A Song in the Night (29 page)

She’d settled on a lava lamp for Beth. Apparently they were very therapeutic, or so the man in the shop had said.
Why are all these people jumping up and down to a Christmas carol?
Come to think of it,
was
it a Christmas carol? It wasn’t one
she’d
ever heard before.

She tried to get her mind back onto lava lamps. She’d nearly gone for a hippopotamus filled with wheat and lavender – the kind you put in the microwave to warm up. Beth felt the cold these days.
Oh boy, now they look like they’re gonna do a Mexican wave.

Rosie tried to sneak a glance at Ciaran. It looked like he was miming too. If he’d noticed the strange characters in front, he certainly wasn’t letting on. She forced her eyes back to the song sheet and tried to concentrate. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Tim Fitzpatrick came to the rescue. He asked everyone to take their seats and then made a couple of announcements.

“Tomorrow morning – Christmas Day – we’ll be meeting here at ten o’clock. Just for an hour. Everyone’s welcome … if you can tear yourself away from all your presents! It’s good to share the day with the Lord.”

Rosie grimaced to herself.
Think I’ll give that one a miss. Some of this lot must spend half their lives sat in church.

The service went on. Rosie was surprised to hear some Bible readings which she vaguely recognised from years ago. She remembered sitting like this in a Catholic church in Wicklow, and in later times, another one in Leicester. Every Christmas Eve their mother had taken them along to midnight Mass. It was their only church visit in the year. “Father Christmas won’t come if you don’t go to Mass,” she’d warned gravely. And so they’d complied. One Christmas Eve, it had occurred to Rosie to ask why he came to all the other kids at school who never ventured near a church. Her mother had brushed the question aside with a cursory reply. “It’s different for Catholics,” she’d said. And it had been different again once Mickey had come onto the scene. One year, he’d come into church straight from the pub and joined them on the back row, halfway through the service. Rosie shuddered as she remembered. She’d been sitting at the end, and they’d all had to move up to squeeze him in. How she’d hated it. So close to him. Smelling the drink on his breath, and that horrible odour, so sickeningly familiar. Had her mother ever realised? Had she ever suspected, even slightly? Rosie’s mouth tightened into a thin line as she thought about it. No. She couldn’t have. She might have been dysfunctional at times, but she wasn’t cruel. She was just blinded.

‘The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;

on those living in the land of the shadow of death

a light has dawned …’

Tim’s voice sounded out over the hushed church as he began his sermon. Rosie felt frustrated at herself. Was she ever going to get over this? Up till recently, she’d almost imagined it was all behind her. Something that belonged to another time, another place; something better left well alone. But over the last few weeks it seemed to have been raising its head more and more often, jumping out at her from the shadows when she least expected it. It was pain. Pain that came from deeper than her very guts. Pain that, despite all her best efforts to pretend otherwise, seemed just as alive as it had ever been. Suddenly, Rosie thought bitterly, it was pain behaving badly.

She tried to focus on Tim’s words from the front, but a dark sense of foreboding had seeped into her mind. She spent the rest of the service feeling woolly-headed and distant. Even Ciaran sitting next to her now, the one person to whom she’d clung, the one person whose promises had held her little girl world together, had never known about
that.
Her hands tightened into fists as she tried to bury the memories. She really had to get herself sorted on this one. But just how was another matter.

She found herself standing for the final hymn, and then the service was finished. People began to turn round, shaking hands and exchanging festive greetings. Rosie smiled weakly at Ciaran. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” she commented gloomily. Ciaran smiled weakly in return.

“Hey, you two –” Beth broke in, “shall we go down and look at the nativity?” Her face was expectant as she gestured towards something at the front of the church. Ciaran stood up to follow her and the three of them began to wend their way down an aisle. The large nativity scene was situated in an alcove to the left of the altar and was lit up by a soft spotlight and two tall candles, one on either side of the display. As they neared it, Beth turned to Rosie. “Atmospheric, isn’t it? I used to love it when I was a little girl.”

