By four o’clock on Christmas Eve, the streets glittered in a diamond twilight. Down at the pedestrian precinct, shop fronts were still extravagantly lit. The council had parked a giant, slightly grotesque model of Father Christmas in the middle of a roundabout, and he waved a sinister yellow hand at the traffic seething past. In the church, the rector and his wife were preparing for a candlelight service, with the doubtful assistance of the confirmation class.
Angus pottered cheerfully along the pews, distributing candles on small clay saucers, four to a row, while Kevin rehearsed the lesson he was to read. The boy paused in his rendition of the story of the shepherds, draping himself over the lectern and squinting into the cardboard box Angus was carrying.
‘Where d’you get those little flying saucers, Rev?’
Angus glanced up at the lanky teenager. ‘As a matter of fact, these are clay birds, Kevin. My brother and his family in Scotland are very fond of shooting. These do the job rather well, I think.’
‘Wicked!’ Kevin jumped down for a closer look.
Beside the pulpit, Elizabeth was struggling with the Holy Family. ‘Mary keeps falling over,’ she complained. ‘What on earth’s happened to her since last year? She’s had one too many down the King Herod, I think. I’ll have to prop her up against the manger . . . Vanessa, see if you can get Baby Jesus wrapped up in swaddling clothes, would you? I’ve brought some torn-up pillowcases.’
The organist’s daughter held up a doll, doubtfully. ‘It’s not newborn, though, is it? Just about shaving, this one. ’Cept it’s a girl.’
‘Nobody will notice in the candlelight. The mice ate last year’s Baby Jesus, unfortunately.’
‘Where’s Mr Edmunds been all week?’ Vanessa grasped the doll in expert hands, winding cloth around its unyielding plastic legs. ‘Funny time for a vicar to take a holiday, right before Christmas.’
Unaccountably, Elizabeth—who was not deaf in the slightest—didn’t seem to hear her. ‘I’m sure we used to have more oxen than this . . . Bloody mice . . . Kimberley, how are you doing with those fairy lights?’
In answer, Kimberley flicked a switch at the foot of the pulpit, and an arch of brilliant colour sprang into life around the wooden stable. At the same moment, someone turned the handle of the heavy west doors; they clunked, rumbled and then creaked open.
‘Oh, well done, Kimberley. Lovely!’ Elizabeth stepped back to admire the tableau. ‘There. I think we’ve done it. Just needs that baby, Vanessa.’
But Vanessa had stopped swaddling the Baby Jesus. She wasn’t even looking at the Holy Family. She’d turned to see who had come in, and was peering down the gloomy nave towards the font.
‘It’s Mr Edmunds,’ she cried, delighted. ‘Hi, Mr Edmunds! Where d’you think you’ve been, skiving off while we do all the work?’
There was no reply. The little group fell silent, watching David’s tall figure as he made his way swiftly up the nave. There was something ominous about his hurried gait.
Quietly, Angus lowered his box onto a pew. ‘Everything all right, David?’
The curate halted by the altar steps, his hands in his pockets, eyes deep in a shadow of their own. Elizabeth stepped forward, her brow creased. Behind her, Vanessa, Kevin and Kimberley huddled close together, watching anxiously.
‘David, what’s happened?’ asked Elizabeth, her voice rising as she searched his face. ‘Where’s Leila?’
‘I’m glad you asked me that,’ replied David, soberly. ‘Because I’d like to introduce you to someone.’
They heard the ring of heels on the worn stone floor a second before a figure emerged from behind the font.
Later, Elizabeth and Angus would agree that they had never before seen Leila as she was that evening. Eyes glittering, she walked steadily up the nave. And close to her chest she was holding something: a wriggling bundle, wrapped in a blanket.
‘Blimey,’ gasped Vanessa.
With a flourish, Leila reached down to draw back the folds of wool, and pandemonium broke out. Elizabeth sprang forward to kiss Leila, Angus laughed and grasped David’s hand, while the youngsters crowded around for a closer look.
‘Oh, my God!’ Kimberley was beside herself. ‘Are you adopting her? She’s gorgeous!’
And so she was: alert and confident, dark eyes bright and curious as she surveyed the world around her. They’d dressed her in a red jumpsuit with a matching squashy hat.
‘Fola?’ breathed Elizabeth, taking one tiny hand in both of her own.
Leila’s smile seemed to hijack her whole body. ‘No. She’s Grace.’
‘Hello, Grace.’ Elizabeth pressed the little hand to her mouth. ‘When did you get her?’
