Page 21 of Christmas at the Movies

Present Day

Sarah drove to the cinema, replaying her argument with James over and over in her head.

She was still fuming. How dare he suggest she was losing her mind again!

James was the one with delusions. Why wouldn’t he admit how unsustainable their situation was?

The cinema was haemorrhaging money; Saturday’s refunds had been the last thing they needed.

Luckily, Holly had been amazing in a crisis; she’d had the audience eating out of the palm of her hand.

I should have let her go to the audition, thought Sarah.

She’d always known her daughter was talented, but seeing her in action had made her realise how much she’d matured as a performer.

As she’d watched her belting out Disney songs, Sarah had seen how much her daughter loved entertaining.

How alive she was when she was on stage.

As she drove through the countryside, past quaint country pubs advertising Christmas dinners and pretty stone cottages decked out with fairy lights and wreaths, Sarah started to calm down.

James’s concern had made her fly off the handle because he’d triggered her deepest fear – that she was getting ill again.

That it wasn’t just the cinema and family worries and creative frustration causing her low mood.

I can’t go crazy again, thought Sarah. Too many people rely on me.

A few flakes of snow drifted through the air as Sarah pulled into the car park at the back of the cinema.

Tonight’s World Film Club screening was Fanny and Alexander, Ingmar Bergman’s semi-autobiographical masterpiece. But would anyone venture out into the cold to watch a long and challenging Swedish movie?

Aaron was slumped behind the concession stand, scrolling through his phone. He quickly put it in his back pocket as Sarah came in. But he wasn’t able to hide the look of disappointment on his face that it was Sarah, rather than Holly, covering the night shift.

Sarah knew that her daughter had a crush on Aaron too. And she could see why – he was cute. But Holly was far too young – and ambitious – to get tied down to a local boy, even one as nice as Aaron.

‘Have we sold any tickets?’ Sarah asked him.

‘A few,’ he said.

Just then, the doors opened, sending an icy blast of air into the lobby.

‘You’re brave,’ said Sarah as Iris came into the lobby, brushing a few snowflakes off her black bob.

‘Oh, I’m excited about the snow,’ said Iris, pulling off her gloves. ‘I’ve never seen it before – except for in movies.’

‘No, I meant because Fanny and Alexander is three hours long,’ teased Sarah.

‘I just had to get out of the house. Henry has a cold, poor little guy. I’ve been cooped up with him at home all day.

When my husband came home from school, I practically ran out of the door.

’ She handed Sarah her credit card. ‘I should probably get a coffee to stay awake, not that it stopped me from dozing off last time.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Sarah, something suddenly dawning on her as she looked at the name on Iris’s card. ‘Your husband is a teacher?’

‘Yes, he teaches maths at Severn Valley secondary.’

Sarah laughed as she began to make Iris’s latte. ‘Your husband is my son’s teacher. What a small world.’

Lowering her voice so that Aaron wouldn’t hear, Iris said, ‘By the way, I took your advice and went to the doctor. He diagnosed postnatal anxiety and recommended a local therapist.’

Sarah nodded sympathetically. She’d suspected as much. After having Nick, she’d suffered from severe postnatal anxiety, so she’d recognised the signs. She shuddered involuntarily, remembering those awful months.

James had been incredibly supportive once he’d realised she was unwell. Sarah felt a pang of guilt over their argument earlier. She probably shouldn’t have jumped down his throat when he suggested seeing the doctor.

‘It takes time to get better,’ she said, pouring milk over the espresso before handing it to Iris.

Iris added a packet of sugar to her coffee and gave it a stir. ‘I just feel ashamed that I’m struggling when everyone says that this first year with my baby should be magical.’

‘Your hormones are completely out of whack and you’ve just experienced two major life changes – having a baby and moving to a foreign country,’ said Sarah. ‘There’s no shame in seeking help. You need to stay healthy for Henry’s sake, and your own.’

Pot … kettle … black … thought Sarah. As Iris went into the auditorium, she resolved to make an appointment with her own GP.

Sarah helped Aaron tidy up the concession stand, then slipped into the back of the cinema to watch the movie.

As the Swedish family on screen celebrated Christmas with a lavish feast and games, Sarah felt a spark of Christmas spirit flicker inside her.

Perhaps she’d been wrong to consider not going ahead with the film festival.

Christmas movies did bring a lot of joy.

Hours later, as the credits began to roll, Sarah got up and went into the lobby. During the film, a thick covering of snow had covered the village like icing on a Christmas cake. It looked beautiful, but the country lanes would be impassable until they’d been cleared by a snowplough.

