Especially when the kids bit Baby Jesus’s head off. 19:15
Lorna Fielding, Phoenix’s mum
In other news, we have raised £170 for Miss Young’s Christmas present! See pic – it’s one of those cards that you can spend in loads of different shops. Well done, everyone! 19:16
FIFTY-SEVEN
Saturday 19 December
The Christmas holidays were a welcome respite and Nancy and Lara took to the hills with a flask of hot chocolate, covering miles. On one of these walks, Nancy noticed something that filled her with an unexpected joy. Lara was happily chatting away to her as they climbed a hill. Six months ago she would have been wheezing and unable to breathe. Tears welled up in Nancy’s eyes, which she quickly brushed away. But it was good. It was better than good, she thought, it was bloody miraculous.
When the weather was wet, they camped out in the new studio Nancy had put together in one of the empty rooms in the house. They played with clay, laughing as they threw it on the potter’s wheel and attempted to make something resembling a pot.
Christmas Day dawned with pale pink and mauve skies that blended into a bright azure blue as the sun rose. Nancy and Lara walked along the edge of Heron Water, amongst the reeds and bullrushes, just the dark brown seed heads visible on tall, slender stems. Much of the bird populationhad migrated for the winter but the herons stayed, and Nancy and Lara watched as one took off from the bank, flying low over the water.
Back at the house, they opened presents and Lara squealed with delight at the new iPad Beth had bought her. It was her second-favourite present, she declared, as nothing could top the kitten Nancy had got for Lara a few days beforehand. Lara and Pebbles, a little tabby, were already inseparable.
They wished Beth a happy Christmas via video call and hid their giggles when Martin’s mother, Angela, complained that the Brussel sprouts weren’t up to last year’s standard (when she had spent Christmas Day with her daughter).
It was a good day, quiet but happy. She and Lara had lit a paper lantern for Sam and reminisced, laughing, about how a few years ago he had insisted on his own chocolate advent calendar after he’d been caught red-handed pinching from Lara’s.
After Lara had gone to bed, Nancy settled down in front of the deep red embers of the fire with a glass of wine and thought maybe she hadn’t done so badly after all. It had been one of the hardest years of her life, holding everything together after Sam’s death, and on the second Christmas anniversary, she had been dreading a return of the awful pain of the first. But Lara and she had done OK; they had even had fun. They’d remembered Sam with fondness and had started to make memories of a new type of Christmas, just the two of them.
January came around quickly and the new term beckoned.On the first day back, Nancy approached the school gates with an element of trepidation. But it was fine. Lara settled back in and Rosie left her alone.
It wasn’t until the end of the week that things started to go wrong.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Friday 8 January
Miss Young clapped her hands for quiet and the class settled. ‘Now as you all know, there is a very big event happening in a couple of months’ time. The Straw Bear Festival is going to need its Spring Queen, and as usual, it’s a Year 6 girl who has the honour of wearing the crown.’ She paused and took in the flurry of excited murmurs and darted looks. ‘This year, the Queen will have the added honour of riding on a pony that one of you knows particularly well. Lupin, who used to belong to Rosie, is going to be very kindly lent to the festival for the occasion by his new owners.’ Rebecca glanced at Rosie, but she was holding her head high, eyes strong. ‘So...if you think there is a potential Spring Queen in this classroom, I need someone to nominate them. You cannot nominate yourself,’ she added loudly over the growing buzz of excitement.
Lottie stuck her hand up at great speed.
‘Yes, Lottie?’
‘I nominate Aisha,’ said Lottie.
‘Happy with that, Aisha?’ asked Miss Young.
Aisha blushed pink and nodded. Miss Young wrote her name down on the whiteboard.
‘Who else?’
Tilly waved a hand.
‘Tilly?’
‘I nominate Rosie.’
It was inevitable, thought Miss Young, but it still rankled. Mostly because she knew Rosie would win. But she had to remain neutral. ‘OK, Rosie?’ she asked, then on Rosie’s affirmation, wrote her name on the board.
Jakob put his hand up.
‘Yes, Jakob?’
‘I nominate Noah.’
