Page 38 of Not Just for Christmas

‘Are you the real Dylan Wilde?’ asked one of the three kings.

‘You bet your frankincense I am,’ said Dylan.

‘My granny went to watch you once.’ The boy clamped a hand over his mouth and giggled. ‘She fancies you.’

‘Your granny? Cool.’ He smirked to himself. He really was getting old.

‘Brutal,’ said one of the women, catching his eye. ‘I’m Miss Evans and I’m more of a Beyoncé fan. No offence.’

He grinned. ‘None taken. I’ll let her know.’

‘Wow.’ Miss Evans gawped at him.

‘Dylan is my daddy’s best friend,’ Sam said, puffing his chest out.

‘I was, I am,’ said Dylan, feeling choked. ‘And I’ve known Sam since he was a tiny baby, as small as Baby Jesus over there.’

He pointed to the doll dangling from Mary’s hand.

‘Which is why I’m so excited to see your Nativity show. So, kids, gather round.’ He beckoned them to come closer. ‘Who’s excited for Christmas?’

‘Me!’ shouted the kids.

‘All right! So all your moms and dads and grandmas and grandads and everyone else are out there excited for Christmas too,’ said Dylan, making room on his knee for Sam, who’d wrapped an arm around his neck. ‘And this is going to be one of their favourite parts, because you are all going to nail this.’

‘I’m scared,’ said the donkey.

Dylan tugged one of its grey furry ears. ‘That’s because you are so proud of yourself and all your friends that you really want to get it right.’

The donkey stuck out its bottom lip. ‘My sister said the donkey is the worst part, she’s going to laugh at me.’

‘Every part is important,’ said Dylan.

‘I’ll be having a word with your sister,’ added Miss Cooper.

‘The donkey carried Mary all the way to Bethlehem,’ said Dylan, ‘because she was too tired to walk. How awesome is that? I think the donkey is very important.’

‘OK,’ said the donkey, conceding a mischievous smile. ‘Will you really tell my sister off, Miss?’

She gave him a thumbs-up.

‘Who’s the loudest singer in school?’ Dylan asked the crowd of eager faces.

‘Miss Cooper!’ a little boy piped up.

‘Seconded,’ said Mrs Wheeler, who’d reappeared with a china cup and saucer which she held out to Dylan. ‘We are very lucky to have such a talented teacher on our staff.’

‘Gosh.’ Miss Cooper turned a pretty shade of raspberry. ‘Thank you.’

‘So maybe when you’re feeling a bit scared, think about Miss Cooper.’ Dylan grinned at the teacher. ‘Deep breath and sing the way she does.’

‘Who do you think about when you sing, Dylan?’ said Miss Evans.

‘Depends,’ he said, sipping his coffee. ‘Sometimes I think of the first girl I fell in love with, sometimes I think about my mom, and other times I think of Taylor Swift.’

The children gasped at the mention of Taylor while the women gazed at him, dewy-eyed.

‘I keep forgetting my lines,’ said a little boy, who, judging by the walking stick he was twirling dangerously, was a shepherd.