A Christmas Gift. Sue Moorcroft

      Blair grimaced from in front of the bathroom mirror, where she was applying her third coat of mascara. ‘Not if there are spiders.’

      ‘I had it de-spidered only last week,’ Georgine coaxed.

      ‘Yeah, right.’ Blair laughed. ‘Gotta get to work. Sales executives have to look willing.’ Blair spent her days selling products to the hospitality industry. She threw her mascara down beside her make-up bag and whirled from the mirror, performing a little shuffle to pass Georgine in the bathroom doorway. ‘Laters, sis! Mwah!’

      ‘Laters,’ Georgine echoed, watching Blair trot downstairs, step elegantly into the navy metallic kitten-heeled shoes she’d left beside the front door and breeze from the house. In her wake, silence reigned.

      Before doing her own eyeliner and mascara, Georgine moved the make-up Blair had left balanced behind the taps to one side of the shelf above. Her own stuff had already been shunted to the right to make room. I’m not a neat freak, she assured an imaginary Blair in her head. She grinned at her reflection. Much. Her eyes took about two minutes to Blair’s ten, then she hurried to grab her backpack, glad there was nothing to prevent her from jumping into her trusty old Ford Fiesta to drive to work.

      She was soon absorbed in her day at Acting Instrumental. Joe didn’t make an appearance in her room so she worked through her inbox before tucking her laptop beneath her arm and rushing off to watch Errol’s music students rehearse for the Christmas show in one of the smaller practice rooms.

      The second and third scenes in act one included one song each, rehearsed together because they were both sung by female lead Samantha, who played Kerry Christmas, with Band One backing her. ‘That Baddy is My Uncle!’ covered Kerry learning her beloved uncle had a Godfather-like role in local organised crime. In ‘Dilemma/Don’t Put it All on Me’ she agonised over the consequences of doing the ‘right’ thing. About disillusionment and the death of childhood dreams, it was a haunting song and Kerry would wring the hearts of the audience.

      When she joined the rehearsal, the band and Kerry Christmas were in full swing. Georgine’s heart flipped the way it did whenever she saw the kids perform. Laptop deposited on a chair, she tiptoed to the back of the room to watch and listen.

      The band was made up of two guitars, bass, piano, drums and saxophone. The student on saxophone was Isla, whose mum, Sian, had been at school with Georgine. Sian was already down as a volunteer to sell programmes or tear tickets on performance nights, along with several other parents.

      Sections of Isla’s black hair were gathered into knobs, one either side of her head, the rest falling down around her shoulders. Her eyeliner was so lavish that her eyes almost disappeared when she grinned at Georgine. The rhythm guitarist/vocalist was also female, her hands looking far too small to span the strings. The rest of the band was male, all with hair in fairly uniform trendy cuts on heads that nodded to the beat – apart from Tomasz, on lead guitar, whose hair was scraped back in a man bun.

      ‘Dilemma’ drew to its end on a long, perfect C, and Georgine bounced to her feet to clap enthusiastically. The band members and Samantha smiled in acknowledgement then looked expectantly at Errol. He stood at the side of the rehearsal room, one elbow propped on his other arm so he could finger his chin, on which had lately sprouted a thin black beard. He gazed thoughtfully at the leading lady. ‘OK, Sam. Has Hannalee talked to you about posture at all?’

      Samantha, face falling, coloured violently. She was a pretty but fey girl, given to hiding behind her hair. Until she sang. Then she shook back her dark auburn locks and straightened her spine, joy and talent shining out of her. In Georgine’s view she was a star student. To question a singer of her calibre about something so fundamental as posture was a typical undermining tactic on Errol’s part. Samantha came under the singing tutelage of Hannalee rather than being directly his student and, evidently, he didn’t want her to twinkle too brightly.

      Restraining herself from asking when demoralising outstanding students had ever been an effective teaching technique, Georgine cut in: ‘That number’s really coming on! Samantha, you’ll have half the audience in tears. Band One: playing really tightly – well done.’ Her voice full of warmth and enthusiasm, she flicked a look Errol’s way.

      Errol gave a wintry smile. ‘Oh, yes, it was very good.’ He made it sound as if he’d had a but to add, then thought better of it.

      ‘It was awesome,’ Tomasz muttered, slapping Samantha on her shoulder and sending Errol a black look.

      Abandoning her laptop, Georgine tried to move swiftly on from Errol’s lukewarm reaction, striding further into the room to beam round. ‘You’re doing so well! I’m working on the transitions between scenes and we’re well on schedule to include them in rehearsals.’

      Errol broke in. ‘Just to let you know, we’ve only got Sam for another couple of minutes. Hannalee’s expecting her back.’

      ‘Thanks,’ said Georgine without looking his way. Errol was full of stupid power plays like interrupting because she’d made a small announcement with no accounting for the accepted hierarchy of first apprising him. Whoever had coined the term ‘passive-aggressive’ must have been thinking of Errol.

      ‘Georgine could sing with us if Sam’s got to go,’ Tomasz broke in, resting his arms on the top of the guitar around his neck.

      ‘Thanks Tomasz, but not this time.’ Georgine scotched the idea before Errol had a chance to object. He wasn’t a fan of Georgine joining in with the students.

      Errol sent her a flinty, unsmiling look as he resumed control. He was one of the members of the teaching staff who saw interaction with support staff as an opportunity to establish who was more important. ‘Thank you, Band One,’ he called. ‘Samantha, thank you. You’d better go and rejoin your own group. Band Two, you’re up.’ Three girls and four lads, all significantly grungier than the members of Band One, rose with alacrity, grabbing instruments and heading for the performance space. Trent, the singing student who played the male lead, Uncle Jones, ran in, throwing his bag under a chair and taking position at a mic for a song from act two, scene four: ‘Uninvited guests’.

      Down the line, Maddie’s Troupe One would be performing a street dance front and centre, which Troupe Two would join in the guise of police officers and gangsters. It was the one scene costume decisions had already been made on because both dancers and band would dress in combinations of black and white to allow for the gradual infiltration of police uniforms and detectives in suits into the party.

      Georgine planned to get hold of plenty of sports whitener for shoes. Many of the dance students wore Converse or Vans for street dance, taking pride in their grubbiness.

      She backed up to lean on a wall while Band Two finished setting up. A murmured conversation took her attention and she glanced around to see Joe Blackthorn crouching beside the chair of the bass player from Band One. A little shock darted through her. It shouldn’t have, because she’d sent him a copy of the rehearsal schedules spreadsheet marked with those she intended to attend and the comment that he might like to sit in on a few as time and his DBS status allowed.

      The bass player – Nolan, she thought he was called – was poring over whatever Joe was showing him on his phone.

      She hovered casually closer.

      ‘Don’t just keep your metronome for when your music teacher’s listening,’ Joe was suggesting. ‘Download a free metronome app for your phone. The bassist and the drummer are the backbone of the band. Practise with a click track at home and it’ll pay off in spades. Tell your drummer, too.’

      Georgine was fascinated. She’d heard it said that ‘techs’ had to be as competent as the players they supported but Joe hadn’t until now displayed his experience. Professional skill was gold dust to students.

      Her attention was drawn to Band Two, who made a couple of false starts because lead guitarist Sammy was clearly flustered, probably by the presence of Georgine and Joe. Band One didn’t help the situation by catcalling gleefully.

      Errol,