Книга - The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime: The perfect feel-good Christmas romance!

The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime: The perfect feel-good Christmas romance!
Lynsey James


‘Lynsey James has written a lovely feelgood Christmas romance… As warming as a hot chocolate with extra cream and marshmallows. Loved it.’ – My Chestnut Reading TreeThis Christmas pantomime is about to be the talk of the town!Luna Bay’s festive preparations are well under way and the much anticipated annual pantomime is to be, once again, the highlight of the season. Too bad that the village’s very own actress and darling of Broadway, Alice Woods, isn’t feeling in the mood for Christmas.Until the pantomime comes under threat and a grief-stricken Alice is forced to push her personal pain aside and step up to direct – after all, the show must go on…So with (more than) a little help from her new found friends, not to mention one very gorgeous Hollywood A-list celebrity, the play begins to come together, but will Alice finally believe that Christmas is a time for miracles after all?What reviewers are saying about Lynsey James‘What an enchanting and heart warming story to lead you up to the Christmas period this year.’ – Rachel’s Random Reads‘This charming story is heartwarming, witty and romantic!’ – Rae Reads‘It was a wonderful festive tale absolutely perfect for this time of year!’ – Becca’s Books‘This is a very heart warming read just in time for Christmas. Put your feet up and get lost in the world of Alice and Luna Bay.’ – Grass Monster (Goodreads)







This Christmas pantomime is about to be the talk of the town!

Luna Bay’s festive preparations are well under way and the much-anticipated annual pantomime is to be, once again, the highlight of the season. Too bad that the village’s very own actress and darling of Broadway, Alice Woods, isn’t feeling in the mood for Christmas.

Until the pantomime comes under threat and a grief-stricken Alice is forced to push her personal pain aside and step up to direct – after all, the show must go on…

So with (more than) a little help from her new-found friends, not to mention one very gorgeous Hollywood A-list celebrity, the play begins to come together, but will Alice finally believe that Christmas is a time for miracles after all?


Praise for LYNSEY JAMES (#u122c48d9-9568-5368-aef1-8e8f6aee489e)

‘If you can’t wait for a little more warmth this summer, get reading Just the Way You Are, and you’ll have all the sunshine you need.’ – Lisa Dickenson, author of The Twelve Dates of Christmas, You Had Me at Merlot and Catch Me If You Cannes

‘The Broken Hearts Book Club is perfect for these colder, darker nights – it’s like a big warm comfort blanket in book form!’ – Rather Too Fond of Books

‘The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club is a lovely read, which would be perfect for some light holiday reading.’ – Portobello Book Blog

‘I adored this book. From the gorgeous setting of Luna Bay to the highly likable protagonist, The Broken Hearts Book Club was a total treat.’ – Blabbering About Books

‘I loved this book and finished it in two days, it is very much unputdownable!’ – Whispering Stories on The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club

‘…I loved that Lynsey made me so invested in the characters – not just Ava, all of them. They all have their quirks and their flaws; they made me laugh, they made me cry and they made me want to scream at my Kindle. That marks the sign of fantastically real characters.’ – Jenny in Neverland on Just the Way You Are

‘Dreamy and delightful!’ – Chicks That Read on Just the Way You Are

‘If you’re a fan of romance or a chick-lit addict…then I urge you to give this book a go. It’s warm, clever, sweet and an absolute delight.’ – Bookaholic Holly on Just the Way You Are


Books by Lynsey James (#u122c48d9-9568-5368-aef1-8e8f6aee489e)

Just the Way You Are

The Luna Bay series:

The Broken Hearts Book Club

The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club

The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime




The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime

Lynsey James









LYNSEY JAMES

I was born in Fife in 1991 and have been telling people how to spell my name ever since. I’m an incurable bookworm who loves nothing more than getting lost in a good story with memorable characters. I started writing when I was really young and credit my lovely grandad – and possibly a bump on the head from a Mr Frosty machine – with my love of telling stories. I used to write my own episodes of Friends and act them out in front of my family (in fact I’m sure I put Ross and Rachel together first!).

A careers adviser at school once told me writing wasn’t a ‘good option’ and, for a few years, I believed her. I tried a little bit of everything, including make-up artistry, teaching and doing admin for a chocolate fountain company. The free chocolate was brilliant. When I left my job a couple of years ago, I started writing full-time while I looked for another one. As soon as I started working on my story, I fell in love and decided to finally pursue my dream. I haven’t looked back since.

When I’m not writing, eating cake or drinking tea, I’m daydreaming about the day Dylan O’Brien finally realises we’re meant to be together. It’ll happen one day…


Contents

Cover (#uf1941175-78f5-5d6e-84bc-6be4dc437536)

Blurb (#u096af1bc-d57c-566c-a3f2-b56622203a2b)

Praise (#u3b0aef5f-3b67-5ddb-9f86-f1db90a4bfd3)

Book List (#u93d668f5-2def-5e9a-803d-c4c95e92d972)

Title Page (#ub71aa064-406a-58ff-a375-932048fd8de5)

Author Bio (#ud10a8d64-5ebd-5169-a205-571e6d8f42c9)

Acknowledgement (#ue992176e-04fd-55d1-ba85-fe79d527db42)

Dedication (#u5a95d8dc-ad4a-55b5-9d93-847cda914fc6)

Chapter One (#u5ba0ca1c-b3a7-5856-9c92-e09a6248cf28)

Chapter Two (#uaf675f5b-c06a-57bb-bf6b-9651dd1553be)

Chapter Three (#u19f795cc-87f4-567f-93b9-ea524fc26c59)

Chapter Four (#u9ad2cc89-1101-56a2-ac51-e2bd5d087992)

Chapter Five (#uf54da343-b328-5751-8432-303be1a317b2)

Chapter Six (#ua6c3aa59-6b84-574f-be12-c165bf5715a1)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Acknowledgements

Mum, you are completely amazing. Thank you for reading draft after draft of everything I’ve ever written (including the Friends scripts).

Dad, we may argue while watching quiz shows when we both think we’re right but I bloody love you.

Kyle, you make me laugh until I cry and provide enough comedy material for me to write a hundred books!

My three best friends – Hayley, Laura, Jen – you all mean the absolute world to me. And I WILL make you all into book characters one day.

Carina UK, thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to put all my mad ideas into books. My dreams have come true.


For Dad. You’ve always let me know how proud you are of me, so this book is all for you.


Chapter One (#u122c48d9-9568-5368-aef1-8e8f6aee489e)

Being an out-of-work actress is never easy.

You don’t know where the next role is coming from, if you’ll ever get your “big break” that’ll catapult you to stardom or even if your agent will ever call you again.

It’s even harder though, when you have to take the job from hell to make ends meet.

For me, that came in the form of dressing in a gaudy green and red outfit, wearing huge pointed ears and saying ‘welcome to Santa’s grotto’ fifty times a day. As someone who hates Christmas and has committed to never celebrating it again, pretending to live and breathe the festive spirit was my idea of hell.

But an out-of-work actress had to do what an out-of-work actress had to do.

I leaned against the wobbly cardboard structure that passed for Santa’s grotto, wondering how it had all come to this. I’d gone from the bright lights of Broadway to wearing massive shoes with bells on in the town I grew up in.

Then I remembered exactly what had happened for me to come home again. The salty tang of tears stung the backs of my eyes and I took a deep breath, pushing the burgeoning memories to the back of my mind. Now wasn’t the time for a trip into the past. As long as I didn’t think, everything would be OK.

A hand on my shoulder startled me. I turned round to see Frank, the scruffy, pot-bellied store Santa Claus standing next to me. His fluffy white beard had slipped slightly and the acrid odour of stale sweat and beer wafted my way.

‘Do me a favour and stick the costume on for a bit, will you? I’m not feeling too clever.’

My eyes widened in alarm. ‘Me?! No, no, no, I’m an elf! I-I can’t play Santa, for God’s sake!’

Frank lurched forward, bringing his questionable odour further into my personal space. I noticed his skin had turned an odd shade of grey and his eyes were bloodshot. This, I guessed, wasn’t a man to be messed with.

‘Listen, unless you want me to turn this place into a disaster area, stick the beard and red coat on and listen to what the little brats want for Christmas. It’s not rocket science.’

‘But I—’

Frank didn’t give me the chance to argue further. He slipped off his costume, thrust it into my hands and stalked off in the direction of the staff area.

Oh shit.

I looked down at the grubby red velvet coat and greying beard I was holding and realised I didn’t have any choice: I was going to have to play the man himself. I craned my neck to see Frank’s retreating figure sloping away from the shop floor and his responsibilities. There was nothing else for it, I decided. I sneaked into the grotto, pulled the beard over my head and slipped the coat on. It smelled like roadkill, but if the store manager came and found the grotto unmanned, there’d be trouble.

I took a seat on the large comfy armchair and took a sharp breath inwards, instantly regretting my decision as eau de Frank stung my nostrils. All I had to do was listen to some kids telling me what they wanted for Christmas.

Easy right?

Wrong.

I had very specific reasons for hating the festive season; spending my days dressed up as an elf was bad enough, but playing the big man himself and pretending to grant dozens of children’s Christmas wishes was quite another.

It’s OK, I said to myself, the store’s pretty quiet; you can do this.You can let the world in, even for the briefest moment.

Switching from my fairly anonymous role of elf, where all I had to do was welcome children to the grotto to actually engaging with people was going to be quite a challenge. I kept people at arm’s length and rarely struck up conversations with anyone besides my family. My world was small and insular, just the way I liked it. Pretending to be happy and jolly and gregarious would be a stretch, even for an actress such as myself.

I didn’t have much time to dwell on my thoughts. A little boy of around six was dragging his mum towards the grotto, pulling her hand with all his might. With no elf outside to welcome him, he let go and ran right in, skidding to a halt at my feet.

I cleared my throat and let out my best ‘Ho ho ho, merry Christmas’, making him giggle. His mum caught up with him, flashed me a quick smile and lifted him onto my lap.

‘Go on, Harry.’ She was a little bit breathless from trying to keep up with her son and flicked some dark blonde hair out of her face. ‘Tell Santa what you’d like for Christmas.’

The little boy looked up at me with huge blue eyes filled with hopes and dreams. It was as though all his festive wishes hinged on me and me alone.

Yikes, don’t mess this up, Alice!

‘What can I get you for Christmas this year, Harry?’ I said in my deepest, jolliest voice.

He thought for a moment, his face twisting into different expressions of deep thought. Once he’d finally reached a decision, he clapped his hands.

‘I want a new bike, a pair of roller-skates and…’ He trailed off, hiding his face behind his chubby little hands.

His mum crouched down and put an arm round his shoulders. ‘It’s all right, darling, you can tell Santa Claus.’

