The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime: The perfect feel-good Christmas romance!

Chapter Three

I spent the rest of the day welcoming children to the grotto and pretending that Christmas really was the most wonderful time of the year. Like any good actress, I threw myself into my role and made it my job to spread festive magic to every little visitor who was counting the days until Santa’s arrival.

Until later that afternoon, when things went horribly wrong.

It started with a giggle. Innocent enough, you may think, but not when ‘MAISIE, PUT THAT DOWN!’ and Frank yelling at the top of his voice immediately followed it. I rushed inside the grotto to see what was going on and found a little girl holding what looked like a pair of edible knickers.

‘What kind of store is this?!’ a red-faced woman yelled. ‘Giving erotic products to little kids; you should be ashamed of yourselves!’

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ I gasped. ‘There must be some mistake; I’ll get another present for you.’

Before I could rush round to get a replacement gift, a voice from outside erupted ‘WHO THE HELL IS IN CHARGE HERE?!’

‘I’d better go and deal with that,’ I said, panic rising in my voice. ‘I’ll leave you in Fr… I mean, Santa’s capable hands.’ I turned to Frank, who was puce with rage. ‘Why don’t you get Maisie a lovely new gift while I go and see to that customer?’

I threw back the curtain, dreading what I was about to be confronted with. It turned out to be a woman with a face like thunder, trying to keep a small grubby child under control and trying to wrestle something from his sticky grip.

‘How can I help?’ I plastered on my sunniest smile and ignored the nerves brewing in my stomach.

From the furious look on her face, the woman didn’t appreciate my attempt at a pleasant greeting. In fact, she looked like she wanted to strangle me.

‘And just what…’ she paused for a second as she managed to snatch away whatever her child had been holding ‘…do you call this?!’

She brandished a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs, hooking them over one finger and tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for my explanation.

‘This is supposed to be a Santa’s grotto for kids, not a sordid sex shop! Where’s the manager? I want to put a complaint in!’

She was soon followed by another angry parent, who was keen to find out why her child had been given a cocktail-making kit instead of a colouring book.

My eyes darted from left to right as complaints and threats flooded in. One thing was for sure: there had been a huge mistake somewhere. And I was probably going to pay for it.

My suspicions were proved correct when Gary appeared and bellowed ‘ALICE, MY OFFICE NOW!’

*

It didn’t take long for the shit to hit the fan. I sat in the manager’s office, while Gary paced up and down like a bear with a sore head.

‘How the hell did this happen?!’ He pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at me. ‘I’ve had no less than twenty complaints from parents whose kids received what they called “inappropriate gifts”! Instead of selection boxes and packs of felt-tip pens, they got fluffy handcuffs, edible knickers and bottles of vodka! Do you have any idea how that makes us look?!’

I stifled a chuckle. Although Gary couldn’t see the funny side of it, there was something quite amusing about the whole mix-up.

‘To be fair, the boxes of presents weren’t labelled,’ I explained. ‘How was I supposed to know I’d picked up the sales girls’ Secret Santa box?’

The vein in Gary’s forehead grew larger and looked like it would pop any minute. He strode over to where I was sitting, his mouth set into a stern line and his eyes ablaze with anger.

‘We’re supposed to be a family-friendly store, Alice. I don’t think giving kids mini bottles of alcopop really gives the right impression, do you?’

A rogue giggle escaped from my mouth; from the look on his face, I thought Gary might spontaneously combust.

‘I’m sorry, really I am.’ Once I was sure I wouldn’t laugh again, I peeked up at him, daring to meet his gaze. ‘You have to admit, it was a little bit funny though. And we can give them replacement presents from the real box of gifts can’t we?’

Gary folded his arms and began pacing back and forth again. ‘It’s not quite as simple as that, I’m afraid. We were thinking of closing the grotto early anyway. The store isn’t making much money at the moment and we haven’t had the footfall we expected, but this screw-up was the final nail in the coffin…’

I winced at the word “coffin”, but tried not to show it. Even that simple word conjured up hundreds of memories I’d do anything to forget.

‘I’m sorry, Alice… I’m afraid you’re out of a job.’

