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He laughed, but Rae got the feeling it was with her, not at her.
‘Why not? Just because we’re thousands of miles away from home doesn’t mean some of the people out here don’t have the same Christmas story that we have. They might not celebrate it quite the way we do, with eggnog and turkey, but it’s still Christmas. They’ll be feasting and dancing and singing.’
‘I... Right.’ She dipped her head, feeling a little foolish. Myles seemed to understand how places like this worked so easily, whilst she struggled with even the more basic concepts.
‘Wait, according to the map the charity drew up for us, the schoolhouse must be around here somewhere.’ He glanced around. ‘There.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Inside.’ He barely looked over his shoulder, his voice more a command than a request. ‘Come on.’
She’d seen the classrooms through their makeshift windows, complete with mismatched chairs and tables and a very old chalkboard by what had to be the teacher’s desk, but she’d never been inside. She hadn’t dared.
Rae only paused for a moment before scurrying after him, trying to quell her nerves as he opened the door for her to step inside the deserted building, expecting any moment someone to stop them and tell them that they weren’t allowed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS THE homemade decorations that struck Rae first. Sparkly paper chains, red felt stockings made from fishing nets, and glittery, colourfully decorated, foam Christmas tree ornaments; red-and-white Father Christmas hats lovingly made from scraps of felt, some well, some not so well, were strewn through the two classrooms. Names she couldn’t pronounce sewn haphazardly on each of them with obvious pride.
In a bowl sat ornately carved wooden recorders, ready to be played, whilst an old piano with its missing front and its yellowed keys, hunched yet proud, took pride of place. She leaned over to see what they were learning.
‘Those are carols.’ Surprise rippled through her. ‘Christmas Carols.’
‘Probably to entertain the volunteers.’ Myles nodded. ‘You’ll likely be expected to sing along.
‘Really?’
‘We will,’ he corrected belatedly. ‘Especially when they then teach us some of their songs.
‘I didn’t know,’ she breathed softly.
‘You weren’t an idiot for wanting to give these kids those toy boxes. They might have to worry about food and water and medical care, but they still love toys and gifts and playing, just like every other kid. Perhaps it can be more important out here that they have something like those toy boxes to remind them that they’re just kids. That they should still have something approaching a childhood.’
She inched around the classroom taking everything in.
‘What are these?’ She peered at some cans, empty but for the string lacing through them.
‘Shakers.’ Myles smiled. ‘The kids will fill them with different things, some with grit, some with stone. If food weren’t so scarce, they would usually fill some with rice. Then the men will tie them to their legs and do traditional dancing to celebrate the festive season.’
‘I look forward to seein
g you join in with that.’ Maybe it was dangerous, pushing this tentative truce they’d established, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
To her relief he offered a wry smile.
‘Fortunately for me, I’ve been to a place like this before, so I’ll have an idea of what I’m doing. But don’t think you’ll get away without learning the women’s dance.’
‘Oh, I hadn’t considered that. Luckily for me I’m a half-decent dancer. At least I can keep to a beat.’ She laughed, realising too late that it might be too reminiscent of that night at the ball.
Was it always going to be this way? Talking with Myles as though she were walking on eggshells, not wanting to say anything to cause him to back away.
He was right, a truce was the most sensible option, and it suited her. She didn’t want more than that, of course she didn’t. Because that would have been insane.
And yet, once again, Myles surprised her.
‘I seem to recall that you’re more than a half-decent dancer,’ he murmured, his hand reaching out to tuck her grown-out fringe behind her ears.
It was so gentle, so intimate, that she hardly dared to breathe, let alone move.
