Lynsey James - The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime - The perfect feel-good Christmas romance!

‘Home sweet home,’ I murmured to myself. I couldn’t wait to get inside, pour myself a mug of hot chocolate and settle down with a good book.

Just then, a clamour of music and raised voices caught my attention. It was coming from the Silver Bells Theatre, Luna Bay’s one-stop shop for stage entertainment. The opening bars of a jaunty show tune blasted out onto the quiet street, only to be cut abruptly short and followed by: ‘NO, NO, NO ! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, IT’S STEP TWO THREE FOUR, NOT TURN TWO THREE FOUR!’

I walked up the gravel path to the open door, lingering outside for a moment as I suppressed a smile. Given the time of year, the local theatre club was probably rehearsing for its annual pantomime. It was something of a laughing stock in the village because nothing ever went according to plan. The sets wobbled, actors fluffed their lines and the time they’d used live animals for Snow White and the Seven Dwarves had gone down in Luna Bay history. A spark of curiosity ignited within me as I wondered which classic pantomime would be messed up this time. Mother Goose perhaps, or maybe Aladdin ? I shuddered to think how they’d pull off the genie and the flying carpet.

More raised voices from inside the theatre made me turn back towards home. Knowing my luck, if I hung around any longer, the theatre club’s slightly terrifying director, Christabel Grant, would try to conscript me into joining her ranks. Her voice suddenly erupted, piercing the velvet darkness.

‘Sandra, I won’t tell you again! Love is All Around comes in the second act, not the first. Keep this up and you’ll be the back end of a horse!’

I let out a little giggle as I reached the top of the hill. Christabel ruled the theatre club with an iron fist and everybody was too terrified to stand up to her. It made me breathe a sigh of relief that I’d so far managed to thwart all her attempts to sign me up to one of her productions.

There was no way I was ever going to set foot on a stage again; not after what happened in New York.

The sight of my little cottage looming before me made my grin stretch even further. Once I stepped over the threshold, I could kick my shoes off and keep the rest of the world at arm’s length.

Bliss.

Chapter Two

Of all the books on grief I’d read in the last three years, none of them advocated buying Christmas presents for your lost loved one.

Yet, earlier, at Fox’s department store, that was exactly what I had done.

As soon as I stepped inside my cosy little cottage, shrugging off the wintry nip from outside, I made a beeline for my bedroom. Underneath my bed was a small box, no bigger than a shoebox. It was battered and worn from being moved around and shoved into corners so many times, but for me it held a collection of special memories far too precious to throw away. I pulled it out and sat down on my bed with it, taking off the scuffed lid as carefully as I could.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked at the box’s contents for the first time in what felt like for ever. Nestled inside the battered old shoebox was three years’ worth of Christmas presents, birthday gifts and odd little souvenirs. A bottle of aftershave, a programme from his favourite theatre production signed by the cast, his favourite red T-shirt, which still held the faintest traces of his smell.

It was all for him.

I retrieved the little Rubik’s cube I’d bought earlier from my pocket and added it to the collection, allowing myself a smile. Jamie had always loved puzzles and prided himself on his ability to complete the New York Times crossword in twenty minutes flat. Every morning, he’d sit on the terrace of the apartment we shared, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by his side, and do battle with the cryptic clues. I closed my eyes and pictured his brow furrowing, the pen sticking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated and the look of euphoria when the answer finally became clear.

For the briefest of moments, I could almost hear the noise and drama of New York City. There was the bustle of people walking the famous sidewalks, each heading in their own direction, taxi cabs beeping their horns at drivers that got in their way and the inimitable buzz that could only be found in the city that never slept. Being part of such a vibrant place had been a dream come true; the city had been a living, breathing entity itself, where anything seemed possible. Until one rainy morning when everything changed…

I shook myself back to the present; thinking of New York was not a good idea. Instead, I closed the box and shoved it back in its hiding place, satisfied I’d done my bit to include Jamie in this year’s Christmas celebrations.

If only he was around to take part in them himself.

*

The next day thankfully didn’t involve dressing up in an elf costume, but it did involve lunch with my mother. Which, in some ways, was a lot more stressful.

‘Has your agent phoned you with any new roles yet?’ she asked as we sat over tea and cakes in the Moonlight Café, Luna Bay’s best eatery. ‘It’s been a while since you’ve heard from her, hasn’t it? Oh, and are you eating properly? You’ve barely touched your cake.’

I groaned and shook my head. My mum meant well, but was permanently worried about me. It was as though I was made out of glass and she thought I’d shatter any minute.

‘No, Mum, Anna hasn’t phoned me for a while because I’m still on a break from acting. Don’t know if I’ll ever go back to it, to be honest. And yes, I’m still eating properly; nothing’s changed since you asked me the other day!’ I smiled and broke off a piece of red velvet cake with my fork, before popping it into my mouth.

Mum tutted and placed her hand on top of mine. ‘Alice, it’s been three years since the accident…’ At the mention of the word “accident”, I flinched and she drew her hand away. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you went back to acting? I’m not saying you have to get on a plane back to New York and star in a Broadway show, or even do something on the West End. You could get involved with the panto at the Silver Bells Theatre; I’m sure they could use someone like you to help out. It’s usually a complete shambles, isn’t it? It could even be part of “moving-on action plan” or whatever it was that the grief counsellor gave you. You’ve done pretty well with it so far; you got that job at Fox’s didn’t you?’

I sighed. ‘That was more because my savings are running out and I wouldn’t be able to afford Christmas presents without a job! The grief counsellor meant well, Mum, but she made moving on sound…I don’t know… easy . You can’t break down forgetting the man you’re in love with into twelve steps, can you?’

‘Nobody’s saying it has to take twelve steps, or fifteen, or seventy-five,’ said Mum. ‘But I think you should start by giving the panto a try. You’d probably have a lot of fun.’

I paused, fork raised, to try and think of a sensible excuse why I couldn’t do the pantomime. Somehow I didn’t think ‘I never plan on going near a stage again as long as I live’ would cut it.

‘Look, Mum, I appreciate your ideas but I don’t think I’d be any good in the pantomime. I haven’t acted for ages and, like you said, the panto’s always a total disaster. Didn’t the sets fall down last time or something? Nah, I think I’ll stay well away from the Silver Bells Theatre and their panto!’

Her face fell as she turned her attentions back to her slice of Victoria sponge. ‘That’s a pity; you’re a natural on stage, darling, and it’d be lovely to see you back doing something you love. Plus it’d wipe the smug grin off Christabel Grant’s face if you got involved. You’d act circles round her!’