she gone home? I hope she’s feeling all right.’

Caz appeared, without his elf ears.

‘Caz,’ I called, ‘do you know where Ophelia is? Only no one seems to have see—’

I faltered as a piercing howl of anguish echoed from the stables we used as dressing rooms. Then Marian Potter’s cropped, silvery head appeared over the half-door and she cried wildly, ‘Help! Is there a doctor in the house?’ before bobbing down again, more Punch and Judy than Mystery Play.

Unfortunately Dr Patel had rehearsed his scenes the previous week so he wasn’t present. There was a second’s breathless hush, then we all rushed across the yard. Caz beat Annie and me to it, but it was a close-run thing and the others crowded up behind.

Inside the dimly lit stable, with no more ado than a couple of pangs and an animal urge to be alone, Ophelia had chosen to give birth, if not
in
the manger, certainly right
next
to it.

She lay pale, spent and panting slightly on the straw, her big eyelids closed, while Kylie, clearly revolted, was holding a messy and screaming baby at arm’s length.

It was amazing! I’d never seen an infant that so closely resembled a fox cub, and there could be absolutely no doubt that it was Caz’s.

‘Something to wrap him in,’ Marian ordered distractedly, but Joseph was already passing his voluminous striped towelling headdress over. Caz slipped through the door, removed his child from Kylie’s uncertain grasp and enfolded it in the warm material. Then he sat down on an upturned bucket. The baby, as if by magic, stopped bawling and stared up at him.

Gareth, who was still leaning over the half-door between Annie and me, now said slightly uncertainly, ‘Bless you, my child!’ like an aged bishop. Still, I don’t expect this is a situation he’s ever had to contend with before.

Clive, efficient as ever, had already trotted back to the house to tell Unks and call an ambulance. He said the horse might have bolted, but a check-up of mother and baby was clearly indicated.

There was a feeling of anticlimax about the rest of the rehearsals once Ophelia, the infant and Caz had been whisked away to hospital. Ophelia hadn’t wanted to go, and Caz had almost balked at the sight of the ambulance’s brightly lit and clinical interior, but Nick had reappeared by then and firmly shoved him in and closed the door.

‘I wonder if she’s actually got anything ready in her cottage for the baby’s arrival,’ I mused.

‘Oh, yes. Dave says all the Naylors have rallied round with baby clothes and equipment,’ Annie assured me.

‘I think their wedding had better be postponed until after the christening,’ Gareth remarked thoughtfully. ‘Or perhaps we can do both on the same occasion? I’ll have to consult the bishop.’

‘If they can decide on a name,’ I said. ‘Star and Rambo seemed to be frontrunners last time I talked to Ophelia.’

Gareth gave me a doubtful smile: I expect he thought I was joking.

We rushed through the Annunciation, Nativity and Flight into Egypt at breakneck speed. Kylie was distinctly huffy, and clearly felt she had been upstaged, though Joseph, bare-headed, performed his part with perfect sang-froid.

Afterwards, most of the cast set off for the New Mystery, and I bagged a lift with Gareth and Annie. Nick followed us down in the estate pick-up, with nine angels crammed in the back and Lucifer sitting beside him.

When we got there I took our usual corner seat with Gareth and Annie, but it was only when we sat down that I realised Nick hadn’t followed us but was smiling and talking with Polly Darke over near the bar. He’s so tall he must have had a bird’s-eye view down her cleavage: her twin prows were jutting out like the front of a catamaran.

She noticed I was watching and flashed a triumphant look in my direction as he steered her away to a darker corner, one hand under her elbow and his glossy dark head bent towards hers.

My mouth must have been hanging open, because Annie nudged me with her elbow and asked anxiously, ‘Are you all right, Lizzy? You look a bit odd.’

‘I’m fine,’ I said with an effort, ‘just a bit tired, suddenly.’

‘Yes, me too. Where’s Nick? I thought he followed us in.’

‘He decided to go for a bit of a tramp,’ I explained.

‘I expect he needed some fresh air,’ Gareth said vaguely, as if we hadn’t already spent most of the day out in the cold, freezing our socks off.

‘If you don’t mind, perhaps I’ll just get off home, after all,’ I said. ‘I feel a bit tired, and there’s such a crowd it’ll take her ages to come for our orders anyway.’

‘Don’t you want to wait and we’ll drive you back?’ asked Annie. ‘We won’t be long, because Trinny’s in the car, and she’ll get cold.’

‘No, that’s all right,’ I said, getting up. ‘It’s only five minutes away and Jasper will be there. I’ll let you know if I hear any more about how Ophelia and the baby are doing.’

On my way out I sneaked a glance at the corner where Nick and Polly were still sitting, their heads close together.

‘Come on, Mum, obviously he’s doing it for a reason,’ Jasper said, when I told him about Nick’s betrayal — which I did about five seconds after arriving home. It was that or burst.

‘Oh, yes, I could see that,’ I said shortly. Ginny, not liking the tone of my voice, ran her teeth thoughtfully up and down my ankle.

‘No, Mum, I meant it must be part of some plan he has, because he said he would deal with her, don’t you remember?’

‘Then he’s going about it in a strange way! And if you’re right, why didn’t he tell
me
what he was going to do?’

‘You kept everything a secret from him, didn’t you? He only found out from Caz and Leila what was going on. And I expect if he’d told you, your reaction when you saw them together wouldn’t have looked half as authentic. Now she’ll think she’s putting one over on you.’

‘Maybe she is: he wouldn’t be the first man unable to see past a pair of pneumatic boobs.’

‘Not Uncle Nick,’ he said stoutly. ‘Really, Mum, you can’t possibly believe that — she’s a complete dog.’

‘Bitch,’ I said, absently, because I was wondering if he could be right. Then I realised what he’d said. ‘That was a bit rude, Jasper!’

‘I suppose it was — but I only meant that she’s no competition, so you don’t need to worry about Uncle Nick falling for her.’

‘I’m not worried in the least, he can fall for anyone he likes,’ I assured him, then rather spoiled the effect by adding, ‘but while we’re speaking of bitches, Jasper, do you think you could teach yours not to nip my ankles?’

‘She’s just being friendly,’ he said fondly, bending down and giving her a pat. ‘By the way, Unks rang and told me about the nativity at the Nativity — sorry I missed it!’

‘Just don’t expect a repeat performance on Boxing Day,’ I warned him. ‘I think we’d all better stick to the script from now on.’