Page 103 of The Merry Christmas Project

I took a moment to gather my thoughts and gazed out at the wintry scene around me : the velvet indigo sky, the snow-laden roofs, twinkling lights and the circle of beautiful Christmas trees which flashed and twinkled and sparkled, each one beautiful in their own right, but collectively they created a Christmas magic like I’d never experienced before.

So, this was what Christmas was really about, I thought, with a shaky breath. Christmas was on all the faces now turned towards the stage. In the smiles and laughter, in the hands being held and in the families, hugging each other for warmth ; it was in the sharing of food and drinks and squeals of joy from the little ones.

And then as a microphone was thrust into my hand, Cole was there below the stage, blowing me kisses and wishing me good luck.

‘Go Merry,’ whispered Nell.

I cleared my throat and took a small step forward, waiting as the crowd stilled. ‘Welcome everyone and Merry Christmas to you all. Tonight, by taking part in our Christmas Project, we are carrying on the tradition started by Benny Dunford, a man who was the beating heart of Wetherley and whose selflessness and kindness touched us all. Benny loved any opportunity for us to come together and unite as a community and none more so than at Christmas. Many of you will know that gathering together with friends and family on Christmas Eve was the highlight of his year and we hope he’d approve of what we’ve done to celebrate Christmas this year. The first without him.

‘There are fifty trees here this year, as different as they are beautiful, representing who we are and what we stand for, but wherever we come from and whatever we believe in, there’s something that unites us all and that is love. From all of us here on the Christmas Project, we wish you a happy and joyful Christmas.’

I lowered the microphone for a second as people clapped and cheered.

‘And now,’ I began again, ‘if we all listen carefully, we’ll be able to hear “Jingle Bells” as we welcome the Wetherley Primary School Choir.’

A few metres away, Mrs Flowers quickly shuffled her choristers into two rows. They were beginning and ending at the stage to take in a full lap of the square. At the front and back of the lines were several children holding a variety of percussion instruments, all of them wearing an assortment of Victorian outfits. She waved her arms and beckoned the children forward.

‘Jingle bells, jingle bells,’ the children sang at the tops of their voices as they processed through the trees and performed their lap of Christmas honour.

Everyone joined in with the singing, apart from those whose voices were too cracked with emotion – Nell was literally mopping her tears. Parents took photos and videos and Robin Barker leapt from place to place to get the shots he needed for the Derbyshire Bugle.

Bubbling over with excitement and stage fright, the children filed onto the stage to begin the main part of their performance. Tom and Sally quickly handed out the song sheets and I, along with the others, descended the steps from the stage to let Mrs Flowers take over and rearrange her choir into height order with the little ones at the front.

I crunched through the snow to Cole’s side and hooked my arm through his.

‘Great speech.’ He pulled me close. ‘Even I had a tear in my eye.’

‘Shush,’ I giggled, slipping my hand into his pocket. I’d left my gloves on the stage after taking them off to hold the microphone and was already regretting it. My fingers were starting to freeze.

‘And now,’ announced Mrs Flowers, standing a little too far away from the microphone. ‘We’re going to sing my personal favourite, “Silent Night”.’

Against my hand, I felt his phone vibrate.

‘You’ve got a call,’ I said. Luckily it was on silent, but I took it out and handed it to him.

He frowned and showed me the screen. It was Lydia. Together we wove our way to the edge of the crowd where he could answer it without disturbing anyone.

‘Lydia ?’ His voice was full of concern. ‘Is everything OK ?’

He held the phone out in front of him on hands-free.

‘I’m on my way to the hospital.’ Her voice was shaky as if she was trying to stop herself from crying.

Cole froze. ‘What ?’

‘Harley was out playing on the slopes with his friends and came off his board. Roman, one of the boys’ fathers, scooped him up and took him straight to the hospital.’

‘Oh my God, Harley.’ Colour drained from Cole’s face. ‘Where is he hurt ? Did he hit his head ?’

‘Roman thinks it’s a broken ankle. Maybe concussion.’

‘Lydia, phone me as soon as you get to the—’ Cole looked at me in shock. ‘The line went dead.’

He tried to call her back but couldn’t get a signal and in the next fraction of a second the world went black. The streetlights, the tree lights … every single lamp in every single window, all out, plunging us into complete darkness. A wave of terror ran through me and I felt my legs go weak.

I clung to his arm, paralysed by fear and my breathing started to quicken.

‘Power cut, that’s all we need,’ Cole groaned. He looked at me as my grip tightened. ‘You OK ?’