Travis carried on snapping away, noticing a lot from behind the lens, some of which he wasn’t meant to see. He was sure the vicar hadn’t meant him to take pictures of the choir master reading Fifty Shades behind his song book or Brian trying on a turkey hat for size when he thought no one was looking.
He was probably meant to stick to safe, posed shots of people grinning at the camera, but then again, the vicar had told him to ‘capture the spirit of the occasion’ so he felt justified.
Of course, the photos might not all make it to the official website. That included dozens of Freya shining like a precious jewel in a jumpsuit that looked sensational on her.
The volume of chatter rose once the hall was almost full so he moved to the back of the room, where he could capture some shots of the singers without disturbing them.
Freya found her way into the viewfinder again, chatting to two bearded guys in the front row who Travis recognised as proprietors of the village hardware store. Freya was smiling a lot, though her body language was stiff. He could tell she was on edge, almost as if she was part of a performance herself. Was it simply because this was a big night for her business, and it rightly meant a lot to her? Or was it because Jos Beresford kept gawping at her every five minutes?
Travis laughed at himself. Who was he to criticise Jos when he couldn’t take his eyes off her either? He was the lucky man sharing her bed, yet somehow he didn’t feel lucky.
The lights dimmed and he lowered the lens.
A spotlight lit the stage and the vicar, resplendent in a purple glittery trouser suit and dog collar, sashayed onto the stage. The shutter whirred and he became aware of Freya next to him, smelling of frangipani, her velvet sleeve brushing his arm.
‘Hello,’ she whispered but his reply was lost in thunderous applause as the curtains parted and the village choir let rip with ‘Deck the Halls.’
Travis was so busy capturing the atmosphere as soloists and groups performed a medley of carols and Christmas hits that the time flew by and the interval came. It was thirsty work so he slipped into the kitchen to collect a soft drink.
Stalwarts of the traders’ association were dishing out refreshments, although Brian was knocking back more mulled wine than he was handing out.
Freya kept sliding him looks that made him long to sweep her up in his arms and carry her home to Squirrel Cottage. He managed to make his way through the hungry hordes to her and whispered in her ear.
‘If we were on our own, I’d drag you off to bed. You look incredible.’
Her cheeks flushed. ‘You can’t say things like that to me when people watching.’
‘I don’t care. I want to unzip that jumpsuit right now.’ His pulse beat faster at the image in his mind.
With a fixed smile, Freya nodded a hello at someone across the room before returning her gaze to Travis. ‘That might cause a stir,’ she murmured.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please can you return to your seats for the second part of our Christmas concert which starts in three minutes!’
At the sound of the vicar’s voice, the kitchen began to empty, and Travis returned to his post at the rear of the hall.
As with all second halves, the audience were in the mood to party, largely thanks to the mulled wine. The church choir sang ‘The Holly and the Ivy’, which was followed by a band doing a version of Elvis’s ‘Blue Christmas’. It was an eclectic mix that made Travis smile.
The vicar spoke into the mic, a grin on her face. ‘Now, we have a special highlight that I am so excited about.’
Intrigued and inebriated ‘oh’s rippled around the audience.
‘I wonder what this is,’ Freya whispered.
‘For one night only, I ask you to give a huge round of applause to our new supergroup, Brian and the Snails – with their unique version of a Bruce Springsteen classic!’
The curtains parted to a huge collective gasp followed by squeals of delight, revealing a sight that Travis never imagined in his wildest dreams.
Brian sat at a keyboard in an electric-blue zoot suit, accompanied by a white-haired guy on drums and a seventy-plus man in ripped jeans on lead vocals.
‘Did you know about this?’ he hissed in Freya’s ear.
She held up her hands, her eyes wide in astonishment. ‘Do I look as if I did?’
People were cheering as Brian and his fellow musicians launched into ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’. Everyone started singing along and even Jos was clapping in a suitably dignified way.
Travis moved into the aisle to get some photos, still hardly able to believe his eyes at the sight of Brian on his feet, thumping the keys like a rock star.
The song ended and the audience were on their feet, screaming for more but the curtains had closed, hiding Brian and the Snails from view.
‘What the hell was in that mulled wine?’ Travis declared.
‘I think it’s probably Ribena with a drop of brandy,’ Freya said.
‘A drop?’
The vicar stepped into the light again, waiting for the noise to die down and people to settle in their seats.
‘Thank you, thank you everyone and a huge thanks to Brian and his Snails for bringing the house down. Now, the bad news is that our concert is almost at an end.’
The vicar acknowledged the good-natured boos of disappointment from the audience. ‘I said, “almost,” because for our finale, we have another very special treat for you.’
‘What’s this? Jos comes on dressed as Mariah Carey?’ Travis murmured to Freya.
‘I’d like to see that,’ Freya muttered.
Suddenly, the stage was plunged into darkness. A hush descended on the audience and Travis raised his camera.
A few moments later, a single spotlight shone on a stool and mic in the centre of the stage. Into the pool of light walked a familiar figure carrying a guitar.
‘Seb?’
‘Shh!’ A woman glared at Travis from the back row but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from blurting his brother’s name out loud.
‘Silent night, holy night, all is calm …’
There were more gasps, of surprise and delight, but this time, the audience were silent – rapt as Seb gently coaxed the opening notes of the carol from his guitar. His lilting yet earthy voice was like the touch of a hand, soothing the audience. The arrangement was beautiful too and Travis guessed it was one of Seb’s own.
Tears pricked the back of his eyes. How could this be? How had Seb been persuaded to step up on stage in front of half the village after so long?
The song ended and the audience burst into warm applause. Travis was almost too shocked to join in. Freya, in contrast, was clapping enthusiastically.
‘Thanks, guys,’ Seb said, a little shyly. ‘Now, I think you’ll also know this one.
‘O, little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie …’
They did, and there were ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s as Seb played and sing the well-loved favourite.
At the end, the audience erupted again but Seb called for a hush.
‘You’ve been a fantastic audience. Finally, this one is for someone special in the audience. It’s an oldie but a goody and it reminds me of good times with my family. Most of all, it’s for you, Travis and you, Bree.’
‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas …’
Travis rubbed his eyes with his hand but the tears kept coming. He had to get out of the room but he had to stay and hear the end. His hands shook too much to take any photos but everyone around him was holding up phones. He looked for Bree to see her reaction but could only see the back of her head.
Finally, the song ended and the audience erupted into applause.
Travis joined in, whooping and whistling.
Freya was on her feet cheering, along with the rest of the audience.
He leaned close to her ear. ‘Did you know anything about this?’
Shrugging, she applauded and whooped even louder.
Wreathed in delighted smiles, the vicar strode onto the stage, raising her hands to calm people down. ‘Thank you, thank you for that. Seb is a very talented young man as is every single person who took part in our carol concert tonight. I want to thank them all for giving up their time and entertaining us all. Thanks to all the front of house team, backstage crew and tonight couldn’t have happened without the …’
She went on to thank a long list of people whose names became a blur to Travis, who still had a lump in his throat at the appearance of his brother on stage.
He was desperate to find him and congratulate him but there was one last surprise from the vicar.
‘So, before we go, let’s end this Christmas carol concert with a rousing performance of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”. I want you all to join in and raise the roof!’
Freya was singing enthusiastically alongside him, but Travis had only one aim. He slipped into the aisle and started to take photos to capture the moment. The choir, their song sheets lifted, mouths open. The audience belting out the song at the tops of their voices, smiles and people clapping along. Bree, looking suspiciously like her mascara had run. Most of all: Seb at the heart of it, playing and singing at the heart of a choir of kids and adults.
A pang of guilt seized him as he remembered his harsh words to Seb, even if they had been delivered in anger.
He dismissed the thought. He wouldn’t let anything sour this moment: Seb’s moment.
The song ended, with another raucous round of cheering and applause and then the lights went on, and the exodus started. Travis had never been sentimental about Christmas but this evening had injected even his cynical heart with a powerful dose of festive spirit.
‘I have to find Seb – and Bree,’ he said to Freya.
‘OK. Tell him I thought he was amazing.’ She smiled. ‘I need to talk to Mimi and her family.’
Leaving her, he made his way through the lingering members of the audience to find Bree giving Seb a bear hug.
‘Whoa, I can’t breathe.’
‘I don’t care. If I want to give you a big hug, I will. I am so proud of you!’
‘It’s not Wembley, you know,’ Seb said. ‘Just a couple of easy carols in the village hall.’
‘Stop that! You were brilliant.’ Finally letting him go, she stood back. ‘Wasn’t he, Travis?’
‘He was pretty good,’ Travis said.
Bree batted him om the arm. ‘Pretty good? He was amazing. I cried!’
‘I was seriously impressed,’ Travis said, refusing to let on that the emotion had also got to him. ‘You’re a dark horse too. I had no idea you’d be performing.
Seb grinned. ‘Well, I hate to be predictable.’
Travis leaned in to hug him and murmured. ‘Bro, I’m sorry about the other day …’
‘Not now,’ Seb said. ‘Let’s save “the talk” for later. If ever.’
‘I do want to talk,’ Travis insisted. ‘I want to know what made you play again – here?’
‘Ah, Sebastian!’ The vicar swooped down on them, sparkling in sequins and smiles. ‘It seems to be the moment for hugs, so let me give you a great big one.’
Trapped like a rabbit in the headlights, Seb had no choice but to allow himself to be hugged. Bree exchanged a smirk with Travis. Seb might love performing but he only enjoyed the spotlight on stage; this attention might all prove a bit much after he’d been in the doldrums for so long.
Finally releasing Seb, the vicar chatted for them for a while before flitting off to thank the children’s choir leader. Travis caught sight of Freya, now alone after Mimi had left the hall.
Seb had retrieved his guitar from the chair. ‘I need to go back to the flat and get some sleep. I’m at work tomorrow and it’s Christmas Eve so the place will be crazy from when we first open.’
‘Good, well I’ll be going too. I bet Gav’s climbing the walls because Dylan is completely hyper, asking if Santa will have set off by now and will he see the sign in the garden and what if the sleigh has a breakdown. I can’t wait for Christmas morning to finally come. You haven’t forgotten about Christmas dinner?’ Bree added sternly.
Travis’s euphoric mood dipped instantly. His gaze slid to Freya; all might be starting to go well with Seb, but he still hadn’t come up with a solution to being in two places at once.
Travis walked with Seb to his flat, chatting about the concert. The moment they were inside, he handed over the envelope of cash which Seb had shoved through his door.
‘Here, have this and before you ask, I was going to give it back before I saw you at the concert. I hope you believe me. This isn’t some kind of reward for being a good boy.’
Seb stared at the envelope. ‘I believe you, but I can’t take your money.’
Travis put it on the table. ‘OK but I’m sure not taking it back home with me. Think of it as an investment.’
‘An “investment?”’ Seb stared at him. ‘Why do you call it that?’
‘An investment. Buy something for your music.’
Seb seemed about to say something, then nodded. ‘If you really want me to, then thanks. I did see a new strap in the Windermere music shop.’
‘Good,’ said Travis in relief. ‘What I want to know is – and I don’t care what the answer is – what made you play again?’
‘That day we went up the fell. I started thinking. No, not about being a photographer, You’ve got that sewn up. I don’t have the patience for that. I enjoyed the day and it was a buzz to take that squirrel picture but I know it was flukey. It would take years to be as good as you, years of dedication, patience and getting to know the wildlife even if I was interested which I’m not. And most importantly, if I had the talent, which I don’t.’
Travis smiled. ‘You don’t need it.’
‘But … it made me realise that I already have something I do have the patience for and the love for. Maybe even a tiny bit of talent. Not enough to do it professionally but enough to entertain myself. Some people seem to believe in me too so I guess I owe them.’
‘People?’ Travis said.
‘You, Bree … and, um, as I came off stage, Carly Raffaello grabbed me. They still have the weekend music nights at the bar. It’s mostly jazz and blues, but they’re looking for some younger, more contemporary performers alongside the oldies.’
Travis smiled, knowing oldies meant anyone over thirty-five in Seb’s eyes.
‘Carly asked me if I want to do a Friday evening session while people are scoffing tapas and necking cocktails. It’s a mature crowd, not exactly my scene, but they’re going to pay me and you know it might lead to stuff and I’d be earning money … I could pay you back at some point.’
‘If you insist but I’d keep your cash until you’re headlining Glastonbury. It sounds great,’ Travis said, filled with relief. ‘I’ll come and heckle.’
Seb laughed then eyed him shrewdly. ‘You and Freya?’
Travis shrugged. ‘I dunno. You’ll have to ask her if she’ll come.’
Seb shook his head and snorted. ‘Sure I will.’
‘You do that,’ Travis said, feeling uncomfortable under his brother’s scrutiny. ‘I’ve no idea of her plans for New Year.’
‘So, let me get this right,’ Seb said slowly and deliberately. ‘You’re not shagging her and she’s not shagging you? What are you two playing at?’
‘You cheeky sod. I’m not telling you my business.’
‘Ah, so there is something to tell.’ Seb gave him a piercing look.
Refusing to take the bait, Travis got up. ‘I’ll see you at Bree’s. You will make it, won’t you?’
‘I won’t let her down. I’m working late tomorrow so you needn’t worry about me being pissed in the pub with my mates. I’ll be tucked up in bed by midnight, hoping Santa comes.’ He smiled. ‘I’m guessing you’ll be doing the same.’
‘Something like that but I think Santa might be bypassing the cabin.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I have no intention of being good.’