Page 107 of A Manny for Christmas

He chose Toby.

In that moment, all he saw was Toby in trouble. Suffering without anyone having his back. And it made Max see red. His fatherly instinct kicked in, his blinkers went on, and the only thing he cared about was coming to my little boy’s rescue. Extricating him from a situation where he was terrified.

What’s more, and what’s really bothering me, is that I can’t put my hand on my heart and swear that I would have done the same. I was horrified, naturally, by what was unfolding up there. Horrified, and fucking furious. My mind was reeling as I sat there, turning over my options. I’d settled on a shortlist of two solutions by the time Max took action.

One: politely and unobtrusively get myself over to Mr Pratt so I could politely and unobtrusively tap him on the shoulder and suggest he should intervene.

Two: politely and unobtrusively slip out into the side aisle, and from there politely and unobtrusively try to get Toby’s—or Tristan’s—attention from the side of the stage.

Note: neither one of those options involved barging on stage, threatening a minor with retaliation, or yelling swear words at Toby’s teacher at the top of my voice.

And neither of my options would have been enough, because they were both compromises. Compromises between meeting Toby’s needs and not rocking the boat. They were both absurdly British, apologetic approaches at a time when compromise nor manners should have been remote priorities.

Max definitely didn’t give a shit about either. All he gave a shit about was getting our little man the hell out of there.

He had tunnel vision.

He saw our boy in trouble, and he dove right in without any regard for the consequences.

It was quite simply the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My ovaries and heart have been dancing a jive in tandem ever since we left the school, quite at odds with the self-flagellating guilt trip my brain is intent on playing on a loop.

No wonder I’m an emotional wreck.

Our drinks arrive, and I take a grateful glug of my lovely, cold wine before I find the courage to do what I need to do. If Max can be brave, so can I.

I clear my throat. ‘I have something to say.’

The kids glance up half-heartedly, but Max pauses with his beer bottle halfway to his lips and looks at me the same way he’s been looking at me since we walked out of the play. Like he’s expecting me to bollock him any second for taking over and ruining my son’s entire year group’s nativity.

I take his hand on top of the table. His eyebrows wing up in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away.

‘Daisy and Toby,’ I say, ‘what Max did at school may not have been how we usually act, but it wasexactlythe right thing to do, and exactly what Toby needed.’

I glance at Max and squeeze his hand. His face is so serious. He gives me a little nod of acknowledgement.

‘You know,’ I continue, ‘so often, I tell you guys to be quiet. Behave. Don’t cause a scene. Don’t inconvenience other people. Well, what Max did was completely the opposite. He screamed at people, and caused a massive scene, and disrupted the whole show, and you know what? I am so proud of him for doing that my heart could burst.

‘Because while I was trying to work out a nice, quiet way to help Toby, Max didn’t care about anything else but the fact that Toby was being bullied.’ I shake my head for effect. ‘Nothing else was more important. All he wanted to do was save Toby, and I’m so glad we had him there.’ My eyes are filling up. ‘And I’m so sorry it wasn’t me, Tobes, who came to your rescue.’

Toby looks horrified by my tears. He pats the hand holding my wine glass. ‘It’s okay, Mummy.’

‘It’s not okay,’ I say with a fierce, snot-filled sniff that has Daisy grimacing and leaning back in her seat. ‘It’s not okay at all. I should have gone full Mama Bear and made a huge fuss, like Max did. And I feel so bad that I didn’t. I feel so bad that I was more worried about disrupting things than about stopping that boy from hurting you. But I’m so relieved Max went into full superhero mode and rescued you.’

Toby grins. ‘Like Spiderman.’

‘Exactly like Spiderman,’ Max says. ‘Especially when I jumped on stage. Did you see it? That was a pretty good jump.’

My crying turns to a slightly hysterical giggle. ‘I thinkeveryonesaw it. But it was an excellent jump.’

‘So we can make a big fuss if someone’s in trouble?’ Daisy wants to know.

‘Yes,’ I say cautiously, wondering if this will come back to bite me on the arse. ‘Because if someone’s in trouble, then that’s more important than anything else.’

‘Will Max get in trouble with the school?’ Toby asks.

‘Believe me, mate, they wouldn’t dare try,’ Max tells him. ‘Not now they’ve seen my superpowers.’

‘No one is getting into trouble,’ I say firmly. ‘Except for Tristan, who cannot be allowed to carry on like that. But Max and I will go into school tomorrow and talk to Mr Pritchett and Mr Pratt, because they owe us, and you, Tobes, an apology for allowing you to get hurt on their watch.’

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