‘Is it an extra-special present?’ I asked. ‘I promise, no matter what it is, I’ll add it to my list. In fact, I’ll put it right to the top!’

His mum gently prised the little boy’s hands away from his face and kissed his head. This seemed to convince him to open up again; he turned his attentions back to me with a flicker of a smile.

‘I…I want my daddy to come home.’

All at once, the mood in the grotto turned very sombre. Harry’s mum took in a sharp breath and pursed her lips, letting out a small hollow chuckle.

‘That’s a big ask for Santa, Harry. A-are you sure you wouldn’t like to choose something else?’

He shook his head, sending his blond hair flying in all directions. ‘No, Mummy, that’s what I want for Christmas. A bike, a pair of roller-skates and Daddy to come home.’

She nodded and her mouth twitched into something like a smile. ‘Well I’m sure Santa will do his best, but remember Daddy lives in Florida with Maureen now. You remember Maureen – she used to help out in your class.’

‘I like Maureen,’ he said, ‘she made up funny songs and smelled nice. Daddy said he’d take me to meet Nemo and Dory. Can he come home after that?’

His mum decided Harry had had enough face time with Santa and lifted him down from my lap. It was all I could do to stifle a chuckle; I hadn’t expected such an intriguing story to unravel.

‘Sorry,’ she said with an embarrassed smile, ‘Daddy ran off to America with Harry’s teaching assistant last year and he’s been missing him ever since!’

‘Oh don’t worry about it.’ I kept up my deep voice as much as I could. ‘Harry’s still top of Santa’s nice list!’

She grabbed his hand and started towards the grotto’s entrance, flashing a grateful smile over her shoulder. ‘Come on, you, we’d better get going.’

Harry stopped in his tracks for a moment and turned to face me. ‘What do you want for Christmas, Santa?’

His mum’s mouth dropped open. ‘Harry! You can’t ask Santa that; it’s top secret!’

I opened my mouth to answer, but found the words stuck in my throat. What I really wanted, you see, couldn’t be found in any department store. The one thing I wanted to find under the tree was the one thing in the world I couldn’t have.

‘Some milk and biscuits will do just fine for me,’ I replied. ‘Plus some carrots for my reindeer.’

*

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly, although being stuck in a thick red suit for hours on end was no picnic. By the time I was finished, I was glad to peel it off; it was like a blast furnace in there. The constant swarm of people had been quite overwhelming too; as someone who purposefully stays under the radar, it wasn’t easy having the spotlight on me all day. I never went anywhere or spoke to anyone; I lived a simple, solitary existence, just the way I liked it.

As I made my way through the vast expanses of Fox’s department store, I couldn’t help but feel the urge to have a nose around. Although I was dead set against celebrating Christmas for a variety of reasons, it was difficult not to notice the festive magic buzzing around the place. There was a special section of the shop just for Christmas gifts; it had everything from delicate crystal ornaments shaped like any animal you could think of, to sumptuous boxes of Belgian chocolates for the chocoholic in the family. Pairs of huge glass bottles containing olive oil and sea salt lined the back wall, along with hobby craft kits, luxury food hampers and fancy bath sets. There was something for everyone in the store’s little festive nook.

I averted my gaze and hurried towards the door. What I wanted wouldn’t be nestled on any of the deep cavernous shelves. I bundled my coat around me in preparation for the wintry early November chill outside, put my head down and quickened my pace. I was no more than a few feet from the exit when a little object to my right caught my eye, stopping me in my tracks. I bent down to pick it up and a sad smile formed on my lips.

Maybe there was something I wanted in Fox’s department store after all.

*

My little cottage in Luna Bay was perhaps the village’s only designated Christmas-free zone. It had been mine for about two years; I’d been able to buy it outright from the sale of my New York apartment. I hadn’t bought it right away though; I’d lived with my mum for a year after what had happened in New York. I loved my cottage; up until recently, I’d been able to run it on my savings from my Broadway days and it provided the perfect escape from the festive season.

There was no Christmas tree twinkling merrily in the living room window, no decorations to festoon the rest of the house with and certainly no gaudy ornaments on the front lawn. My cottage stuck out like a sore thumb; even though it was seven weeks until Christmas, a lot of my neighbours had already got into the festive spirit. I breathed a sigh of relief as I caught sight of it when I stepped off the bus; it was my own little corner of the world where I could shut everyone out and keep myself to myself.

‘Home sweet home,’ I murmured to myself. I couldn’t wait to get inside, pour myself a mug of hot chocolate and settle down with a good book.

Just then, a clamour of music and raised voices caught my attention. It was coming from the Silver Bells Theatre, Luna Bay’s one-stop shop for stage entertainment. The opening bars of a jaunty show tune blasted out onto the quiet street, only to be cut abruptly short and followed by: ‘NO, NO, NO! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, IT’S STEP TWO THREE FOUR, NOT TURN TWO THREE FOUR!’

I walked up the gravel path to the open door, lingering outside for a moment as I suppressed a smile. Given the time of year, the local theatre club was probably rehearsing for its annual pantomime. It was something of a laughing stock in the village because nothing ever went according to plan. The sets wobbled, actors fluffed their lines and the time they’d used live animals for Snow White and the Seven Dwarves had gone down in Luna Bay history. A spark of curiosity ignited within me as I wondered which classic pantomime would be messed up this time. Mother Goose perhaps, or maybe Aladdin? I shuddered to think how they’d pull off the genie and the flying carpet.

More raised voices from inside the theatre made me turn back towards home. Knowing my luck, if I hung around any longer, the theatre club’s slightly terrifying director, Christabel Grant, would try to conscript me into joining her ranks. Her voice suddenly erupted, piercing the velvet darkness.

‘Sandra, I won’t tell you again! Love is All Around comes in the second act, not the first. Keep this up and you’ll be the back end of a horse!’

I let out a little giggle as I reached the top of the hill. Christabel ruled the theatre club with an iron fist and everybody was too terrified to stand up to her. It made me breathe a sigh of relief that I’d so far managed to thwart all her attempts to sign me up to one of her productions.

There was no way I was ever going to set foot on a stage again; not after what happened in New York.

The sight of my little cottage looming before me made my grin stretch even further. Once I stepped over the threshold, I could kick my shoes off and keep the rest of the world at arm’s length.

Bliss.


Chapter Two (#u122c48d9-9568-5368-aef1-8e8f6aee489e)

Of all the books on grief I’d read in the last three years, none of them advocated buying Christmas presents for your lost loved one.

Yet, earlier, at Fox’s department store, that was exactly what I had done.

As soon as I stepped inside my cosy little cottage, shrugging off the wintry nip from outside, I made a beeline for my bedroom. Underneath my bed was a small box, no bigger than a shoebox. It was battered and worn from being moved around and shoved into corners so many times, but for me it held a collection of special memories far too precious to throw away. I pulled it out and sat down on my bed with it, taking off the scuffed lid as carefully as I could.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked at the box’s contents for the first time in what felt like for ever. Nestled inside the battered old shoebox was three years’ worth of Christmas presents, birthday gifts and odd little souvenirs. A bottle of aftershave, a programme from his favourite theatre production signed by the cast, his favourite red T-shirt, which still held the faintest traces of his smell.

It was all for him.

I retrieved the little Rubik’s cube I’d bought earlier from my pocket and added it to the collection, allowing myself a smile. Jamie had always loved puzzles and prided himself on his ability to complete the New York Times crossword in twenty minutes flat. Every morning, he’d sit on the terrace of the apartment we shared, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by his side, and do battle with the cryptic clues. I closed my eyes and pictured his brow furrowing, the pen sticking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated and the look of euphoria when the answer finally became clear.

For the briefest of moments, I could almost hear the noise and drama of New York City. There was the bustle of people walking the famous sidewalks, each heading in their own direction, taxi cabs beeping their horns at drivers that got in their way and the inimitable buzz that could only be found in the city that never slept. Being part of such a vibrant place had been a dream come true; the city had been a living, breathing entity itself, where anything seemed possible. Until one rainy morning when everything changed…

I shook myself back to the present; thinking of New York was not a good idea. Instead, I closed the box and shoved it back in its hiding place, satisfied I’d done my bit to include Jamie in this year’s Christmas celebrations.

If only he was around to take part in them himself.

*

The next day thankfully didn’t involve dressing up in an elf costume, but it did involve lunch with my mother. Which, in some ways, was a lot more stressful.

‘Has your agent phoned you with any new roles yet?’ she asked as we sat over tea and cakes in the Moonlight Café, Luna Bay’s best eatery. ‘It’s been a while since you’ve heard from her, hasn’t it? Oh, and are you eating properly? You’ve barely touched your cake.’

I groaned and shook my head. My mum meant well, but was permanently worried about me. It was as though I was made out of glass and she thought I’d shatter any minute.

‘No, Mum, Anna hasn’t phoned me for a while because I’m still on a break from acting. Don’t know if I’ll ever go back to it, to be honest. And yes, I’m still eating properly; nothing’s changed since you asked me the other day!’ I smiled and broke off a piece of red velvet cake with my fork, before popping it into my mouth.

Mum tutted and placed her hand on top of mine. ‘Alice, it’s been three years since the accident…’ At the mention of the word “accident”, I flinched and she drew her hand away. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you went back to acting? I’m not saying you have to get on a plane back to New York and star in a Broadway show, or even do something on the West End. You could get involved with the panto at the Silver Bells Theatre; I’m sure they could use someone like you to help out. It’s usually a complete shambles, isn’t it? It could even be part of “moving-on action plan” or whatever it was that the grief counsellor gave you. You’ve done pretty well with it so far; you got that job at Fox’s didn’t you?’

I sighed. ‘That was more because my savings are running out and I wouldn’t be able to afford Christmas presents without a job! The grief counsellor meant well, Mum, but she made moving on sound…I don’t know…easy. You can’t break down forgetting the man you’re in love with into twelve steps, can you?’

‘Nobody’s saying it has to take twelve steps, or fifteen, or seventy-five,’ said Mum. ‘But I think you should start by giving the panto a try. You’d probably have a lot of fun.’

I paused, fork raised, to try and think of a sensible excuse why I couldn’t do the pantomime. Somehow I didn’t think ‘I never plan on going near a stage again as long as I live’ would cut it.

‘Look, Mum, I appreciate your ideas but I don’t think I’d be any good in the pantomime. I haven’t acted for ages and, like you said, the panto’s always a total disaster. Didn’t the sets fall down last time or something? Nah, I think I’ll stay well away from the Silver Bells Theatre and their panto!’

Her face fell as she turned her attentions back to her slice of Victoria sponge. ‘That’s a pity; you’re a natural on stage, darling, and it’d be lovely to see you back doing something you love. Plus it’d wipe the smug grin off Christabel Grant’s face if you got involved. You’d act circles round her!’

