Page 39 of Every Star that Shines

“And I can give ’im the rod as easily ’ere as they can at school,” Grayson said, patting the long wooden paddle hanging from his belt.

“Don’t you dare, Mr. Punch,” Celeste warned.

Ethan looked toward the back of the auditorium with stars in his eyes and broad gestures. “I can see it now—they’ll come from miles around to see Pinocchio and Friends.”

“Pinocchio and what?” demanded Grayson indignantly.

“Tell me more,” Ethan said, oblivious to the offence he’d caused. “Do you get to travel near and far?”

Grayson surreptitiously took the paddle from his belt with a mischievous look on his face. “Uh-huh.”

“Do you get to meet interesting people?”

“Uh-huh.”

Grayson moved the paddle into position behind Pinocchio’s behind, which Ethan seemed not to notice, too caught up in looking toward his pie-in-the-sky visions of fame and fortune. Celeste did, however, and she raised her hand to object, but not before Pinocchio cut her off.

“Do you get to meet the queen?” Ethan enthused.

Grayson looked incensed. “The queen? Why would a scoundrel like me get t’ meet the queen? Ye young rascal.” And he pretended to smack Ethan on the bottom, chasing a jumping Ethan all around the stage while Toby the Dog, another puppet character in the supporting cast played by a firecracker of a girl named Laura, chased Punch and barked.

Delanie chuckled, then looked nervously at Amber, who stood observing the scene from the aisle to her right. The woman’s crossed arms and pinched expression reminded Delanie of their looming confrontation, and she swallowed. She had stopped by the Leclerc residence to talk to Amber about her behaviour yesterday, but had been deterred by the stern demeanour of Amber’s husband when he had opened the door. The tension in both Luc Leclerc and Amber when she’d come to the door had been palpable, and Delanie had lost her nerve and come up with an excuse that she had stopped by to ask a question about the play instead.

I can’t avoid that conversation forever though.

More than the obvious tension, Amber’s behaviour had rung some alarms—she hadn’t even let Delanie in the door, but had come and stood outside in the chilly autumn air on the step without a sweater on, closing the door behind her. And then she’d acted impatient for Delanie to leave, glancing furtively toward the living room window as though she were afraid someone was watching. Her husband?

Ever since Delanie had seen the way Amber and her husband had behaved, she couldn’t help wonder if there was something more going on at the Leclerc residence that would explain Amber’s inconsistent, erratic behaviour. After all, if someone as high-profile as Nathan Tait could have been abusing his wife behind closed doors while living in a glass house, how much easier would it be to get away with such things within the squat, solid bungalows of a small town like Peace Crossing? People were friendly enough in this town, and it wasn’t like gossip was unheard of, but they mostly let their neighbour’s business be their business.

Delanie’s attention was caught by Celeste waving her hands and yelling for Mr. Punch to stop chasing Pinocchio. Grayson froze, then turned to look sheepishly at his “wife.”

“Yes, darling?”

“Mr. Punch!” Celeste said, her fists on her hips. “Ya can’t go beatin’ the poor boy every time he says somethin’ foolish. You’ll scare him off! He’s not the policeman, you know.”

In the background, the boy playing the policeman puppet, dressed in a British bobby’s hat, popped his head above a cloth-covered table with an alarmed look on his face, then saw Mr. Punch turn toward him with his paddle raised and ducked down again before he could be seen. During the play, the policeman would be inside a traditional Punch and Judy puppet booth to add to the jolliness of the situation.

“I was just havin’ a bit o’ fun,” Grayson said.

“I’m not sure Pinocchio would consider that fun,” Celeste said, crossing her arms. “Would you, Pinocchio?”

Ethan rubbed his behind, his face contorted, then caught Grayson’s warning glare. “No, no. It was pretty fun,” he said hurriedly and unconvincingly.

Celeste frowned. “Are you sure?”

Ethan hesitated, glancing at Punch’s slapstick.

Grayson leaned toward him and said in a stage-whisper, “Ye want t’ stay or not? Or maybe ye’d prefer to go back t’ school?”

Ethan plastered on a fake smile and looked at Celeste. “So fun. Barrels of fun. I could barely stand how fun it was.” Wrapping his arms around his belly, Ethan gave a long, loud laugh, in which Mr. Punch joined him. When Celeste rolled her eyes and turned away from the two foolishly laughing puppets, Ethan rubbed his tender bottom once more and stage-muttered with a sidelong glance at Grayson, “Just not fun enough to do again.”

Grayson made a threatening move with the slapstick, and Ethan jumped aside with a high-pitched yelp, eliciting a chuckle from Delanie. A titter of laughter rose from a few of the younger kids sitting around the theatre who had finished rehearsing with their group and had come back into the auditorium to wait.

Celeste shook her head and turned back to the audience, rolling her eyes. “That Mr. Punch, always beatin’ people with his slapstick. When will he ever learn?”

Grayson swaggered up beside her. “Learn? Do ye see ’ow everyone laughs when I do that?” He gave a sweeping gesture at the audience. “If ye ask me, that’s the way to do it!” he said with an exaggerated sing-song lilt on the last phrase—Punch’s signature line. Grayson dropped character and looked at Delanie uncertainly. “And that’s when the music starts, right?”

Delanie smiled at Punch’s squeaky swazzled voice asking Grayson’s question. “You got it. That was great, you guys. We made a lot of progress today.”

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