Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-two
At half past four, the door buzzer jerked her out of a snooze. She wiped the dribble off her chin, checked her face in the hall mirror, and answered the intercom.
“It’s James. Merry Christmas. Now if you’re about done doing Christmas for yourself, get your coat on and come down here.” His voice was fuzzy through the speaker.
She wasn’t done, really, but her heart had skipped several beats at the sound of his voice and she always got excited when he used his most stern voice on her.
“Merry Christmas to you too. Why do you need me to come down there?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
If he wanted her to come downstairs, it was unlikely that he had postprandial ravishing in mind. More’s the pity .
“Could you bring the surprise up here?”
“Afraid not,” came the crackling response.
She sighed, but aside from binge-watching Downton Abbey and eating her own weight in honey-roasted cashew nuts, her plans this evening were pretty fluid, so she pressed the speak button on the intercom and said, “Give me three minutes.”
“Roger that.”
I wish you’d roger me! she thought, but then her stomach gurgled; she’d take coitus off the menu for today.
Five minutes later—scented candles snuffed and hair zhooshed—she was sat in the passenger side of James’s car. He leaned over and kissed her, and she wished she’d been less liberal with the garlic in her stuffing.
“You smell good enough to eat,” he said.
“Garlic. Sorry about that.”
“No, that’s not it, you smell like cinnamon buns.”
“Ah, that’ll be my Christmas candles.”
“You mean you finally unboxed the fanciest candles?” He pulled a shocked face.
“And lit them.”
“Now that’s a Christmas miracle!” He smiled.
After stealing another kiss that made her rethink her sex embargo, James started the engine, and they pulled out onto the empty road.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said, smiling smugly. “Did you enjoy your day of solitary decadence?”
She sighed contentedly. “I certainly did.”
“I’m glad.”
“You know, I have you to thank for that. If you hadn’t forced me to put up my decorations and Evaline hadn’t kept going on about self-love, I would have spent the whole day sulking in my bauble-barren apartment, eating dry instant noodles and hating Christmas.”
“A veritable Harriet Scrooge.”
“Exactly.”
“I suppose that makes me one of the ghosts of Christmas.”
“The ghost of pain in the bum,” she goaded.
He smiled but didn’t take his eyes off the snowy road.
“Was it nice to spend Christmas morning with Lyra?” she asked.
“It was. I dropped her at the hotel where Morgan is staying just before lunch.”
“You didn’t eat with them?”
“No, I had somewhere else to be, and as much as I respect Morgan, she is not the person that I wanted to spend my day with.”
He gave her a quick, meaningful glance that left her in no doubt that it was her that he wanted to spend his day with, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the warm sensation as it flooded through her.
“Here?” she exclaimed as they pulled up outside the theater.
“Here,” he confirmed.
She couldn’t imagine why James would bring her to the theater on Christmas Day. The snow had lain thickly on the empty pavements of the town and banked up around the trunk of the Christmas tree, but as she walked up the path to the theater entrance, she noted that it had seen a lot of traffic; all kinds of footprints traveling up and down the path were freezing in place as the late-afternoon temperature dropped, ready for what promised to be another snowy night.
When she pushed open the doors she was hit with scents of fresh coriander, cinnamon, fried onions, and garlic. Despite her gigantic festive lunch, her stomach growled loudly. James eyed her stomach, smiling knowingly.
“It’s after five o’clock!” she said indignantly. “Dinner was four hours ago.”
She didn’t mention that dinner in its entirety had taken her two hours to consume.
“I didn’t say a thing.” He grinned. “Come on.”
He jogged up the stairs, and Harriet followed behind at a pace befitting a woman who had recently eaten her own weight in Christmas pudding.
As she neared the top of the staircase, she could hear voices coming from within the auditorium. She was briefly transported back to when she’d first ventured inside the theater in search of her truanting students. And look at the old girl now , she thought lovingly as she ran her hand up the newly varnished handrail and felt the bounce of thick carpet beneath her boots. She wasn’t sure if buildings had souls, but if they did, she felt connected to the Winter Theater’s. It had ceased to be merely bricks and mortar to her and had become a refuge, and a sanctuary to all those it welcomed through its doors.