I almost choked on my mouthful of cake; my mum was usually really easy-going and never got worked up about anyone. However, there was something about Luna Bay’s resident drama queen that seemed to really wind her up.

‘The last thing I need is Christabel making me public enemy number one,’ I replied, pouring myself some more tea. ‘Besides, I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy just now: I’ve got my job at Fox’s and…’

I trailed off when I realised I didn’t have anything else to add to my list. A furious crimson blush crept onto my cheeks and neck and I had to flip my hair over my face to hide it.

Mum raised her eyebrows in that way mums always do when they know they’re right. I could feel one of her speeches coming on and as soon as she opened her mouth, my suspicions were proven right.

‘You’ve got a job where you have to wear big pointy ears and a hat till Christmas Eve. What happens after that? You need to get your life back, Alice; I know what happened to Jamie knocked you for six and that you didn’t plan on being back in Luna Bay, but you are and it’s time to start living again. What happened to the Breakfast Club at Sunflower Cottage you went to a few times? You seemed to really enjoy that. Maybe if—’

I held up a hand to stop her. ‘I haven’t had time to go to the Breakfast Club recently because of the job at Fox’s. I don’t know what’ll happen when it’s over, but I’ll figure it out. It’s not ideal and I hate the pointy ears, but it’s a job. As for my life, I’m happy the way I am, Mum. So please, stop worrying about me for five seconds.’

I reached over and squeezed her shoulder. ‘I’m fine, really. I know you think I’m an emotional wreck who stays in my cottage all day crying over Jamie, but I promise you I’m not.’

Mum smiled and patted my hand. ‘I’d just like to see you get out there a bit more, that’s all. Why don’t you at least think about helping out with the pantomime? You might not have to go on the stage; maybe they need people backstage to help with the make-up or costume changes?’

Realising I wouldn’t get any peace unless I said yes, I agreed to give it some thought. I had no intention of actually joining Christabel’s team of misfits, but promising to give it consideration was good enough for Mum. Luckily, before she could conscript me into any more of her hare-brained schemes, my phone rang.

‘Hello?’ I said.

‘Hi, Alice, it’s Gary from Fox’s. You couldn’t pick up an extra shift at the grotto today could you? Only one of our other elves phoned in sick.’

I felt my stomach drop to my shoes. The last thing I wanted to do was put on my garish outfit, pointy ears and massive shoes, and pretend to love Christmas on what should have been my day off. However, an out-of-work actress had to do what an out-of-work actress had to do.

I blew air out of my cheeks, screwed my eyes shut and reluctantly agreed. ‘No problem. When do you need me to come in?’

‘As soon as possible – we’re swamped today. Thanks, you’re the best!’

Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to Lapland I go…

*

An hour later, I found myself in the heart of Fox’s department store, tinkling shoes and all. There were two extra-rosy pops of colour on my cheeks and a fake smile plastered to my face as I welcomed children to Santa’s grotto and wished them a merry Christmas.

Mum’s words rang in my ears: you need to get your life back, Alice; it’s time to start living again. My heart sank as I realised I didn’t know where to begin with getting my life back. Loneliness had become a way of life, a comfort blanket I’d wrapped myself in, and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to unravel it. Still, it was impossible not to notice all the happy couples milling round the department store, picking out presents for their nearest and dearest, and not feel a pang of remorse. Once upon a time, that had been me. I’d had someone to share my life with, to hold my hand and laugh with me.

Now here I was, all alone. If the time ever came that I met someone else, would I even know how to be with them? I was so used to being on my own that I’d all but forgotten what being part of a couple was like.

A hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present. It was Gary, the permanently harassed-looking manager of Fox’s department store. A thin film of sweat had formed on his brow already and he looked like he needed a good cup of tea and some Christmas cookies.

‘Alice, can I ask a favour?’ He was breathless and sounded like he’d just finished doing ten marathons back-to-back. ‘I’ve just had a look in the grotto and Frank’s running a bit low on presents. There are some more upstairs in my office; would you mind nipping up and getting some?’

‘Sure,’ I said with a smile.

I headed towards his office, glad of the opportunity to get off the shop floor for even a few minutes. As I walked, customers turned their heads to follow the sound of my jingling shoes.

‘Bloody things,’ I muttered. As a group of teenagers sniggered and pointed at me, I could’ve cheerfully shoved them where the sun didn’t shine.

Gary’s office was located up a set of metal steps at the back of the store. Its big glass windows allowed him to be king of all he surveyed, whilst also keeping him at a safe distance from the staff. Everybody knew he was afraid of them and would give into even the craziest demands. It felt a little surreal being in the manager’s office, like that somehow made me boss of the massive department store I’d found myself working in.

I jumped a little when I saw Mr Fox, the store’s owner, occupying the huge black leather executive chair. It was so unusual to see his tall, wiry frame around the shop; he hardly ever visited and when he did, it usually meant something bad was about to happen. He had his phone clamped to his ear and his face was set into a dark scowl. The conversation clearly wasn’t going well. I wanted to take a step forward and announce myself, but I didn’t want to intrude on his private phone call.

‘Ethan, when are you going to learn to…? This is your inheritance we’re talking about here; you need to start taking it seriously instead of prancing around with your head in the clouds… I won’t tell you again… Damn!’

Mr Fox hung up and slammed his mobile down on the table, letting out a grunt of frustration and a stream of expletives. As he blew air out from his cheeks, he swung the chair round in my direction and almost jumped out of his skin.

‘Sorry, I-I didn’t realise anyone was here.’ Two pops of colour bloomed on his cheeks and he flashed me a sheepish grin. ‘Can I help you with anything?’

I froze. My mouth moved up and down, making the shapes of words I wanted to say, but no sound came out. The longer it took for me to articulate myself, the redder my face became.

‘Um…I-I just came in to get some more presents for the grotto downstairs. A-are they over here?’ I gestured to some cardboard boxes in the corner.

‘Yes, yes, take as many as you like.’ Mr Fox waved a hand and picked up his mobile again. ‘Sorry…got to return this phone call…’

His voice drifted off as he dialled a number and waited for the person on the other end to answer. I heaved one box into my arms and beat as hasty a retreat as I could. The box weighed a ton; they’d obviously splashed the cash on the kids’ Christmas gifts.

‘Hello?’ I heard him say as I nudged the office door open with my foot. ‘Oh, Ethan’s in a meeting is he? Well, tell him to give his father a ring when he’s out of his meeting. If he can spare a few minutes, that is!’

I winced. Ethan was in some pretty hot water!

*

Making my way back downstairs was a dangerous business. I almost toppled over twice, thanks to the weight of the box. I had half a mind to ask Gary for danger money.

‘Here are some more presents for the kids,’ I said, heaving the box behind Frank’s red velvet throne. ‘Just so you don’t run out.’

‘Oh great,’ he slurred, ‘more crap to give to the ungrateful little shits!’

I suppressed a smile and pursed my lips. Luckily, we were experiencing a lull in visitors to the grotto, so nobody was around to hear him or see him with his beard pulled down.

I screwed my nose up as the acrid tang of stale sweat and alcohol stung my nostrils. ‘Are you…feeling OK today, Frank? You know, after yesterday.’

He turned to look at me and I noticed for the first time just how unkempt he looked. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept properly for weeks, and his chin was covered in grey and white stubble. Not exactly the image of a jolly department store Santa.

‘Oh I’m just dandy.’ His mouth twisted into a scowl and he let out a loud burp. ‘It’s the most wonderful time of the year, isn’t it?’

There was a sadness in his voice that struck me. Instead of being swept up in the festive spirit, he seemed to be every bit as uncomfortable with it as I was.

‘Well, that’s what they say!’ I plastered a bright grin to my face, determined to keep a cheerful atmosphere for the hordes of kids who’d be along as soon as school finished. ‘Anyway, don’t forget about the presents in the cardboard box behind you.’

I mumbled some excuse about Gary needing me elsewhere and legged it before Frank could engage me in any awkward conversation. As I stood outside, willing finishing time to come round so I could get back to my own little corner of Christmas-free bliss, I wondered what it was that made Frank hate this time of year so much.

Had he lost someone he loved too?


Chapter Three (#u122c48d9-9568-5368-aef1-8e8f6aee489e)

I spent the rest of the day welcoming children to the grotto and pretending that Christmas really was the most wonderful time of the year. Like any good actress, I threw myself into my role and made it my job to spread festive magic to every little visitor who was counting the days until Santa’s arrival.

Until later that afternoon, when things went horribly wrong.

It started with a giggle. Innocent enough, you may think, but not when ‘MAISIE, PUT THAT DOWN!’ and Frank yelling at the top of his voice immediately followed it. I rushed inside the grotto to see what was going on and found a little girl holding what looked like a pair of edible knickers.

‘What kind of store is this?!’ a red-faced woman yelled. ‘Giving erotic products to little kids; you should be ashamed of yourselves!’

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ I gasped. ‘There must be some mistake; I’ll get another present for you.’

Before I could rush round to get a replacement gift, a voice from outside erupted ‘WHO THE HELL IS IN CHARGE HERE?!’

‘I’d better go and deal with that,’ I said, panic rising in my voice. ‘I’ll leave you in Fr… I mean, Santa’s capable hands.’ I turned to Frank, who was puce with rage. ‘Why don’t you get Maisie a lovely new gift while I go and see to that customer?’

I threw back the curtain, dreading what I was about to be confronted with. It turned out to be a woman with a face like thunder, trying to keep a small grubby child under control and trying to wrestle something from his sticky grip.

‘How can I help?’ I plastered on my sunniest smile and ignored the nerves brewing in my stomach.

From the furious look on her face, the woman didn’t appreciate my attempt at a pleasant greeting. In fact, she looked like she wanted to strangle me.

‘And just what…’ she paused for a second as she managed to snatch away whatever her child had been holding ‘…do you call this?!’

She brandished a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs, hooking them over one finger and tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for my explanation.

‘This is supposed to be a Santa’s grotto for kids, not a sordid sex shop! Where’s the manager? I want to put a complaint in!’

She was soon followed by another angry parent, who was keen to find out why her child had been given a cocktail-making kit instead of a colouring book.

My eyes darted from left to right as complaints and threats flooded in. One thing was for sure: there had been a huge mistake somewhere. And I was probably going to pay for it.

My suspicions were proved correct when Gary appeared and bellowed ‘ALICE, MY OFFICE NOW!’

*

It didn’t take long for the shit to hit the fan. I sat in the manager’s office, while Gary paced up and down like a bear with a sore head.

