Page 73 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
We’re adding the final touches to the biscuits when a pretty blonde woman approaches Teddy from behind. She loops her arms over his shoulders and presses her lips to his cheek. “Glad you could make it.”
My stomach lurches. The casual intimacy of the gesture lands like a blow to the sternum. Even while I tell myself it means nothing, jealousy rises. Is this what life with him would look like? A jolt of insecurity every time a woman drifts into his orbit? Not just the new flirts circling, convinced they could steal him, but the ghosts already stamped on his past. It isn’t infidelity I’m bracing for. I trust Teddy not to repeat his father’s mistakes. What gnaws at me are the women who were there before me; what they were to him; what feelings might still linger. More than friendly feelings. Embers that might flare if I’m careless; a ready-made replacement if he ever edited me out. I shove my possessiveness aside. I’ve no right to claim him yet. I can’t police his history; I can control how I handle it.
“Wouldn’t have missed my favourite Christmas party,” Teddy replies easily.
“Hi Ellie,” the woman says, and Ellie lifts her attention away from the extra sweets she’s trying to squeeze onto an already overloaded biscuit.
“Aunty Tam!” She leaps up and wraps her arms around the woman’s thighs. The woman ruffles her hair indulgently. “You’ve grown again, pumpkin.” She smiles over at me. “And who’s this you’ve brought with you tonight?”
“Uncle Dory’s girlfriend.”
“Rachel,” I say, stretching out my hand to hers.
“Girlfriend, eh?” she says, shaking my hand with a firm grip. “Well, you’ve got yourself a good one here. We couldn’t do this without Teddy. I’m Tamara.”
“Head of Memories That Matter and all-round miracle worker,” Teddy adds.
“It takes money to make miracles,” she says. “People like you help make me look good.”
“Tam, do you know where they put the Christmas crackers?” a frowning woman in blue scrubs interrupts.
“Gotta go,” Tamara says. “See you two on stage later,” she grins before hurrying away.
“Not Christmas karaoke,” I groan, although after the song challenge, I really wouldn’t mind another duet with Teddy.
“You’ll see.” Teddy’s enigmatic grin should have me worried, but I brush it off as Ellie tugs at my cuff, excited by the plates of food arriving on a table.
After the kids have stuffed themselves and Santa has distributed gifts, some of the nurses herd the sugar-high rabble into one end of the playroom, while other staff carry out the food tables strewn with remains.
A care assistant beckons Teddy over, and he returns wearing a gold plastic crown and carrying a set of angel wings.
“Here, put these on,” he says, holding them out to me. “Guessed you weren’t right for the Virgin Mary, but you make a pretty good angel.”
“Cheeky bugger,” I say, slipping my arms through the elastic. “Why exactly am I wearing these?” I reach to straighten my lopsided wings.
“It wouldn’t be Christmas without a nativity play,” he says. “There’s not enough kids well enough to take all the parts, so they need a few adults to fill in.” He shoves a piece of paper at me. “You’ve only got one line. Think you can handle that?”
The nativity play unfolds with chaotic charm. Ellie’s crown slips lopsidedly over her eyes as she solemnly bows with her gift of frankincense, while baby Jesus lurches precariously in Paige’s lap. When the shepherds—a mixture of parents and nurses—fall to their knees dramatically as I deliver my line, the children erupt in giggles, and I find it impossible to look the part of a serene Christmas angel.
It may only be a simple retelling, imperfect, unrehearsed, but bit by bit we weave a little scene of Christmas magic for our audience: a beaming Doctor Alex, fresh from a quick change out of his Santa suit; mums (and a couple of dads) dabbing at their eyes with tissues while their children, illness forgotten, outshine the backdrop of starry Christmas lights; nurses and a play specialist bunched at the back; and a few children too poorly to join watching with small smiles and bright eyes. Voices crack during the final song, as everyone sings ‘Silent Night’. I find my hand seeking the comfort of Teddy’s, and a warm peace settles in my chest.
After everyone pitches in to do a final cleanup of the playroom, we make our way out of the hospital. Ellie skips along beside Rowan, with Teddy and me following hand in hand. Not only have I met more of his family—he’s partly dealt with number five on the ‘prove it’ list tonight as well—Teddy’s scooped me up into their world, and it feels like being part of a group hug. There’s a warmth to this family, from Rowan’s playful teasing, and Ellie’s total adoration of her uncle; even Briar’s ferocious protectiveness of him. When it’s time for goodbyes, it wraps around me, too. Ellie releases Teddy from her arms only to fling herself at me.
“Goodnight, Aunty Trouble.” To be claimed by this small girl feels precious and strangely permanent. As Rowan gently prises her off me, I’m already looking forward to the next time.
Teddy pulls a beanie from his coat pocket and tugs it down over those conspicuous curls. I pull up the hood of my coat as we step out onto the pavement to wait for the car.
A silver Golf eases out of the multi-storey car park and pulls up in front of us. The window glides down, and I see Tamara behind the wheel.
“Thanks for everything, Teddy.”
“Anything you need, Tam. Any time.” He smiles at her.
“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final wave, she pulls away.
“I don’t know how she does it.” Teddy’s voice is quiet as we watch the taillights disappear into the night. “Her little boy was one of Ell’s friends.” Something breaks in his voice. “He didn’t make it. Yet she still shows up for everyone else.”
“Oh, god. That’s terrible.” I’m swamped with sadness, threaded with admiration for this woman’s strength, forged by unimaginable loss. How she can stand alongside all those other families fightinga battle her family lost is beyond my comprehension. It has to be a courage tempered in fire that makes people like Tamara step up to help others. People like Teddy and Rowan too. From Tamara’s remarks. I suspect Teddy’s doing more than he lets on.
