Page 14 of Not Just for Christmas

‘It’s just not language we like to hear in the classroom. It might be normal speak on a farm, but I have the other children to think of.’

‘Understood.’ I nodded, keen to escape. ‘I’ll encourage him to say bottom more often.’

‘Preferably less often when he’s at school. But it’s better than …’ Miss Cooper widened her eyes.

‘Arse. Yes, got it. Is that all?’

‘Just one more thing. Sam is playing Joseph, as you know.’

I dreaded to think what was coming next given that Mary would be giving birth in a stable.

‘I just wanted to let you know that he is very confident on stage, and is good at helping the other children with their lines,’ said Miss Cooper, surprising me. ‘He’s doing very well.’

‘Thank you.’ I glowed with pride. All is forgiven, Sam, I thought. Mostly. I stood up and prepared to leave the classroom.

‘And he does have a wonderful imagination, he makes me smile with some of his stories.’ Miss Cooper led me towards the door. I stopped at the letters to Santa and scanned the wall for Sam’s. ‘Only the other day he was telling me that his uncle is Dylan Wilde. The real Dylan Wilde, the singer!’

‘He does get confused about that sometimes,’ I explained. ‘Dylan’s not his uncle, he’s Sam’s godfather.’

‘Gosh.’ Miss Cooper was too speechless to ask any more questions after that, which was a good job because I’d found Sam’s letter and didn’t think I’d be able to speak for a few minutes myself.

Dear Santa,

please can you give my mummy the happiest Christmas ever because sometimes she is sad because Daddy is not here and because I love her very much.

Love

Sam Oakley age 7

Oh Sam. Tears blurred my eyes as I strode out of the school and across the road to the park. My sweet, sweet boy.

Chapter 6

It was getting late in Los Angeles. And after playing a sold-out gig to two thousand fans, signing autographs and posing for pictures at the meet and greet, Dylan was ready to crash.

Instead, he showered, changed and joined the rest of the team at the after party in the private bar on the rooftop of the venue.

‘Here he is!’ someone shouted. ‘Dylan Wilde, everyone!’

A round of applause, mixed with whistling, cheering and a few whoops, made him laugh as he made his way through the assembled crowd.

‘Thanks, guys,’ he called, clapping his hands above his head as he walked in. ‘Thanks, everyone.’

‘Great energy tonight, dude.’ His manager, Will, slapped his back. ‘I don’t know how you do it night after night.’

‘By having the best job in the world.’ Dylan gave him a brief hug. ‘And the best manager.’

‘Natch.’ Will took a beer from the cooler on the table, flipped off the top and put it in Dylan’s hand. ‘Cheers to us.’

Dylan took a long pull on his cold beer, savouring the moment. He meant what he said – he never once took his life for granted. He knew he was blessed. His love life might be a car crash, but he had loyal fans, a sell-out tour, a great backing band and a record label desperate for him to get back in the studio to make new music.

His drummer Suzy walked by, one hand protectively on her belly. She clinked her coke against his bottle. ‘I’m going to miss this, but it’s been fun while it lasted.’

She had been with him for a long time but her first baby was due in the New Year. Tonight was her last gig, for a while at least.

‘You’ll be too busy to miss us,’ said Dylan. ‘And being a mom will be a hell of a lot of fun.’

‘I guess.’ She pulled a face, but her eyes were shining with excitement. ‘And I can always buy the kid a drum kit, right?’