‘How the hell did this happen?!’ He pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at me. ‘I’ve had no less than twenty complaints from parents whose kids received what they called “inappropriate gifts”! Instead of selection boxes and packs of felt-tip pens, they got fluffy handcuffs, edible knickers and bottles of vodka! Do you have any idea how that makes us look?!’

I stifled a chuckle. Although Gary couldn’t see the funny side of it, there was something quite amusing about the whole mix-up.

‘To be fair, the boxes of presents weren’t labelled,’ I explained. ‘How was I supposed to know I’d picked up the sales girls’ Secret Santa box?’

The vein in Gary’s forehead grew larger and looked like it would pop any minute. He strode over to where I was sitting, his mouth set into a stern line and his eyes ablaze with anger.

‘We’re supposed to be a family-friendly store, Alice. I don’t think giving kids mini bottles of alcopop really gives the right impression, do you?’

A rogue giggle escaped from my mouth; from the look on his face, I thought Gary might spontaneously combust.

‘I’m sorry, really I am.’ Once I was sure I wouldn’t laugh again, I peeked up at him, daring to meet his gaze. ‘You have to admit, it was a little bit funny though. And we can give them replacement presents from the real box of gifts can’t we?’

Gary folded his arms and began pacing back and forth again. ‘It’s not quite as simple as that, I’m afraid. We were thinking of closing the grotto early anyway. The store isn’t making much money at the moment and we haven’t had the footfall we expected, but this screw-up was the final nail in the coffin…’

I winced at the word “coffin”, but tried not to show it. Even that simple word conjured up hundreds of memories I’d do anything to forget.

‘I’m sorry, Alice… I’m afraid you’re out of a job.’

My head snapped up and I felt my jaw drop. ‘Gary, please… I-I need this job! I know it’s only temporary, but I’ll be stuck without it. Is there any way I can stay? I-I’ll stack shelves, clean the toilets, anything!’

He shook his head gravely and ran a hand over his tired face. ‘I’m afraid not; we’re struggling to afford our Christmas temps as it is, so we’re looking to make any savings we can. Besides, I don’t think this was ever really your cup of tea was it? I mean, you were on bloody Broadway! I can’t imagine you found being a department store elf very exciting.’

I opened my mouth to disagree, but even I wasn’t that good of an actress. Instead, I sighed and got up from my seat; it was time for me to leave. Alice, exit stage right.

‘Thanks for the opportunity, Gary. And for the record, being an elf here was more than exciting,’ I added with a little chuckle.

He managed a smile as he escorted me down the stairs to the shop floor.

‘You never know,’ he said, ‘this could be a blessing in disguise; you could be lighting up the West End this time next month!’

‘I don’t think so…but thank you.’

I smiled and turned my back as I prepared to leave Fox’s department store for the final time. My shoes jingled and attracted everyone’s attention as I crossed the floor. I probably looked absolutely ridiculous, but I didn’t really care. As I took in the store’s various sights and smells and the beautiful items that lined its shelves, my heart sank. Although being an elf had been the job from hell, I would be really sad to not have a reason to visit Fox’s every day.

I was so engrossed in looking around my now former workplace that I didn’t notice someone coming through the revolving doors. With just a split second to spare, I managed to avoid a full-on collision by swerving out of the way. The man heading towards me was too distracted to notice; his phone was wedged between his ear and his shoulder as he hissed replies to whoever was on the other end. As he passed me, his shoulder bumped mine, knocking my bag to the floor.

‘Hey!’ I yelled, hoping to draw his attention to the fact he’d just bumped into me without saying sorry.

All I got for my trouble was a vague wave in my direction as he continued his argument and made his way towards the back of the store. My gaze followed his bottle-green tartan jacket and russet-brown hair until he disappeared from view. I hoped the person he was on the phone to was giving him hell.

Outside the store, I found Frank sitting in his stained and grubby Santa costume, minus his beard. His eyes were firmly fixed to the pavement and he was taking swigs from a bottle of whisky while picking at his once-white fluffy cuffs.

‘You too eh?’ He grunted out a hollow chuckle and patted the pavement next to him. ‘There’s room for a little’un if you fancy joining me?’

I paused for a second, unsure of what to do. The way I saw it, I had two choices: I could keep walking and stay in the little bubble of loneliness I’d carefully crafted over the last three years, or I could take a minute to talk to someone who was just as down on his luck as I was.

I chose the latter and crouched down next to Frank, who was just finishing off the remainder of his whisky.

‘Yup,’ I replied, ‘me too. Gary said the store isn’t making enough money or getting enough customers, so they were thinking of closing the grotto early anyway. I don’t think seeing little kids running round with pairs of edible knickers helped though!’

Frank let out a throaty laugh that was closely followed by a wheezing cough. He picked up his bottle, remembered he didn’t have any more and discarded it with a disappointed sigh.

‘Nope, probably not. Having a Santa who’s either drunk or hung-over probably didn’t create a very good impression either,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘So what’s next for you? We worked together for two whole weeks and I don’t think we even said two words to each other.’

I blushed as I realised I hadn’t been the most forthcoming of people to work with. I had my reasons, of course, but Frank wasn’t to know that.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I tend to keep myself to myself these days. The last few years have been… Well they haven’t been easy. I’m not really sure what’s next for me. What about you?’

‘Back to doing what I was doing before, probably. Sitting in my flat with my best friends Jack and Daniels, passing the time away. What a life eh? Can’t you go back to what you were doing before?’

Lying in bed crying because I lost the man I love and life is shit without him? Yup, sounds good to me.

‘Not really,’ I admitted, ‘I don’t really want to go back to that.’

He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled. ‘You’ll find your way; people like you always do. It’s people like me who tend to slip through the cracks…’ He trailed off, as though he was lost in his own thoughts. ‘My own fault though. Anyway, you don’t want to be wasting your time talking to an old drunk like me. Go on, off you go.’

He waved a dismissive hand and picked up his empty whisky bottle again. Reluctantly, I took it as my cue to leave; I didn’t want Frank to be alone, but he’d made it clear he was happy with his own company.

‘Have a good Christmas,’ I said as I walked away. He raised his bottle in reply before pulling himself to his feet and stumbling off in the opposite direction.

I sighed as I watched him go; it seemed like the most wonderful time of the year was steadily growing worse.

Frank’s question stayed with me as I trudged off towards home: what’s next for you?

Knowing me, it’d be holing up in my little cottage and keeping the world at bay, like I always did. One thing was for certain: I’d be going nowhere near the Silver Bells Theatre or their bloody pantomime.

Absolutely not.


Chapter Four (#u122c48d9-9568-5368-aef1-8e8f6aee489e)

Never one to mind her own business, Mum was quick to come up with lots of ideas for my newly acquired free time. She came over to my cottage that night, armed with suggestions and bags of her trademark enthusiasm.

‘Now that you’re back out there, you can come to all my groups with me! There’s pottery on Mondays; bums, tums and thighs on Wednesdays; and bingo on Thursdays. You’d love the bingo, Alice; it’s great fun.’

‘By “back out there”, do you mean I’m not an emotional wreck who can’t stop crying any more?’ I smiled lightly, but the memories were all too real. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d been wrapped up in my duvet and surrounded by tissues, empty ice cream tubs and photos of Jamie.

Mum became flustered, thinking she’d offended me, and began to babble. ‘No, darling, I just—’

I put up a hand to stop her. She really did treat me like I was made of glass sometimes.

‘I’m just kidding, Mum! Count me out of the bingo though; that’s a bit too hardcore for me,’ I said with a wink.

‘Well, what about getting involved with the pantomime then? I overheard Christabel saying they’re short of performers and backstage crew. With you on board, they might be able to pull off a successful show!’

I rolled my eyes and groaned. ‘For the last time, no! When Jamie died, I swore I’d never go back on the stage again and that’s final. Let them screw up their own production; I’m sure they don’t need any help from me.’

Mum shot up from the chair and grabbed her handbag and cardigan. ‘You know, it was really hard for your dad and me to watch you crumble after Jamie died. When you came back from New York, we didn’t know if you were ever going to be the same again. I know you might think I’m interfering, but I’m your mum and I just want what’s best for you.’

‘Mum, I’m—’

‘But when you started going to the B&B’s Breakfast Club, I thought you might finally be ready to join the world again. Even more so when you took the job at Fox’s: I thought you might start to build up your network of friends again. But you’re still keeping everyone at arm’s length aren’t you? You can’t hide yourself away for ever, Alice; Jamie wouldn’t want you to do that.’

At the mention of his name, something inside me snapped. The day had been stressful enough without bringing Jamie into it.

‘Oh so I’m disappointing him as well as you, am I? Good, that’s great to know. I’m not “hiding myself away” either; I happen to like my own company! I might not be out gallivanting every weekend or doing six shows a week in the West End, but believe it or not I like my life. It might not be what I planned, but it’s how things have turned out, OK?’

Mum’s shoulders fell and the anger melted away from her face. ‘What happened to you? You used to have such big dreams; you’d never have settled for “how things have turned out”. Whenever life threw something unexpected at you, you’d find a way to overcome it or turn it to something positive. I’d really like to see that Alice again; that was my girl.’

I was sure I could hear her voice wobble and see tears spill down her face, but she sharply jerked her head away so I couldn’t see. She mumbled a goodbye and ran out the door, sprinting down the hill as fast as her tiny little frame would carry her.

Hot salty tears pricked my eyes and ran down my cheeks before I could stop them. I hated the thought of disappointing my mum, especially after everything she’d done for me. The idea that Jamie would be disappointed in me too, however, stung more than I cared to admit. Although I knew my life wasn’t exactly fizzing with excitement and a new adventure round every corner, I’d still thought I was doing pretty well. I’d dragged myself from the depths of despair and could now call myself a mostly functioning adult of twenty-seven. I had my own cottage that I loved, occasionally ventured out to the Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club, and had even dipped my toe back into the world of work.

It wasn’t enough though. As much as I hated to admit it, my mum was right. As long as I kept pushing people away, I’d never truly move on from Jamie’s death.

And this is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, I said to myself, merry bloody Christmas to me.

*

Now that I didn’t have to don my pointy ears and massive shoes at Fox’s, I had time to go to the Breakfast Club again. As I stepped into beautiful Sunflower Cottage on a rainy Friday morning – seven Fridays before Christmas, according to a chalkboard in the hall – I felt a sense of calm wash over me. I always did when I came to the B&B; it was one of those places you couldn’t help but love. A collection of glorious smells wafted out from the kitchen to meet me in the lobby, making my mouth water and stomach growl.

‘Hello?’ I called. It looked like I was the first one there, which was unusual. What if they’d changed the day and I hadn’t realised? Just then, the kitchen door swung open and out popped Emily, one of the B&B’s two main proprietors.

