Chapter Twenty
On the morning of the pantomime dress rehearsal, Chloe woke up with a battalion of nerves dancing a jig in her chest. She had no idea what to expect, but she reassured herself that it would be difficult to make a mess of the role of “stand-in oak tree”, and number three at that.
She had always avoided taking part in theatrical productions at school, unlike Martha who had jumped at every chance she got to be front and centre of the stage. She wished she could be more like her sister, who had used the traumatic event their family had endured to head out into the big wide world, shoulders back, chin held high, determined to squeeze the most from every opportunity that was offered to her.
After a quick shower, she gathered her hair into a ponytail, then pulled on a pair of black jeans and her trusty Christmas jumper, grabbed her coat and bag, and headed down the stairs. As she was running a few minutes late, she was relieved that she and Nick had had the foresight to bake a batch of the fairywand cookies the previous night and that they were on the kitchen table, sealed in one of Ruth’s Tupperware boxes, ready to hand over to Hannah – along with two bottles of the Sunny Smile cider Jake had asked for after hearing Joe and Audrey’s exuberant praise for the beverage after the cocktail night – on the proviso that she serve them to Jake and no one else.
‘Hey Chloe, ready for your acting debut?’
‘I think it’s more background scenery than background artist .’
Nick grinned and Chloe experienced a sharp kick of attraction. His hair was now a little longer than when she had first met him, less styled, more casual, and instead of being clean-shaven he sported a smattering of stubble across his jawline. He had also discarded the corporate-looking shirts in favour of his uncle’s much-less-formal brushed cotton ones, and there was no sign of his highly polished leather loafers. It was as though his sharp edges had been buffed away to reveal a more natural, more authentic, version of Nick Harper that was hiding underneath.
‘Every role is a vital part of the production!’ said Nick, striding down the hallway towards the front door, his arms laden with a spaghetti of cables, which he loaded into the back of the Range Rover. ‘Come on. We don’t want to incur Liz’s wrath by being too late, do we? Mitzy? Mitzy, where are you? Ah, there you are. Come on, jump in the car if you want to tag along!’
Chloe smiled when she saw Mitzy emerge from her daily exploration of the library wearing a jaunty neckerchief made from a triangle of fabric printed with teddy bears wearing Santa hats in honour of their pantomime rehearsal. She was delighted to see that Nick was starting to enter into the spirit of things.
Maybe he’d finally realised that Christmas could be fun.
She hoped so.
‘Guess what?’ said Nick, as he fastened Mitzy into the back seat and took his place behind the steering wheel. ‘I’ve just had a text from Liz to say that all the tickets for the Friday matinee have now been sold, and there are only six tickets left for the Saturday night performance. She’s absolutely thrilled and has put it down to our panto-promo cocktail event, as well as Joe’s write-up about it in the Perrinsby Post .’
‘Oh, that’s great news.’
As they drove past the village green, Chloe couldn’t fail to see her Renault parked outside Joe’s garage, its paintwork sparkling in the weak winter sunshine. Joe had promised it would be ready for her on Tuesday morning and he’d been true to his word, but far from being happy about it, she’d experienced a somersault of disappointment that she no longer had a valid excuse to remain in the village.
She knew Nick had noticed it too, and she saw him cast a worried glance in her direction. She didn’t have to be Einstein’s younger sister to know what he was thinking; he’d invited her to stay on in Cornwall several times, not just to attend the pantomime on Friday and Saturday, but for Christmas, too, and it was time to make a decision.
Should she stay or should she leave?
She couldn’t deny that staying in Ruth’s beautiful loft apartment was a dream come true, and something she hadn’t dared to think about a few short weeks ago when she lost her home. Spending time with Nick, and Mitzy, at Fairholme Farm, drinking coffee in the cosy kitchen or tasting cider in the renovated barn, had been some of the best days she’d had in a year that had sent so many challenges tumbling her way.
When Nick drew to a stop outside the village hall and she saw how many people were milling around, every one of them smiling, every one of them keen to offer whatever assistance they could to make sure that the annual village pantomime went off without a hitch, she knew that she wanted to be part of that, to offer her own support to the people who had welcomed her into their community.
