Page 48 of Christmas at the Movies

She took her phone off the charger and checked her messages. None of her friends had bothered to wish her a happy birthday.

Oh, well, thought Holly. It was still early. Maybe they were all still asleep.

They had cake for breakfast, then Holly opened her presents. Mum had got her a make-up palette and a set of brushes.

‘Now that you’re thirteen, you can wear a bit of make-up,’ said Mum, smiling.

‘Thanks,’ said Holly. (Mum didn’t need to know she already applied mascara and lipgloss in the bathroom at school.)

Dad gave her a gold Claddagh ring – two hands holding a heart topped with a crown. ‘It was my mother’s. The heart represents love, the crown loyalty and the hands friendship.’

Holly slipped it on her ring finger. It fit perfectly. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Auntie Meg had sent her a gift voucher. Nora and Simon had, as usual, given her a book. It was called Hamilton: The Revolution and was all about the musical.

‘This one is from Grandma,’ announced Mum, handing her the last present. ‘She said to give you a hug from her as well.’ Last year, her grandmother had been in hospital on Holly’s birthday.

Holly opened the box and took out a new pair of red high-top Converse trainers – the exact ones she’d wanted for months. She eagerly put them on and took a photo. She was about to share it with her friends, but when she opened her messages there were still no birthday wishes from her friends.

She started to cry, tears plopping on her phone screen.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Mum. ‘Don’t you like your trainers? I thought those were the ones you wanted.’

‘They are. But I don’t have anywhere to wear them,’ sobbed Holly. ‘And all my so-called friends forgot about my birthday.’

Nick started to cry too.

‘Why are you crying?’ demanded Holly, glaring at him. ‘Your birthday hasn’t been ruined.’

‘I’m crying because you’re sad,’ said Nick, sniffing. He put his arms around Holly, getting chocolate fingerprints on her favourite top.

When her brother was little, her parents had thought he might be autistic.

But it turned out that he was just a HSP – a highly sensitive person.

His nervous system was more sensitive than most people’s.

Dad had explained osmosis to her when she’d been learning about it in science.

He’d got the sponge from the kitchen sink and demonstrated how it absorbed water.

Well, that was Nick – he sucked up people’s emotions.

Normally, Holly tried to be understanding of her brother. Today, however, she was not in the mood for his overreaction.

‘Get over yourself, Nick,’ she snapped, pushing him away in annoyance.

‘Look, I know this isn’t the day you wanted, Holly,’ said Mum. ‘But let’s try to make the best of it, OK.’

Holly spent the day curled up on the sofa reading her new book. Mum made macaroni cheese – her favourite – for lunch. Auntie Pari called to wish her a happy birthday and promised to take her to see a musical as soon as theatres reopened.

But there were still no messages from her friends.

‘Let’s get takeaway pizza for dinner,’ suggested Dad as the sun began to set.

‘Good idea,’ said Mum. ‘We can all go collect it.’

‘Why?’ asked Holly. All she wanted to do was lie on the sofa and mope.

Dad jingled his car keys. ‘It’ll do you good to get out of the house.’

Sighing dramatically, Holly put on her new trainers and got into the car. They drove into the village and collected the pizza from the Rose and Crown; the local pub had started doing takeaway pizzas during lockdown. Across the road, the cinema looked cold and empty with all its lights off.

‘Why are we going this way?’ Holly asked Dad as they drove home. They were heading into the countryside instead of back home.

‘I must have taken a wrong turning,’ said Dad. ‘I’ll turn around up here.’

‘The pizzas will get cold,’ grumbled Holly.

Dad turned up the path to a farm. Ian Griffiths, wearing a high-vis vest, was directing a steady flow of incoming traffic.

Holly peered out of the window. ‘What’s going on? Why are there so many people here?’

Nick giggled, then covered his mouth.

Dad turned into the field, which was filled with cars parked in neat rows. There was a big inflatable screen at the other end of the field.

‘Surprise!’ shouted Mum, Dad and Nick.

Dad drove right to the front row. Everyone in the field tooted their car horns as they went past, a cacophony of beeps ringing out across the countryside.

‘I don’t understand …’ said Holly.

‘It’s your birthday party!’ squealed Nick.

‘Our grant application was approved,’ explained Dad, parking the car. ‘We rented an outdoor screen, so we can do the Twelve Films of Christmas as a drive-in festival this year.’

