Christmas At Thrush Green Page 12
Connie turned to look. ‘He’s supposed to be a lamb. See, he’s wearing a sort of fleece tunic.’
Molly crept forward and rescued Billy and just got back to her place as Joseph and Mary arrived at the chancel steps.
‘ “And so it was,” ’ read Paul, ‘ “that whilst they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. But there was no room for them in the inn.” ’
Once more the nave lights dimmed and those in the chancel went on.
‘Who’s on the lights?’ Isobel whispered. ‘Must have a very good crib sheet.’
Joan craned round and peered to the back of the church. ‘It’s Alan Lester. He’s doing a good job. I know Ben spent ages this week setting them up.’
Andrew, a large lad who was playing the innkeeper, had been sitting in the choir stalls and he now came forward, and an altercation ensued between him and Joseph, with much arguing about available accommodation in Bethlehem that evening. Finally, the innkeeper relented and admitted Joseph and Mary to the area just above the chancel steps that was designated the stable. Little Annie gave a great sigh as she dropped down on the stool set in the middle.
‘Oooh that’s better. Me feet were killin’ me,’ she said, and the congregation tittered in response.
‘ “And she brought forth her firstborn,” ’ read Paul, ‘ “and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger.” ’
Someone from the choir stalls now pushed an old wooden orange box, filled with straw, towards Joseph who rather inelegantly hooked it with his crook and dragged it across the floor to rest beside his wife. Mary leaned down and picked up the Baby Jesus - one of Annie Curdle’s favourite dolls well wrapped up in a shawl - and rocked it. But the congregation’s attention was diverted once more by Billy Curdle who had bumped his way on his backside down the chancel and ended up at his sister’s feet, stretching up a hand towards her.
Annie, with great presence of mind, dropped the doll back in the orange box and bent down and heaved Billy onto her lap and rocked him instead.
‘Aaahh,’ crooned the congregation.
The lights changed again. The chancel went into darkness while the light in the gallery went on, illuminating Jeremy once more.
‘ “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid.” ’
Lights came on at the back of the church where a little group was gathered, and the Angel of the Lord - the Archangel Gabriel doubling up - bid the shepherds go to seek the Baby Jesus.
‘Where do we go?’ demanded one.
‘We don’t know the way,’ said another.
The Angel of the Lord then put her fingers into her mouth and produced a most unfeminine and ear-splitting whistle and the ‘Bethlehem This Way’ signpost, who had been sitting quietly at the top of the nave, scurried back and took his place at the head of the procession which now walked slowly towards the Holy Family. The main lights were turned on, and in the gallery the infants began to sing ‘While shepherds watched their flocks by night’, although Alan Lester was sure he heard at least one voice singing the forbidden version of ‘While shepherds washed their socks by night’.
‘Oh look,’ gasped Nelly Piggott as the little group passed the end of her pew. ‘Just look at the sheep!’
All round, people were craning their necks to see the sheep. Dotty Harmer’s Bruce, the West Highland terrier, was straining at his lead held by young Patrick. ‘Heel!’ the lad demanded, to no avail. The other shepherd was dragging a rather reluctant Scottie terrier that was owned by one of the families who lived on the Nidden Road. The dog’s black back was covered with a white coat made out of a piece of sheep’s fleece. The intended third sheep was sitting quite content on Mary’s lap.
As the shepherds with their charges got into their positions behind Joseph and Mary in the chancel, a group of very little angels came down from where they had been sitting by the altar, as quiet as church mice, to gather round the Holy Family. They took up the singing of the carol’s last verse, piping: ‘All glory be to God on high, And to the earth be peace. Goodwill henceforth from heaven to men, Begin and never cease.’
Winnie Bailey fleetingly remembered Mrs Burwell but equally quickly dismissed the thought.
The church lights dimmed once more and Paul switched on his reading light in the pulpit.
‘He’s doing awfully well,’ Isobel whispered to Joan.
Joan nodded. She was hugely proud of her son, and just prayed she would be able to say the same about the rest of the family.
