Christmas in St Ives

One

Chapter One

Cerrie

Thirty pairs of eyes blink up at me. Little chests hold little breaths. And for a rare moment my classroom falls silent. Even the silver foil snowflakes suspended on string from the ceiling seem to freeze in time.

The paper I hold in my hands is about to make history in each young life. I feel a wash of butterflies in my stomach, too, because I love this part of my job. Other teachers shirk the responsibility – which is why I’m in charge of the school Christmas play for the sixth year running – but it’s one of my all-time favourite things.

‘Okay, Class 4, it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Our Christmas play this year is called Jimbob and the Little Star, and I’ve written you all a special part in it.’

A huge gasp ripples around my cross-legged class. Seven-year-olds rock. Adults would already be comparing lines, moaning about the people chosen for the main roles or criticising the script I spent hours writing. Not my kids. Class 4 at St Piran’s Primary School are as delighted as a gaggle of Oscar winners and I adore them for it.

I need magic this year. It’s bad enough when someone cheats on you but when that someone is also the deputy head at your school – and everyone knows what happened to split you up – it’s the worst. At least working on the Christmas play with my class of little superstars I can avoid David for a while. Another reason why seven-year-olds rock: they don’t care what’s happened in your life, they just love you – right here, right now. There’s a lot to be said for living in the moment like they do.

‘Miss Austin, can I have wings if I’m an angel?’ Florence Maitliss asks, her eyes wide.

‘Yes, you can. All my angels will have tinsel wings. Mrs Copper from Class 2 is going to make them for everyone.’

Another gasp passes through my class. If only everything in life could be as simply solved by tinsel wings . . .

When the home-time bell rings, I wave off my newly cast angels, shepherds, stars and kings and begin to upend chairs on tables, clearing my classroom before the weekend begins. I like this moment of calm, still buzzing from the plans I’ve shared with the children. Today, it’s also a delaying tactic. Gloria Masters has called a staff meeting for 4 p.m. and I’m dreading it.

School staffrooms can be intimidating places at the best of times, but when they’re filled with your colleagues who will be watching you and your ex like hawks, they are worse than a pit of lions. Being a village school, gossip is the main currency here. I’ll admit to being guilty of indulging in the past – it’s fun to be part of when you’re not the focus. Now I feel like a gnat under a giant microscope. David has avoided me all week but we can’t escape each other in a tiny room with ten other people breathing down our necks. It’s the moment I’ve been dreading, and there’s no escape.

I’m just wondering if I can slip out of school unnoticed when a friendly face beams at me around the blue classroom divider.

‘Ready for the big event?’ Jo Lovage’s smile is warm and welcome, but I can see concern in her eyes.

‘Not really. Think I could get away with faking a migraine?’

‘Possibly. Except you’re cursed with being the healthiest person I know. I don’t think Gloria would buy it.’

Oh well, it was worth a try. ‘Rats. What are the odds of me being abducted by aliens in the next five minutes, do you reckon?’

‘Slim. Come on, lovely.’ She gathers me into a comradely hug. ‘Better to get it over with and out of the way. The others will lose interest after they’ve ogled you and David together for the first time.’

I don’t believe her. I’ve seen these things last for months . . . ‘Remind me again how long you’ve worked here?’

She shrugs. ‘Okay, so maybe you’ll be the resident floorshow for a while. It’ll pass. It always does. My many years working here have taught me that at least. Listen, Cerrie, once he finds a job somewhere else this won’t be an issue. David Myers might be an idiot but he’s an annoyingly talented one. He’ll be off to a swanky headmaster’s position quicker than you think.’

She has a point. David has always had a five-year career plan, which he’s so far been able to follow to the letter. I wonder if cheating on me was part of it, or just an added extra to amuse himself . . .

I catch myself in time. Going over and over the reasons why David threw away our relationship won’t give me answers. It doesn’t make sense. Only to him. If I’m really honest, I don’t want to know why the other woman was so much more attractive a prospect than me. Some things are better not known.

‘I hope you’re right. I hate having to work with him.’

Jo chuckles as she holds open the door for me and we walk across the hall that still smells of school dinners, hours after lunch. ‘Hang in there, sweetheart. It’ll all come out in the wash, as my mum used to say. It’s just going to be toe-curlingly embarrassing until then, that’s all.’

Usually I love my friend’s directness, but this afternoon I wish it wasn’t quite so accurate. ‘It stinks, Jo.’

‘Yes, it does. But it could be worse.’

The staffroom is in sight, through the next set of doors. I can already see several of my colleagues hovering around the small kitchen area. My stomach lurches.

‘How, exactly?’

Jo gives me a wink as we reach the double doors. ‘You could still be with him, not knowing he was shagging that supply teacher.’

It isn’t much of a comfort, but I’ll take it.

As soon as we walk into the staffroom, I see it. That look, mirrored around the room. It’s not pity, more overblown sympathy, but it still makes me feel like shrinking small enough to escape under the cracked edge of the carpet tiles. I smile back, wishing the staffroom hadn’t fallen quite so silent. My stomach rumbles and it sounds like thunder.

‘Cerrie! I saved you a seat!’ Amy Frederick yells, patting the chair next to her. I feel Jo bristle by my side. Great. Now my colleagues are fighting over who chaperones me for this spectacle . . .

‘I’ll get us a chair,’ Jo hisses through gritted teeth, smiling too sweetly at Amy as she passes. Staffroom politics are exhausting sometimes. Like the fact that David isn’t here yet. Of course he isn’t. He’s always been a fan of the limelight and even today, in not-so-flattering circumstances, he isn’t likely to pass up the chance for a grand entrance.

I turn to the sink in the corner of the room and find my mug and Jo’s from the neat lines on the draining board. The hot water urn is unoccupied, thank goodness. Someone has draped a length of gold tinsel around the top of it and each of the sparkly strands is beaded with drops of condensation from the steam. I busy myself with making tea, grateful for the chance to turn my back on the room. It’s a brief respite and I relax a little as the swell of conversation resumes behind me. Even though everyone is waiting for the big Cerrie-David meet, I know I have the support of lots of people here, so I shouldn’t be as nervous as I am. But the fact is, I never wanted to be the cause of a ‘whose-side-are-you-on?’ debate. I hate being asked to choose: so why would I ever ask anyone else to do it on my behalf?

None of this is my fault. I have no reason to hide.

I feel my back strengthen as I remind myself of this fact. Everybody in the room knows David cheated on me. I’m the innocent party. He can bluster and brag all he likes, but it was my heart that was broken – my dreams that were smashed.

I can do this. It’s just a staff meeting.

And then, as I’m about to turn from the kitchen sink with the mugs of tea, I hear the room hush again. Before I look, I know why.

‘Sorry I’m late, guys. Lots to do.’

Even the sound of his voice hurts.

And I can feel all eyes on me as I turn around and walk straight over to Jo. I don’t even look at my ex – I can’t. Because despite all the lies he told and the careless way he stamped all over my heart, David still expects me to greet him. And everyone knows it. He doesn’t seem to understand he lost any right to that the moment he chose her. So I set my face like Dartmoor granite and avoid his stare.

He waits a moment longer than necessary after I sit before he continues. ‘Now we are all here, let’s make a start. Gloria is just taking a phone call, so she asked me to start the meeting without her.’