‘Hi, you, long time no see! How’ve you been?’ She came over and enveloped me in a friendly embrace. She smelled of cake batter and freshly baked bread.

I nodded and mumbled a reply, not wanting to say too much in case the whole drama with my job and Mum came spilling out. Nobody would want to hear about that, I guessed.

Emily ushered me through to the cosy dining room and let me pick a table. I selected one by the window, so I could watch the snow that had just started to fall outside. It was in its own private corner, away from everyone else. Just the way I liked it.

‘It’s great to have you back,’ she said. ‘What do you fancy? We’ve just had new menus printed; why don’t you take a look and I’ll come back later.’

I picked up the laminated menu with a picture of a sunflower on the front and studied it. They’d added some new dishes since I was last there: eggs Florentine, home-made muesli and freshly made bagels with salmon and cream cheese. There was so much to choose from that I didn’t know where to start. Should I stick to my favourite of chocolate pancakes or stick my neck out and try something new?

Decisions, decisions…

My musings were interrupted by the front door swinging open and a loud voice booming ‘SHOP!’ As soon as I realised who it was, my insides curdled. Standing in Sunflower Cottage’s foyer was none other than the inimitable director of the Silver Bells pantomime, Christabel Grant herself.

I heard the kitchen door swing open and Noah appeared, a bright smile lighting up his handsome face.

‘Morning, Christabel, are you here for the Breakfast Club?’ he asked.

‘Indeed I am!’ Her voice was so loud it made the whole room vibrate. ‘Please make sure my table by the window is free and I’ll have your delicious eggs Benedict, please.’

She strode into the dining room and I immediately felt a shiver of apprehension travel down my spine. It was easy to see why she was the Silver Bells Theatre’s fearless leader; she was a huge, intimidating sort of woman with an angular face and a crop of sleekly styled brown hair. Her outfit reminded me of a school headmistress’s: a starched white shirt, grey pencil skirt and black blazer. She didn’t look like the carefree, jovial kind of person who usually ran an amateur drama group, that was for sure.

Her keen blue eyes fell on me and she approached my table like a lion would approach an unsuspecting gazelle. She stared at me for what felt like hours and I felt a chill run down my spine. For a moment, it looked like she might come over, but instead she walked past me to the table she wanted to sit at.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Emily reappeared and broke the eerie silence in the dining room.

‘Have you decided what you fancy off the menu yet? We’ve got some fab new dishes for you to try.’

‘I’ll have the chocolate pancakes, please.’ Now that Christabel’s laser-like stare had been diverted elsewhere, I felt a little more at ease. ‘Better the devil you know and all that.’

‘Perfect, I’ll get Noah on the case!’

She lifted the menu and headed off towards the kitchen. I couldn’t help but notice the spring in her step; it had been there ever since she’d made the move to Luna Bay from Glasgow a few months previously. She’d been so uptight at first, but now she was a permanent resident of Cloud Nine. I smiled; it must be wonderful to feel so blissfully happy all the time.

A memory from my days in New York drifted into my mind. Jamie and I are on the pond in Central Park, sitting in our rowing boat and swapping stories. He’s so funny that he makes my sides split with laughter and happy tears stream down my face. The sun is shimmering on the water, bouncing off the leaves on the trees. I can’t imagine a more perfect day; Jamie’s smiling as he rows and that look on his face when he thinks of another story is priceless. It’s little moments of perfection like these that I wish would stretch on for ever. Being on Broadway in front of hundreds of people was always my dream and to actually get to do it is amazing, but Jamie is the dream I never saw coming. He sneaked up on me when I wasn’t looking and I’ve never been happier…

Emily setting my plate of pancakes down in front of me snapped me out of my dreamy reverie.

‘You looked miles away there,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘Where were you – anywhere nice?’

I shook my head. ‘Nah, nowhere important. I just let my mind wander a bit, that’s all. These look brilliant by the way. Can’t wait to tuck in!’

‘Well I’ll let you enjoy them then. Bon appétit!’ Emily walked towards the dining room door then turned back to face me. ‘By the way, it’s lovely to see you back, Alice. I missed you.’

I felt a lump form in my throat; nobody had told me they’d missed me in such a long time. Tears welled up at the backs of my eyes – happy ones this time – but I managed to keep them at bay.

‘Thanks,’ I choked out, ‘I missed you too.’

She smiled, told Christabel her eggs Benedict would be ready in a couple of minutes then went off to join Noah in the kitchen. I felt my dining companion’s gaze on me as I ate; she knew how to intimidate someone when she put her mind to it.

‘You’re Ruth Woods’s daughter aren’t you?’ she suddenly piped up. ‘Annie isn’t it?’

I swallowed a mouthful of pancakes and gulped, daring to meet her gaze for the first time. ‘It’s Alice actually.’

Christabel nodded slowly and kept her eyes firmly on me, as though she was sizing me up. ‘I thought it was you when I walked in, but you had your head down so I couldn’t see you properly. Last I heard, you were dazzling audiences on stage in New York. What brings you back to Luna Bay?’

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion as I pushed some pancakes round the plate. I’d been back in the village for three years and the reason for my return had been pretty well discussed at the time. I also knew that Christabel knew full well why I was back in Luna Bay; the reason behind my return had spread round the village like wildfire three years ago. Everybody knew exactly what had happened.

‘Personal reasons,’ was the excuse I ended up using, ‘plus I fancied a change of scenery.’

I had an inner wry smile at my little theatre pun, but kept my guard firmly in place. She rested her chin on a pair of balled-up fists and studied me for a moment. I felt like one of those stuffed animals in glass display cases at the Natural History Museum. I’d always loved the awful attempts at taxidermy.

‘You know…’ Her tone was different now; she’d cut the frostiness out completely and elongated her vowels. ‘The drama group at the Silver Bells Theatre puts on a pantomime every Christmas and we’re looking to swell our ranks this year. Don’t suppose I could persuade you to join us? We’re doing Cinderella and there are still some great parts up for grabs!’

Oh balls. How was I going to say no to her?! Refusing my mum had been easy – I’d been disappointing her for the last twenty-seven years, so I was a dab hand at it – but Christabel was a different kettle of fish. People never said no to her and I wasn’t sure how she’d react if I did.

Time to be brave, Alice! Show her what you’re made of.

Sometimes, I really hated the little voice inside my head. It threw out some terrible suggestions. This wasn’t the time to be brave; this was the time to skedaddle before Christabel started to turn the thumbscrews!

I opened my mouth, praying something sensible would come out.

‘Actually, I—’

I was saved from further waffling by Emily coming in with Christabel’s eggs Benedict. My heart rate slowed down and I breathed a silent sigh of relief, flashing Emily a grateful smile as she left. As luck would have it, more Breakfast Club members began to mill in through the front door. They all seemed to want to talk to Christabel about the pantomime, so I was left to tuck into the remainder of my pancakes in peace.

The pantomime bullet had been dodged once again. For now anyway.


Chapter Five (#u122c48d9-9568-5368-aef1-8e8f6aee489e)

If there’s one thing that causes an absolute nightmare for a die-hard Scrooge like myself, it has to be shopping for Christmas presents.

Yet that was exactly what I found myself doing the day after my encounter with Christabel. Mum dragged me to Fox’s to pick up some last-minute bits and pieces, which usually meant eight bags of stuff she’d had no intention of buying when she’d first walked in. The store was pretty dead, even for a Saturday, which made my heart sink. Gary’s revelation that the store was losing money was being proved correct.

‘You should really start doing your shopping in August like I do,’ she said as she pottered about a shelf with several crystal ornaments on it. ‘Saves so much time and trouble.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Mum, I’m an out-of-work actress; I don’t have to worry about saving time! If anything, I’ve got too bloody much of it. Talking of which, I bumped into Christabel at the Breakfast Club yesterday.’

Mum whipped her head round to look at me, as though I’d just told her I’d fought an entire pack of hungry crocodiles. ‘Really?! What did she say?’

‘Asked me if I fancied joining the pantomime,’ I replied with a roll of my eyes. ‘I would’ve said no way, but luckily Emily came in with Christabel’s breakfast. She didn’t mention it again after that.’

I watched my mum closely as she pretended to examine a crystal duck. I couldn’t see her face properly, but I knew her well enough to know when she was gearing up to say something important.

‘You know, I could just see you up on that stage wearing a beautiful ball gown and dancing with a handsome prince. You never know, some hunk might be playing Prince Charming!’

The jovial atmosphere vanished as we locked eyes after her light-hearted remark. I knew she was only making a typical motherly comment and I didn’t take offence, but I could tell she felt like she’d said something wrong.

‘Oh, love, I’m sorry. When I said a hunk, I didn’t—’

I put a hand up to stop her and shook my head. ‘Really, Mum, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’

Two pops of colour bloomed on her cheeks and she took an even keener interest in the crystal duck than she had before.

‘What do you think about this for Aunt Carole?’ she said, holding it aloft so I could get a good look at it. ‘She’s got a hedgehog and a penguin already; I reckon she’d like this. I-I’ll see what else they’ve got.’

Changing the subject had always been a speciality of hers. She scurried off to peruse the rest of the ornaments before I could reply. Just then, a furious argument erupted nearby. I turned to see Mr Fox arguing with a younger man, who looked to be in his late twenties and was wearing a grey V-neck jumper and a pair of faded jeans. The more I looked at him, I realised that he was the moron who’d shoulder-barged me on my last day at Fox’s.

‘You can’t just turn your back on this, Ethan! You have responsibilities to think about. I won’t be around for ever and I want the family business to stay in the family! You’re my eldest son and it’s about time you started acting like it instead of wasting your time in America.’

The younger man, who I now knew to be called Ethan, rounded on his father, his face contorted with rage. His voice could almost be described as cut-glass, whereas his dad’s was an unmistakable Yorkshire brogue.

‘It may have escaped your notice, Dad, but I have a successful career and a life of my own back in the States! I’m sorry I’m not prepared to drop everything I’ve worked for to come and bail this place out, but what do you expect? And for your information, I’m not wasting my time. My last movie was nominated for a BAFTA, but I don’t suppose you care about that.’

A BAFTA eh? I looked at Ethan again and frowned; his face was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t quite place him. I hadn’t been to the cinema much since Jamie had died, so I wasn’t up on many of the latest releases.

Ethan didn’t stick around to hear his father’s reply. Instead, he stormed out of the store. Or attempted to at least; he misjudged the revolving door and ended up being smacked in the face with it.

‘Argh! Fucking hell…’ He clutched his nose and I noticed blood spurting out of it and trickling down onto his jumper.

Mr Fox rushed to his side, but Ethan batted him away. The more his dad fussed, the angrier Ethan seemed to get. Another heated argument was going to erupt between them, by the looks of things.

‘Is there a first-aider around?’ I heard Mr Fox shout.

