Now, the lights dropped across the hall, leaving a single spotlight on a manger in the middle of the stage, where Beckett knew Bob was lying, even if all they could see from this distance was an occasional tiny arm waving about before disappearing again.
There was total hush for a few seconds, as everyone stopped what they were doing to watch, and then the voice of a small child drifted across the darkness.
‘Every year, children like us write letters to Santa Claus, asking for toys and things. A puppy or a new bike. But the real gifts of Christmas can’t be found in a stocking or under the tree. They’re something even Santa can’t bring down the chimney.’
Another child took over from the first one. They sounded about five. ‘The first ever Christmas presents were peace, hope and joy. Love like never did get seened before.’
‘A miraculous mystery, where the giver became the gift.’
‘And this gift is for all of us, for all time. Young, old, rich or poor…’
Gradually as the children carried on talking, more lights went up, revealing more people. They looked even better lit up on stage than they had in the dressing room.
‘Everyone is welcome and all are invited.’
‘Sounds like this place,’ Mary muttered.
‘But the gift doesn’t stop there. All of us can bring these gifts, free of charge, to those around us. Peace, hope and joy. I hope I get an Xbox, because I’ve been wanting one for ages, but instead of thinking about what you want for Christmas, why don’t you be a Santa?’
‘If everyone was a Santa, bringing the true gifts of Christmas, then it really would be a merry Christmas.’
At that, the stage lit up, the band began to play, and the cast went wild, belting out Shakin’ Stevens ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’.
Every person in the room stopped what they were doing to dance, clap and sing along.
Mary sang, but she held tight to Beckett’s hand as she swayed, so that their arms kept touching.
When the song reached its climactic finish, to enthusiastic cheers and applause, Mary turned to Beckett, a bashful smile on her face, and he needed no more confirmation that this was the sign he’d been hoping for.
He tugged Mary gently closer to him, and, moving slowly enough to spot the flash of horror should there be one, he bent down and kissed her.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. After a brief, sweet kiss that sent Beckett’s heart tumbling into freefall, they both ducked their heads, hands dropping and stepping quickly apart as the main lights came on in the room, highlighting the dozens of people scattered about.
‘There you are!’ Cheris appeared, throwing glittery arms around Mary, jigging up and down a few times before one final squeeze and letting go. ‘The costumes are a triumph! If Santa Claus had delivered them direct from Christmas HQ, they couldn’t have been better. You are a blessing sent from heaven. You have to stick around forever now, because nobody can come close to those, and I’m not sure we can come up with a plot including Racing Pigeon Santa and the Very Hungry Camel every year.’
‘Maybe get the big night over with before we start talking about next year.’ Mary laughed before her head tilted as she tuned in to a familiar wail. ‘Oops – that’s Bob. I’d better go and fetch him.’
She gave Beckett a shy smile, unable to meet his eyes, and slipped through the hubbub to the stage.
‘Looks like all your Christmases came at once.’ Cheris gave Beckett a wink and a hard jab with her elbow before bustling off on more Christmas Twins’ business.
He fetched Gramps from where he was lecturing some teenage lads on how to saw MDF, and, once Mary had checked all the costumes were safely hanging on a rail in the dressing room, they headed out. It took a while to weave their way through a gauntlet of compliments and congratulations before finally reaching the car park.
The atmosphere in the car crackled like Christmas Eve. Gramps and Bob both fell asleep before they’d reached the city boundary, but as they left the glow of multicoloured lights for the dark of the countryside, Beckett still had no idea what to say to the woman he’d just kissed.
‘Well done,’ he said, cringing as he made what was about the inanest comment possible, under the circumstances.
‘Are you talking about the costumes or the kiss?’ Mary teased, leaning against the back-seat window.
‘Is it normal to give feedback on a first kiss?’ Beckett asked, because his brain was still floating on a deliriously happy post-kiss cloud and incapable of coming up with anything better.
‘Well, no. It isn’t normal to kiss your best friend and then make no comment at all. Someone had to mention it.’
‘Yeah. I was waiting until we were alone.’
Mary was quiet for a while before answering.
‘Now all I can think about is whether the kiss was well done. Are you waiting to talk about it because it was terrible? I promise I won’t make things awkward if you want to pretend it never happened.’
