Page 10 of Christmas at the Movies

The final new message was from the managing director of Valley Vistas.

James clicked on it in nervous anticipation, assuming the email was about something his mother-in-law had done.

But instead it was an enquiry about whether he would consider selling the cinema to turn it into more retirement flats.

James stared at the message in surprise. They had been approached by interested parties before, but had always turned them down. Nobody was ever bothered about keeping the Picture Palace a cinema.

He quickly typed a response: Sorry, we’re not interested in selling.

To sell the cinema would be to admit defeat.

He and Sarah had put all of their savings – and all of his dad’s savings – into this place.

He’d persuaded Sarah to leave London and her successful career at the BBC, for the sake of his dream.

If he failed now, then what had it all been for?

No, he had to keep going, for his family, for the community.

He had to press on, even if it felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

James closed his email. A screensaver photo of the whole family beaming on a sandy beach filled the laptop screen.

Nick, only about five, was holding a bucket.

Holly was wearing seaweed on her head, as if it was a long mermaid wig, and striking a dramatic pose.

Sarah was laughing, her hair blowing in the wind.

It had been taken on holiday in France years ago, when they could still afford to take holidays.

A holiday that had started badly, but they’d got through it as a team.

James studied the picture. When was the last time he’d seen Sarah smile like that, making the gold flecks in her eyes sparkle?

It wasn’t just their argument today, or the one yesterday.

Things had felt off between them for a while now, like a film where the sound and picture were out of sync.

We just haven’t been spending enough time together, thought James.

They were always so busy with the cinema and the kids – and now Geraldine as well.

Whenever he’d tried to talk to Sarah about the growing distance between them, she’d claimed she was just tired.

It was true that she was sleeping badly.

But James knew his wife. There was more to it than that; he was sure of it.

When the film was over, James went up to the projection room and rebooted the system. He tested the output and nodded with satisfaction. That had fixed the problem – for now. James had always been good at fixing things. He just wished he knew how to fix whatever was wrong between him and Sarah.

As he turned the dial on an amp, he glanced at the gold wedding band on his left hand. He still loved his wife just as much as he had on the day he’d married her. If only there was a way he could reboot their relationship …

11th May 2003

‘You couldn’t have asked for better weather,’ said Pari, peering out of the mullioned window of Merricourt Manor.

Still in her dressing gown, Sarah joined her friend on the window seat of the bridal suite and looked out onto the landscaped grounds, where azaleas and rhododendrons were in full bloom, in vibrant shades from vivid violet to a pale pink – the same hue as Pari’s bridesmaid dress.

Beyond them rolled the gentle green hills of the Cotswolds.

‘It’s so pretty around here,’ said Sarah.

She had chosen the venue, a stately home that had been converted into a hotel, after spending a night there while visiting the set of The Vicarage Mysteries.

The nearby village of Plumdale was charming, full of quaint pubs, tea rooms and antique shops.

There was even a gorgeous old art deco cinema, although it had shut down years before and was now derelict.

‘Yeah, but I can’t imagine leaving London,’ replied Pari, pouring two glasses of champagne. ‘There’s not much of a comedy scene around here. Although, on the way here I passed a village called North Piddle, and another called Twatley, so there’s plenty of good material.’

Like Sarah, Pari still worked at the Beeb, writing material for people who were more famous, but less funny, than her.

Two years earlier, Sarah and James had bought a flat in up-and-coming Hackney.

They’d spent weekends renovating it – or rather James had, with his dad’s help.

Sarah loved the flat, which they’d decorated with vintage movie posters.

She’d tamed the small garden at the back and filled it with pots of flowers.

Lately, though, she’d been feeling worn down by her daily commute across London and her long hours at work.

Now a senior script editor at the BBC, Sarah was the go-to editor for tricky rewrites and had a reputation for being able to make any story stronger.

Sarah was proud to be trusted with the department’s most challenging projects, but the pressure was intense.

‘You didn’t invite Rupert, did you?’ asked Pari.

‘Ew. Of course not,’ said Sarah. Her boss was as odious as ever. Even her engagement ring hadn’t deterred him from making unwanted overtures.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Meg, hurrying into the bridal suite. Her pink dress had an empire waist, to accommodate a large baby bump.

Sarah hugged her sister. ‘Oh! I just felt her kick!’