‘Dad, for God’s sake I’m fine!’ Ethan’s voice was thick and his face was now covered in blood.

What happened next came as a complete surprise. My feet started moving in their direction and I found myself walking over to them. I had no idea what the hell I was doing; I had loads of reasons for wanting to fly under the radar. But someone needed help and it looked like I was the only one around to give any.

‘Um…I-I’m a trained first-aider,’ I squeaked. ‘And I-I used to work here, so…’

Mr Fox jerked round to see where the sudden noise had come from and jumped when he saw me.

‘Oh yes, well, er, see what you can do for him then. There’s a first-aid kit in the canteen.’

Ethan rolled his eyes. ‘Honestly, Dad, you’re making a fuss over nothing. I’m—’

He took his hands away from his nose and instantly regretted it. Blood gushed everywhere and made an already bad situation even worse.

I cleared my throat, took a tissue out of my bag and handed it to Ethan. ‘Come on then, let’s get you patched up.’

We headed to the staff canteen, which was nestled in the leftmost pocket of the store. Rather than the usual cold, clinical atmosphere with peeling tiles and a microwave that didn’t work, Fox’s had made the effort to make their canteen as nice as possible. There was a pair of comfy, squishy brown leather sofas in the corner, a flat screen TV, a round table that didn’t wobble every five minutes and two huge American-style fridges for people to store their lunches in. Plus, a microwave that actually worked.

Ethan took a seat on one of the sofas while I fetched the first-aid kit. He kept his head dipped low, the now blood-soaked tissue pressed to it, and let out low groans of pain as I searched for the little green box. Eventually, I found it hiding behind the tea and coffee canisters.

‘Here it is!’ I yanked it out and brought it over to him, feeling more than a little squeamish at the thought of mopping up so much blood. ‘You’ll be back to normal in no time.’

I hoped I didn’t sound as nervous as I felt. My brain was currently screaming, what the hell have you got yourself into this time? and cursing me for offering my help in the first place. This wasn’t like me; I hated putting myself out there and having the spotlight on me. Yet that was what I’d done, thanks to my big mouth.

He mumbled something about getting a move on because he had stuff to do, before yelping in pain when he moved the wrong way.

‘Serves you right, ungrateful git,’ I muttered under my breath as I pulled on a pair of latex gloves before rooting round the box for some antiseptic wipes. When his eyes darted in my direction, I did the best fake smile I could. A couple of minutes and this would all be over. Then I could go back to being Anonymous Alice: the one who never got in anybody’s way, the one who kept herself to herself.

‘This might sting a bit,’ I said, ripping open one of the wipes, ‘but it’ll stop it from getting infected.’

Ethan gently prised his hands away from his face and allowed me to clean his bloody nose. When it stung, his hands flew up to protect his face.

‘OWWWW! Bloody hell, that hurts!’

I sighed and batted his hands away. ‘You know, the more you keep doing that the longer it’s going to take me to clean it and the more it’s going to hurt. Christ, you’re such a drama queen.’

Ethan didn’t say anything and sulked instead, a thunderous look clouding his features.

‘You know, this is quite funny really,’ I said with a grin. ‘You shoulder-barged me the other day and now I get to clean up your nose because you walked into a door!’

‘I’m sorry about the other day, but please forgive me if I don’t laugh right now.’ He gave a dry chuckle and his mouth twitched into a half-smile. ‘OWWW! Are you nearly finished with that?!’

‘Just about. God, anyone would think you’d never been smacked in the face by a revolving door before!’

I gave him a smile and he did his best to return it. ‘I have to admit…OWWW JESUS CHRIST…this is a first for me! Oh God, there’s not a scratch is there? Please don’t tell me there’s a scratch!’

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. ‘There’s a tiny scratch, but you can barely see it. Anyway, just keep still for a second while I finish cleaning it, then I’ll put a plaster on.’

His huge blue eyes widened with fear. ‘No, no, no you can’t put a plaster on my nose! I’ve got a really important audition today. I can’t go in looking like I’ve been in a fight.’

‘Well unfortunately you fought the revolving door and the door won.’ I chuckled and ripped open a plaster to put over the scratch he’d earned himself. ‘I’m sure the casting people will understand. If not, their loss and someone else can advertise their toothpaste or whatever.’

Ethan let out a hollow chuckle and ran his hands through his thick wavy brown hair. ‘It’s not an ad for toothpaste, it’s… It’s an audition to see if this luxury fashion house is going to make me the face of its menswear brand. They’re deciding between me and this other bloke and thanks to the revolving door, I think I’ve just handed it to him on a plate.’

I looked at him for a second. He definitely looked like the model type: angular, chiselled cheekbones and expressive eyes. I could just imagine him gracing billboards all over the world.

‘Oh I don’t know about that; this other guy might take a sudden allergic reaction to something and show up to the audition with a face the colour of rhubarb. Then you’ll have it in the bag!’ I stuck the plaster over the scratch and patted it down. I had to laugh; it was quite noticeable and made him look a bit ridiculous.

I was struck by how easy it was to talk to him. For the last three years, I’d barely spoken to anybody. Joining Fox’s and talking to the kids who came to the grotto every day had been my biggest steps into the outside world for so long.

‘Well, here’s hoping!’ Ethan said with a lopsided grin. He paused for a moment and turned to look at me. ‘Forgive me if this makes me sound like a complete prick, but… Do you know who I am?’

I frowned. ‘Um, no. Should I?’

He let out a deep, throaty chuckle and his face turned crimson. ‘Erm, I don’t know really! Do you know the name Ethan Fox?’

‘It rings a bell, but I can’t remember where I’ve heard it. Sorry!’ I began to feel a little embarrassed myself, like “Ethan Fox” was a name I definitely should know.

‘Did you see the latest Pride and Prejudice remake at the cinema?’ he asked.

‘Nope, I don’t get to the cinema a lot. Were you in it?’

Ethan’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. ‘You could say that! I was Mr Darcy.’

Suddenly, a light bulb pinged on in my head. ‘That’s where I’ve heard your name! I heard some of the old dears at the Breakfast Club I go to talking about how fit you looked climbing out of the pond with your shirt on.’

He threw his head into his hands and laughed. ‘I think that scene’s going to follow me wherever I go! Tell them next time you see them that the pond was bloody freezing! Anyway, now that you know my name, why not tell me yours?’

I froze and felt my blood run cold in my veins. Talking to this guy for a few minutes while I patched him up was one thing, swapping things like names was quite another. Especially since he was apparently quite a famous actor.

‘Oh you don’t want to know my name really! Just forget about it.’

I got up and Ethan followed suit. ‘Come on, I can’t let you clean me up after I lose a fight with a revolving door without knowing your name!’

I blushed and busied myself with putting the first-aid equipment back where I’d found it. ‘Why would a guy who’s been in the latest Pride and Prejudice remake want to know my name? I haven’t been in any remakes, Jane Austen or otherwise.’

He folded his arms as he watched me buzz about the little kitchen area. I was trying to find something else to occupy my mind. ‘Strangely enough, that’s not on my list of criteria for wanting to get to know someone!’

‘And putting a plaster on your nose when a revolving door smacks you in the face is on the list, is it?’

‘Nope,’ said Ethan, ‘but I’m willing to add it if it means you’ll tell me your name.’

‘Fine,’ I said when no rebuttals immediately sprang to mind. ‘My name’s Alice. Alice Woods.’

I reluctantly stuck a hand out for him to shake. He clasped it in his bear claw for a moment then let it go.

‘Well, it was lovely meeting you, Alice Woods. Tell me, do you patch up clumsy actors with an appalling sense of spatial awareness very often? Because you’ve done a really good job on me!’

I giggled and mumbled out a reply that even I couldn’t understand. By the look on Ethan’s face, neither could he.

‘Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,’ he said, taking a couple of steps towards me.

‘I-I…I said no, not that I’m aware of. I usually fly under everyone’s radar, so I don’t find myself rubbing shoulders with actors very often.’

‘I find it hard to believe that you could fly under anyone’s radar.’ Ethan’s mouth dropped open as he realised what he’d just said and he took a great interest in the kitchen floor tiles. ‘S-sorry…didn’t mean it to come out like that… Unfortunately, I have to go and spectacularly fail my audition for this menswear campaign! Thanks for all your help.’

He smiled at me then walked out of the canteen. I watched his great hulking frame descend the metal staircase. For a supposedly famous actor, he’d been refreshingly down-to-earth, I thought. I made my own way down and was just in time to see Ethan head out through the revolving door – he approached it with a bit more care this time – to a sea of awaiting paparazzi. I heard the clamour of voices as they threw questions at him and the clicking of their huge cameras as they followed him down the street.

Mum came rushing up to me, still holding that crystal duck she liked so much. The grin on her face was wider than I’d seen it in a long time.

‘Do you know who that was?!’ Her voice trembled with barely contained glee.

‘Yeah,’ I said with a shrug, ‘he said his name was Ethan Fox.’

Her eyes widened and she began jumping up and down on the spot, almost dropping her precious crystal duck.

‘Oh my God, I loved him in that superhero film he did! Who did he play again, the one who can fly? Fancy getting to do first aid on a Hollywood megastar! What was he like? The tabloids say he’s a complete womaniser, but he doesn’t look like one to me. Trust me, a mum knows these things.’

I found myself smiling, although I wasn’t entirely sure why. Probably because my mum was one of the only middle-aged women who knew him from a superhero film instead of his Pride and Prejudice reboot.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘he actually wasn’t that bad.’

‘I don’t suppose he is.’ My mum paused and grinned. ‘Since he’s got you to smile for the first time in ages.’


Chapter Six (#u122c48d9-9568-5368-aef1-8e8f6aee489e)

Later that night, Mum mounted a full-scale present-wrapping operation at my cottage. It wasn’t ideal having so much festive merriment around my little Christmas-free zone but after the day I’d had, I decided to allow it. While she hummed along to All I Want for Christmas is You by Mariah Carey, I decided to do a little research on the mysterious Ethan Fox. After all, he seemed pretty famous yet I had no idea who he was. And I couldn’t quite seem to forget his comment about me not flying under anyone’s radar.

‘According to this interview I read, he was born in London but moved to Yorkshire when he was twelve because his dad inherited Fox’s department store. It’s been in the family for over a hundred years apparently. Oh and he’s won a BAFTA too, for Best Actor!’

Mum nodded and flashed me a knowing look as she curled some ribbon with a pair of scissors. ‘Really? Sounds like you’ve been doing a bit of digging on the lovely Mr Fox Jnr instead of helping your old mum wrap presents! Where are your Christmas decorations, by the way? Ours have been up for ages!’

