I looked out of the window again and now saw a scruffy wooden pole by the side of the road, a battered sign on the top announcing that this was the stop for the H62. Just not the stop I had been expecting. I pulled myself together.
‘Right, sorry, thank you very much.’
I grabbed my bag and got out into the freezing air. I was spotlit, briefly, as he backed his taxi away, then he turned the carand was gone, leaving me in the lowering darkness, the lights of Lingfoss glowing in the distance.
‘Okay…’ I said out loud, to rally myself. ‘It can’t be further than half a mile and you still have’ – I pulled out my phone and lit up the screen – ‘ten minutes before it starts. You can do this.’
I hefted my bag over my shoulder and started walking briskly down the road. He hadn’t been wrong when he said there was nowhere to turn – it was very narrow and I was thankful that there wouldn’t be cars coming in the opposite direction, as the road had been closed off. My confidence was short-lived, however, when I saw the unmistakeable glow of headlights coming my way, and at some speed. Whoever it was must have pulled out of a house or road before the block. This time the adrenaline really meant business: if I didn’t get out of the way, and quickly, I’d be hit. There was no way the driver would see me in my dark clothing until he was right on top of me. To my left was a steep bank, topped with trees and dense bushes, but to my right I saw a space with a wooden fence. I darted to it, threw my bag over, and clambered over myself, falling hard on my hip but just in time, as a large car shot past. With no time to waste, I leaped up, then sat down again abruptly on the hard ground, overwhelmed by a rush of blood to the head.
Breathe, I reminded myself, and spent a moment or two steadying myself, trying to take in smooth breaths rather than gulping down the freezing air, until my heart had steadied and my legs felt less wobbly. I stood up slowly and looked around. A field, and one which I hoped wasn’t inhabited by anything fierce. I decided to take my chances and continue walking through it, with the road safely on the other side of the fence. I broke into the nearest thing approximating a jog that I could manage and glanced at my phone again. Although it felt as if hours had passed, I still had time to make it. My steady pace was soon broken by another fence but, now a veteran of such things,I scaled it efficiently, feeling pleased with myself. Until my landing, that is. Or to be more accurate, the landing of my right foot in something soft, squishy and not particularly fragrant. Lifting up my foot, I shook it free of much of the debris and tried to wipe the rest off on the grass, although I couldn’t see what I was doing.
You’d think it would have the decency to freeze solid,I thought, then was clutched by the idea that, as it most definitely wasnotfrozen, it must be fresh, which would mean that there was some sort of livestock nearby, possibly something that wouldn’t take kindly to me stumbling around in its field in the darkness. Invigorated by this fresh terror, I set off again, improving on my previous pace and trying not to think about my soiled shoe. It was with relief that I saw ahead of me the lights of Lingfoss, and knew I was only moments from my destination. Ahead of me stood one more fence, which I hauled myself over, trying to see what lay in wait on the ground for me to land in. I checked my phone clock one more time: three minutes. I was going to make it.
My chest was sore now from heaving in the chilly air, and I decided to exchange my jogging for a brisk walking pace in the hope that I might look rather less flustered and sweaty when I arrived. I was on the high street, now, and could see a big crowd of people waiting. As I approached the back, I could hear music starting up. At least I had made it in time. Just. I edged my way through to the side of the crowd where I could now see Mary pottering about, doubtless about to be interrupted by an angel with some seriously life-changing news. I cast my eyes around the crowd, spotting Mum immediately, who had clearly decided to go incognito in a flamingo-pink trench coat. Her eyes met mine, then instantly rolled heavenwards as she tapped her watch. I pushed down my feelings of injustice and impatience and continued looking, hoping to spot Alexander. And suddenly,with a lurch in my stomach, I did. He had found a spot near the front and was looking nervous. I was about to try to catch his attention, when I saw Annabel standing next to him. I hadn’t clocked her until this point, and now she rested a leather-gloved hand on his arm, gave it a little squeeze and muttered a few words. He smiled at her and looked a little more relaxed. Annabel, of course, was looking immaculate in her country chic outfit of a fitted, quilted jacket, tight jeans and conker-shiny knee-length boots. I glanced down dismally at my down jacket, scuffed from the journeys I had made, leggings and trainers. The outfit that had been perfect for train travel and