Stephen was past himself. Stephen was bursting. He could not wait until it was home time so that he could tell his mam the good news. At last Miss Jobling clapped her hands and it was story hour. The class had done exercises on ‘telling the time’ in their workbooks, but no one had yet grasped the concept well enough to realise that story hour, was in fact story twenty minutes. Stephen tidied up the table and put away pencils in readiness. He did these jobs more quickly than usual, then sat on the carpet with the other children and willed the day to end. Miss Jobling held up a book with a picture of a dragon on the front.

“Who knows what this story is called?” she asked. Stephen put his hand up, he had seen the book before, but Miss Jobling passed him by and asked Kirsty McCallister instead. Kirsty pulled at the buttons on her cardigan and said she thought the book was called ‘The Dragon’s Tea Party’, Kirsty was always wrong, so Stephen held his hand even higher. In fact, his hand was so high, that it was pulling his body up from the ground, a thing that often happened, when he thought knew the correct answer or when he was just desperate to speak. ‘Bottoms on the floor,’ ordered Miss Jobling, without feeling the need to say whose bottom she was talking about. Stephen sat back down, keeping his hand in plain view and was once again ignored. Clare Thompson said that the book was about dragons and it was called ‘The Dragon.’ Stephen snorted so loudly that everyone turned round.

“Stephen Knightly.” said Miss Jobling in a quiet, calm voice, a voice that she found harder and harder to manufacture as the day progressed.

“The Dragon What Went In The Wood Miss Jobling,” blurted out Stephen and heaved a sigh of relief.

‘The Dragon Who Went Into The Wood,” corrected Miss Jobling, but Stephen’s small reserve of concentration was spent, and he was no longer interested. He turned his neck towards the window where the mams and dads would be congregating, waiting for their little treasures. Stephen tried to see his mother, but the bright lights of the classroom hid her from view, reflecting back all that was familiar, the paintings that adorned the walls of the classroom, the giant letters of the mysterious alphabet and of course, the children themselves. Even though he could not see his mother, he waved anyway, in the hope that she could see him, then noticing that the class had fallen silent, and Miss Jobling’s disapproving face, he forced himself to sit smartly as she began to read.

“There once was a dragon, a very nice dragon, who lived in a field, by the side of the wood.”

Stephen tried hard to keep his young energetic body from moving, but thoughts of his excellent news made it was impossible. It was the best thing that had ever happened. Stephen shuffled and shimmied on the shiny parquet floor and willed himself, in vain, to be still.

“Stephen Knightly!” The words were sharp, and focused Stephen’s mind in exactly the way that they were intended to. “Who has the dragon just met in the wood?”

“The mouse,” guessed Stephen, remembering his dad reading the book to him at bedtime the week before. It was a good guess. Miss Jobling looked daggers, and read on reluctantly. Stephen successfully pretended to be listening for the remaining few minutes, then cheered as the bell rang.

A confirmed dawdler, Stephen had his coat on in a jiffy and rushed out into the playground before anyone else had even left the cloakroom. He scanned around so quickly, that at first he did not see her, then looking again more carefully, he ran in the direction of the gate and flung his arms around his mam, tangling his arms in her scarf. His mother, not only surprised, but winded, could not help but be pleased at such a welcome. She was even more pleased when she realised how many of the other parents had seen that lovely display of affection. She knew they would be envious. Stephen let go of her as the other children started to appear and began to run about, shouting in a ridiculously high voice.

“I’ve got Joseph!’ ‘I’ve got Joseph!”

At first wondering if he was referring to a fight with another boy, her pride faded and she looked annoyed, but on hearing Rachael Bloomfield nearby telling her mother in a loud, excited voice, that ‘she had Mary,’ the penny dropped.

“Well done!” said Stephen’s mother and patted him on the head as if he were an exceptionally cute puppy. His message received, Stephen ran around a while longer in puppy fashion, then returned to his mother and they set off for home, walking at an accelerated pace to accommodate Stephen’s joy and to more quickly get out of the cold.

“ Mary and Joseph has a baby,” ……Stephen babbled as they strode along the pavement behind some of the children and in front of others…… …….”and I’m Joseph,” he added as if it was necessary. “There’s no room at the inn so baby Jesus was bored in a manger with the animals. You can come and see me and we have to bring a tea towel.” All of this was said without a breath, then Stephen ran on ahead, and back again, singing ‘Away in a Manger’ without really knowing the words.