‘Or him,’ said Meg. ‘Let’s see your dress.’

Sarah took off her dressing gown to reveal an elegant ivory off-the-shoulder gown. A beautician had come earlier in the morning to do her hair and make-up. She’d curled Sarah’s long hair and topped it with a tiara.

‘Oh, wow!’ gushed Meg. She stroked one of Sarah’s curls. ‘Hey, remember when you dyed that purple streak in your hair.’

‘I thought I was soooo cool.’ Sarah chuckled. ‘I got my nose ring around the same time.’

‘Mum was going to make you take it out, until you argued that you’d been inspired by her research on the Berber tribe.’

‘Well played.’ Pari raised her glass to Sarah.

‘I’m hoping Mum and Dad behave today,’ said Sarah, touching up her lipstick.

Today would be the first time her parents would see each other since their divorce had been finalised.

Their split had been acrimonious, after her father, Charles, had had an affair with one of Geraldine’s graduate students.

Things had started going downhill after Geraldine had won a prestigious fellowship they’d both wanted.

Sarah’s father simply could not cope with his wife’s academic career eclipsing his. The affair was just the last straw.

‘Speak of the devil,’ said Meg as Geraldine came into the bridal suite.

Their mum was holding a gift and wearing a green silk dress she’d had made in China. She wore bright pink jewellery and her long white hair was in a chignon, topped by fuchsia fascinator with a spray of feathers jutting from it. The whole effect made her look like a tropical bird.

Geraldine gave both of her daughters a kiss. ‘How is the blushing bride? Is this the part where I fill you in on the birds and the bees?’

‘It’s a bit late for that, Mum,’ said Sarah, laughing.

At thirteen, when she’d got her first period, her mother had been more interested in telling her about the puberty rituals of various African tribes than in talking about sex education.

Fortunately, Sarah had already gleaned everything she needed to know from Judy Bloom books.

Geraldine made a beeline for the champagne and poured herself a glass.

Meg glanced longingly at the champagne. ‘I wish I could have some.’

‘Well, why don’t you?’ said Geraldine. ‘This is a celebration.’

Meg cradled her belly. ‘Um, hello, I’m pregnant?’

‘A few glasses won’t hurt the baby.’ Geraldine took a long swig. ‘I had the odd drink when I was pregnant with you.’

‘Explains a lot,’ quipped Sarah.

Her older sister gave her a playful shove.

‘Too bad the baby isn’t here already,’ said Geraldine. ‘We could have an An Chuang ceremony. That’s what the Chinese do – they put a baby on the marriage bed to ensure a newly-wed couple’s fertility. Wedding traditions are so fascinating, aren’t they?’

‘Look what Pari did for me last night,’ said Sarah. She raised the hem of her wedding dress and showed her mother and sister the beautiful henna designs on her bare feet.

‘In Sikh culture, henna symbolises good luck and prosperity,’ explained Pari. ‘The night before the wedding, there’s a ceremony where the bride is decorated with henna.’

‘Oh, how marvellous,’ said Geraldine.

Sarah slipped her feet into white slippers embellished with tiny pearls.

‘I wish I’d gone for flats too.’ Meg sighed as she flopped down onto the bed. ‘My feet are already swelling up.’

‘I can’t believe you’re finally making it down the aisle.’ Geraldine adjusted Sarah’s tiara. ‘You must hold the record for the longest engagement in history.’

‘Well, we needed to wait until you were back in the UK,’ replied Sarah. Her mother had spent a whole year on sabbatical as part of her fellowship. She’d travelled around Asia researching courtship and marriage.

Their long engagement had also given Sarah and James time to save up for their wedding.

Fortunately, the software company James worked for was doing well, and his role and salary had grown along with the company.

He and his colleagues were currently preparing to float the company on the stock market.

‘Did you know that the Mosuo people in south-western China don’t practise any form of marriage at all?’ Geraldine downed the rest of her champagne. ‘It’s a matriarchal society. Women live with their mothers and sisters, and have sexual relationships with multiple men.’

‘That actually sounds kind of fun,’ said Pari. She had sworn off dating any more of her fellow comedians. Sarah had encouraged her to join one of the new online dating services, but Pari said she wanted to be single for a bit, so she could focus on her comedy.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Geraldine, refilling her glass. ‘Men are totally irrelevant in Mosuo society.’