‘But today is just for you and your friends,’ said Mum, smiling. ‘You can’t have a sleepover – but you can still have pizza and watch a movie.’

‘I knew!’ said Nick, bouncing excitedly on the back seat next to Holly. ‘But I had to keep it a secret.’

Mum and Dad had invited all their family and friends, and everyone in Holly’s year.

‘Happy Birthday, Holly!’ shouted Riley, leaning out of her mum’s car. ‘You didn’t think we’d actually forget your birthday, did you?’

Nora and Simon were there, with their daughter, Charlotte, who used to babysit Holly and Nick.

‘Thank you for the book,’ called Holly, waving to them.

Roger and Omar had come too. Omar looked gaunt, following months of chemotherapy, and had lost all his hair. ‘Joyeux Anniversaire,’ he wished her through his face mask.

Holly’s face lit up as she spotted her grandmother’s little red Toyota. ‘Thanks for the trainers, Grandma,’ she shouted, holding up one of her feet so Geraldine could see them through the car window. ‘They fit perfectly.’

Grandma blew her a kiss.

Holly wished she could give her grandmother a hug, but they had to be very careful not to make her ill again.

An announcement instructed the audience to tune their car radios to a specific station and then Little Women began to play.

Holly hurried back into the car to eat her pizza and watch Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s classic novel, snuggled under one of the fleece blankets her mum had packed.

It starred Florence Pugh and Saoirse Ronan, two of her favourite actors.

‘Hot chocolate?’ Mum asked, handing out steaming cups of cocoa she’d poured from a Thermos flask.

‘I love happy endings,’ said Nick, as the girls’ father returned home from the Civil War, to be reunited with his family for Christmas.

Holly nodded. ‘Me too.’ Her heart was filled with love for her own family. They might be annoying sometimes, but they were also the best family in the entire world. She still couldn’t believe they had done all this, just for her.

As the credits rolled, everyone tooted their car horns again in a final birthday salute.

‘That made me feel really Christmassy,’ remarked Mum as they drove home.

‘It was nice when the Little Women gave up their Christmas breakfast for the poor family,’ said Nick. ‘But I’m glad we didn’t have to give up Holly’s cake this morning. Can I have another piece for dessert when we get home?’

‘Of course,’ said Mum.

‘It feels good to do nice things for other people,’ said Dad. ‘That’s why we run the Christmas film festival.’

Later that night, Mum came upstairs to say goodnight to Holly. She sat on the edge of the bed and tucked the duvet around her, the way she used to do when Holly was little. ‘Who is your favourite March sister, Hols?’

‘Jo,’ Holly answered without hesitation.

‘Mine too,’ agreed Mum. ‘She’s part of the reason I wanted to be a writer.’

‘You are a writer,’ said Holly.

Mum sighed. ‘I suppose so. I thought I would be able to work on my screenplay during lockdown, when the cinema was shut. But home-schooling and Grandma being so ill made that tricky.’

‘I’m glad she’s better now,’ said Holly.

‘Me too,’ said Mum.

Holly glanced at the birthday badge Nick had made for her.

He was really good at art. Lockdown had been so boring, she’d written a few plays for her and Nick to stage in the living room.

Nick had spent hours designing the programmes, even though the audience was only Mum and Dad (and Jonesy of course – although he normally wandered off before the curtain call).

‘I liked how in the movie Jo wrote plays for her sisters to perform,’ said Holly. ‘Like me and Nick.’

Mum stroked Holly’s hair. ‘My star in waiting.’

‘What if the theatres never open again?’ Holly wanted to be an actor. It was the only job she could imagine herself doing when she grew up.

‘Theatres were shut for years during Shakespeare’s life, because of the plague. You just need to be patient – the world will open again eventually,’ Mum assured her.

Holly sighed in frustration. She was sick of life being on hold. Of waiting for things to happen to her.

‘Oh, honey, I feel for you,’ said Mum. ‘I was thirteen too, once, believe it or not. I remember how hard being a teenaged girl is – and you’re having to go through it during a global crisis.’

‘It’s scary,’ admitted Holly.

‘Remember, I’m always here for you, Holly. You can talk to me about anything.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Holly, sitting up to give her a hug. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ said Mum, squeezing her tightly. ‘So did your birthday have a happy ending after all?’

Holly grinned. ‘Best. Birthday. Ever!’