‘Chloe, I know Joe has—’
‘I’d like to stay on for a few more days after the dress rehearsal,’ she blurted, her heart softening when she saw the delight, and relief, that flooded Nick’s eyes. ‘Just so I can help Fran with the shows on Friday afternoon and Saturday night… if that’s okay with you?’
‘It’s fantastic! You’ve just made my day!’
‘ Woof ! Woof !’
‘And you’ve made Mitzy’s day, too, by the sounds of it!’ Nick laughed as he jumped from the car and strode round to the boot to collect his cables. ‘Look, there’s Liz with her clipboard. Oh my God, I don’t believe it! Is that a stopwatch?’
Feeling like she’d won the lottery, Chloe collected the Tupperware box containing Hannah’s biscuits and the bottles of cider for Jake, climbed down from the passenger seat and headed into the squat, rectangular building, which turned out to be much more modern inside than she had expected. It had clearly been updated recently to include a state-of-the-art kitchen, an impressive stage and backstage area, and a newly varnished floor in the main hall.
Chairs had been set out in neat rows of twelve – six on each side of a central aisle – facing a heavy crimson velvet curtain that would swish back into the wings when a performance was ready to begin. A gentle hum of activity reverberated around the room as everyone went about their allocated tasks in an efficient and orderly manner or congregated at the refreshments table that Hannah had set up for those who wanted to grab a coffee and a quick chat with their fellow thespians before continuing with their respective duties.
‘Hi, Hannah.’
‘Oh, hi, Chloe, hi Nick.’ Hannah crouched down to make a fuss of Mitzy, and when she stood back up her eyes immediately snagged the Tupperware box Chloe was holding, and she grinned. ‘Are they…?’
Chloe leaned forward so she could whisper in Hannah’s ear, ‘There’s only a few, so I suggest you keep them for… personal use.’
‘Gotcha. Thanks, Chloe.’
‘No problem. Good luck. Oh, and here are the bottles of cider Jake asked for.’
Chloe smiled as she watched Hannah hide the box and the cider underneath her satsuma orange coat, and to her surprise, when she met Nick’s eyes, he didn’t roll them in exasperation like he usually did.
‘Okay, I’d better get to work on the sound system – DJ Nick Harper is in the building!’
‘I don’t think DJing is what Liz—’
‘Catch you later, Chlo!’
Nick disappeared into the throng of people who were heading backstage and Chloe knew it was time she found Fran and put herself at her disposal. After searching what felt like every room in the whole of the village hall, she finally spotted a partially concealed door to the left of the stage, and when she opened it and peered inside, there was no doubt whatsoever that she’d found the right place.
Weak winter sunshine streamed through the large windows that looked onto the green, and dust particles jumped and jived as they obeyed the instructions of an invisible dance master. There was hardwearing grey carpet on the floor, and two of the walls had been given over to wooden shelving that was crammed with boxes upon boxes of children’s brightly coloured plastic toys, illustrated picture books, yarn and knitting needles, and a range of glass vases and china crockery. In the corner, next to the window and the ancient upright piano, was a Christmas tree decorated with an eclectic mix of hand-made ornaments and baubles, some more accomplished than others, but the final result was striking.
The room was obviously used by numerous community groups from Babies she was, after all, an expert when it came to acting the part of “bright and breezy” daughter, sister, friend and colleague, and she was saddened to see someone she cared about doing the same thing.
Was that how people saw her?
Did they know it was all an act?
Perturbed by the possibility that her carefully polished act had fooled no one, she finished her tea, then strolled to the back of the stage, taking a few minutes to appreciate the design of the background scenery.
There were three sets of tri-folding wooden boards, each fastened together with hinges to create a concertinaed effect: one featuring a dark and eerie woodland, the other two featuring the interior of the three bears’ house – the kitchen for the “chair” and the “porridge” scenes, and the bedroom for the “sleeping” scene. All three had been beautifully illustrated by Ryan who owned the Perrinsby art gallery, and who was currently adding a few final touches to the “bedroom” scene with a paintbrush.
‘Hi, Ryan, these are fabulous. You are very talented.’