“Are you ready?” James asked as they stood at the top of the staircase, outside the doors to the auditorium. He was smiling like someone who was very pleased with himself.
“I think so?” She frowned.
“Good.”
They pushed the doors open, and a wave of noise and aromas washed over her. Down below, the stage had been set with many trestle tables laid out in a large U formation, with chairs on both sides. A few seats were taken, but mostly people were zipping back and forth delivering trays piled mountainously high with food to the tables. Steam curled above smorgasbords of pastries, pakoras, falafel, sausage rolls, and that was just what Harriet could identify from her vantage point. Josef climbed onto the stage, and Billy rushed to take the enormous chocolate Yule log from him and laid it on the table. Carly and Leo followed behind with two more plates. Everywhere she looked, she saw the brightly colored hijabs belonging to the women of Hesther’s refugee group as they chatted with friends and helped to ferry the trays of food.
“What. I. What is all this?” she finally managed to stammer.
“Merry Christmas, Harriet,” said James.
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you? Take a closer look.”
She reached the bottom of the stairs and walked slowly down the middle aisle, taking in the familiar—and some not so familiar—faces of the bustling crowd that was filling the tables with food and taking seats around them. The Lonely Farts Club was in full attendance, as were the Great Foss Players—Gideon leading the charge of filling glasses from a bottle with a homemade label. Grace was chatting with Tess and Arthur while Sid sat on her other side, his head resting on her shoulder, as he read from the open book on his lap.
Someone waved at Harriet from the stage, and she recognized Ricco’s parents, and with them Isabel’s mum and siblings. Carly and Isabel were herding a dozen or so little kids as they sprinted in and out of the wings. Farahnoush and Mallory pulled a Christmas cracker that made a loud pop, and everyone mingled with everyone.
As she reached the orchestra pit, Hesther came over to greet her.
“Merry Christmas,” Hesther said, smiling.
“You don’t celebrate Christmas,” laughed Harriet.
“But you do. And besides, this isn’t a Christmas party per se; it’s a nonspecific winter party that happens to fall on December the twenty-fifth.”
“I love a nonspecific winter party!” Harriet gushed. “This is wonderful! How did you get everyone together? On Christmas Day! And how did I not know about this?”
Hesther nodded in James’s direction. “James did most of the organizing, and everyone chipped in where they could. We wanted to get you a thank-you gift for facilitating our gatherings, but nothing seemed to measure up.”
“And then Billy suggested that maybe the best gift we could give you was to throw a party that you didn’t have to organize,” James chimed in.
Harriet laughed at that. “This was your idea, Billy?”
Billy shrugged. “No big deal.”
“It was unanimously agreed that you deserved to just turn up and enjoy something for once, and after that it was easy to keep it a secret,” Hesther finished.
From nowhere, tears pricked at Harriet’s eyes.
“Okay, I have to go back and supervise the kitchen, so I’ll leave you to mingle.” Hesther pulled Harriet into a hug. “Enjoy,” she whispered into her ear. “And thank you.”
“Are you all right?” James handed her a tissue and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“I am so much more than all right.”
It was loud. It was chaotic. And it was wonderful. It was family. Harriet hadn’t thought she’d be able to eat another morsel, but it turned out there was always room for one more tempura king prawn and a baklava bite to finish it off.
After a while, the children left the grown-ups to sit around the tables chatting and went off to play tag in the stalls. People leaned back in their chairs, belts and buttons undone, while still picking at their plates. There was so much laughter, Harriet wished she could bottle it.
“So, talk us through your meeting with Evaline,” Gideon asked. “What’s the plan going forward? I’ve asked James, but you know what solicitors are like, cagey bunch.”
James laughed. “Allow me to protest,” he said. “All I said was, let’s wait until we’re all together and Harriet’s here too, since it is she who will be affected the most by all of this.”
“Like I said, cagey.” Gideon folded his arms. Today his waistcoat bore one blue and one red nutcracker soldier down each panel.
Evaline’s announcement after the play had taken everyone by surprise and left Harriet with some careful thinking to do. Of course, Gideon would be interested; as far as he was concerned, having Harriet and James at the helm was practically being gifted his own theater.
Harriet was aware that many pairs of eyes were now directed at her.
“Well, obviously it means all the groups who have found their home at the theater can remain here.”
