Vivien Brown - Five Unforgivable Things

‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ he said, lamely, with no idea what was coming next. It was only the end of September, for heaven’s sake, and they’d hardly seen the back of summer yet. The kids’ holiday memories, in all their poetic and artistic glory, were still pinned to the walls in the library. Christmas remained a distant nightmare he was nowhere near ready to contemplate.

‘But if we want to do something well, I do think it’s important to give ourselves plenty of time to plan, don’t you, Oliver?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘And now you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here this morning? To be honest, it’s to ask a favour. I would normally have felt able to count on Mrs Carter as usual, but, as you know, she’ll be on maternity leave over the Christmas period, so I need someone else to step in. I was hoping that someone might be you. It’s a job that calls for great enthusiasm, organisational skills, and a certain amount of … well, stamina, for want of a better word.’

‘Now I’m intrigued.’

‘The nativity play, Oliver. Staff, children, a few willing parents, all working together, you know? We’ve done nativity plays for as long as I can remember. Tea-towel head dresses, the girls squabbling over who’s going to be Mary, the boys desperate to avoid being in it at all, not to mention the plastic baby Jesus. Let’s just say I have visions of something a little different this year. More lively. Costumes, music, perhaps bringing a more modern twist to it. Mrs Carter will be missed, of course, but her absence does give us an opportunity for change, do you see?’

Ollie nodded, not entirely sure that he did see at all, but it usually paid to agree with the boss. ‘And, er, how do I fit into this exactly?’

‘I want you to lead, Oliver. Plan, produce, put a team together, casting, rehearsals, all of that. Organise the whole thing. You know, from a different perspective, the whole thing seen through fresh eyes …’

‘Me?’ Ollie pulled a chair over from a corner, deciding this was as good a time as any to sit down. He could be here for some time. ‘But I have absolutely no experience of anything like that. I don’t go to church, so the religious side of a nativity is … well, not really my thing. I can’t act, I can’t sing, and I haven’t been inside a theatre since I was at school myself. Hamlet, I think it was. I can still see him holding that mouldy old skull. Gave me nightmares for weeks afterwards.’

‘Hardly the same thing. And I said organise it, Oliver. I’m not asking you to lead a church service, or to get up on stage and perform. Unless you want to, of course. Sometimes you don’t know where your talents lie until you try. Now, take your class earlier this morning, for instance. I was watching through the window, and little Victoria Bennett threw an almost perfect javelin, didn’t she? Never touched one before, I bet. We could even have a future champion on our hands.’

‘Lucky fluke, more like.’

‘That may be so, but she tried something new, and look what happened. So, my request stands. Go away and think about it if you like, but I would like to get the ball rolling sooner rather than later. Perhaps I could have your answer after lunch?’

***

He left it until the bell rang for the end of the school day. Well, half-past three still counted as after lunch, didn’t it? The Head was busy with a mound of paperwork, a cup of coffee gone cold beside him, and Ollie knew better than to linger too long. They both knew he didn’t want to do it, but neither of them seemed surprised when he said he would.

As he left he ran into Victoria Bennett and her mother, dithering about at the school gates, two younger kids clutching not quite dry paintings and clinging to the handle of a pram, which was occupied by presumably yet another Bennett, one that Ollie hadn’t even known had been expected, let alone born. The mother was fishing about in an enormous shopping bag, pulling out various bits and pieces, including a brown mushy banana and a roll of nappy sacks, until she managed to locate and extricate a bright-green plastic purse. ‘Now, only get the cheap stuff, you hear me?’ she said, pushing a pound coin into her daughter’s hand. ‘And no dawdling on the way home.’

‘Bread …’ she said, by way of explanation, standing aside to make room for Ollie to pass as Victoria ran off in the direction of the corner shop. ‘She’s a good girl, really. Just a bit scatty sometimes.’ She laughed. ‘But then, you’d know that, wouldn’t you, sir?’

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.