‘Wow,’ said Jolene. ‘Thank you, that’s amazing. You won’t regret it.’

  ‘Mm, maybe,’ said Barney, shifting in his chair. ‘Linda always used to get me to do it years ago for playgroup and for the school. Said I made a good Santa. Had the right girth.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Jolene. ‘I’d got my dad on standby, but he’s as skinny as a rake so not quite got the figure for it. You would be so much better. But only do it if you want to. I mean, I don’t want it to upset you if it reminds you of Linda.’

  ‘As you said earlier,’ said Barney, looking at Jolene, ‘memories are really important. Especially the happy ones. I’m lucky enough to have many happy memories being Santa years ago. Why not make a few more?’

  ‘Thanks, Barney,’ said Jolene. ‘That’s amazing. Stacey kindly put me in touch with Grace’s school,’ she continued. ‘The teacher was delighted. Said she was trying to think of a treat for them after the Nativity play and this is perfect. She did make one request, though. I think it came via Grace.’

  ‘Oh God, what has she asked for?’ asked Stacey.

  ‘They want to come in their Nativity play costumes. In fact, I think Grace demanded that she come dressed as a donkey,’ said Jolene with a smile.

  Stacey shook her head. ‘That girl,’ she sighed. ‘I’m going to the Nativity play later so I can check out the costumes, if you like. How would it look in the photo op, do you think?’

  ‘I think it will look fantastic,’ said Jolene. ‘A full Nativity play cast, Father Christmas, some elves, and the mayor – bound to make the front page, don’t you think? You cannot get more Christmassy than that. I told the teacher that was fine. Did I do right?’ she asked Diane.

  ‘Sounds like you have it all under control,’ said Diane. ‘Well done.’

  ‘Can I ask a massive favour?’ asked Jolene. ‘I could really do with some help on the night. Just to make sure everyone is in place.’

  ‘I was planning to come anyway,’ said Diane. ‘You’ll need help controlling the mayor.’

  ‘I’ll be there to keep an eye on Grace, anyway,’ said Stacey.

  ‘I can come,’ jumped in Yang. ‘No problem. Just tell me what I need to do.’

  ‘Father Christmas will be there, of course,’ smiled Barney.

  ‘Oh, I’ll come too then,’ said Jerry. ‘Wouldn’t want to miss out on a free trip on the London Eye, would I? And there are no choir rehearsals now that we’ve done the carol concert so I’ve nothing better to do.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Jolene, staring at Jerry. ‘I didn’t know you sang in a choir. That’s really … interesting. Where do you sing?’

  ‘St Martin-in-the-Fields,’ replied Jerry. ‘We just did a concert for five hundred people, actually.’

  ‘Noted,’ said Jolene, nodding. ‘Very good to know.’

  ‘Right,’ said Diane, ‘the mayor’s event is under control. Now, how is project “Cancel Christmas”, going?’

  Jerry opened a file and handed copies of a spreadsheet around the table.

  ‘So myself and Yang completed a total of forty-five surveys and the results are pretty conclusive, as you see. I think we need to do a few more to make it robust, but there wasn’t one person who said that the Christmas expenditure represented value for money. I think we’d be well within our rights to suggest that Bermondsey Council does not deliver on Christmas to its residents and so we therefore should look to present it as a cost saving for next year.’

  Diane swallowed and nodded. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘So what did you conclude, Barney and Jolene, with your interviews?’ she asked.

  Barney said nothing, leaving Jolene to fill the void.

  ‘Er, we did twenty-five interviews in total,’ she began.

  ‘Twenty-five!’ exclaimed Stacey. ‘Why did it take you so long?’

  Jolene looked awkwardly at Barney. He still said nothing, despite the fact the reason was that Jolene had done the vast majority on her own. ‘We were really listening,’ she said. ‘Listening to them talk about Christmas.’

  ‘Jolene did most of the work,’ interjected Barney. ‘That’s why we didn’t do as many. She didn’t want me to get wet in the rain, which was very good of her. But Jolene is right: we really listened. Listened to what they said about Christmas, not just the answers to the questions.’

  ‘And what did you conclude?’ asked Diane.

