Page 63 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
Jazz was right, because even though Frank was stilted at the beginning, and Valeriecouldbe accused of overacting (though nobody would dare do it to her face), they put a lot of emotion into their performance, and Valerie produceda heavy link of chains from a tote bag so she could shiver and rattle as Jacob Marley.
‘Shit,’ Dexter said, as they came to the end. ‘They are alotmore polished than us.’
‘We’re going to crash and burn.’
‘It’ll give you the fear,’ May said. ‘If you’re terrible now, you’ll rehearse tenfold before the real thing. It’s why Fiona wanted to do this.’
‘What areyoudoing?’ Imogen asked. ‘You don’t seem remotely nervous.’
‘I keep my terror on the inside,’ May said with a laugh. ‘Project confidence, and it will help youbeconfident. I’m doing a poem called “A Christmas Visit” – just me, on my own.’
‘You’ll be brilliant, obviously,’ Imogen murmured.
‘You really think if Imogen and Dexter are left alone to rehearse, that’s what they’ll do?’ Jazz said with a smirk. Luckily, Fiona called her next.
She and Mary performed a hilarious Christmas skit sending up a Hallmark movie, involving a couple who accidentally ordered too much mistletoe and ended up having to open a mistletoe farm. There was a runaway snowman and a hotel with only one bed, and it made everyone laugh, even Valerie, which Imogen thought deserved some kind of award.
‘We are in so much trouble,’ Dexter whispered, and she felt bad that she was more focused on how close he was than the imminent disaster that was going to be their rehearsal. Next came Oscar and Rose, the children of Annie and Jim who ran the amusement arcade, Penny For Them. They squeal-shouted a scene fromThe Grinch, with help andprompting from their mum, which charmed and delighted everyone.
‘That waswonderful,’ Fiona said emphatically. ‘I’m feeling very confident about this. Next we have Dexter and Imogen, performing a scene fromNorthanger Abbeyby Jane Austen. Ready?’
‘Never,’ blurted Imogen, as Dexter grabbed her hand and led her to their makeshift stage.
‘OK.’ He took his printed-out scene out of his pocket, and she got hers out of her bag. Her palms were sweaty. It had never felt like this at the library in London, or doing Story Time with Jazz.
They stood facing each other, Dexter’s smile warm and encouraging, and Imogen thought howgoodhe was, how kind and generous, because surely he was as terrified as she was, but he was silently trying to reassure her.
She had the first line. She read it out: ‘“Mr Tilney! … Good God! … How came you here? How came you up that staircase?”’
She sounded like an AI robot who’d been programmed wrongly.
Dexter replied: ‘“How came I up that staircase! … Because it is my nearest way from the stable-yard to my own chamber; and why should I not come up it?”’
He was too loud, too urgent, and someone tittered.
Imogen took a step closer to him, remembering the long-ago lessons from her drama teacher about breathing, taking your time, sinking yourself fully into the character, understanding what they were feeling in that particular scene. The next part was direction, but it was so apt that Imogen said it with feeling and humour, in her deeper, narrator voice.
‘Catherine recollected herself, blushed deeply, and could say no more.’
There was more laughter, but this time Imogen had expected it, and she smiled triumphantly.
Something sparked in Dexter’s eyes, and he stepped towards her, delivering his next line with a little more ease. They kept going, and as they neared the end of the scene, with Imogen switching between Catherine’s voice and the narrator, Dexter being commanding and funny as Henry, she realized it was going well. And it was an intimate scene, so it made sense that they were close, gazing at each other in between reading their lines, the air between them crackling with real emotion because, actually, they were great at this, weren’t they?
‘“Dearest Miss Morland”,’ Dexter said, delivering his last line, ‘“what ideas have you been admitting?”’ After this, Imogen – as Catherine – should have turned and fled in tears, but she was transfixed by Dexter. He reached up, tucked her hair behind her ear, stepped in, and—
‘Get a room!’ someone shouted from the back of the hall, and it was followed by whoops and whistles.
‘Do we have a rating on these festivities?’ Annie asked. ‘I thought it would be PG at the very least.’
‘They’re still fully clothed,’ Jazz pointed out.
‘Can we trust that will be the case on performance day, though?’ Mary sounded solemn, but her lips were twitching, and Imogen thought she was teasing them.
Dexter gave Jazz and Mary side-eye, then said to Fiona, ‘What do you think? Will we do?’
‘With a little more polish, you’ll do very nicely.’ Fiona smiled at Imogen, and it was warm and knowing and slightly gleeful.
‘I’m going to put you near the end, because I want everyone in the audience to take that romantic glow away with them.’