My head snapped up and I felt my jaw drop. ‘Gary, please… I-I need this job! I know it’s only temporary, but I’ll be stuck without it. Is there any way I can stay? I-I’ll stack shelves, clean the toilets, anything!’

He shook his head gravely and ran a hand over his tired face. ‘I’m afraid not; we’re struggling to afford our Christmas temps as it is, so we’re looking to make any savings we can. Besides, I don’t think this was ever really your cup of tea was it? I mean, you were on bloody Broadway! I can’t imagine you found being a department store elf very exciting.’

I opened my mouth to disagree, but even I wasn’t that good of an actress. Instead, I sighed and got up from my seat; it was time for me to leave. Alice, exit stage right.

‘Thanks for the opportunity, Gary. And for the record, being an elf here was more than exciting,’ I added with a little chuckle.

He managed a smile as he escorted me down the stairs to the shop floor.

‘You never know,’ he said, ‘this could be a blessing in disguise; you could be lighting up the West End this time next month!’

‘I don’t think so…but thank you.’

I smiled and turned my back as I prepared to leave Fox’s department store for the final time. My shoes jingled and attracted everyone’s attention as I crossed the floor. I probably looked absolutely ridiculous, but I didn’t really care. As I took in the store’s various sights and smells and the beautiful items that lined its shelves, my heart sank. Although being an elf had been the job from hell, I would be really sad to not have a reason to visit Fox’s every day.

I was so engrossed in looking around my now former workplace that I didn’t notice someone coming through the revolving doors. With just a split second to spare, I managed to avoid a full-on collision by swerving out of the way. The man heading towards me was too distracted to notice; his phone was wedged between his ear and his shoulder as he hissed replies to whoever was on the other end. As he passed me, his shoulder bumped mine, knocking my bag to the floor.

‘Hey!’ I yelled, hoping to draw his attention to the fact he’d just bumped into me without saying sorry.

All I got for my trouble was a vague wave in my direction as he continued his argument and made his way towards the back of the store. My gaze followed his bottle-green tartan jacket and russet-brown hair until he disappeared from view. I hoped the person he was on the phone to was giving him hell.

Outside the store, I found Frank sitting in his stained and grubby Santa costume, minus his beard. His eyes were firmly fixed to the pavement and he was taking swigs from a bottle of whisky while picking at his once-white fluffy cuffs.

‘You too eh?’ He grunted out a hollow chuckle and patted the pavement next to him. ‘There’s room for a little’un if you fancy joining me?’

I paused for a second, unsure of what to do. The way I saw it, I had two choices: I could keep walking and stay in the little bubble of loneliness I’d carefully crafted over the last three years, or I could take a minute to talk to someone who was just as down on his luck as I was.

I chose the latter and crouched down next to Frank, who was just finishing off the remainder of his whisky.

‘Yup,’ I replied, ‘me too. Gary said the store isn’t making enough money or getting enough customers, so they were thinking of closing the grotto early anyway. I don’t think seeing little kids running round with pairs of edible knickers helped though!’

Frank let out a throaty laugh that was closely followed by a wheezing cough. He picked up his bottle, remembered he didn’t have any more and discarded it with a disappointed sigh.

‘Nope, probably not. Having a Santa who’s either drunk or hung-over probably didn’t create a very good impression either,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘So what’s next for you? We worked together for two whole weeks and I don’t think we even said two words to each other.’

I blushed as I realised I hadn’t been the most forthcoming of people to work with. I had my reasons, of course, but Frank wasn’t to know that.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I tend to keep myself to myself these days. The last few years have been… Well they haven’t been easy. I’m not really sure what’s next for me. What about you?’

‘Back to doing what I was doing before, probably. Sitting in my flat with my best friends Jack and Daniels, passing the time away. What a life eh? Can’t you go back to what you were doing before?’

Lying in bed crying because I lost the man I love and life is shit without him? Yup, sounds good to me.

‘Not really,’ I admitted, ‘I don’t really want to go back to that.’

He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled. ‘You’ll find your way; people like you always do. It’s people like me who tend to slip through the cracks…’ He trailed off, as though he was lost in his own thoughts. ‘My own fault though. Anyway, you don’t want to be wasting your time talking to an old drunk like me. Go on, off you go.’

