Chapter Four
Dan ambled slowly down the long corridor towards the school office. Either side of him kids barged past, racing towards the exit. He could feel their delight, remembered it, too. Home time.
When was the last time he’d been excited to get home?
As a kid, home had been a large country house just outside Riddlescomb, even though his parents hadn’t always been with him.
Being actors themselves, they’d flitted between Riddlescomb, their apartment in London and periods of filming abroad, when he wouldn’t see them for weeks, maybe months.
It had never bothered him much because Penny had always been there.
His nanny in title, his substitute mum in everything that had mattered.
Losing her to a heart attack three years ago had knocked the stuffing out of him. But to lose a partner? Suddenly he felt bad about giving Sid grief. So what if A Christmas Carol was boring as shit? If putting it on made Sid happy, did it matter?
As he neared the office he saw a girl sitting on the chair outside, swinging her feet back and forward. Brown curly hair, socks hanging down by her ankles. Scuffed black shoes and grazed knees. Smiling to himself, he sat on the chair next to her.
‘Waiting to see the head teacher, huh?’
A pair of sharp green eyes gave him a quizzical look. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Dan.’ He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘And I’ve been told to wait behind after school to see the head teacher, too.’
‘You have?’ She grinned and he felt his own face grin right back at her. ‘Have you been naughty?’
He thought back to his chat with Sid. ‘Not naughty, but maybe not as kind as I could have been.’ She nodded soberly, as if she understood.
He didn’t know much about kids — thanks a bunch, Natalie — but he’d like to bet this girl, who couldn’t be more than eight or nine, was as bright as the spark in her eyes.
‘What about you? What did you do?’ He glanced down at her scraped knees.
‘Been climbing trees when you should have been in class?’
She giggled and the sound alone was enough to cheer his mood. ‘Nope. I climbed them at playtime. My mum says you shouldn’t miss class. It’s bad for your edu . . . edu . . .’
‘Education,’ he supplied. ‘And your mum is smart. Wish my mum had told me the same.’ Not that it would have made much difference.
Acting had been in his blood. At least he’d thought it was, though maybe he’d been kidding himself.
Maybe he’d never really had what it took to act and he’d just got by on luck, connections and a pretty face.
And now the luck had run out.
‘Did you miss class when you were at school?’
Thank God for an innocent question to take him out of his head. ‘Only maths. Couldn’t get my brain around it so I used to bunk off on heavy maths days.’
Her bright green eyes rounded. ‘Where did you go?’
‘Nowhere exciting. Usually to the park to kick a ball around with a couple of mates who hated maths, too. Sometimes we’d walk to the shops.’ The memories came flooding back. ‘I’d buy Sherbet Fountains and eat them until I felt sick.’
‘Did you get caught?’
‘Sure, all the time. I wasn’t clever enough to avoid it.’ He grinned. ‘Hence why I spent a lot of my time sitting outside the head teacher’s office like you are, waiting to be given an ear bashing. And trust me, my head teacher was a lot meaner than yours.’
At the sound of a throat being cleared he looked up, only to find Anna eyeing him speculatively. ‘Who’s getting an ear bashing?’
He glanced at the girl, who was now grinning broadly, and then back at Anna. ‘Nobody, I hope.’
Anna looked like she was trying not to laugh. ‘I see you’ve met my daughter, Maisie.’
His jaw dropped open. He was about to ask, are you shitting me?
Just as he realised how inappropriate the language would be, Maisie peeled into fits of laughter.
Now he knew she was Anna’s daughter; the same cute button nose, same warm, easy laugh and wide smile.
They clearly had the same sense of humour too, as Anna was laughing along with her daughter. ‘Maisie didn’t tell you, did she?’
‘Nope.’ Recalling their conversation, he groaned and shook his head at the girl. ‘But you’re good at keeping a secret, huh? Because we wouldn’t want your mum to find out about my . . . antics at school.’
‘You mean how you went to the shop to buy sweets instead of going to maths lessons?’
Her grin was totally infectious, and if he hadn’t felt a little embarrassed at what he’d let slip, a little stupid for not realising she was Anna’s daughter and more than a little wrong-footed about it all, he might have laughed back. Instead, all he could manage was an awkward smile.
‘Maisie, why don’t you pop over to Hayley’s desk and start your homework while I talk to Mr Ramsey?’