‘ “Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem, in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, saying . . .” ’ Paul switched off his light, and the church was in darkness apart from a small light on the Holy Family in the chancel.
There was total silence. Winnie wondered if someone had forgotten their words.
Then the church’s main south door crashed open, and what sounded like an army of people fell into the back of the nave.
‘Watch out!’ cried a male voice.
‘I can’t see anything,’ said someone else. ‘Where’s that dratted star we’re supposed to be following?’
A beam of torchlight obligingly appeared and shone down the nave.
‘Come on, we’ve got to follow the star,’ said a voice that Joan recognized as belonging to Edward. She knew he was involved in some way but didn’t know how. ‘This way, lads, follow the star!’
‘Wait for me!’ cried a third voice. ‘This wretched camel is as slow as an old donkey.’ This was followed by another crash, and Alan Lester decided that it would be safer if the lights were turned on.
Everyone in the pews craned round to see what the noise was all about, and the sight that met their curious eyes was - well, it was difficult to tell what was going on. However, once the heap on the floor, which had collided with a table at the back of the church on which the visitors’ book rested, had got to its four feet, a sort of procession was beginning to form.
And the congregation burst out first into laughter and then into applause.
The three figures struck a theatrical pose and, despite their costumes, they were easily identifiable as Frank Hurst, Edward Young and John Lovell. They were dressed up as hippy pop stars of the seventies - wigs of long hair, dark glasses, leather jackets, tight jeans and winkle-picker shoes.
‘Hi!’ called Frank, who was in the front. He strummed a chord on the guitar that hung round his neck. ‘We are the Three Kings or, if you prefer, the Three Wise Men.’
‘Not very wise, I’m afraid, but we do try,’ called out Edward. ‘He’s Gaspar,’ he said, poking Frank in the back, ‘I’m Balthasar, and him at the back’ - and he dropped his voice a little - ‘not very bright, I’m afraid, but he’s all right with the animals, he’s called Melchior. Come forward, Melchior, and introduce Charlie the Camel.’
John Lovell/Melchior jerked the piece of rope in his hand, and the pantomime camel ambled forward. ‘Say hello to the people, Charlie.’
‘Ba-aa-aa,’ replied the camel rather worryingly.
Frank struck another chord on his guitar. ‘Now, all the children here, say hello to Charlie.’
‘Hello, hello, Charlie,’ rang out round the church. One or two children climbed onto the pews in order to see, while some of the infant choir were leaning dangerously over the edge of the gallery in order to get a better view, totally ignoring Mrs Hope’s gesticulations from where she was sitting at the piano. The church was echoing with the sound of laughter.
Mrs Hope struck up the opening bars of ‘We Three Kings of Orient Are’ on the piano, and the procession set off down the nave. Everyone was laughing so much that very little of the carol was heard, which was probably just as well since half the choir was still shuffling back into position.
‘Howdee,’ said Edward Young, grasping
the hand of Violet Lovelock and pumping it so vigorously that Miss Violet’s hat shook on her ancient head.
‘Hi, man!’ cried Frank Hurst, slapping Nelly Piggott so hard on her broad back that her ample front wobbled dangerously, but her face was wreathed in smiles.
John Lovell, much more reserved than the other two, restricted himself to leading the camel but had to stop suddenly as Gaspar made another dive into one of the pews to shake someone’s hand.
‘Ouch, you’ve trod on me heel!’ came a muffled cry from inside.
‘Sorry,’ came the reply from the back end. ‘You shouldn’t stop so sudden.’
Finally, the crazy group made their way to the chancel steps and made their presentation of gold and frankincense and myrrh to the Holy Family. Little Billy had been upset by all the laughter, and when he had started to grizzle, Molly darted forward to retrieve him, and now clasped him firmly on her lap. The Virgin Mary leaned down and retrieved the doll from the orange box.
Once the Three Kings had presented their gifts, they joined the shepherds behind Joseph and Mary. Bruce the Westie-cum-sheep had started barking when everyone laughed at the Three Kings, and Patrick had quickly picked up the dog and was holding him tightly in his arms.