He waved a dismissive hand and picked up his empty whisky bottle again. Reluctantly, I took it as my cue to leave; I didn’t want Frank to be alone, but he’d made it clear he was happy with his own company.

‘Have a good Christmas,’ I said as I walked away. He raised his bottle in reply before pulling himself to his feet and stumbling off in the opposite direction.

I sighed as I watched him go; it seemed like the most wonderful time of the year was steadily growing worse.

Frank’s question stayed with me as I trudged off towards home: what’s next for you?

Knowing me, it’d be holing up in my little cottage and keeping the world at bay, like I always did. One thing was for certain: I’d be going nowhere near the Silver Bells Theatre or their bloody pantomime.

Absolutely not.

Chapter Four

Never one to mind her own business, Mum was quick to come up with lots of ideas for my newly acquired free time. She came over to my cottage that night, armed with suggestions and bags of her trademark enthusiasm.

‘Now that you’re back out there, you can come to all my groups with me! There’s pottery on Mondays; bums, tums and thighs on Wednesdays; and bingo on Thursdays. You’d love the bingo, Alice; it’s great fun.’

‘By “back out there”, do you mean I’m not an emotional wreck who can’t stop crying any more?’ I smiled lightly, but the memories were all too real. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d been wrapped up in my duvet and surrounded by tissues, empty ice cream tubs and photos of Jamie.

Mum became flustered, thinking she’d offended me, and began to babble. ‘No, darling, I just—’

I put up a hand to stop her. She really did treat me like I was made of glass sometimes.

‘I’m just kidding, Mum! Count me out of the bingo though; that’s a bit too hardcore for me,’ I said with a wink.

‘Well, what about getting involved with the pantomime then? I overheard Christabel saying they’re short of performers and backstage crew. With you on board, they might be able to pull off a successful show!’

I rolled my eyes and groaned. ‘For the last time, no! When Jamie died, I swore I’d never go back on the stage again and that’s final. Let them screw up their own production; I’m sure they don’t need any help from me.’

Mum shot up from the chair and grabbed her handbag and cardigan. ‘You know, it was really hard for your dad and me to watch you crumble after Jamie died. When you came back from New York, we didn’t know if you were ever going to be the same again. I know you might think I’m interfering, but I’m your mum and I just want what’s best for you.’

‘Mum, I’m—’

‘But when you started going to the B&B’s Breakfast Club, I thought you might finally be ready to join the world again. Even more so when you took the job at Fox’s: I thought you might start to build up your network of friends again. But you’re still keeping everyone at arm’s length aren’t you? You can’t hide yourself away for ever, Alice; Jamie wouldn’t want you to do that.’

At the mention of his name, something inside me snapped. The day had been stressful enough without bringing Jamie into it.

‘Oh so I’m disappointing him as well as you, am I? Good, that’s great to know. I’m not “hiding myself away” either; I happen to like my own company! I might not be out gallivanting every weekend or doing six shows a week in the West End, but believe it or not I like my life. It might not be what I planned, but it’s how things have turned out, OK?’

Mum’s shoulders fell and the anger melted away from her face. ‘What happened to you? You used to have such big dreams; you’d never have settled for “how things have turned out”. Whenever life threw something unexpected at you, you’d find a way to overcome it or turn it to something positive. I’d really like to see that Alice again; that was my girl.’

I was sure I could hear her voice wobble and see tears spill down her face, but she sharply jerked her head away so I couldn’t see. She mumbled a goodbye and ran out the door, sprinting down the hill as fast as her tiny little frame would carry her.

Hot salty tears pricked my eyes and ran down my cheeks before I could stop them. I hated the thought of disappointing my mum, especially after everything she’d done for me. The idea that Jamie would be disappointed in me too, however, stung more than I cared to admit. Although I knew my life wasn’t exactly fizzing with excitement and a new adventure round every corner, I’d still thought I was doing pretty well. I’d dragged myself from the depths of despair and could now call myself a mostly functioning adult of twenty-seven. I had my own cottage that I loved, occasionally ventured out to the Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club, and had even dipped my toe back into the world of work.