They hadn’t quite made it to the front when Beth was spotted by an elderly couple leaving their seats. Recognising her from times past, they stopped to greet her. Rosie, who had been walking a couple of steps in front, hadn’t realised that Beth and Ciaran were no longer behind her. It was with a flash of consternation, therefore, that she suddenly found herself at the nativity scene – alone. Turning round, she caught sight of the little group in conversation. She decided against going back to join them. Nothing in her felt like talking tonight, especially to total strangers. She turned back to the nativity display and tried to focus her mind on the scene in front of her. It made her think of religious Christmas cards, the sort her mother used to insist on sending. And school nativity plays. Funny how she’d almost forgotten about those. The annual ‘let’s-see-how-many-kids-we-can-squash-onto-a-stage’ fest. This sudden childhood recollection made her smile, and for a moment or two her mind was brightened by the memory of it. The good old school nativity play; it had surely been something of a highlight in the academic year. Even now she could still recall the buzz of anticipation that had simmered amongst the would-be thespians as the deputy head had called auditions. Each little girl nursing her own secret longing to be Mary, each little heart hopeful that
maybe this year …
(could Mrs Pemberley possibly have realised just how many fragile dreams were hanging on her final decision?) Oh, the dubious solace of being cast as a shepherd. An angel had always been the preferred alternative, Rosie remembered. She could only speak for the girls, of course. She had no idea if being cast as Joseph had ever meant anything like as much to the boys. Suddenly it all seemed an awful long time ago. She hadn’t seen a nativity play in years and years.
But then,
she thought ruefully,
if my experience in the childcare business is anything to go by, most places these days are probably far too busy minding their PC p’s and q’s to stage anything like that.
Things, it seemed, had moved on. Still, it was nice to have unearthed one aspect of Christmas Past that had managed to bring a smile to her face.

She became aware of a CD playing in the background. The sound drifted out from speakers fixed high on various pillars around the building, giving the impression that the whole roof space was filled with the strains of angelic song. Rosie tried to identify the familiar carol that was playing. Ah yes.
Oh Little Town of Bethlehem
. That had always been a favourite at Saint Joseph’s …

She stared at the pot figures in front of her. Had any of this stuff ever really happened – the whole
‘born in a stable’
thing? And even if it had, what difference did it make? A little baby, a few animals. What was there to get so excited about?

How silently, how silently

The wondrous gift is given,

And God imparts to human hearts

The blessings of His heaven.

No ear may hear His coming

But in this world of sin,

Where meek souls will receive Him still,

The dear Christ enters in …

As the words floated mellifluously through the airwaves, Rosie’s eyes fixed on the infant laid on his bed of straw. It was a nice story, whatever sense it might or might not make. Better than the storylines in the
Eastenders’
Christmas special anyway. The next carol began to play. As she stood there, Rosie felt her mind beginning to clear slightly. Somehow, standing in front of this ancient scene, listening to music which seemed to echo from another sphere, she felt safe. Wrapped up from the world outside, hidden from its demands and its scrutiny. She could understand why Beth had wanted to come.

“
Rosie!
”

A familiar voice made her spin round. She was surprised to see that it was Jonathon. But apart from the deep blue eyes and the laughing smile, nothing about his appearance tonight was familiar at all. He was dressed in a dark suit and cobalt-coloured tie. His fair hair, which had looked so tousled and unkempt in the churchyard, was now combed and parted to the side and looked lighter than Rosie remembered. To her horror, she felt her cheeks colouring.

“Hey, it’s great to see you,” Jonathon enthused. “We were just about to leave when I spotted you. I had to come over and say hello.”

Rosie suddenly felt desperately tongue-tied. He’d caught her totally unprepared. She smiled and tried to think of something sensible to say. “It’s been lovely tonight,” was about all she could manage.

Jonathon nodded warmly. “Yes it has, hasn’t it?” Hesitating for a moment, he jingled his car keys thoughtfully. “Will you be here in the morning, Rosie?”

A reply was on her lips before she had time to think about it. “I’m hoping to be …”

She felt herself reddening even more.
What? Where did that come from? Since when did I go to church on Christmas Day?