Mrs Hope struck up on the piano once more and everyone sang ‘Silent Night, Holy Night’. George Curdle took his sister’s hand and stroked the doll’s hair.
As the carol ended, Paul Young called from the pulpit: ‘And they all lived happily ever after. And that’s the end.’ He paused, then added, ‘I hope everyone enjoyed the play. I must say it was jolly good from up here. Dad, you were brilliant!’ and he waved to his father below him.
There was a burst of applause from the congregation, and the buzz of voices seemed to confirm they had indeed enjoyed it.
Harold stepped out into the nave from the pew where he’d been sitting, and held up a hand to ask for quiet. ‘Thank you, thank you, everyone! That was truly marvellous. And a special very big thank you to Phil and Alan for pulling it all together. Just one thing before you go home. I would like to quote from a familiar nursery rhyme.
Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat,
Please to put a penny in the old man’s hat.
If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do,
If you haven’t got a ha’penny, then God bless you!
Which is one way of saying,’ he continued, ‘that there’ll be a retiring collection on your way out. Thank you, good night and a safe journey home.’
To round off the extravaganza, Frank strummed a series of running chords on his guitar, and as he finished, the Three Kings all cried, ‘Olé!’
Edward pulled off his long black wig and then smoothed down his own hair into place. ‘Phew!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thank heavens that’s over. I could do with a very stiff drink!’
‘If you will excuse me from the clearing up here,’ responded Frank, taking the guitar from round his neck, ‘I’ll get back home and get things going for the party. Come across as soon as you can.’
‘We’ll be over in a jiff,’ replied Edward. ‘Take Phil with you. She’s done more than her fair share here. What a wonderful evening.’
‘And so say all of us,’ said Winnie, coming up. ‘Charles and Dimity will be furious to have missed it. Perhaps you could put on a second performance for those who weren’t here tonight.’
‘Winnie!’ cried Edward in horror, and then he saw the twinkle in her eye, and bent down to give her a hug.
CHAPTER TEN
The Hursts Entertain
After the Nativity at St Andrew’s, no one seemed very keen to disperse to their various homes. They stood around in the church, chattering about the performance. The infant choir had come tumbling down the stairs from the gallery and were slapping their thespian playmates on the back.
Several families had gathered round the crib, which was gently lit by a light Ben had attached to one of the columns in the side aisle. One parent was pointing out the various figures to her young daughter who listened quietly, but then declared, ‘I think the people we’ve just seen were much better. And there’s no camel here.’ Her smiling mother led the child away.
Harold Shoosmith stood at the end of the pew where the Misses Lovelock had been sitting. They were now gathering together their gloves.
‘Did you enjoy it, ladies?’ he asked.
‘Oh yes,’ squeaked Miss Ada.
‘We were very sorry to miss the service at St John’s,’ said Miss Violet. ‘We apologized to Charles, of course, but the Nativity play here is always much more fun. Now we must go and see if Bert Nobbs has arrived to take us home. We said to be here at six-thirty.’
She turned to check that the third Miss Lovelock was ready to go but Bertha was still sitting in the pew, hunched over and scrabbling round her feet.
‘What are you doing, Bertha?’ she cried. ‘We’re going now.’
‘I’m looking for my muff,’ came the reply from somewhere near the floor.
‘Oh dear,’ said Violet, shaking her head. ‘Come along, Bertha dear, you didn’t have your muff with you this evening,’ and then added for Harold’s benefit, ‘She hasn’t used that muff for years!’
Bertha straightened up, her normally pale face a little flushed. ‘Oh, didn’t I?’ she said rather vaguely.
‘I’ll just go and check that Bert has arrived,’ said Harold. ‘We don’t want you standing around in the cold.’
On his way out, Harold passed two separated ends of the camel. The very red-faced occupants were standing up, glad of the fresh air that was coming in through the church door. Frank Biddle had been at the front and Ben Curdle at the rear.
