Page 39 of Christmas Games
‘And that one’s playing the back end,’ he continued with a grin.
Rory helped her into the carriage and Bandit jumped in after.
‘You’re not sitting here with me?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m going to lead them. And anyway, I wasn’t sure how much weight they could pull.’
Brad had commandeered himself a megaphone and continued the story.
‘And so, Mary and Joseph began their journey to Bethlehem!’ he yelled. ‘Picture the scene. Travelling alone through the desert: one pregnant virgin, one humble carpenter, and one donkey. The fate of the world resting in Mary’s untouched womb.’
The cows set off at a slow pace through the courtyard, followed by the rest of the village with their candles. The choir was up ahead, on their umpteenth rendition of ‘Little Donkey’.
A sharp pain suddenly sliced across Zoe’s stomach and she gasped, clutching the side of the carriage.
It got stronger, stopping her breath as it tightened around her stomach.
Just as she thought she might pass out, it stopped.
What the ever-loving fuck was that?
There was no way this was labour. She wasn’t due for another three weeks and knew most first-time mums gave birth ten days after their estimated date of delivery. Could it be Braxton Hicks contractions? She glanced around. People were smiling and chatting. Rory’s attention was ahead with the cows. No one was looking at her.
Okay, breathe. Nothing to worry about. Chill the fuck out.
Another contraction slammed into her, squeezing her body till there was nothing left but blinding pain. This time, she remembered to breathe. Closing her eyes, she forced the air in and out. When it finally stopped, she was trembling.
Bandit whined and nudged up against her.
‘It’s okay, buddy. I’m fine.’
Zoe clenched her jaw to fight back tears. If this was indeed early labour, she wasn’t going to survive. Wasn’t it meant to be like period pain? Pop a couple of paracetamol, have a hot bath and go to bed? If she’d just had two mild contractions, thenfuck only knew what major ones felt like. And she couldn’t stop the nativity for a false alarm.
The procession paused at the bottom of the high street by a small area of grass where the war memorial stood. On it, behind a barrier, were three men trying to control a small flock of badly behaved sheep. Zoe saw Duncan, Fiona’s younger brother, Jamie, and—
She blinked.
‘Dad?’
Her father looked up and gave a wave. ‘Hi, love!’
The sheep nearest him grabbed a mouthful of his robe and pulled. There was a loud rip and suddenly Arnold was showing the village his boxer shorts and knobbly knees.
‘Behold,’ yelled Duncan over the baaing of the sheep. ‘I am sore afraid!
‘Aye,’ continued Jamie. ‘Me too. Is that an angel?’
‘Sure is, babe,’ replied Sam, giving him a wink.
‘I bring you good news of great joy,’ Brad shouted into his megaphone.
‘Oi!’ Sam yelled back. ‘That’smyline! For there is born to you this day—’
Zoe was hit by another wall of pain. She clutched Bandit’s fur and tried to breathe through it.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,’ she muttered.
‘A saviour who is Christ the lord or lady, and you will find him or her wrapped in bandages like a freaking mummy or something—’
