Alfie in the Snow

There was another song, and then the shepherds gathered, and the wise men, and they were all supposed to give gifts to the baby Jesus. Tommy stuffed his fist into his mouth, and held his phone up high, while Aleksy giggled into my fur. Toby and Henry exchanged a glance and then, just as the first wise man approached the manger, he shouted:

‘It’s a cat. The baby Jesus is a cat.’ I could hear Jonathan’s groan from my seat. Then George, who I assume must have fallen asleep, jumped up from the manger where they had wrapped him in a tea towel.

‘Mewmewmewmew,’ he said.

The audience erupted in laughter, the room echoing with it as Toby grabbed hold of George and cuddled him to his chest. I peered out and looked at my family. Claire did have her head in her hands, Jonathan and Matt had tears running down their cheeks from laughter, Aleksy was giggling into my head, Franceska, Polly and Tomasz’s shoulders were shaking as they tried and failed not to find it funny. A teacher ran on stage but didn’t know what to do when she got there, and Henry, the donkey, laughed so much he had to lie down.

‘It’s George, the baby Jesus,’ Summer shouted, as she spun around. Only Mary/Emma Roper didn’t look happy. She was still trying to hold Toby’s hand even though he was now clutching a cat.

Finally, Jonathan, having been shouted at by Claire, approached the stage, looking a bit embarrassed, and got Toby to give him George. The applause was deafening and if George hadn’t been clamped so tightly to Jonathan’s chest I know he would have taken a proud bow.

‘High-five,’ Aleksy said to Tommy, and as we all high-fived, I felt as if it had given us some much-needed fun.

The children were all squashed onto our sofa, the parents lined up in front of them. George, unsure where to go, finally perched on the arm of the sofa and I, of course, stood with the parents, although I was pretty sure this time I was in trouble too.

‘Tommy, it was your idea?’ Franceska asked, with her arms folded.

At the play, the audience hadn’t stopped laughing until they reluctantly filed out of the hall, collecting their children as they went. The headmistress had a face like thunder, as she told my adults that the nativity, which they had all worked hard for, had been ruined. Although parents did come and stick up for us, saying it was the best nativity they’d ever seen, I’m not sure it helped, the woman was so angry. Claire was embarrassed as they got a ticking-off, and it didn’t help when the headmistress told Toby that he wouldn’t be trusted with the role of Joseph again, and he replied, ‘Thank goodness.’ The adults made the children apologise. Tommy stood up and took responsibility, but the headmistress pointed out that Toby and Henry knew George was in the manger all along and if they weren’t ‘in on it’ they should have told an adult. The upshot was that everyone was in a bit of trouble, and although actually it was worth it, they had to at least pretend to be cross. Although thinking about it, I think Claire really was cross; sometimes she forgot her sense of humour.

‘It was all my idea,’ Tommy said, again. Give him his due, he always owned up. Like the time it was his idea to take George to church in our holiday home in Devon – I haven’t forgotten how they left me behind – and George saw Chanel, the cat he had a crush on, and it didn’t end well. Or when it was his idea to take us both crabbing with them, on a boat no less, and George got bitten on his nose by a crab. That did turn out well, as we all got ice cream, but you get the gist.

‘That’s a surprise,’ Franceska said with her best cross voice, but I could tell she wasn’t actually that angry. Apart from Claire, I could see them all struggling to keep straight faces.

‘But the rest of you all went along with it,’ Claire pointed out. The children, including George, looked a little guilty beneath their smiles.

‘But apart from me, George was the best thing about the play,’ Summer pointed out. Star by name, star by nature.

‘Where does she get it from?’ Claire hissed.

‘Don’t look at me.’ Jonathan shrugged.

‘Let’s get back on topic,’ Polly interrupted.

‘It was quite funny,’ Matt added. ‘No, it was incredibly funny. “The baby Jesus is a cat” classic line.’

‘Yes, it might well have been, but Mrs White, the headmistress, didn’t find it funny, she’s angry and for some reason she blames us. Honestly, Claire, we’ll be made to bake cakes for every occasion as penance,’ Polly said.

‘You can’t bake,’ Matt pointed out. He was right, she couldn’t. She bought all the cakes, then put them in tins and took them to school, we all knew that.

‘Not the point,’ Claire replied. ‘Right, why did you do it, Tommy?’