‘We’ve been introduced over the last few days.’ David stooped to kiss his baby’s cheek. ‘Mrs Bayley, the foster carer, gave us some much-needed lessons. Grace slept in the hotel room with us last night, and we set off from Suff olk with her after lunch.’
‘It was terrifying!’ Leila was lit from within. ‘All that responsibility for another human being. We couldn’t remember what temperature the car was supposed to be, or anything.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Almost five months.’
‘Well, she’s very alert,’ said Angus, bending his knees so as to put his face close to the baby’s, and grinning at her. ‘She’s taking everything in.’
‘Could I hold her?’ Kevin blurted out the words and immediately looked as though he wanted to bite off his own tongue. Leila hesitated and then slid the baby into the boy’s arms. ‘Support her head . . . that’s right. Perfect, Kevin. Look! She wants to touch that gold ball on the Christmas tree. Clever girl.’
Vanessa pulled down a branch so that Grace could reach the bauble. She called over her shoulder, ‘See, Mr Edmunds, I told you, didn’t I? I expect you prayed for a baby, and you got one.’
‘Yes. Well . . .’ David’s gaze flickered, amused, to Leila. ‘Some of us merely sat and prayed. Others were rather more proactive.’
‘And now you’ve brought her to church. I hope you’re not going to dump her in here, like that poor little Samuel,’ murmured Kevin, who seemed hypnotised by the life in his arms.
‘Rest assured, Kevin,’ laughed Leila. ‘This baby is never going to be given away again.’
‘The little suit’s very smart.’ Vanessa stroked the fleecy fabric. ‘And a hat to match. She could be on a catwalk.’
‘They were a present from my mother.’ David pressed his toe against the altar steps, adding in an undertone, ‘Along with a note, asking to be included in our child’s life.’
‘Gosh.’ Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up.
‘We phoned to thank her,’ said Leila. ‘Hilda came as close to grovelling as she can ever have done in her whole life. I think she’s realised she could lose David. Begged us to visit her.’
‘And will you?’
‘Yes. Certainly. Grace needs all the family she can get, since she’s lost her real one. Mine didn’t wait to be invited—they’re arriving on Boxing Day. Loads of ’em.’
‘My father’s away for Christmas,’ remarked David blandly. ‘Last-minute invitation. Golf tournament.’
‘In Hong Kong,’ added Leila with a twitch of her lips. She retrieved Grace from her fan club. The baby was gazing squiffily at the fairy lights, blowing bubbles, casually accepting her celebrity status.
Vanessa clutched at Kevin’s arm. ‘I’m going to ring the bells!’ she announced. ‘C’mon, Kev, Kimberley. This calls for a real peal!’ And the three teenagers dashed into the vestry.
They were enthusiastic in their ringing, if not skilled. The joyous, discordant cacophony that exploded from the spire was enough to make long-dead bell ringers turn in their graves.
The wild applause floated on the clear, sparkling air; across the ruined play park, among the tower blocks. A pale child heard it, as he stood alone on a balcony. He pressed his face between the bars, listening.
An elderly man in the churchyard turned filmy eyes up to the old spire and then sank down onto a bench, patting the space beside him.
‘Come sit here with me, love,’ he mumbled peaceably, and turned up the collar of his shapeless coat. ‘They’re making a right old din this year.’ He held a bundle of red roses, swathed in cellophane. ‘I got your favourite.’
In the off-licence, Dora paused in the act of wrapping a bottle in brown paper and held up a forefinger. She walked to the shop door and leaned out into the street.
‘They’ve got a team of monkeys swinging in the belltower tonight,’ she said.
Her customer, the bank manager, glanced wretchedly at his watch.
‘How very odd. They’re much too early for Carols by Candlelight,’ mused Marjorie Patterson, who was choosing nibbles. She patted her new blue rinse. ‘I ought to look into it.’
‘I shouldn’t bother.’ Dora wandered unhurriedly back to the counter. ‘It’s lovely to hear them, whoever they are. Such joy! After all, it’s Christmas.’
Leila laughed aloud as the bells began to ring. To her, they were the beginning of everything.
Grace startled slightly at the sound, her eyes widening, arms thrown out. Then she yawned. It was a miniature yawn, and she lifted dimpled fists to her face. David pulled something soft and tatty out of his pocket, tucking it next to the red jumpsuit, and the baby’s fingers closed tightly around the tangled bundle. It was a goofy-looking knitted lion.
Stepping close to the curate and his wife, Angus rested a hand on each of their shoulders.
‘Well now,’ he said calmly. ‘You’d better take this miracle home.’