Page 126 of Kiss Me at Christmas
Four Months Later
Harriet pulled open the ornateglass-and-gilt doors of the theater and breathed in the heady scent of hyacinths carried on the fresh spring breeze. The long winter had hung around like a guest who’d outstayed their welcome, but this morning the sun was out, and the daffodils and tulips planted in the theater garden shone iridescent in its golden beams. She fastened the doors open to let the air through and made her way into the auditorium.
Dress rehearsals were well under way for the Easter performance ofThe Sound of Music, and the energy was the kind of pure unadulterated chaos that only the Winter Players could encompass.
As part of her mission to make the Winter Theater not only vital again in its own right but also a valuable local resource, Harriet had liaised with schools and community groups, and now the stage was in almost constant use for everything from debate teams to music and dance clubs, design technology apprenticeship schemes, and of course theater groups. Ticketed performances were booked in every two weeks almost until December, showcasing ballet recitals, jazz nights, and all things inbetween. All of which brought in a healthy revenue that could be plowed back into community projects.
Harriet still had to pinch herself that this was her job now: chief executive of the Winter Theater. It was a lot of responsibility, but she relished being in control of the theater’s destiny and her own. And thanks to a very generous trust fund left by Evaline in her will, she didn’t need to skimp on the infrastructure that would make the theater a safe space for anyone who needed it, which had included opening it up as an emergency winter shelter during the coldest February in decades.
She had worried at first about leaving the kids on the “list” back at the school, but she needn’t have. Via one route or another, almost all of them ended up spending time at the theater, where she could keep an eye on them, and when they were at school, Ali—who had taken over her role in pastoral care—was their fierce protector. She wasn’t good at relinquishing control, but she trusted Ali implicitly, and he reminded her constantly that she needed to calm the flock down, which helped enormously.
She had a lovely spacious office in the attic with a window overlooking the high street, but most often she brought her work and a small reading lamp down with her and settled at the back of the auditorium, just in case anyone needed her.
The Sound of Musicwas the first production by the Winter Players sinceA Christmas Carol, and anticipation was high; tickets had sold out in the first week of sale.
Backstage, actors and stagehands bustled to and fro in preparation. Out in the auditorium, Gideon—in a cape lined in a tulip-patterned fabric—bellowed the ten-minute call until curtain up.
Grace emerged from her dressing room wearing a dirndl and a cropped blond wig. Even the astonishingly thick stage makeup couldn’t hide the fact that at sixty-five Grace made for a somewhat mature Maria, but then Josef was no spring chicken as Captain Von Trapp either. Sid—cast as little Kurt Von Trapp—walked beside her chattering.
“And Tess said the holiday house looks over the sea and that they have palm trees everywhere in Torquay. I’ll share a room with Billy, which he’s well cross about, but you get your own room, Grace, and we can all have breakfast together every morning. Arthur is going to teach me how to catch crabs with a bucket on a line. Have you been to Torquay before?”
“A long time ago, when I was about your age. I’m looking forward to going back. Now where is your brother?”
“He’s still helping Hesther in the cocktail lounge.”
Grace nodded. “Well, you’d best go retrieve him before Gideon bursts a blood vessel.”
With James’s help, Tess, Arthur, and Grace had been awarded joint guardianship of Billy and Sid. The boys spent half the week at each house, and once a week they all had family dinner together.
Gideon’s voice echoed around the backstage corridors. “For the love of Shakespeare, I need my script writer! Where in Chaucer’s name is Billy? Could we have the orchestra settled, please. Mallory, where is my Austrian dancing troupe? This is a professional theater, people, let’s shake a tail feather!”
Ricco was seething in the left wing in a brown waistcoat and lederhosen, and Carly, who was playing Liesl, couldn’t stop laughing at him.
“I look ridiculous!” he complained.
“I think it’s cute,” Leo offered, earning himself a scowl.
“Hold still!” Isabel admonished as she tried to adjust his braces.
“Seriously, you chose this month to start hitting the gym?” asked Carly, laughing.
“Excuse me for wanting to be buff!” Ricco replied testily.
“I like it,” said Leo dreamily, and Carly rolled her eyes.
“What time did we say for dinner tonight?” Lyra called across to Maisy as she attached ropes to the pulley on one end of a backcloth depicting Austrian hills. Working on the same task at the other end of the backcloth, Maisy replied, “I think Mum said she’d booked the bistro for seven p.m.”
The two had become easy friends, and Lyra had quickly been assimilated into their family and into the theater as a guest set designer, helping Leo and Farahnoush to bring their creative visions to fruition. Maisy would be leaving for university in September, and, though the thought of it still speared Harriet’s chest with shards of melancholy, she was ready to embrace this next stage of her life. She would ensure that she nurtured herself and cherished her time alone and would then be fully ready to celebrate the long holidays with Maisy.
Harriet looked up as Billy strode—head down, hands in pockets as was his way—down the middle aisle to where Gideon was expostulating loudly about the tightness of Douglas’s trousers.
“Kingsley, my dear man, is there anything we can do about those lederhosen? I don’t think we need to assault our audience with quite such a vivid outline of Douglas’s bratwurst!” Kingsley scurried onto the stage with a tape measure dangling over his shoulder and shuffled a rather proud-looking Douglas into the wings. “Billy, my boy!”Gideon beamed. “Do you have the latest rewrites for the party scene?”
“Yep,” said Billy, handing over two sheets of printed paper.
Gideon took them greedily, his eyes darting left to right as he scanned the page, a smile growing across his face. “Marvelous, simply marvelous, we will miss your writing talents when you leave us for the bright lights of London.”
Billy was the first recipient of the Evaline Winter Playwriting Scholarship. He would be heading off to Goldsmiths next year.