  Barney looked at Jolene. She gave a small nod, indicating for him to go ahead.

  ‘It had given them memories. Memories they treasured in a way that better public toilets and better roads never could,’ he said, looking at Diane intently. Then he turned to Jolene. ‘That’s what they said wasn’t it, Jolene? How special their memories were of Christmas.’

  Jolene nodded rapidly. ‘Yes, Barney,’ she replied. ‘That’s exactly right. The lights, the tree, the ice rink when we used to do it. All of that was part of happy memories. Happy times. And yes, they want money spent on all the stuff that’s falling apart, but maybe not at the expense of Christmas.’

  Diane didn’t know what to say. She’d thought cancelling Christmas was going to be the thing that got her out of making anyone redundant. Now it sounded as if it wouldn’t be as straightforward a decision as she had thought.

  ‘So it’s a tough choice,’ she said, looking round the table. Everyone was looking nervously back at her. Clearly all thinking the same thing. It wasn’t going to be easy choosing between someone’s job or taking away part of people’s Christmas memories in the area.

  ‘Well, we could probably do with a few more in-depth interviews,’ said Diane, looking down and shuffling papers. ‘And then … and then we shall see where we’re at.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’re in this position,’ said Jolene suddenly.

  ‘What position?’ asked Diane.

  ‘Having to make this horrendous decision. And at Christmas too. I imagine it’s very stressful. I hope whoever has picked you in the Secret Santa Project can work out how to bring you just a little bit of joy. I really do.’

  ‘Thank you, Jolene,’ replied Diane. ‘I hope so too.’

  ‘Er, can I ask a question about that?’ said Yang. ‘The Secret Santa Project, I mean.’

  ‘Yep,’ said Jolene.

  ‘Well, does it have to be secret? I mean, I’ve been given a good idea but it can’t be a secret. I kind of have to do it now, really.’

  ‘Will it make someone’s Christmas?’ asked Jolene.

  ‘I believe it will,’ said Yang, looking at Jerry. He smiled and nodded back.

  ‘Well, brilliant. Great. Yes, just get on with it.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Er, OK. Well, Stacey, I got you. And, er, I believe you have been asked to a party and you need a babysitter, so can my Secret Santa be coming to look after Grace for you?’

  Stacey sat there stunned. Then she leaped out of her seat, ran round the table and hugged Yang.

  ‘How did you know? That is the absolute best gift anyone could give me. I couldn’t ask you again – it didn’t seem right – but a Secret Santa gift, amazing! It’s in the Tower of London, can you believe that? The actual Tower of London. This is the best Christmas ever,’ she said, giving Yang a kiss on the cheek before returning to her seat, beaming.

  ‘That’s really very good of you, Yang,’ agreed Diane, smiling. ‘How exciting, Stacey. But the big question is, what are you going to wear?’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, clutching her head. ‘I was going to ask you, if I managed to sort out the babysitting nightmare. Would you have anything? You always look so amazing. I thought … well, I thought you might lend me something.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ grinned Diane. ‘It would be my absolute pleasure. Will you let me do your make-up too?’ she asked.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Only if you’re comfortable with that. I love doing other people’s make-up. Chloe used to let me do hers, but she doesn’t let me anywhere near her now. Doesn’t even wear much, to be honest.’

  ‘I would love that,’ said Stacey. ‘You’re so much better than me. I can’t believe it,’ she said, looking round the table. ‘Thank you, Yang. Thank you, Diane. Really, this is amazing. Can’t wait to tell Will.’

  ‘Looks like you shall go to the ball,’ grinned Jerry. ‘No pressure on the rest of us now over Secret Santa,’ he said, looking round the table.

  ‘You know you said you were in a choir earlier?’ said Jolene.

  ‘Er, yes?’ replied Jerry, suddenly looking nervous. ‘What of it?’

  ‘Can we have a chat later? You might be able to help me with something, and maybe then I could perhaps help you with some ideas for your Secret Santa?’

  Jerry nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘All ideas would be most welcome. I’m stumped.’

  ‘Great,’ said Jolene, grinning. ‘Really great.’

