‘Jennifer,’ I said, swallowing down over the lump forming in my throat, ‘it’s amazing, thank you.’
She twiddled her hair in a way that seemed so shy. We smiled. I felt myself flushing red in the face as I stared at her and I saw her cheeks do the same. Then we laughed awkwardly. My heart was beating through the hurt I felt in missing the old Ronan in the picture and beating fast because of something else. Something to do with Jennifer.
‘Happy Christmas, Brendan.’
‘Happy Christmas, Jennifer.’
‘Are you coming to the school play tonight?’
‘I thought the whole school was coming to see it this afternoon?’
‘Oh, yes, no – yes, they are, but this afternoon is more a sort of dress rehearsal. I just mean that tonight has all the other stuff like the carol service and the raffle and the cake sale so some people are coming back tonight as well, which is good because I’m going to be less nervous tonight, I hope, and it’ll be better and some of the parents want to come, too, of course, so I don’t know if it’s something your parents want to come to or not?’ She seemed to say all this in one breath.
‘Oh, OK, well, I’m definitely coming this afternoon anyway, and then I’ll ask my dad when I get home if he can give me a lift. My mum’s on night duty so she won’t be able to.’
‘Oh, what does she do?’
‘She works in a nursing home.’
‘Oh that’s nice, I love old people,’ she said, stepping forward and back as if not sure whether to stay or go. ‘OK then, great.’
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Break a leg, right?’
‘Yes, break a leg, thanks!’ she said and took off, tripping over her heel as she went and then turning and laughing,shrugging her shoulders, bright red in the face, and then she dashed off.
When I saw the play that afternoon, there wasn’t a trace of that awkward girl who had stood in front of me just hours before – that girl was gone. Jennifer had transformed. I watched every move she made.
In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
‘Augh, I’m not really into all that theatre stuff, Brendan,’ said Dad. ‘What’s with the sudden interest? We’ve never went to one of these shindigs before.’
‘’Cause it’s the last time I’ll get the chance; it might be a nice thing to do.’
‘Augh, I don’t know, there’s a match on tonight.’
‘Who’s playing?’
He looked at me.
‘The sooner you get your driving licence the better,’ he said, walking up the hall to get the car keys. ‘And you may leave a note for your mother for when she gets up, tell her where we’ve went.’
Watching the play for the second time that night was even better than the first. Jennifer was right, she was less nervous and even more the character of the old lady she was playing than when I saw her in the afternoon. Dad even leaned over to me at one point and said:
‘That one playing the aowl lady is powerful good.’
The carol service was immediately after the play and Jennifer was in that, too; she was still in her old lady makeup but had changed into her school uniform along with all the other girls, and one boy, in the choir. I could feel Dad getting restless during the singing. He got up to go to the toilet and didn’t come back for three whole songs. While he was gone, during ‘Silent Night’, Jennifer spotted me in the audience and smiled.Her arm went up as if she was about to wave, but she stopped herself and giggled, causing Mrs Callan, who was conducting the choir, to give Jennifer a sharp look that snapped her back into concentration.
After the raffle, which I didn’t win with my one 50p ticket Dad had bought, the chairs were cleared for people to mingle and have tea, coffee and cake. Jennifer was standing at the far side of the hall with her mum and dad and an elderly lady that must have been her granny. When she saw me she excused herself and came over to Dad and me standing in the corner with our cups of tea and paper plates with mince pies on them.
‘You came!’ she said.
‘I came.’
‘Goodness, you were powerful good,’ said Dad.
‘Oh thank you,’ said Jennifer.
We stood uncomfortably before Dad said:
