As soon as the tree is finished, we decide to have a trial run for the lights and Bev asks the mayor to do the honours. After a fashion.
‘Matt,’ she yells at him. ‘Do your Thang!’
He gives her a thumbs up and gets into position at the base of the tree. The kids all huddle round him as he stands and booms out, ‘I declare this Christmas tree open.’
Then Alan flicks the necessary switch and all the lights shine out.
All the kids cheer and, even though it’s not yet dark, the myriad colourful lights sparkle for all they’re worth. The mayor looks very pleased with himself as well he might.
‘Top job,’ Bev shouts. ‘You’re booked!’
He stops and chats to all of our students, taking time with them all.
‘Bloody big tree,’ Alan mutters and gives it one last approving glance before he disappears into the depths of the barn again.
‘I think you deserve a well-earned cup of tea and a piece of Bev’s cake,’ I say to the mayor. Though I don’t know what she’s brought in today.
‘That would be great.’
‘We need to go through some stuff for the open day,’ Bev says. ‘If you’ve got time.’
‘I’m yours for the morning,’ the mayor answers. ‘Happy to do all I can to help.’
Once again, I find myself warming to this gentle, easy-going man. He has a calming way about him and the children respond well to it. I find myself smiling.
Matt Eastman turns to me and, when he sees my expression, says, ‘What?’
‘Nothing. I just wanted to thank you again. You’ve made a lot of people very happy.’
He grins at me. ‘Then my work here is complete.’
‘I hope not,’ I say. ‘We all like having you around.’
As the rest of the students head for the tea room, I see Penny hanging back and say to Bev and Matt, ‘I’ll catch up with you in a minute.’
I go over to her where she’s standing staring at our latest addition. ‘You like the tree?’
‘It’s nice.’ But her answer doesn’t hold any great enthusiasm.
‘But? Not a fan of Christmas?’
She shakes her head. ‘My dad’s out nearly every night at some work party or another. Me and Mum dread him coming home.’
‘He’s drunk?’
‘Usually.’ Her look of resignation has me undone. ‘Sometimes he passes out and we have to put him to bed. Sometimes he uses Mum as a punchbag. It could go either way.’
‘This is a terrible situation,’ I say to her. ‘Would your mum consider leaving?’
‘I don’t know how she can put up with much more,’ Penny says. ‘He’s getting worse. Every little thing sets him off. But where will we go? How will we live? Mum doesn’t have a well-paid job or any money of her own. He’s seen to that.’
Like so many of the students who’ve passed through our gates, they’re dealing with situations that are beyond their years. When they should be feeling safe and cossetted, concentrating on their own lives and exams, instead they’re up to their ears in adult issues. It makes me angry that people can be so selfish as to rob their own kids of their childhood.
‘There are refuges that you could both go to.’
‘I don’t think she’d do that.’ Penny folds her arms. I don’t ever think I’ve seen her look so miserable. ‘I’ve been googling places, but she doesn’t seem interested.’
‘Would it help if I talked to your mum?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘She doesn’t really talk to anyone but me. All her friends are gone. Just as he wants it. She pretends everything’s OK, but we both know it isn’t.’
‘Is she coming to our open day with you?’
‘She says so. It’ll depend on whether her bruises are on show or not. If she’s got a black eye or a split lip, then she’ll likely stay at home.’
How terrible to live your life like that. How does anyone cope in that situation? I open my arms to her and, with only a slight hesitation, she steps into them and I give her a big hug. She feels so insubstantial, a wisp of a girl, all skin and bones. There’s no doubt it’s having an impact on her physical and mental health to live in so toxic a situation. If only her parents could put her welfare first. We stay like that and rock together for a few moments.
‘I’ll try to help,’ I say. ‘If I can. But you know you can always talk to me.’
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘But talking doesn’t stop him hitting her.’
‘No,’ I agree. ‘There has to be something else we can do.’
Penny shrugs. ‘She has to want to do it. I don’t know if she does.’
As we walk arm-in-arm to join the others, I think there must be a way that I can help her mum to break this violent cycle, for the sake of herself and the sake of her daughter.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I worry about Penny for the rest of the day and it’s only the fact that I have my own issues to deal with that makes me put those thoughts to one side.
As I can delay it no longer, I raise the matter of attending Shelby’s panto with Lucas. The night has drawn in and the temperature has dropped. Nevertheless, we’re in the barn and he’s taken it upon himself to cut the alpacas’ toenails before we put them to bed. You’d think he was trying to murder them, given the fuss they’re making.
Tina Turner’s already been done and is sulking in the corner. Now I’m holding Johnny Rotten’s bitey end while Lucas deals with his hind legs. This is no one’s favourite job.
‘Calm down now,’ Lucas coos as he tries to keep a firm hold on a wriggly alpaca. ‘It will all be over in a moment.’
Johnny howls with indignation. There are many, many things that alpacas don’t like doing and standing on three legs is one of them.
‘This is for your own good,’ I add.
Our bad boy of the alpacas is having none of it. He kicks out and hisses.
‘To think I could be a record producer,’ Lucas says flatly.
‘There’s still time,’ I tell him. ‘You’re young enough and bright enough to do whatever you want.’
‘You sound like my father.’
‘That’s no bad thing.’ Then I take a deep breath. ‘Speaking of which . . .’
Lucas scowls at me as he manoeuvres the nail clippers.
‘It’s his opening night on Wednesday and he’s invited us both to go and watch the panto and then attend the after-show party.’
‘I’d rather be stuck in a lift for two days with nothing but the soundtrack from Frozen playing,’ Lucas says.
I can’t tell him that I feel pretty much the same. ‘Don’t dismiss it out of hand. Ken will pick us up, whisk us there and then bring us back afterwards. We don’t have to stay, but I think it would be a nice thing to do. It’s a big step for your dad.’
‘He’s playing the baddie in a frigging panto. Get a grip.’
‘We should be supportive, if we can.’
‘You be supportive. I’m not going.’
‘OK.’ I’ll give him time to think about it overnight and raise it tomorrow.