The following afternoon, rehearsal was in progress and Stephen was trying his very best. He had been in a play before, but he had never had the best part. He entered from the left as instructed and delivered his next line with confidence and volume.

“Hello Mary, I am home from work,” he said. Miss Jobling began to look pleased that she had chosen Stephen for such a big role, despite her misgivings.

“Joseph,” said Rachael Bloomfield, “the Angel Gabriel has come down from heaven and told me that I am going to have a baby,”…….. and that was when it all went wrong…….. that was when Stephen’s big moment turned sour. As soon as Rachael had finished speaking, Stephen kissed her on the cheek, then continued on as if nothing had happened.

“Then we are truly blessed.”

There was a gasp, then a pause, then giggling from the girls, and giggling from the boys. Even Miss Jobling had her hand to her mouth in disbelief. Stephen stood still, vaguely aware that something must have happened, and waited for Mary to say ‘and we will call him Jesus.’ Mary was at that moment incapable of speaking. She had just been kissed, in full view of the whole class, by a boy. The idea was totally repugnant to her and she wiped furiously at her cheek to try and rub the kiss away. As she rubbed, it became redder and redder and the class collapsed into laughter. A sneering bleat came from one of the sheep ‘You love Rachael, You love Rachael’ and Miss Jobling realised that it was time to take control.

“Silence!” she demanded, and when Miss Jobling used her ‘special’ voice, she always got what she wanted. The tittering subsided and jaws ached to contain their glee. The only sound was that of Mary crying as the enormity of what had happened overwhelmed her. Stephen Knightly had kissed her and everybody saw. Covering her blushing face with her tea towel, Rachael ran out of the hall. Her teeth would fall out, that was all she knew about kissing and she felt ashamed. Her best friend Chloe Wentworth, followed her to give support after asking for permission from the teacher. Miss Jobling was glad to give it. The short dark days of the Christmas term made her tired and she did not want to comfort the embarrassed girl herself. Stephen was at first mystified, then terrified. He had not found himself to be at the centre of attention in quite that way before was unsure how to deal with it. Many times he had been singled out for playing the fool, or not sitting smartly, and once for doing the best drawing of a cat, but this time, he genuinely did not know what he had done wrong. He decided to ask Miss Jobling.

“What did I do?’ he asked softly. ‘Did I say it wrong?”

Miss Jobling tried to speak kindly to him, but she was irritated that rehearsals had come to a stop.

“You kissed Mary,” she said simply.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Stephen and laughter prevailed once again. It was on this day, that Stephen discovered that teachers did not know everything. Miss Jobling did not explain to him in any satisfactory manner, why he should not have kissed Mary.

“She’s my wife,” he added, hoping to clarify his position, but, like everything else he had said in the last few minutes, it only made things worse.

“Just don’t do it again,” ordered Miss Jobling, all patience fading and to put an end to her difficulty she announced that rehearsal was over and they would return to the classroom. This made Stephen even more unpopular with teacher and pupils alike. No one spoke to him for the rest of the afternoon, or so it seemed. In fact it was only another thirty minutes, (which included the twenty minutes story hour), but to Stephen it was forever.

The boy leaving school that evening was hardly the same boy as the night before. Almost the last child out of the class, he shuffled his feet and dawdled, looking to the floor as he walked. Anthony Byelands said “ta ra,” but Stephen ignored him and paid unwarranted attention to a stone on the floor which he scraped along the concrete with his foot, making a mark and a satisfying scratching noise. His mother knew that something must be wrong but maintained a diplomatic silence until he was ready to tell her. Stephen still did not really know what he had done and remained silent.

After tea that evening, Stephen went with his mother to Auntie Julie’s whose friend Gemma was visiting from Scotland. His mother told Gemma her happy news in the same way she told everyone she met.

“I’m going to have a baby,” she said, and as always happened, wherever she was, whoever she told, they always kissed her. Gemma was no exception. She stood up at once and kissed Stephen’s mother on the cheek. Stephen was enraged.

“See! See!” He shouted. “Everybody does it!” Then he stormed off in a strop.

Stephen’s mood remained with him at school the following day. On top of everything else his mother had told him off for being naughty and showing her up in front of people. Stephen kept his head down, working solidly and refusing to join in any chatter. He didn’t want any more trouble. Rachael Bloomfield was absent, but that did not seem to still the tiny tongues. James O’Reardon asked why he wasn’t talking to anybody and Stephen shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care.