  Just at that moment Stacey’s phone buzzed angrily on the table.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking at it. ‘It’s the school.’

  ‘Take it,’ said Diane.

  Stacey picked up her phone. ‘Hello.’

  Everyone watched as she nodded, then sighed, her eyes darting around the room. Then she said, ‘Tell her I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise.’

  She put the phone down. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘Grace insisted they call me. She’s refusing to go on stage if they don’t.’ She turned to Yang. ‘I can’t believe I’m asking you this, given what you’ve just offered to do for me, but Grace wanted to make sure that I’d asked you to go to her Nativity play this afternoon to watch her sing the “Donkey Love” song. I told her last night that you wouldn’t want to go and that you’re at work, but she won’t listen. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with that girl.’

  Yang looked at Stacey. ‘I’ll come,’ he said.

  ‘What!’ said Stacey. ‘No, really, you don’t have to.’

  ‘Can I go?’ Yang asked Diane. ‘I came in at six this morning to plug in all the numbers from the survey. Can you let me off a little early?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ she said. ‘If you want to?’

  Yang looked at Stacey. ‘I’d like to come and see Grace sing in a Nativity play. Never watched one before.’ He shrugged. ‘Feel like I’ve missed out.’

  Stacey stared back at him, blinking.

  ‘Good lad,’ said Barney, nodding.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said to Yang, clearly baffled by his desire to go. ‘You’ll make her Christmas.’

  Yang shrugged. ‘Why wouldn’t I want to go and see a young child murder a song I wrote?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jerry, giving him a curious look. ‘Why wouldn’t you?’

  Chapter 21

  The bus journey to Grace’s school had been fraught. The traffic was insane and, despite his best efforts, Yang couldn’t keep Stacey from fretting that they were going to be late.

  ‘She’ll kill me if we’re late,’ said Stacey.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Yang. ‘We can’t do anything about it, so it is what it is. And we’ve got plenty of time.’

  ‘But everyone will have got there early and be queuing at the door for the front seats and we’ll be at the back, and what if Grace doesn’t see us? God knows what she’ll do. She’ll kick off, I know she will, if she thinks I’ve not turned up.’ She leaned back in her seat, clearly distressed, and Yang had no idea how to calm her down so he decided to keep quiet and say nothing.

  Eventually Stacey dug him in the ribs and announced they’d arrived and they should hurry to the school. They got off the bus and immediately Stacey broke into a jog, in heels, down the road. Yang had no choice but to pick up his speed and go in pursuit.

  They rounded a corner and there were the school gates looming ahead. Behind them stood a three-storey Victorian school that looked anything but welcoming. Yang was starting to wonder whether he’d made a huge mistake.

  Yang edged nervously into the school hall, feeling like a total fraud. Everyone would be able to tell he wasn’t one of the parents, he thought, and they’d wonder what on earth he was doing here.

  They got themselves seated right at the back on the end of the row. Will was sitting a couple of rows in front and turned to wave at Stacey and frown at Yang. Yang could imagine it was quite confusing for Will to see him there, but there was no need to give him such a filthy look. The lights went down and the head teacher stood up on stage to introduce the production.

  The production had something in common with all primary school nativities in that it was a well-meaning but shambolic retelling of the biblical tale. Yang struggled to follow the story as it unfolded on stage. There were children in hoods, shuffling around on stage with sheets wrapped around them, and lots of kids dressed as random animals such as donkeys, cows, sheep and goats. There were even a couple of zebras, which confused him. Then two tall boys and a very tall girl arrived wearing crowns and carrying boxes wrapped in foil, and stood behind the people in sheets and a couple of kids that were possibly dressed as camels, but equally could have been hairy mammoths. After them a mixture of boys and girls dressed as angels arrived and did a song-and-dance number. Then they sat all along the front of the stage until the stage was absolutely crammed with every kid who must be in Grace’s class. Finally, the two in the middle, dressed in sheets, picked a doll out of a cot in front of them, which Yang assumed must be Jesus, and held it up, and everyone turned round and pretended to be amazed. At various points during the play, groups of children would come to the front of the stage and sing their little hearts out. Some would shout, some would sing, some would refuse to sing a word, but Yang found it totally mesmerising. He couldn’t take his eyes off the kids coming together and singing, then lapping up the applause as proud parents wiped tears from their eyes.