‘Is he in trouble, ’cause I’m sure if he did upset anyone, he didn’t mean it.’
Anna looked at him, her eyes dancing. ‘Is that right?’
Heat crept across his face. Bloody hell, he hadn’t blushed since he’d been a pupil here. ‘Your daughter asked me if I’d been naughty. I told her I hadn’t been as kind as I could have been.’
Anna’s eyes, oh so pretty, softened and he felt something inside him stir. He wasn’t just attracted to this woman, he liked her.
‘Mr Ramsey isn’t in trouble,’ Anna told Maisie. ‘He’s an actor and he’s agreed to help us with the Christmas production this year.’
Maisie’s eyes lit up. ‘Wow, that’s amazeballs.’ She angled her head towards him and her curls bounced around her face. ‘Do you like funny plays, ’cause the ones we’ve done so far have been well boring.’
And just like that, Dan realised he was invested in choosing the right play, after all.
* * *
Anna sat down at her desk as Dan levered his long frame into the chair opposite her, just as he had when they’d first met a few weeks ago.
Now though, she felt she knew him that little bit better.
Only a couple of phone calls, and the brief chat with Sid today, but it was enough for her to realise he wasn’t as smooth as he appeared, or as confident.
He was also surprisingly nice. Admitting he hadn’t been kind to Sid, when actually it was Sid who’d been unkind .
. . heck, something inside her chest had melted a little at that.
And okay, being nice was scoffed at nowadays, both the word and the trait, but Anna had never understood why.
Wasn’t being nice one of the most important attributes a person could have?
‘About Sid.’ Dan shuffled forward on his chair, arms resting on his thighs, a pensive expression on his face. ‘I don’t want to upset him any more than I already have.’
Again, Anna felt the warm flutter inside her chest. ‘He’s upset because he’s lonely, because he misses his wife, because he’s not found anything else to live for outside his work.
Not because of anything you’ve done.’ She met his bold blue gaze head-on.
‘I’m the one who asked you to help him, and I’m the one who requested a play with a bit of fun for a change.
Sid’s nose might be put out of joint for a while, which I feel a little guilty about, but it won’t stop me from doing what I think is right for both him and the school.
He needs to get pushed out of his comfort zone, because I can tell you now, he’s not actually comfortable there.
He’s slowly losing the will to live. The real Sid is fun, when he gets going. ’
Dan gave her a dry smile. ‘I’ll take your word for that.’
‘I hope you’ll see if for yourself, in time.
’ She paused. Time to turn the conversation back to what they were meant to be discussing.
‘I’m all for tradition, and the classics, but that’s all this school has put on since I can remember.
We need a play that will ignite the interest of the kids, parents and the community.
Something with a bit of panache, humour and energy. ’
‘I hear you.’ He smiled. ‘Looks like I’m writing a play.’
Anna felt a warning prick of discomfort. ‘Or maybe we can just choose one that Sid doesn’t hate.’
Dan started to laugh. ‘Come on, you heard the man. He’s going to hate anything remotely modern or fun from that website. I figure if we write it ourselves, we can keep a traditional nativity for old Sid, and others like him, and have a bit of humour around it for everyone else.’
Trusting him to write it in a couple of weeks . . . it had danger flags all over it. ‘Have you ever written a play?’
‘Not exactly.’ He shrugged and gave her a dry smile. ‘How hard can it be?’
More prickles raced across her skin. ‘What about the songs?’
‘We can keep to Christmas carols.’ Another smile. ‘Everyone loves a bit of “We Three Kings” at Christmas.’
Damn, he was being so . . . she was going to use that word again .
. . nice about it. Yet all she could see was them flying through November with no play.
Having to scramble about at the last minute to find a suitable replacement, something that fitted with the same concept because already they needed to think of scenery and costumes. Bugger, bugger, bugger.
He must have read something on her face because he sighed and leant back in his chair. ‘You don’t trust me to write it, do you?’
‘I’m worried you have more important commitments.’
‘Yet I already told you I have stuff all else to do at the moment.’
‘The key words being at the moment. What happens when you’re offered something more exciting than putting on a primary school play?’
He started to laugh, while also shaking his head, and she could tell the laughter was more disbelief than humour. ‘Did you read the recent press reports about me?’