Customers straggled out of the auditorium, blinking as they entered the light.

Sarah sent James a text message. Not safe to drive – staying at the cinema tonight.

There was a sofa and blankets in the office, and she kept a toothbrush and a few other toiletries in a desk drawer.

It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been stuck there overnight.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing – after their argument, they both needed space to cool down.

‘Why don’t you head home,’ she told Aaron, who lived in the village. ‘I can close up on my own.’

‘Thanks,’ said Aaron. As he was about to go out of the door, he called over his shoulder, ‘Oh, and wish Holly a happy birthday from me tomorrow.’

‘I will,’ Sarah called back.

She had already wrapped her daughter’s present but would have to bake the cake when she got home. Hopefully Holly wouldn’t refuse to eat it just to spite her.

Sarah checked the auditorium, collecting any rubbish that had been left behind. When she returned to the lobby, one customer remained there. A man in an expensive-looking sheepskin coat, biker boots and a beanie hat pulled down low was jabbing at his phone.

‘Excuse me,’ he said in an Australian accent. ‘I’m trying to order an Uber back to my hotel, but I’m not having any luck.’

‘Uber doesn’t operate around here,’ explained Sarah. She went over to the noticeboard in the café area and unpinned a business card for Cotswold Cars. She handed it to the man. ‘You can try this.’

‘Thanks.’ The man dialled the number. ‘Bugger!’ he said, scratching his salt-and-pepper stubble. ‘No one’s picking up.’

Kevin Williams, who was the owner and sole employee of Cotswold Cars (the ‘s’ in cars being somewhat misleading), also played bass in a hard rock cover band called Zed Leppelin that performed in local pubs. He was probably currently strumming the ‘Stairway to Heaven’ guitar solo right around now.

‘How did you get here this evening?’ Sarah asked her stranded customer.

‘My assistant drove me,’ he replied. ‘I told her I’d make my own way back to Merricourt Manor.’ He opened the cinema door, letting a flurry of snowflakes blow into the lobby. ‘Maybe I could walk?’

‘Not a good idea. Merricourt Manor is a few miles away,’ said Sarah. ‘It wouldn’t be safe on a night like this.’ It was snowing very heavily and there was no pavement once you left the village.

Defeated, the man shut the door.

Sarah thought for a moment. ‘There might be rooms at the Rose and Crown. Shall I give them a call?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind.’

Sarah made a quick phone call. ‘No luck, I’m afraid. They’ve got a wedding party staying there, so all the rooms are occupied.’

‘No room at the inn, eh?’ The man gave her a wry smile.

Sarah knew she couldn’t turf him out into the cold. He’d freeze to death.

‘Look, I can’t get home either,’ said Sarah. ‘You’re welcome to stay here too. The roads should be clear by morning.’ She just had to hope that the Bergman fan wasn’t a psycho killer.

‘Well, thank you for your hospitality,’ said the man. ‘I was about to start building an igloo out in the village square.’

Laughing, Sarah went behind the concession stand. ‘It’s not as comfortable here as at Merricourt Manor, but it’s warm, we have plenty of snacks, and we can always watch another movie. Can I get you a drink?’

‘I’d love a flat white,’ said the man, setting down his leather satchel and shrugging off his coat.

Underneath it he was wearing black jeans, a chunky watch with a thick leather strap and a grey cashmere sweater that clung to his muscled physique.

Even without the foreign accent, his outfit would have given away the fact that he wasn’t a local.

You couldn’t buy clothes like that in Plumdale’s only gentleman’s apparel shop, Country Pursuits.

Sarah suspected that his ensemble cost more than she spent on her whole family’s wardrobe.

Over the hiss of the coffee machine, Sarah introduced herself. ‘As we’re spending the night together, we should probably get acquainted. I’m Sarah.’

‘Noa,’ he replied. He pulled off his beanie, releasing an impressive mane of wavy dark hair streaked with grey.

Sarah stifled a gasp of recognition as she realised who she was speaking to. It was Noa Drakos, the Academy-Award winning director.

‘Is this your cinema?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Mine and my husband’s.’

‘It’s beautiful. I grew up in a little town outside Cairns. It was devastated by a cyclone in 1918 and rebuilt in the art deco style. Your cinema reminds me of the Roxy, where I used to watch films growing up.’ Noa stretched his legs out, resting the heel of his right boot on the toe of his left.

Sarah carried the flat white, and a herbal tea for herself, over to the table he was sitting at.