Exclamations of relief went up around the table.
“And we’ll hold meetings to make sure we are doing the best that we can for people and also to plan for the future. This is such an incredible opportunity, we really need to ensure we get the most out of it, and of course this is a community theater and space, so we need to find a way to be self-sufficient. I have a few ideas of my own on that score and I’ll be asking all of you for your thoughts too.”
“I have a lot of thoughts,” said Josef.
“Good. Start making notes, because I’m scheduling our inaugural meeting for the first week in January,” Harriet replied.
“I’ll be suggesting more productions,” said Gideon.
“Of course you will.” Ken winked. Beside him his wife smacked his arm playfully. “You’re not going to be driving yourself into the ground for free, I hope, Harriet?”
“Evaline has offered to take me on as a permanent member of staff.” She wasn’t sure why she felt so self-conscious saying it.
“She’s offered you the role of chief executive of the Winter Theater,” James corrected. “And Evaline is going to change her will. The theater will be held in trust for the community, with Harriet and me as the trustees. We will be looking to form a board of directors going forward.”
“Harriet! That’s fantastic!” Hesther gushed.
“You’re going to leave the school?” asked Leo’s mum.
“I don’t know yet. I need to think about it. I guess I need to decide where I’m most useful.”
“Here at the theater, of course!” Gideon exclaimed. The sentiment echoed around the table.
“I have responsibilities at the school too,” Harriet replied.
“Maybe you could incorporate the two, somehow?” suggested Hesther. “Work here but liaise with Foss and maybe even other schools.”
“Yes,” agreed Grace. “A place for youngsters like the famous five.”
“Which is how it all began in the first place.” James smiled. “With that first meeting in Evaline’s car when you suggested creating a safe space for the young people of Little Beck Foss.”
How could I forget! She smiled back at him.
“Does everyone automatically refer to us as the famous five now?” huffed Carly.
“ Yes! ” came the unanimous response followed by an explosion of laughter.
“Well, I have faith that whatever you decide will be for the best,” said Odette to nods and noises of agreement. “A very merry Nonspecific Winter Christmas Party to you all!”
It was late by the time James drove Harriet back to her flat, her plate of leftovers on her lap, his in the back seat. The snow was gentle, as though cherubs on fluffy clouds were blowing white feathers off their palms.
They parked outside the library. The street was deserted, though windows glowed with life behind the curtains.
“What are your plans tomorrow?” he asked.
“A quiet morning and then I’ll be going over to Emma and Pete’s for the afternoon. You?”
“Brunch with Lyra and then a quiet afternoon.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“I wondered if you’d like to join us for brunch. I know Lyra would love to have you there. And Morgan is keen to meet you. If that wouldn’t be too weird?”
She smiled.
“I think we are way past weird. In fact, I was going to ask if you’d like to join me at Emma and Pete’s for the afternoon. Their kids basically want to grill you.”
He chuckled. “Checking I’m good enough for you?”
“One hundred percent. Maybe I could brunch with you and then you could afternoon with me?” she wondered. “Then we’ll have properly met each other’s people. Aside from Maisy, of course—you have that pleasure to come.”
“I’d like that,” he said, taking her hand. “Very much.”
They sat quietly, gazing at one another. Harriet felt blessed not only for having met James but for all the people who had found their way to the theater. They made for a loud, messy, imperfect kind of gang, but she knew she could count on them to show up for each other on the bad days as well as the good and that if one in their number should stumble, many hands would shoot out to catch them. The knowledge was a warm, bone-deep comfort.
“On any other day I would invite you up,” she said finally. “But I think I’d like to finish this Christmas off in my own company, if you don’t mind?”
“Not one bit. You deserve some quality time with yourself. And tomorrow we’ll enjoy each other’s company even more for it.”
“Perfect.”
James walked her to her door, and they kissed beneath the cottony moon. Her flat was warm and cozy, and it welcomed her in. She changed into fleecy pajamas, poured herself a generous glass of chocolate Baileys, and piled a plate with leftovers to pick at. Then she snuggled under a blanket on her sofa, with only the twinkle lights from the tree and her reading lamp to light the room. The fire flickered in the hearth, and she sighed with contentment as she opened a book and began to read.