Page 5 of Christmas at the Movies

It infuriated her that James was being so relaxed about this. Why did she have to always worry about everything for the both of them? Feeling herself starting to sweat again, she looked at the ice longingly.

‘If it had been up to you, we’d never have had Nick assessed in the first place.’ She glared at her husband accusingly. ‘I guess that was blowing it out of proportion too?’

James held up his hand. ‘Hey – that’s not fair.’

‘You’re right,’ she replied, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just in a bad mood.’ She felt ashamed that she’d raked up an old disagreement. James had resisted getting Nick for neurodiversity but had agreed when he’d realised how important it had been to her.

‘We’re on the same side, hon,’ said James. ‘We both want what’s best for Nick.’

‘I know,’ said Sarah.

‘I expect you’re just tired.’ James pushed his floppy hair out of his face, a gesture Sarah had once found beyond endearing. It was mostly grey now, and there were crow’s feet around his blue eyes, but there was still a boyish air about her husband.

Men have it easy, thought Sarah. She was fairly certain her husband had never contemplated dying his hair or getting Botox on his wrinkles.

‘You haven’t been sleeping very well, have you?’

Sarah shook her head wearily. She kept waking up in the middle of the night, pyjamas and sheets soaked through with sweat.

The washing machine had never worked harder.

Once she was awake, she couldn’t fall back asleep, as worries about the kids, and her mum, and the cinema spiralled through her head.

‘You don’t think it could be—’

‘No,’ said Sarah, cutting him off. ‘I’m fine. Just tired. And stressed because of, well … everything.’

Everyone felt anxious sometimes. That was normal. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

‘If you’re sure …’ said James, not sounding convinced.

‘We’d better get back downstairs,’ said Sarah, not liking where the conversation was heading. She hurried out of the projection room and arrived in the lobby just as the film ended.

Parents streamed out of the auditorium and into the lobby, which was decorated with framed film memorabilia.

Sarah gathered up her dustpan and broom, bracing herself for the usual carnage after the Baby and Me screenings – teething biscuit crumbs, lost dummies, tiny socks and discarded teddies.

The baby-friendly movies had been her idea – a brainwave when she’d been expecting Holly.

She was proud of how popular the screenings had become.

Near the back of the cinema, a mother with a sleek bob was sound asleep. A baby in a sling, with a shock of jet-black hair, dozed against her chest, long lashes resting against his chubby cheeks. They looked so peaceful, it felt cruel to wake her, but there was another movie starting shortly.

Reaching out, Sarah touched the woman’s shoulder lightly. She just murmured and nestled deeper into her seat. Sarah smiled – she’d often slept through Baby and Me screenings when her kids had been tiny. The seats were so comfy, it was hard not to nod off in the warm, dark auditorium.

‘Hey,’ Sarah whispered. ‘Time to wake up.’

The woman’s eyes opened and she sat up with a start. ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she said, blinking. ‘I was out like a light.’

Sarah smiled. ‘It happens a lot. I’m sure some parents come to the cinema hoping their baby will sleep so they can nap too.’

‘I really wanted to see the movie,’ protested the woman. ‘But I’m just so tired. Henry is really colicky in the evenings.’ She stroked her baby’s downy head.

Sarah nodded sympathetically. ‘I’ve been there.’ Nick had been a fussy baby, too. She extended her hand, to help the woman to her feet. ‘I’m Sarah, by the way. My husband and I own the cinema. I don’t think I’ve seen you at the Baby and Me screenings before.’

‘Iris,’ said the woman. She studied Sarah intently. ‘It’s weird – I feel like we’ve met before, but I only moved here at the end of the summer.’

Sarah shrugged. ‘I guess I just have one of those faces.’

James used to say she was beautiful, but the last time she’d had a haircut he hadn’t even noticed. Sometimes Sarah felt invisible. Even when she was standing right in front of her husband, he didn’t seem to see her any more.

Iris gathered up her things, including a still-full cup of coffee. ‘I didn’t even get to drink it – I was out like a light before the trailers even finished.’

‘Let me treat you to another one.’

‘Oh, you don’t need to do that,’ said Iris.

‘I insist,’ said Sarah, as they walked into the lobby. She glanced down at the sleeping baby. ‘How old is Henry?’

‘Five months.’

James had come downstairs and was manning the concession stand, serving hot drinks to the post-movie crowd.

‘I’m taking a quick break,’ Sarah told her husband, slipping behind the counter.

He nodded distractedly, while ringing up an order.

Sarah went over to the coffee machine and made lattes for herself and Iris.

The machine wheezed asthmatically as it brewed their drinks.

Then she carried them over to the café area, where Iris had grabbed a free table.

