Chapter Thirty-Three #2
He gave her a small smile, then raised a hand and ran it through his curls. They were unruly, as if he’d been doing that all day.
‘Hey,’ Imogen mouthed, lifting her own hand in greeting.
He gave her another tight smile, then looked away, and Imogen’s heart dropped into her ballet pumps.
He was over her. She was still getting everything wrong.
She hadn’t been careful enough with his feelings, hadn’t told him soon enough that she was staying, and she’d lost him.
Now she had to get up on stage and perform with him, knowing that it was over, and it was all her fault.
She sank into her seat next to Jazz and raised her eyes to the ceiling, willing herself not to cry. And then she saw it – hanging all the way along the walls on either side, a bit higher than head height so she hadn’t noticed it earlier: sprigs and sprigs of plump, healthy mistletoe.
‘Where did all that come from?’
‘Dunno,’ Jazz said. ‘Maybe Harry’s got a taste for it now, and wanted some more for Christmas Day.’
‘So many kisses.’ Imogen glanced along their row, but she could only see Dexter’s arm.
The murmuring died down and Fiona, wearing a green silk dress and red heels, strode onto the stage.
‘Happy Christmas Eve Eve, Mistingham,’ she said into the microphone.
‘It’s wonderful to see so many of you here tonight.
Thank you for coming to our Snow Show, a very apt name for our replacement for the Oak Fest which, I think we can all agree, would have been a white-out, if not a wash-out.
Thank you to Harry and Sophie Anderly for hosting us, and to Dexter at Mistingham Bakery and Natasha from the Blossom Bough for the wonderful refreshments.
We have such a treat for you tonight: festive scenes and romantic moments, poems and skits that go from funny to sizzling to emotional.
I hope you all see something you enjoy, and please applaud our performers generously; they have worked hard for tonight.
Without further ado, let’s welcome Frank and Valerie to the stage.They’re performing a scene from one of the most famous Christmas books – one I hope you’ll recognize. ’
There were whoops and cheers as the older residents made their way slowly but confidently onto the stage, Valerie with her long loop of chains.
A male voice somewhere behind Imogen said, ‘Is this performance X-rated? Because the last book I read with chains in was Fifty Shades of Grey.’ Heads swivelled to see who had spoken, and Jazz’s shoulders shook with laughter, but Imogen was in a panic.
She realized, having left the last rehearsal to go and talk with Edmund, she had no clue about the running order; no idea how long she had to wait, surviving through creeping death, until Fiona called her and Dexter’s names.
She half-watched Valerie and Frank’s performance, and had to admit that, with the lights down low and the help of some flickering LED candles and Valerie’s chains, it was incredibly atmospheric.
Then came Oscar and Rose Devlin, charming everyone with their scene from The Grinch, which got a lot of anticipated laughter along with some that was probably incidental.
Fiona and Ermin were next, performing a scene from Jane Eyre that neither of them had mentioned or done at any of the rehearsals.
‘What the fuck?’ Jazz whispered, when they began. ‘I know they’re not my mum and dad, but they’re the closest thing I’ve got, and this is more cringey than anything I have ever had to deal with in my life.’
Imogen squeezed her arm. ‘Zone out, if you can. Though actually, they’re very good.’
Jazz didn’t reply, and when Imogen dragged her gaze from the stage, her friend had her chin tucked against her chest, her eyes squeezed closed.
Then it was Jazz and Mary’s turn. Their Hallmark sketch was as good as it had ever been, and included a few jokes that were on the risqué side, and that they hadn’t included during any of the rehearsals, so Imogen guessed Jazz had got Fiona and Ermin back in the embarrassment stakes.
She craned her neck to try and see Fiona’s expression, but couldn’t find her.
She had just started to enjoy herself, to almost forget that she was still due to perform with the man that – she had realized not very long ago – she was in love with, but who was either mad at her or had washed his hands of her.
And, even if it hadn’t all gone wrong between them, their rehearsing had been entirely inadequate, because a lot had happened, and also – also – she had planned something impromptu, and it was too late to find Harry and stop it from happening.
She had almost forgotten all of that, and her palms weren’t quite as clammy as they had been, but then Jazz and Mary’s scene ended with uproarious laughter and applause, and they bowed and curtsied and high-fived each other, then hurried off the stage while Fiona took their place.
‘That was wonderful,’ Fiona gushed, ‘and unexpected! It’s made me want to switch to the Hallmark channel as soon as I get home.
And now for some good, old-fashioned Regency romance.
I’m not talking Bridgerton,’ she added quickly, ‘but something by one of the best-loved authors on the planet. With an entirely non-risqué scene from Northanger Abbey, please welcome our beloved baker Dexter Rivera, and Mistingham’s newest resident, Imogen Rowsell.
’ There were more whoops and applause, and Imogen watched as Dexter stood up and looked over at her.
She stood too, but she couldn’t scootch along the row to join him, because there wasn’t space.
He gave her a tiny shrug and walked down the central aisle to the stage, while she slipped past Jazz and went around the edge, meeting him at the bottom of the steps.
‘Hey,’ he whispered.
‘Hello,’ she said. Her voice wavered, which wasn’t a good start.
‘Ready?’ Before she had a chance to reply, he held out his hand. And, even if there wasn’t a future for them, if she’d messed it up before they’d really got going, she was grateful for Dexter’s kindness. She just hoped he would forgive her for what was about to happen.
‘Ready,’ she lied.
She put her hand in his, and was both relieved and unnerved to discover it was as clammy as hers. Together, they walked up the steps and onto the stage, to perform in front of the whole of Mistingham.