dashing around London and, as it turned out, clambering over fences, but that I had hoped to change out of before seeing everyone again. I sighed and returned my attention to the action on ‘stage’, which was, in fact, the middle of the road. Gabriel had delivered his news and Mary was now persuading a bemused Joseph that her pregnancy was the result of divine intervention. Luckily for her, after a quick nap and another angel visitation, this time in a dream and played with great verve by the butcher, Ted, Joseph was convinced, and they started making plans to head to Nazareth. It was at this point that Theo and Douglas made their grand entrance, leading Heathcliff around the corner and offering him up as transport. They hefted Mary on board and started walking down the high street, with the crowd shuffling after them. I was behind Theo so had no chance of letting him know I was there, but I saw Annabel give him a little wave and the sweetest of smiles. She was a better bet than me, I mused, as we stopped outside the pub, The Keeper’s Arms, which had its own starring role as an inn with no room. I couldn’t even arrive on time, let alone looking the part, whereas she had probably had the date circled in red on her calendar for months, and doubtless made mince pies from scratch for after. The play continued, with the audience moving to see the stable scene andthen a little further, where subtle lighting had been rigged up on the edge of the moor to show the shepherds – complete with real sheep – watching their flocks by night. The final tableau, back at the stable, was beautifully staged: someone had even come up with a real tiny baby for Mary to hold. Life-hardened old cynic I may be, but even I found myself surreptitiously wiping my eye as the strains of ‘Away in a Manger’ started up, and we were all encouraged to join in.
When the performers had taken their bows, the vicar popped up to thank everyone and invite us to go for refreshments –Annabel’s mince pies,I thought, meanly – and mulled wine in the warm pub. It looked as if it would take a while for the crowd to move back there, not to mention the returning of babies, sheep and donkeys that needed to happen; maybe I had time to nip up to the house, leave my things and freshen up? I was just going to start wriggling through the crowd again, when a hand caught my elbow.
‘Where are you going, darling?’
‘Oh, hi, Mum. I was just going to run back to Blakeney Hall to sort myself out; I’m a mess after all that travelling.’
She looked me up and down with the slight crease to her forehead that is the closest she can get to frowning, thanks to the Botox.
‘I shouldn’t worry, Fallon, no one will notice any difference. Come along. Everyone was terribly upset when they didn’t think you were going to make it.’
It was too much to hope that she might be pleased to hear how I had beaten the odds to be there at all, so I refrained from comment and followed her into the pub, combing my fingers through my hair as I went in a feeble attempt to look more put together. Mum was immediately swallowed into the throng, while I stood there a little hesitantly, hoping to see a familiarface. Thankfully, I spotted Alexander, minus Annabel, and made my way over.
‘Hello! Hi, Theo.’
I gave them a little wave and received very tight smiles in return.
‘Hello, all right?’ said Alexander, his voice tight and his hand moving to Theo’s shoulder.
I thought I might cry. All that panic, all that worry, all that scrambling across fields to get there on time and then be met with a face that was colder than the weather outside. My hip complained where I had landed on it, and I gave it a rub.
‘Yes, although I had an awful journey. I was on time and then there was a delay when we just sat there. Then the taxi dropped me miles away, so I had to come cross country.’ I saw his face relax a tiny bit and pushed on, trying not to sound defensive. ‘But I was just in time and saw the entire Nativity.’
‘Did you?’ asked Theo. ‘Did you see Heathcliff?’
‘I did indeed, he was brilliant, but not as brilliant as you. I didn’t realise that you were on stage, as it were, for so long.’
Theo’s smile became a beam now.
‘I’m glad you made it,’ Alexander said seriously, his eyes on my face. ‘How were things in London?’
‘Oh, it went very well. It was all pretty full on, but the client was happy, and I think we’ll get more business from her and maybe from some of her friends. It was a late night, though, I’m tired.’
‘Will you be all right with the Christmas Fayre stuff?’
‘I’ll be fine. Areyouall right?’
Theo had drifted over to Coco, who had looked after Runcible during the performance, and Alexander glanced over at him before replying.
‘I’m fine, yes, but Theo was very upset when he thought you wouldn’t make it. I know it wasn’t your fault, but he does take promises incredibly seriously, you know.’
I cringed with guilt, but also felt slightly put out.
‘Iknow, I do understand that, and it was silly of me to tell him I’d definitely be here, but I could hardly help my train being delayed.’