Most of the other tables were filled with parents chatting and feeding their babies.

‘So what brought you to Plumdale?’ asked Sarah as she sat down opposite Iris.

‘My husband,’ Iris replied. ‘We’re from Hong Kong, but he went to boarding school in the Cotswolds. A job came up in the area and he jumped at the opportunity to come back here.’

‘The Cotswolds must seem so provincial compared to Hong Kong.’ Sarah took a sip of her coffee, savouring the jolt of caffeine.

‘We wanted a change from big city life,’ explained Iris. ‘We thought it would be nice for Henry to grow up in the countryside, with fresh air and plenty of space.’

That was part of the reason she and James had moved to Plumdale too.

‘The only thing I insisted on was a village with a cinema,’ added Iris. ‘I’m a massive film buff and wouldn’t want to live anywhere I couldn’t go to the movies.’

‘Same here,’ said Sarah.

‘My parents live near an amazing vintage cinema in Kowloon.’ Iris sipped her coffee. ‘This place reminds me of it a bit.’

‘The Lux?’ asked Sarah.

‘Yes!’ said Iris, surprised. ‘You know it?’

Sarah smiled and nodded. She and James had visited the cinema on holiday, years ago. ‘I bet you miss having your family nearby.’

‘Yes,’ I haven’t met many other local mums yet. It’s been a bit lonely admitted Iris.

Henry woke up and started fussing.

‘He’s hungry,’ said Iris. ‘Do you mind if I feed him?’

‘Of course not,’ said Sarah.

Iris took the baby out of his sling and placed him on her breast. His tiny fingers clutched at his mother’s jumper as he nursed. When Henry had had his fill, Iris held him over her shoulder to burp him.

‘He looks so happy,’ said Sarah, as the baby cooed contentedly on his mother’s lap. ‘You’re obviously doing a great job.’

To Sarah’s horror, tears began to spill down Iris’s cheeks, plopping onto baby Henry’s head.

‘Oh, no,’ said Sarah, handing Iris a napkin. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘I don’t know why I’m crying,’ said Iris, dabbing her eyes. ‘That was such a nice thing to say. I just feel like I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I’m so scared I’m doing this wrong.’

Sarah’s heart went out to the young woman, so far from home, from her own mother. She patted Iris’s arm reassuringly. ‘There is no right or wrong way to be a mum – we’re all just doing the best we can.’

‘It’s just so hard,’ said Iris, stroking Henry’s tufty hair. ‘I just worry about him all the time.’

Sarah didn’t have the heart to tell her that that would probably never change. She worried about Nick and Holly constantly. ‘It’s the toughest job in the world.’

‘I know I’m lucky to have this time with Henry, but I miss my other job too. The one I did back in Hong Kong.’

‘What was that?’ Sarah asked.

‘I’m an illustrator and graphic designer,’ replied Iris. ‘I worked in comic books. I really miss the creativity.’

Sarah could understand that. She still missed being creative, too.

It had once been such a big part of who she was.

She gestured to the café’s walls, which were hung with paintings and photographs by local artists, all for sale.

‘Let me know if you’d ever like to display your work here. We change the display every month.’

‘Thanks. I haven’t drawn anything since he was born, but I’m hoping to get back to it.’

‘You should,’ said Sarah adamantly. ‘Make time for it. Don’t lose touch with that creative part of yourself.’

Like me …

Iris started to put Henry back in the sling. ‘I should go home and get dinner started.’

So should I, thought Sarah. She hoped she’d remembered to defrost the sausages she was planning to cook for dinner. A mother’s work was never done.

Sarah helped Iris put her coat on. ‘I hope I’ll see you back here for Baby and Me next week. I can introduce you to some of the other parents who come regularly.’

‘That would be wonderful,’ said Iris with a grateful smile.

As Sarah walked Iris out, she caught sight of the poster she’d hung up earlier.

She hated to admit it, but her former colleague’s success had really got under her skin.

She couldn’t ignore the feeling of resentment and frustration bubbling up inside her – the feeling that she had somehow sold herself short.

Maybe I should dig out my screenplay, she thought. It was in a drawer, somewhere. Then she shook her head. No, who was she kidding. She wasn’t a writer any more. That was a whole other lifetime ago, before she was ‘Holly’s mum’ or ‘Nick’s mum’ or ‘James’s wife’.

When she’d been still just Sarah.

30th June 1999

‘What are you still doing working?’ said a voice. ‘It’s officially the weekend.’

Sarah looked up and saw her best friend, Pari Johal, standing by her desk. The BBC drama department was practically empty, the clock on the wall reading 6.10 p.m. She’d been so engrossed in her work she hadn’t noticed her colleagues departing for the weekend.