“He’s in love,” sneered Jennifer Bates and drew a heart in her maths book. The clever kids nodded.

“He’s upset ‘cos Rachael’s off,” said Matilda Thornton, “Rachael’s his girlfriend.” Then she mimicked a big sloppy kiss. Stephen covered his ears, then carried on with his work. He took much more care than usual and lined the numbers up directly underneath each other in a finicky way. This seemed to make the sums easier to do and he was surprised to find that he had got a few of them right. His efforts did not go unnoticed and his workbook was held up before the whole class as an example of what to aim for. This was a wish come true for Stephen, but today he couldn’t enjoy it. The day passed slowly. Rehearsal was cancelled because of the absence of Mary and instead they practised singing ‘O Come All Ye Faithful.’ Stephen mimed the words even though he knew some of them. He did not want to join in. Malcolm Teasdale was stood behind him and began to sing ‘You love Rachael,’ to the tune, over and over. Unnoticed by the teacher he thought he was clever, which was, as always, his undoing. Becoming bolder, he began to sing louder until he was heard by Miss Jobling and sent to sit at the side of the hall. Even when Malcolm had gone, his horrible chant remained in Stephen’s mind, repeating and repeating itself, with no way to stop it. All Stephen could think about were Malcolm’s silly words and Rachael. He wished that she was there……then stopped, as another thought came to him…..what if they were right? What if he did love Rachael?

When Rachael was sat in her usual seat the next day, Stephen noticed that he felt pleased. He had missed her yesterday that was true, and that was what happened to people in love. He tried to look at her without her, or anyone else, noticing. She was drawing a picture and pressing very hard on the paper with a crayon. Her hair tumbled down with the movement and Stephen noticed for the first time, what a lovely colour it was. There was always a runaway wisp across one eye and she brushed it aside with a familiar movement as he watched. She looked up and he turned away. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and jiggled her tooth to see if it was wobbly yet. By the time the class went into the hall for rehearsal, Rachael was understandably nervous. Stephen tried to reassure her that all was well by pushing her gently and acting daft. It didn’t work. He was hoping to make her smile, but only succeeded in getting her upset. He recalled how her smile came suddenly, out of the blue, and lasted a long time. As they progressed through the play, she became increasingly anxious and was completely unable to stand still as they approached the fatal line.

“Hello Mary, I’m home from work,” said Stephen cautiously. There was silence. A sense of expectation had seized the children and there was no talking or messing about. Rachael did not speak.

“It’s you,” whispered Stephen helpfully, “tell me you’re going to have a baby.” Rachael stopped shaking and gathered herself. She raised her head to its full extent and dared him to do anything. Stephen noticed how graceful she was and waited.

“Joseph….” she began, then left such a long pause that Miss Jobling thought that she had forgotten her line and prompted her.

“The Angel Gabriel has……..” but Rachael cut her off.

“I know!” she spit out the words, then raised her voice speaking slowly and deliberately. “The Angel Gabriel has come down from heaven and I am going to have a baby.” then she stared defiantly at Stephen with beautiful brown eyes and moved the wisp of hair from her vision.

“Then we are truly blessed,” whispered Stephen with such feeling that Miss Jobling gave a little clap.

“Excellent!” she shouted and all tension was released as if some one had burst a party balloon.