I felt every muscle in my body tense. ‘You know me, Mum, I’m not that big on Christmas nowadays. I’d rather just treat it like any other day.’

She sighed and put down the set of beers from around the world she was wrapping for Dad. ‘Alice, I know Christmas was Jamie’s favourite time of year, but do you really think he’d want you to stop celebrating it just because he’s not here any more?’

Not this again.

I groaned and ran my hands over my face. ‘I can’t have this argument with you again this year. When Jamie died, it didn’t seem like there was much point making a fuss over Christmas any more! It just brings back too many awful memories, OK?’

‘No, Alice, it’s not bloody OK!’ That made my head snap up in shock; my mum hardly ever swore. ‘It’s like you’re stuck between two people: the Alice who’s still grieving for Jamie and the one who’s ready to move on. You used to love everything about Christmas: everybody spending time together, the food, the presents. That doesn’t have to stop just because Jamie isn’t around any more.’

I felt my blood begin to boil and I gritted my teeth to stop a stream of expletives spilling out of my mouth.

‘It just doesn’t feel right doing it without him. You do Christmas your way and I’ll do it my way.’

Mum cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes at me. ‘I saw a different side to you today, one I haven’t seen for a really long time. When you went over to help Ethan, I thought “maybe this is it, maybe Alice is finally coming back”. You put yourself out there, even if it was only for a few minutes to put a plaster on someone’s nose. You’re capable of so much more than you think; I just wish you’d realise it.’

I gave a deep sigh and went back to researching Ethan Fox. I didn’t want to risk telling Mum she was wrong about me: I wasn’t capable of anything more than living half a life. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what steps I took to try and move on, grief was never far behind me. It was the harsh little voice in the back of my head, reminding me whenever I felt happy that the man I loved wasn’t here to share my life any more. Every happy moment, every good thing that happened, he was missing out on it.

My fingers drummed loudly against the keyboard, the rhythmic tap-tap-tapping fighting to compete with the clamouring voices in my brain telling me something had to change. I’d been feeling like that more and more lately, like it was time to take some steps to live my life again. Since Jamie died, I’d felt so out of step with the world, like it was operating on a completely different wavelength to me. Things couldn’t stay as they were; I wasn’t really living my life any more. In fact, I wondered if I’d even remember how to live, if given the chance. It was like my life had been on pause for the last three years, with nothing changing or moving forward.

Mum’s voice broke through my thoughts.

‘Listen… I-I’ve got something to show you. I was going to leave it until Christmas Day, but you know what I’m like.’

She got out her phone, pulled her glasses down off her head and squinted at the screen, tapping it until she found what she was looking for.

‘Take a look at that,’ she said, passing the phone to me.

I looked down and saw a beautiful, luxury Caribbean hotel on the screen. It was called Beach Paradise Resort and Spa; apparently, it was a four-star resort that had six swimming pools, all with pool bars, a choice of restaurants and a state-of-the-art spa that offered everything from shiatsu massages to facials.

‘That looks nice,’ I replied. ‘Are you thinking of booking it for you and Dad? Or maybe a girls’ holiday with some of your friends?’

Mum’s smile shrank a little and her brow furrowed. ‘No, darling, I…I’ve booked it for me and you. I thought we could have a girly holiday this Christmas. I know how much you hate celebrating it, so I thought a change of scenery away from the festivities would do you good. We’d leave on the last flight on Christmas Eve and come back on the third of January. How does that sound?’

My head instantly snapped up and my mouth dropped open in disbelief. ‘You did what? Mum, that’s… You really didn’t have to do that.’

Her gaze fell to the floor and she sighed. ‘Alice, for the last three years, you’ve absolutely hated Christmas and it’s killed me to see you so sad. You used to love getting involved with it all, but I know it’s been too painful since Jamie died. I know it was his favourite time of year.’

I nodded, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. ‘Yeah, he loved everything about it. It just hasn’t felt right celebrating without him.’

Mum’s eyes sparkled with tears, but she managed to hold them back. ‘I know, love. That’s why I thought getting away from it all would help this year. You could enjoy yourself for once instead of dreading it like you have done since you lost him.’

I shook my head. ‘I’ll still be thinking about Jamie though, whether I’m here or sunning myself on a beach. It’s a lovely idea, Mum, and I really appreciate it, but I think I’ll just do my best to avoid it like I’ve done for the last three.’

My stomach wrenched as I looked at the hotel; it wouldn’t have come cheap and Mum and Dad weren’t exactly flush with cash. She’d spent money she probably didn’t have to try and help me through the most difficult time of the year.

‘I-I’ll pay you back the money you spent on it,’ I said. ‘I don’t want you being out of pocket because of me.’

‘I’m not worried about the money, Alice, I’m worried about you. I don’t want to see you spending another Christmas holed up in here thinking about Jamie. That’s why I booked the holiday, so you wouldn’t have to do that.’

I saw the look of hurt on her face and my insides twisted. She’d seen me through some incredibly dark times and was trying to do something lovely for me. My eyes fell back to the hotel on Mum’s phone screen. It didn’t look too bad, I supposed. The choice of restaurants sounded nice, and the rooms looked gorgeous too. Maybe Christmas on the beach wasn’t such a bad idea after all. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. It was the most difficult time of year for me, and spending it somewhere else might be a good thing.

‘OK,’ I said, holding my hands up, ‘I’ll think about it, but I want to do something to earn it. You pick whatever you want and I’ll do it.’

A mischievous glint made Mum’s eyes sparkle. ‘Well it’s got to be the panto, hasn’t it? You could give Luna Bay a performance they’ll never forget!’

Oh no, I thought, anything but that.

‘How did I know you were going to say that?’ I rolled my eyes and managed a weak smile. ‘Please, Mum, is there anything else I could do? I haven’t been involved with theatre since Jamie died and I can’t go back now.’

‘Well you did say I could pick,’ she replied. ‘If you really feel like it’ll be too painful for you, then don’t do it, but I’d really like to see you going back to acting. You were so talented, Alice, and you absolutely loved it.’

A ghost of a memory came back to me: I was performing Hairspray on Broadway, playing Penny. As I sang and danced and acted my heart out, I could hear the laughter and applause, feeling the theatre’s electric atmosphere ensnare my senses. I felt a pang of longing that I hadn’t felt in so long. The passion was still there, lurking at the back of my mind, but it just hadn’t felt right doing it without Jamie.

‘The theatre was Jamie’s and my space,’ I said with a sad sigh. ‘We loved performing together and I… I don’t know if I want to do it without him.’

‘Do you really think he’d want you to give up on your passion just because he’s not here any more?’ Mum placed her hand on top of mine. ‘He loved you, Alice, and he’d want you to keep doing the things you love. Getting involved with the theatre again doesn’t mean you’re betraying him; it just means you’re starting to build up your life again.’

I thought of the voices inside my head, telling me something had to change. Maybe this was it, I thought, the decisive moment where I could either consign myself to being sad for ever or make a crucial leap.

‘OK,’ I said, stalling for time. ‘How about I agree to talk to Christabel about joining the panto? If she’s got anything I think I could help with, I’ll do it. If not, then we come up with some other way for me to earn my trip.’

A smile played on Mum’s lips and she shook her head. ‘Nice try, but she’s got tons of roles going, behind the scenes and on stage. She’s scared half the village away over the years and now, hardly anyone will work with her. I don’t care whether you help with the costumes or play the bloody fairy godmother, just take part. I know you’d rather have your teeth pulled without anaesthetic, but I think it’ll be really good for you. Just think, a few weeks of your time and you’ll get a trip to somewhere lovely and hot. What do you say?’

‘OK, OK, you win! I’ll talk to Christabel tomorrow.’

Oh God, Alice, what are you letting yourself in for?

*

Approaching Christabel for a role in her pantomime was like approaching a sleeping dragon: incredibly dangerous with a pretty high risk of getting yourself burned.

However, the day after making my deal with Mum, I prepared to do just that. I saw Christabel in the Moonlight Café, having tea with her select group of friends. I guessed they were taking advantage of Diane’s delicious high tea that was only served on Sundays. They all looked vaguely nervous and from what I could see, their teacups shook whenever they picked them up. I guessed they were all perfectly normal women who were too scared to even try and avoid her.

I looked down at my own pot of tea and barely touched chocolate cake, which I’d ordered so I could stake out Christabel’s table and prepare to make my move. Although both the tea and cake were delicious, I couldn’t enjoy them because the task in front of me weighed too heavily on my mind.

There was nothing else for it: it was time to strike. I put down my teacup and made my way over to her table. As I drew closer, I could hear that she was holding court over her terrified friends with some story about an actor she’d met at a buffet restaurant in Birmingham.

I watched them for a moment, wondering if I’d really have the guts to interrupt their conversation. I’d been so used to blending into the background for so long… I thought back to the day before, about feeling that something had to change. Life couldn’t stay on pause any more; I had to start taking steps to move forward, even if they were baby ones.

I cleared my throat and the hum of conversation immediately dropped. ‘Um…hi everyone! Sorry to interrupt your tea; I-I was wondering if I could talk to Christabel for a minute? It’s about the pantomime.’

I saw Christabel’s face light up and she instantly abandoned the forkful of lemon drizzle cake that had been on its way to her mouth.

‘Really? When I mentioned it at the Breakfast Club a couple of days ago, I got the impression you thought you were too good for our little pantomime. What’s changed?’

I pursed my lips while I tried to think of an excuse. I didn’t want to tell her that I’d stopped performing after my boyfriend died and that the thought of going back to it terrified me. There had been more than enough gossip about that when I’d come back to Luna Bay, and I wasn’t sure Christabel was the understanding type. A little improvisation was called for.

‘I was…shocked, I guess, that you wanted me to be a part of your production!’ I was completely aware that my voice had risen by about three octaves, but there was nothing I could do about it. ‘I mean, the panto’s a pretty significant event on the Luna Bay calendar right? So if you’ll have me, I’d love to take part in it. Backstage only though – I don’t act any more.’

Christabel nodded slowly and looked like she wasn’t sure whether to believe I was sincere or not. ‘Well, it would be an amazing coup for us to have a real Broadway actress on board. And there are quite a few backstage roles up for grabs because we’ve had some dropouts. Tell you what, why don’t you come along to our rehearsal tonight and we’ll see where we can slot you in? It’s in the theatre at seven. Be sharp though; I don’t tolerate latecomers.’

I smiled and nodded. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it!’

*

To say Mum was ecstatic when I told her would be a gross understatement.