‘Well done, you two,’ said Harold, pausing by them. ‘You were so funny, and the children loved you. Did you feel hands stretching out to pat you as you passed up the aisle?’
‘I was doing my best not to pass out inside the wretched costume,’ said Ben, and wiped his perspiring face with a huge red-spotted handkerchief, ‘but I’m glad we were the butt of so much amusement.’
‘Young Davey will be so sorry to have missed this evening,’ said Frank Biddle. ‘I’ve promised to take the costume home and put it on for him - with the wife at the other end. She doesn’t know about that yet,’ he added.
Harold could see from the church porch that Bert Nobbs was ready to take the Lovelocks home, so returned to the group who were still chatting in the aisle.
‘Yes, Bert’s there. Now, let me escort you to your carriage,’ and he took the arm of Miss Bertha, the oldest and frailest of the three sisters.
There was an ulterior motive in his gallantry, of course. The way out led past the table on which the platter for the retiring collection was placed. He naturally didn’t expect the parsimonious sisters to contribute but he knew Miss Bertha had a roving hand. He was then made to feel very guilty when he heard the tinkle of coins in the platter behind him as one of the other sisters proved him wrong.
Jane Cartwright clapped her hands and called for the residents of Rectory Cottages. ‘Come along, now, time we were home for supper.’
Jane’s mother, Mrs Jenner, turned to Gladys Hodge. ‘Jane always gives them supper after the Nativity play each year,’ she explained. ‘It’s become a bit of a tradition, see. They gather in the communal sitting-room and have it on trays on their knees. It’s macaroni cheese tonight, Jane said.’
‘Very warming, too,’ commented Gladys. ‘Now come along, Perce, we must be off.’ When she caught her husband glancing at Albert Piggott, she sighed. ‘Oh, all right, then. You go to the pub with Albert if you must, but you can walk home because I’m taking the jeep.’
‘I’ll take you,’ said Mrs Jenner, ‘and Percy can come home later.’
Percy Hodge’s face lit up.
‘Mind, not more than one pint or PC Darwin will catch you with his breathalyzer-thingy.’
‘You go on, Perce,’ said Albert. ‘I’ve got to lock up and it seems folks will be nattering here for ages.’
‘Do you think we’ve given Frank and Phil enough time? It would be wrong to arrive before they were ready.’
‘Phil said to go over as soon as we liked, and to take pot luck. We don’t want to get chilled now that the church door is letting in all the cold air,’ said Isobel.
‘I’m going to pop home on the way,’ said Winnie, ‘and change into some proper shoes. I wore these fleece-lined boots for the service. I know the draughts of old in this church.’
‘Talking of fleeces, weren’t the “sheep” wonderful,’ said Isobel. ‘And Billy Curdle! I’ve never seen a baby manoeuvre so fast on his bottom.’
‘I’m off now to relieve Kit,’ said Connie, joining the group. ‘He’ll be coming up to Tullivers for the party and I’ll give Aunt Dot her supper. And I must get this young man back to his mistress.’ She looked down at Bruce whose lead she held firmly. ‘He’s got very over-excited,’ she continued. ‘The children have been all round him and the Scottie, petting them.’
Bruce’s pink tongue was lolling out, and he was looking around for some more attention.
‘I think we’re all going now,’ said Isobel. ‘Let’s walk over together, and then you and I, Ella, can go on to Tullivers while Winnie pops in to change her shoes.’
They moved together out of the church into the sharp night air. Harold had been right about there being a frost that night. Alan Lester and his family were walking home to the school house down the middle of the green, and their passage had left four sets of tracks across the white grass.
‘While shepherds washed their socks by night,’ the two youngsters sang in high-pitched voices, and then skipped out of the way of their father’s reach.
‘I’m dying for a ciggy,’ Ella said, ‘and I know I won’t be popular if I smoke at Tullivers so I’ll go home for a quick one and join you at the party in a tick.’
‘You know you should give them up,’ Winnie said disapprovingly, but with a smile.