Rehearsal week flew by, and before he had even learnt all of his lines, the big day had arrived. His mother was coming to see him, and grandma, as well as Auntie Julie, Uncle Simon and Gemma, but his dad had to work, so Stephen had done the whole play for his father the night before, playing all of the parts himself. His dad had clapped enthusiastically and said that it didn’t matter that he wouldn’t see it at the school because Stephen had painted the picture for him. Stephen was not absolutely sure what that meant, but he knew it was good. His father’s reaction had given him confidence, but he was still a bit worried about performing for hundreds of people. Miss Jobling had been teaching them numbers and Stephen knew that a hundred was a lot, so hundreds must be millions. They got changed into their costumes in the classroom next to the hall. They could hear the bustle of adults, the loud deep voices of the fathers sometimes rising above the general talk of the mothers. Chairs scraped as they found their seats and warm ‘hellos’ drifted in as friends met up with friends. Stephen watched Rachael as she wrapped a blue scarf around her head, then she picked up the doll who was playing baby Jesus and swung it up and down, talking to it as if it was a real baby. It made him feel warm inside and he thought of his mother’s baby, the one that was inside her now. Miss Jobling called them all to attention to remind them that the reputation of the school was on their shoulders, then went off into the next class to help a wise man find his ‘frankysense.’ At last all the children were ready and waiting at the side of the stage. Mr Jones was telling the parents how hard they had worked and what a treat it was going to be. Stephen wondered how Mr Jones knew as he had never seen the play. At last the encouraging sound of clapping built, then died and the cast of Class 3A Nativity trooped on to the stage. A distinct ‘ahhhhh’ rippled around the room and Stephen was sure that he could distinguish his mother’s voice. The play began and continued with no problem or difficulty. Angel Gabriel’s wings stayed on her back for the first time ever, Johnny Stockton who played the North star, remembered to turn it sparkly side out to the audience and Bethany Crane didn’t blush when she said her one line. All was going well. Stephen was leading the donkey, (James MacAvoy wearing cardboard ears) and Rachael was walking behind . As a woman with child, she had been told to look tired and worn out for this scene, which she did manage to do. Stephen also tried hard to look exhausted and at one point was walking so slowly across the stage that the donkey tripped over him. Stephen continued on as if he was a professional, leaving the donkey to sort himself out. Kirk Elmwood stepped out of the inn and barred his way, more like a mobster than an innkeeper.
“Who ARE you STRANGER?” he asked in a very threatening voice.

“We have come to Bethlehem, and must stay the night for the census,” said Stephen, loud and clear. (‘Census’ had been a difficult word to master but all was well.)

“There IS NO room AT the inn” said Kirk, stressing the words in all the wrong places despite many demonstrations by Miss Jobling.

“But my wife is with child,” argued Stephen, indicating Rachael as she shuffled along behind the donkey who was now back on his feet. He noticed her rosy cheeks. Her bright eyes glittered under the lights and for a moment he forgot that he was in a play, forgot about the hundreds of people watching. He saw only Rachael and knew he had an answer to the question that had been bothering him for a week now. ……”and I love her,” he added simply. Rachael stopped shuffling. The donkey’s mouth opened wide in disbelief and he sat back down on the floor.

“You CAN go IN the stable.” Said Kirk with a dramatic gesture, trying to get the show back on the road, but he was pushed aside by Rachael as she strode to the front of the stage. No one else moved. The audience, blissfully unaware that Stephen’s last line had been one of his own, sat patiently waiting for something to happen. The shepherds, who were next to come on, started to discuss the matter to see if they could in fact believe their ears. They had not yet decided when Rachael walked over to Stephen, took hold of his hand and did an ad lib of her own.

“Joseph, my husband is right,” she proclaimed to the world. “I am going to have a baby and I will call him Jesus.” Only the cast knew that it was all going wrong. The shepherds didn’t have a clue what to do. Miss Jobling pushed them on too early and they found themselves in the stable before Jesus was born. “Get out!” yelled Rachael, completely in charge, “I must have my baby in peace!” then she pulled out the doll from under her cloak. “He is a boy,” she announced dramatically” and he is the Son of God.” Then she laid the doll down in the manger and its eyes clacked shut. “He is sleeping,” she pointed out uneccessarily “you shepherds may see him but don’t wake him up.” The shepherds did as they were told. The sheep entered, the wise men, then the beasts of the stable, (who should have been there already) and the donkey stood back up. The production was a great success. Taking a bow was fantastic. Stephen had never enjoyed himself so much. Rachael had kept hold of his hand for the rest of the play and continued to do so during their curtain calls. They bowed politely as they had been shown how to do, in unison. The clapping and cheering went on for hours (one and a half minutes). Rachael was beaming and an excited squeal left her mouth. The applause finally faded, and Miss Jobling called them back to the classroom grinning and full of praise. The reputation of the school remained intact she told them, a word which they did not understand, but also, they did not care. They had done well and they knew it.

When Stephen had changed back into his own clothes, he went into the hall to meet up with his family.

“You were brilliant!” said his mam and gave him a hug.

“You were very good,” said Auntie Julie, sounding slightly surprised, and was about to do the same when Rachael ran towards them. She was still excited and full of confidence after the show, as the smile that lasted a long time verified.

“Happy Christmas!” she said, and without warning, kissed him on the cheek, then she skipped back to her mother who was waiting by the door. Stephen, full of emotion, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Rachael is your girlfriend,” whined Kirsty McCallister as she walked past with her father. Stephen smiled and nodded. For once, he thought, Kirsty McCallister was right.

THE END

© Janis McBride