‘What part do you think they’ll have you playing?’ she babbled over the phone when I called to give her the good news. ‘You’d make a lovely Cinderella; I remember seeing you in, what was it, Sleeping Beauty? You looked lovely in all those gorgeous dresses! I hope they don’t make you one of the ugly sisters just because you’ve joined late.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I asked for a backstage role!’ I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder as I fired up the laptop to do more research on Ethan Fox. That touching comment he’d made about me was still floating around my mind, much to my surprise. ‘All the good parts have probably gone and I haven’t been on stage for years. I can still hand out programmes or help with the hair and make-up though.’

My eyes scanned the laptop for articles or interviews I might’ve missed the first time around. Most of the articles painted him as a cocky womaniser, which was completely at odds with my impression of him at Fox’s. I wasn’t sure why Ethan had been popping up in my thoughts, or why I wanted to find out more about him. All I knew was that every time I replayed what he’d said to me, my face broke out into a smile.

Mum heaved out a sad sigh. ‘I was hoping to see you do your thing on stage, but being involved backstage is better than nothing, I guess.’

‘Trust me, I’d be rubbish; I’m so out of practice and I’d make the production even worse than it normally is. It’s probably a good thing that I’m going nowhere near the stage!’

‘You know, you actually sound quite excited about this,’ she remarked. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking forward to it.’

A loud snort was my response, followed by: ‘I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself! I’m taking part in the village panto; that doesn’t mean I’ll be booking West End auditions or heading off on touring productions. This is just me dipping my toe in the water again, that’s all. Although I have to admit, I’m a little bit excited about being part of a production again. Even if it is one as disastrous as the Luna Bay Christmas pantomime.’

*

As per Christabel’s precise instructions, I turned up to rehearsals at seven p.m. sharp. The Silver Bells Theatre, like all other buildings in Luna Bay, was utterly charming – with its vaulted ceiling, stained-glass windows and friendly, cosy atmosphere. The fat red velvet seats were in need of a little TLC, but the stage was beautiful. A huge hexagon that commanded the attention of the entire space, it was a performer’s dream. I could almost imagine standing on it and looking out at an audience just waiting to be entertained…

‘Good, you’re here.’ Christabel’s booming voice broke through my thoughts and dragged me back to the present. ‘The performers haven’t arrived yet, which is typical, so I’ve got time to take you through our vacant backstage roles.’

All I could do was nod before she launched into a diatribe about all the positions that needed to be filled and why the people who’d previously occupied them had left.

‘People around here don’t seem to realise that you need a thick skin to be in show business. Honestly, the set designer walked out because I said his ballroom scene looked like something even Jackson Pollock wouldn’t put his name on! Some people can’t handle constructive criticism. Luckily, you understand what it means to be a true artiste! Although I must say I’m surprised that you don’t want to take an on-stage role in the production. Surely, a serious actress like you must feel the call to perform?’

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and prepared to roll out the stock excuse I used whenever this came up. ‘My heart just wasn’t in it any more. That’s why I quit.’

Christabel whipped round to look at me at a rate of knots, almost causing her styled brown crop of hair to fall out of place.

‘I can’t imagine ever not wanting to be on stage any more. I think that’s why this time of year is so important to me; I get the chance to release my inner director. I like to think of myself as the Nora Ephron of Luna Bay. Places, everybody; enter stage right and all that!’

She bounded up the little set of wooden steps and took to the stage, strutting around it for a brief, unguarded moment and barking directorial orders, before she remembered where she was.

‘Yes, well anyway…’ She cleared her throat and straightened her tweed jacket. ‘You can choose your own role, really. Would you like to paint sets or maybe help with costume changes? We’re really short on bodies, so any help you give would be appreciated. Or maybe you’d like to meet the cast first?’

‘Well, I—’

Christabel cut me off by summoning the cast members onto the stage. There were five in total, although I had the sneaking suspicion there had been a lot more once upon a time. There was a pretty girl with ginger curls, a guy who looked like a Vogue model, a middle-aged lady and two girls who looked like they were twins. None of them looked particularly enthused, not like actors normally did when they were on stage. It didn’t take a genius to work out that they were one unhappy bunch.

‘Everyone, we have an artiste in our midst! This is Alice Woods and she’s a famous Broadway performer; she’s come to take part in our little production. Say hello, everyone.’

Five pairs of eyes homed in on me and I began to feel very awkward. I did a silly little wave and said hello, sounding like an eighties’ aerobics instructor. A discordant greeting rose from the gathered crowd.

Christabel stood at the far left of the crowd and began slowly walking down the line-up.

‘This is Eileen, our wicked stepmother. Lauren is our Cinderella, Callum is playing the handsome prince, and Angie and Helen are our brilliant ugly sisters.’

She gestured to each one in turn as she introduced them and they each did their own individual greeting when they were called upon. Most just waved or smiled but Callum, aka Prince Charming, blew a kiss in my direction and winked at me. After I returned his smile, he came down the steps and walked up to me.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alice. My name’s Callum Stone and on behalf of everyone, I’d like to welcome you to the Silver Bells Theatre.’

He bent his head low and kissed my hand. I gasped in surprise and tried to ignore the goosebumps snaking their way across my skin. Out the corner of my eye, I saw the woman named Lauren’s face fall a little.

‘Well it’s lovely to meet you all,’ I replied, trying to hide my obvious blush. ‘Just tell me where you want me! I’m happy to do anything.’

I felt an all-too-familiar buzz being in a theatre again, although I didn’t want to admit it. I was very aware that an important person – my boyfriend, my best friend, my partner in crime – was missing. Doing something he loved when he wasn’t there to enjoy it with me made my insides twist into knots. Silently, I cursed my mum for convincing me this was a good idea, and myself for coming in the first place. However, as I stared around the little theatre, I began to feel the old rush of magic I’d always felt when treading the boards. Although the prospect of being involved in the theatre again filled me with dread, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

*

Since the production was so short-staffed, Christabel and I agreed that I’d help out wherever I could. That night involved painting the sets for the chateau scenes. Armed with the world’s stubbiest paintbrush and some very watery paint, I set about creating the chateau’s sweeping grand staircase.

As I worked, I couldn’t help but listen in on the rehearsal. Well, the parts of the rehearsal that weren’t dominated by Christabel barking orders at people anyway. The poor actors couldn’t get more than a few lines out without her interrupting them with her “creative suggestions”.

‘Lauren, for goodness’ sake, you’re supposed to be a downtrodden servant girl and you’re prancing round the stage like you’re a Disney princess! You need to identify with your character; what are her struggles and motivations? Eileen, your wicked stepmother is about as fierce as a newborn kitten! And, Callum, don’t get me started on how utterly weak your handsome prince is. He’s supposed to be the hero of the story, not a bystander who just sits back and watches the story unfold!’

A collection of moans and groans followed Christabel’s critique and I was sure I heard someone murmur, ‘Get a life, you silly cow.’

‘Enough!’ Her voice was a loud bark that bounced off every corner of the room. ‘Now, since we can’t seem to get any of the scenes right, let’s do some drama exercises instead. Come on now, let’s all pretend to be trees. Chop chop!’

That got her another load of complaints from the cast, who reminded her that opening night was just a month away and they’d hardly rehearsed any of the scenes.

‘We’re going to look stupid up there,’ the girl named Lauren grumbled. ‘Just like we always do!’

‘Nonsense!’ Christabel clapped her hands and joined the actors on stage. ‘Now, imagine you’re a tree with branches reaching up to the sun.’

So they’d have an example to follow – although I couldn’t imagine why they’d need one – Christabel stood at the front of the stage and contorted herself into some weird shape that looked nothing like a tree. Everyone else looked around in sheer bewilderment, probably wondering what any of this had to do with putting on a pantomime.

‘Are you all reaching for the sun?’ she asked, pushing her fingertips even further towards the ceiling. ‘Remember, you have to let your branches soar up to the sky!’

I shook my head as I carried on painting the staircase. I’d worked with countless would-be directors who thought techniques like this actually worked. Then, when it came to opening night and none of the cast knew what they were doing, the director would blame them!

I wondered if I should step in and give Christabel some pointers, but decided not to. They probably wouldn’t go over very well and she’d see it as the Broadway actress storming in and taking over. The last thing I needed was this panto giving me any aggro. I’d come here to try and move on with my life after the worst three years imaginable, not to incur Christabel’s wrath.

As Christabel instructed the now thoroughly pissed-off actors to pretend they were feathers, I stifled a giggle. It was pretty safe to say that the Silver Bells Christmas pantomime was going to be every bit as awful as it always was.

*

In a way, I was glad when the rehearsal finished. Watching Christabel pretty much waste everybody’s time for an hour and a half had been quite painful. They hadn’t done much rehearsing at all, what with all the pretending to be trees and feathers. After all that malarkey, she’d instructed each of them to write a one thousand word essay on their character and have it ready by the next rehearsal.

I was just putting away my paintbrush and preparing to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Lauren.

‘Hi, erm, I hope you don’t mind me coming over to say hello! So you’re Alice Woods.’

‘Um…yeah that’s me!’ I raised my paintbrush in a funny sort of salute. Why did I have to be so damn awkward?

‘I’m Lauren Baker.’ She reached forward and grabbed my arm, making my paintbrush clatter to the floor. ‘I saw you on stage in New York when you were in Hairspray; you were amazing as Penny Pingleton! I just thought I’d come over and say hello properly, since there wasn’t time earlier.’

I gently prised my arm out of her vice-like grip and smiled, flipping some of my dark brown hair away from my face.

‘Thanks, that was a while ago now!’ I’d never been good at taking a compliment and nowadays, I was worse than ever.

‘You inspired me to follow my dreams.’ Lauren’s chocolate-brown eyes were now the size of dinner plates. ‘I mean, look at you; you’re from Luna Bay and you’ve achieved amazing things. You’ve performed all over the world! I want to do the same one day, just have to get out of the village first. Ooh, and you’ve got lovely hair!’

She reached out to touch it, but I managed to deftly duck out of the way. ‘Um…thank you again! Anyway, I need to get going; lots to do and all that…’

Lauren sighed and twirled a strand of bright auburn hair round her finger. ‘I’m sorry, I can be a bit…overenthusiastic sometimes! It’s just when I saw you on stage, it made me realise that I wanted to do that for the rest of my life. You were just so…alive, I guess. Like you could really tell you belonged up there – know what I mean? You’ve probably been asked this, like, hundreds of times already, but why are you here painting our sets and not off on some glitzy world tour or something? Didn’t something awful happen to you? I remember hearing rumours when you came back to Luna Bay that something terrible had happened in New York.’

My stomach twisted itself into knots as I tried to think of an answer that didn’t include “my boyfriend died so I stopped performing”. In a way, I was glad she didn’t know the full story: I’d had enough concerned head tilts and pats on the arm to last me several lifetimes.

‘I…’ The words I wanted to say stuck in my throat. ‘I guess I just didn’t have the heart for it any more. But you were great up there when Christabel let you do your stuff!’





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