Jonathon gave a broad smile. “Oh that’s great! I’ll be able to have a chat with you tomorrow then. We normally have a cup of tea after the Christmas morning service. It’s just that I’m in a bit of a hurry now. I’m taking Albert home – you know, Albert Rowney, the old guy I was telling you about the other day. It’s way past his bedtime, bless him.”

Rosie attempted to think of a clever reply, but no words came. Somehow Jonathon fazed her. His manner was so open, his eyes so kind, that suddenly it was difficult to come up with the usual witticisms and sparring banter. He even made her blush.

“Well, see you in the morning then, Rosie. Hope you get lots of presents!” Jonathon flicked his car keys up into the palm of his hand and, with another smile, set off back down the aisle.

Rosie hurriedly turned back to the nativity scene. She felt flustered, yet strangely happy at the same time. Well, at least tomorrow she’d be able to tell him about Boxer. A troubling thought came to her. What if none of the family were going to church in the morning? She could hardly turn up on her own, could she?

She needn’t have worried. That night back at Oak Lodge, Cassie stopped her in the hallway. “Don’t feel you have to, Rosie, but I just wondered if you fancied going along to Saint Edwin’s in the morning. Ed and I are going. I think Ciaran and Beth are gonna give it a miss – she’s a bit tired. But you’re very welcome to come with us if you want. Entirely up to you, love.”

Rosie didn’t want to sound too eager. “Erm, okay then. I will. Thanks.”

Cassie seemed delighted. “It doesn’t go on too late. We’ll have plenty of time for Christmas dinner. We’re going to have a lovely day, Rosie.” She suddenly leaned forward and kissed Rosie on the cheek. “We’re so glad to have you with us, love. Makes it all the more special.”

Rosie smiled awkwardly. Tonight had been full of surprises.

Shortly afterwards, she was in her room about to get ready for bed when there was a knock on her door. It was Beth. She came in and sat by the window. “Did you enjoy it tonight then, Ros?” She looked pale and washed out, and Rosie wondered that she hadn’t gone straight to bed.

“Yeah. It reminded me of days gone by.” Rosie forced a grin.
In more ways than you
could imagine,
she thought sadly.
But I won’t bore you with the gruesome details.

Beth nodded. “I see you’ve met Jonathon Kirkbride.” There was a twinkle in her eyes. “I was crazy about him at one bit, y’know. Back in my schooldays, I mean. Most of the girls in our class were too.
Until –
” She broke off and began to laugh softly to herself.

Rosie stiffened slightly. “I met him the other day in the churchyard. I had a bit of a fall and he came to check that I was okay, that’s all.”
Most of the girls in your class were too, until what exactly?
She cleared her throat and tried to smile nonchalantly. “So what’s the joke, Mrs M? What’s so funny about him?”

Beth frowned. “Oh … it’s not Jonathon that’s funny. I’m just thinking it’s funny the way things turn out sometimes. We all fancied him like mad and then he suddenly went and turned all religious. Just seems ironic really.” For a moment her expression was thoughtful. Then she shook herself. “Anyway, I left for music college not too long after that.” She grinned disarmingly. “How was I to know my heart would be stolen by a gorgeous, wild Irishman?”

Rosie still didn’t see what was so amusing, but she didn’t press further. She rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “Don’t talk about my brother like that. It’s disturbing.”

Momentarily, she toyed with the idea of mentioning to Beth the business about Boxer, but decided against it. All of a sudden, she felt reluctant to let Beth know that she was planning to see Jonathon in the morning. Maybe it was best to keep her cards close to her chest for the time being. Check the thing out with Jonathon first. See if there was any possibility of a link. After all, she reasoned to herself, there seemed little point in getting Beth’s hopes up if the whole thing was going to come to a disappointing dead end.

When Beth had gone off to bed, Rosie did another check on the diary. She leafed through the earlier entries until she came to the one that cited Boxer’s name. Could it really be the same guy? Realistically, what would be the chances of that? Still, as she thought about sharing the news with Jonathon, a shudder of excitement went through her. Suddenly, she could hardly wait for morning.

____________

Tim Fitzpatrick was true to his word. The Christmas morning service ended at five past eleven. Rosie was in benevolent mood as she walked across to the church hall with Ed and Cassie. She felt she could forgive Tim the extra five minutes.