Page 91 of Christmas at the Movies
‘Nick ruins everything.’ Holly fumed, licking her salted-caramel-flavoured cone.
To his shame, James shared her frustration. His son was adorable, affectionate, creative and bright, but he was also incredibly awkward. James didn’t love him any less because of it. Sometimes, though, he wished they could go on outings like normal families without triggering a meltdown.
Thursday’s visit to the war museum in Caen was the worst. The exhibition on D-Day and the Battle of Normandy was too much for Nick. He found the photographs of the battle scenes distressing and began to sob. Neither Sarah nor James could console him.
‘Why did those people have to die?’ he wailed.
‘I guess he’s just too young for this,’ Sarah said, stroking her son’s back.
James wasn’t so sure. There were plenty of other young children at the museum. None were reacting the way Nick was.
‘James!’ said Sarah, in a tone that suggested it wasn’t the first time she’d called his name. ‘I said – what do you want to do today?’
‘Sorry,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I was miles away. How about doing a jigsaw?’
Holly groaned. ‘We’ve done all the puzzles. Most of them are missing pieces.’
‘What about playing some board games, then?’ James suggested.
‘Nick is too little,’ said Holly. ‘He can only playCandyland and Snakes and Ladders and babyish games.’
‘I’m not a baby!’ said Nick.
‘Are too!’ retorted Holly. ‘You’re always crying like a big baby. Wah! Wah! Wah!’ She pretended to cry.
Tears began to well in Nick’s eyes. His lower lip trembled.
‘See!’ shouted Holly.
James acted fast to avert another meltdown. ‘Let’s do some colouring!’ He picked Nick up and set him down at the kitchen table with paper and crayons.
‘I need more coffee,’ muttered Sarah. She shut her laptop down and poured them both another cup. ‘Looks like today is going to be another washout.’
‘How long before holidays are actually relaxing again?’ James wondered aloud, thinking back to the exciting holidays he and Sarah had taken before they’d had kids – to far-flung places like Los Angeles and Hong Kong. When they could read books and sunbathe by the pool, instead of staying vigilant when the kids were paddling. When they could dine on local delicacies, instead of choosing restaurants with chicken nuggets and fries on the children’s menu. When they could browse through souvenir shops, without fear that someone was going to break something valuable.
‘You know what they say – a chance is as good as a rest,’ remarked Sarah half-heartedly.
They had been grateful to Roger and Omar for the cottage, which was comfortable, tastefully decorated and, above all, free. But so far, the holiday had been much more stressful than staying at home. Nick wasn’t coping well with the change of routine.
James glanced over at his son, completely absorbed in his drawing of an underwater scene, with tropical fish, mermaids and a castle. He obviously found it easier toexist in imaginary worlds than the real one.
‘What should we do today?’ James whispered to Sarah. ‘I’m running out of ideas here.’
She sighed in defeat. ‘Well … we could always see a movie?’
A few hours later, they bought tickets to a screening ofSpider-Man: Homecoming. The Cinéma Henri Jeanson showed an eclectic programme of French cinema and arthouse classics alongside subtitled Hollywood blockbusters.
A plaque commemorated the cinema’s namesake.
‘What does it say?’ asked James, who had forgotten most of his rudimentary secondary-school French.
Sarah translated. ‘Henri Jeanson was imprisoned in World War Two for being a pacifist. He was a journalist and screenwriter.’
‘Oh, like you,’ said James.
‘Hardly,’ replied Sarah, shaking her head. ‘Not sure I can call myself a screenwriter any more. I can’t seem to finish anything.’
‘You will,’ he reassured her. Just as one day their holidays would return to being more relaxing, it would get easier for Sarah to write once the kids were older.
