Even Mrs Russell was impressed, although Eve sensed she didn’t want to be. ‘Daniel, you look magnificent,’ she said, smiling down at him. ‘That crown is a work of art. Where did you get the jewels for it, Miss Glover? And that ermine trim is very effective.’
Eve smiled and accepted the praise, knowing she didn’t deserve it. By the time she and Jake stumbled in from the wine bar on Tuesday night, Katie had been putting the finishing touches to the costume.
‘Don’t worry, Daniel has been in bed for hours,’ she said. ‘But after you left, we went next door to hunt through my old dressing-up box. We got this amazing purple cape and a big gold chain to go around his neck, and I’ve made a new crown. No offence, Eve, but Daniel and I both thought your crown was a bit crap.’
Eve wasn’t offended at all; she was relieved – and rather impressed. Katie had clearly done enough dressing up in her time to be able to cobble together an outfit which was not only sophisticated and appropriate for a six-year-old Wise Man, but also had sufficient homemade touches to impress the other parents.
This afternoon the school hall was full of them, with small children balanced on laps and buggies blocking the aisles. Eve was surprised staff weren’t running up and down with clipboards handing out health and safety notices. She took Flora’s hand, squeezing it and smiling as her mother turned to look at her. She hadn’t been sure it was a good idea to bring Flora along to this afternoon’s performance, and it had taken some time to cajole her into her coat and get her out of the front door of Three Elms.
‘Where are we going this time?’ Flora had asked for the fifth time as Eve got her into the passenger seat of the car and pulled the seatbelt across. ‘I’m not sure this is something we should be doing, Eve.’
But now they were sitting in the second row of chairs in the school hall, Flora had cheered up. ‘I must say, this is a real treat,’ she kept saying. ‘I haven’t been to the theatre in years!’
As the nativity started, they watched flocks of sheep circle the stage, followed by gatherings of angels, most of them Reception children whose parents oohed and aahed as their offspring did a higgledy-piggledy dance, clutching toppling halos and tripping over untied laces on ballet shoes.
Eventually, once Mary and Joseph were safely installed in a makeshift stable with a Tiny Tears doll swaddled in a crocheted blanket, Daniel walked onto the stage, resplendent in his cape and crown.
‘That’s Daniel!’ exclaimed Flora loudly, grabbing Eve’s hand and not noticing the heads turning in her direction. ‘I didn’t realise he was an actor now. Isn’t that something!’
Eve squeezed her hand. She was right, it really was something. Her little boy stood up tall on the stage, bellowing out his lines and grinning down at them, waving excitedly when he’d finished speaking. His costume was impressive, his acting less so, but she couldn’t have been more proud.
‘Is he going to sing?’ asked Flora.
‘No, Mum, I really hope not.’
Eve looked at the rapt expression on her mother’s face; Flora had been as happy as this after the carol concert the other week, but it was good to see her out and about, rather than stuck inside Three Elms. She just hoped that these trips and a taste of the outside world wouldn’t make Flora unhappy when she had to go back, in a couple of hours’ time. She seemed settled at the home now, but each time she went to visit, Eve was still plagued by uncertainty: worried her mother would turn back into the miserable, confused old lady who had threatened to kill herself all those weeks ago. It was going to take a long time for the memories of those early days to fade.
‘Where’s this theatre again?’ Flora asked loudly, as the Angel Gabriel stomped in from stage left and began to speak to Mary and Joseph. ‘Why hasn’t Daniel got any more words? He’s very good, isn’t he?’
Her voice rang out in the darkened hall, cutting across the quavering voice of the angel-in-chief. A man in the row behind them leant forward and tapped Flora on the shoulder: ‘Shhhh!’
Eve turned around. ‘Shhhh yourself!’ she hissed back. The man crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at her, and Eve glared back until he eventually shook his head and turned his attention to what was happening on the stage. She put an arm around Flora’s shoulders and hugged her close. This afternoon she was not going to be made to feel ashamed of her mother.
Up on stage the children burst into a loud rendition of While shepherds watched their flocks. Flora clapped her hands and started singing along.
Her dementia was more advanced than it had been just a few weeks ago, when she moved into Three Elms but, ironically, she seemed calmer and happier. Or maybe the whole thing felt easier because Eve herself was less stressed about what was happening? It had occurred to her, only recently, that she’d spent much of the last year waging war against something she didn’t stand a chance of beating. That ongoing fight, together with the fact that she constantly felt she was failing, had been demoralising, as well as exhausting. Accepting Flora’s dementia and acknowledging she didn’t need to keep battling against it anymore, was like having a weight lifted from her shoulders.
They’d been handed a programme when they arrived earlier and, reading through the names of the cast, Eve noticed Daniel was one of the few children in his year to have been given a speaking part. She beamed back up at him, not quite sure why he’d been singled out, but proud anyway. She scanned the long lists of children who were grouped together in crowd scenes, as villagers and a host of relatively minor angels. The name Liam Boxall caught her eye: one of a dozen sheep. She looked across at them, penned to one side of the stage under the watchful eye of the teacher who was sitting at the piano. She had no idea what he looked like, but it wouldn’t have been possible to pick him out from the crowd anyway, amongst the mass of fluffy white bobble hats and hairbands festooned with cotton wool.
The PTA had laid on some wine for proud parents after the performance, and Eve and Flora filed into one of the downstairs classrooms to accept a glass of lukewarm Chardonnay. It flashed through Eve’s mind that she shouldn’t be allowing her mother to have wine at this time in the afternoon – what if she carried on drinking when she was back at Three Elms later?
But it was too late.
‘Yes please, I’ll have some of that,’ said Flora, stepping forward and holding out her hand. A mum Eve vaguely recognised was standing at a trestle table, behind rows of pre-poured glasses of wine. She picked up one and handed it to Flora, smiling so widely that Eve could see the gums above her front teeth.
‘Wasn’t the show fantastic?’ she said. ‘I think we should all be very proud. My daughter has been so excited about this afternoon. She’s been practising her lines and singing away at home.’
‘Oh, mine too,’ said Flora. ‘All the time.’
The woman looked confused, and Eve put her arm on her mother’s elbow and moved her away from the table, grabbing a glass for herself as she did so.
‘Are you sure you want that?’ she asked, looking at the wine.
‘Of course I do,’ said Flora. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
Eve wished she hadn’t said anything. Why indeed? What right did she have to stop her mother from enjoying one of the few pleasures she had left in life. Anyway, it was only a small glass of cheap Chardonnay. She put out her glass and clinked it against Flora’s. ‘Cheers,’ she said. ‘Happy Christmas, Mum.’
‘Ooh, is it Christmas already?’ said Flora. ‘Lovely – I like Christmas.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘This is nice,’ she said, before tipping up her glass and draining it. ‘Yes, very nice indeed.’
She stepped past Eve and moved back to the table, holding out the empty glass to the smiley mum standing behind it. ‘Can I have some more of this, please?’