  A children’s Nativity play. Kids singing together in fancy dress about a story as old as time. Knowing it had been done by generations before.

  Tradition.

  Yang knew all about tradition.

  Tradition connects us to our past and our future and, most importantly, to other people.

  Yes, it can hold us back. Of course it can. It can bury us far too deep in the past, but as Yang looked around at all the glowing faces in the audience, and indeed the glowing faces on the stage, he recognised that whatever your beliefs, it really didn’t matter. What mattered was being together in a shared joyful experience. Regardless of what colour or creed or, indeed, religion. Gathering together, connecting over something peaceful. That was what mattered in this world.

  He glanced at Stacey, who was watching the play intently. She looked at him and smiled.

  He smiled back.

  He was glad he’d come.

  She leaned over and clutched his hand just for a moment and grinned. She looked like she was glad he had come too.

  The final number of the performance required the entire cast to be on the stage wailing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ at the tops of their voices. All the cast took it in turns to come to the front of the stage and take their bows. Eventually the donkeys stood at the front, Grace right in the middle, scanning the crowd, looking slightly disturbed as though she thought no one had turned up to see her.

  Yang couldn’t help himself. He half stood up in his seat and waved his hand, hoping to get Grace’s attention. She looked over and he saw the biggest smile leap to her face. She nudged the person next to her and pointed straight at Yang and told the poor little boy he had to wave as well, which he reluctantly did. Yang sat himself back down again and grinned at Stacey. He’d liked Grace smiling at him like that. Clearly pleased to see him.

  The headmistress stood up and gave a speech, pointing out how well all the children had performed and congratulating the frazzled-looking teacher who sat at the side of the stage, who had orchestrated the whole shebang. Miss Shepherd (which raised a laugh) looked like she was about to slide off her chair in sheer exhaustion. She accepted the flowers offered to her with a grimace, looking as though she would have preferred a bottle of gin that she would have happily downed neat in front of everyone at that precise moment.

  The headmistress then announced that they were going to end the show with a new composition from a very special child in their school who really loved donkeys and was very keen to share her song.

  Yang clapped hard and watched as Grace arrived beaming on the stage with her ukulele and a chair. She sat on the chair and stared out at the audience. Yang watched her swallow. He hoped that wasn’t nerves. Nerves is the killer of all creation.

  She took a breath and launched into the song.

  Donkey Love … is the best kind of love.

  Donkey Love … is everlasting love.

  Donkey Love … beats any kind of love.

  Donkey love … is all you need.

  She closed her eyes as she sang, slightly out of tune, really feeling the moment. It only took until the end of the first verse for parents to be exchanging looks of silent amusement. Yang tried to ignore them, willing Grace not to notice, willing her to keep her eyes closed, willing her just to enjoy it. That’s what he did when he sometimes found himself gigging to a mainly empty and uninterested room. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment, picturing instead the Glastonbury crowd, shouting and screaming his lyrics back to him. That was the way to enjoy a tough gig. With your eyes closed and pretend you were somewhere else.

  There were a few audible titters now and Yang looked around sharply, wanting to shush the vicious idiots intent on crushing the poor girl on stage. He immediately spotted that Will’s shoulders were heaving up and down with laughter. Stacey hadn’t appeared to have noticed, totally focused on Grace as she was.

  Yang glanced back over at Grace, who still had her eyes closed, but as she totally missed a high note he heard Will let out an audible guffaw. Yang couldn’t stand it any more.

  He leaned forward round the person in front of him and bashed Will on the shoulder.

  Will whipped his head round immediately and Yang saw the tears of laughter streaming down his face. Yang saw red, pulled his fist back and punched him in the face.

  Will reeled backwards, nearly falling to the floor. ‘What the hell …?’ he said, struggling to get his balance. Will lashed out at Yang and caught him on the chin, causing him to fall off his chair and land on the floor. He looked up and there was the headmistress looming over him, and he was aware that Grace must have stopped singing.

 

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