‘Oh, hi, Chloe, thanks. I’ve been here since five o’clock this morning to get everything finished before I head off to Florida for Christmas. I’m starting to panic because I have to leave in’ – Ryan checked his ancient Timex watch – ‘two hours’ time to catch an eight-hour flight from Heathrow, and I’ve barely started to pack.’
‘Well, if you need any help, I—’
A sudden screeching sound sliced through the air – feedback from the sound system – and everyone in the village hall stopped what they were doing, screwed up their faces and pushed their fingers in their ears.
‘Whoa, what was that?’ someone asked.
Chloe and Ryan turned to watch Liz dash across the hall to where Nick was fiddling with the sound deck and there followed an animated conversation that involved a lot of hand gestures on both sides and the distinctive use of the word “DJ”. Next to Nick was a small trestle table housing a number of obscure objects: an old shoe, a brass bell, a dish and a spoon, two pieces of wood, a hammer, a pair of coconut shells, several empty crisp packets, a roll of tin foil and various other random knickknacks.
‘This looks like one of those memory games,’ said Chloe, joining Nick when Liz had finished admonishing him.
‘It’s the Foley table, for the production’s sound effects.’
‘I get the dish and spoon for the porridge scene, but why the coconut shells?’
Ryan laughed. ‘For the pantomime horse?’
‘Ah, yes, of course.’ Chloe giggled.
At two o’clock on the dot, Liz called the cast and crew into the main hall – which she determinedly referred to as “the auditorium” – and proceeded to deliver an uplifting pep talk about what they’d achieved and why they were doing it. She thanked everyone for all their hard work and effort in every sphere of the production before issuing the customary directive to “break a leg” and asking them to get ready for the final dress rehearsal.
Chloe wished a surprisingly nervous Nick good luck, then sprinted to the wardrobe room, shimmied into her tree costume, and took up her place as Oak Tree No. 3 alongside Jake and a friend of his from the local rugby club – also a newly qualified sports physio – who he’d managed to rope in at the last minute to make up the “forestry” numbers. She wasn’t sure, but she thought alcohol might have been involved because there was a surprising amount of “swaying in the wind” going on.
From the moment the curtain swished back, everyone performed their roles with flawless precision, and it was clear to Chloe that a great deal of hard work had gone into making Goldilocks and the Three Bears the best show in town. No one forgot their lines, and the script was funny in places, poignant in others. The only hiccup occurred in the final act when Goldilocks strode from the wings to take her place on Baby Bear ’s bed, and the hook of a thoughtlessly discarded coat hanger ripped her wig from her head causing a “bald-headed” Sukie to stand like a gob-smacked goldfish in the middle of the stage for longer than Liz thought necessary before Fran rushed to retrieve the wig.
When the curtain finally came down, according to Liz’s trusty stopwatch they had only overrun by ten minutes – which she laid firmly at the door of the “wig incident” – and everyone was so hyped up with exuberance at their collective success that it took Liz’s husband Gordon to suggest they all adjourn to the pub for a celebratory drink on the house for the hall to empty.
‘Did you have fun?’ asked Nick.
‘ Soo much fun!’ said Chloe, removing the last of her “brown bark” makeup from her face. ‘In fact, I’ve had so much fun that I’ve offered to continue in the role of Oak Tree No. 3 for the public performances!’
‘That’s great.’ Nick laughed.
‘And Liz has asked if I’d help with the clearing up on Sunday morning, too.’
‘On Christmas Eve?’
‘Yes…’
‘Does that mean you’re staying in Perrinsby for Christmas?’
‘If that’s—’
‘Whoop! That’s the best news I’ve heard all day!’
To her surprise, Nick placed his hands on her waist, lifted her from her feet, and spun her round and round and round in obvious delight. She laughed, thrilled that he was happy with her decision. When he finally came to a stop, there was a brief pause during which she thought he was going to kiss her. She was disappointed when he didn’t, until she realised they’d attracted an inquisitive audience. She wasn’t sure she wanted everyone to know how close they’d grown over the last couple of weeks.
‘Come on, let’s join everyone at the Dog & Whistle to celebrate.’