Leo stops staring at Malcolm and looks with concentrated fascination at Miss Poole’s bandaged hand.
‘I hear you have all been practising the song you are singing for your part in the nativity. Miss Poole tells me you are very good. Now we just need to decide who is going to be the donkey and who is going to be the angel. The rest of you will be lovely sparkly stars.’
‘I don’t want to be a star.’
Malcolm is not surprised to hear this from Leo. He is beginning to get his measure.
Miss Poole turns to Ruth, ‘Oh, that’s a shame, I would say being a star is one of the best parts. Wouldn’t you, Rev. Ruth?’
‘Definitely. Everyone always looks at things that are shiny and bright. I always think being a star would be fantastic. I mean, the name says it all. A star.’
It is well done. Malcolm feels he would quite like to be a star. But Leo is made of sterner stuff.
‘I want to be the angel.’
‘Great!’ Miss Poole says, with only a small degree of forced jollity. ‘We have our angel.’
Not typecasting then.
‘Now Shanaya, I’m sure you would love to be a star,’ Miss Poole beams.
Shanaya stops trying to twist one leg around the other as far as it can go, before casting a quick glance at Leo. ‘I want to be the angel.’ This is said with a slight tremor, a hint of the tears that might follow.
The rest is inevitable. Malcolm is soon accompanying one donkey, one star and a positive host of angels as they sing a jolly Christmas song, which from the words he can decipher tells of the donkey finding its way to the stable to meet baby Jesus. Which Malcolm considers is about as likely as anything else he has read in the Bible.
The only real upset occurs when all the angels decide they would like to ride the donkey, squashing a boy called Ben flat, leaving him with arms and legs splayed out like a fallen star. The only one who doesn’t join in is a girl called Molly. Sheis the star and, while very pretty, Malcolm doesn’t like the expression on her face when she looks at Ben’s flattened form and crumpled face. She is enjoying it a great deal too much.
An unexpected highlight for Malcolm comes when, at the end of the third and final run-through of the song, Rev. Ruth nods significantly at the children. This seems to be a prearranged sign for something.
The children glance at each other and, on Rev. Ruth’s second nod, chorus loudly, ‘We like your jumper, Miss Poole.’
Miss Poole looks around from where she has been gathering the children’s coats.
On another nod from Ruth, the children continue, confident now, their voices happy and sing-song. ‘Great lipstick, Miss Poole.’
Miss Poole is laughing as she comes towards her giggling class. ‘Why, thank you very much.’
Not for the first time, Malcolm thinks what a wonderful human being Rev. Ruth is.
Soon she is by his side. ‘You’re let off now, Malcolm. The other classes are either acting rather than singing, or their teachers can play.’
Malcolm looks up aghast, ‘You have to domoreof this?’
‘Of course. There are six more classes.’
‘Good heavens!’ Malcolm exclaims.
‘It’s not that bad,’ Rev. Ruth assures him. ‘Some of the classes do their bits together. Miss Poole takes the reception class, and it is best to get them in and out first as they’re so young.’
Malcolm looks at the reception class, who are now bobbing and jumping around their teacher, chorusing, ‘Jumper jumper jumper!’
‘I had no idea,’ he says in dismay.
Ruth laughs, ‘It’s not that bad, Malcolm. I love the nativity. It’s some of the town stuff that is much more tiring. Give me children over councillors any day.’
‘But my dear friend,’ Malcolm is moved to say, ‘you will be exhausted. Please let me make supper for you tonight.’
‘Oh, Malcolm, that’s a lovely idea. But I’m due at the pub for a run-through of the pantomime.’
