The Heart of the Dales (52 page)

A boy wearing a blue and white striped apron stepped on to the stage, his hands on his hips.

‘Innkeeper! Innkeeper! 'As thy any room?' asked Joseph.

‘Nay, lad,' replied the Innkeeper. ‘I've nowt left. We're full to burstin'. Place is chock-a-block wi' fowlk cum to pay their taxes.'

‘That's a rum do. We've been on t'rooad all day,' Joseph told him, ‘and both on us are fair fit to drop. We're fair fagged out!'

‘Well, I'm reight sorry, lad, but there's nowt I can gi' thee. We're full up for t'neet.'

‘I've got t'wife out 'ere,' announced Joseph. ‘An' she's 'avin' a babby, tha knaas.'

‘I'm reight sorry abaat that, an' all,' said the Innkeeper, ‘but there's no room in t'inn, an' that's top an' bottom of it.'

‘Nowt at all? Anythin' will do.'

‘Theer's t'stable round t'back. Bit basic like, but it's warm an' dry enough. Tha can sleep theer if tha wants.'

‘It'll 'ave to do,' said Joseph. ‘Come on, Mary.'

The narrator took up the story. ‘And so Mary and Joseph had to sleep in the stable with the oxen and the asses, for there was no room in the inn that night.' The holy couple left the stage and two boys and a girl entered. They wore old jackets and flat caps, and carried crooks. ‘Now far off, in a distant dale, on a dark, cold night, three shepherds were tending their sheep and watching over their flocks, when suddenly there appeared, in the dark sky, a great shining light.'

‘'Ey up!' said the first shepherd. ‘Teka look at that then!'

‘Weer?' asked the second shepherd.

‘Theer.'

‘Weer?'

‘Theer, up yonder in t'sky.'

‘Wor is it?'

‘I don't know but it's gerrin' brighter.'

A girl entered in a white blouse and skirt. ‘'Ey up, lads! Don't be frit. I'm not gunna 'urt thee. I'm Hangel o' Lord, 'ere wi' tidin's of gret joy.'

‘What's that, then?' asked the third shepherd.

‘There's a babby boy been booarn toneet, a reight special babby, who's liggin in a manger, wrapped up in swaddlin' bands, ovver in Bethle'em. God's own lad, Saviour o' World, Christ the Lord, the Messiah, an' does thy know what?'

‘What?' asked the first shepherd.

‘'E's reight champion, that's what.'

‘Way, 'appen we berrer gu an' see 'im then, sithee,' said the first shepherd.

‘Wor abaat t'tups and yows?' asked the second. ‘I'm not reight chuffed abaat leavin' 'em on their own, what wi' wolves.'

‘Ne'er thee mither abaat tha sheep,' said the angel, ‘I'll see to 'em fer thee.'

The narrator stepped forward and a group of children came on stage, dressed in white shirts, white trousers and white
plimsolls. ‘And suddenly the sky was filled with a host of heavenly angels.' The children sang lustily, ‘Glory to God, Glory to God, Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace and goodwill toward all men.'

As the angels and shepherds left the stage, the Three Kings entered, wearing long red cloaks. ‘Now far far away in a distant land, Three Kings, wise men of the East, saw a star high in the dark sky which foretold the birth of the newborn king.'

‘Hey up!' said the first king. ‘Teka look at that, then!'

‘Weer?' asked the second king.

‘Theer.'

‘Weer?'

‘Theer, up yonder in t'sky.'

‘Wor is it?'

‘By the heck, it's a reight big star.'

‘Tha knaas what that means, dunt tha?' said the third king.

‘No,' chorused the other two.

‘Tha does!'

‘We doaan't.'

‘Summat special's 'appenin', that's what. It's a sign from on 'igh. A new babby king's been born toneet. It were foretold. Come on, lads, let's follow yonder star an' see weer it teks us.'

‘'Old up,' said the second king. ‘We shall 'ave to tek 'im a present.' The Three Kings left the stage, picking up three brightly wrapped parcels on their way out.

‘So the Three Kings set off to follow the star,' said the narrator, ‘carrying their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, and soon they arrived at a huge marble palace.' The Three Kings appeared back on stage. ‘They knocked loudly on the great iron door and from inside came a voice. It was King Herod.'

‘Clear off !'

‘Oppen dooer!' shouted the first king. ‘We're t'three kings from t'Orient.'

‘I don't care who thy are or weer tha from. Clear off !'

‘We've got gret news that a new babby king 'as been born this neet an' we're off to see' im? Does tha want to come wi' us?'

On stage came a small boy with spiky hair and a brightlycoloured shirt. ‘What's all this abaat a babby king, then?' he asked.

‘I've just telled thee,' said the first king. ‘See that theer star up in t'sky?'

‘Weer?' asked Herod.

‘Theer.'

‘Weer?'

‘Theer, up yonder in t'sky.'

‘Wor abaat it?'

‘Well, it's tekkin us to see this new babby king. Get tha cooat on an' tha can come wi' us.'

‘Nay, I'll not bother,' replied Herod, ‘but cum back this way, will tha, an' tell me weer this babby is and 'appen I'll go an' see 'im missen an' tek'im a present.' He turned to the front and pulled a gruesome face. ‘I'll tek'im a present, all reight, and it'll not be wor 'e's hexpectin'. I'm not reight chuffed abaat this at all. There's only gunna be one king around 'ere, sithee, an' that's gunna be me.' Herod stomped off.

The narrator continued as the stage filled with all the children, except Herod; they gathered around a small manger that had been brought onto the stage. ‘And that night, in a stable in Bethlehem, Jesus Christ was born and the Three Kings and the humble shepherds, the angels and the beasts of the fields worshipped Him for He was the Son of God, the most wonderful, the King of all Kings and the Light of the World.'

‘Glory be to God,' chorused the children.

‘And all who saw the child marvelled,' said the narrator finally, ‘but Mary, holding her newborn baby close to her breast, kept all these things to herself and pondered them in her heart.'

As I drove back to Hawksrill in the late afternoon sun, the light dusting of snow making the Dales look ethereal yet peaceful, I recalled the last words of the nativity play I had just seen – ‘Mary, holding her new born baby close to her breast', – and thought of my own beautiful wife and baby whom I should shortly see. How lucky I was!

The cottage looked welcoming as I parked the car on the track alongside the garden; there were lights behind the closed curtains, and a wisp of smoke curled up from the chimney into the frosty air. As I went through the back door and into the kitchen, the smell of something delicious cooking made me sniff the air appreciatively.

‘Hello, darling,' said Christine, who was sitting at the table, with Richard in his carrycot beside her.

I kissed them both. ‘I was determined not to be late today,' I said. ‘I really didn't want to miss the Hawksrill play. What time is your mother coming? It's good of her to baby-sit for us.'

‘She rang about half an hour ago to say she was just leaving. And I can promise you, it's no hardship to her at all. She'll come any time and look after this little bundle for us.' The baby gurgled as if on cue.

I noticed there was a five-pound note on the table, and went to pickit up. ‘Is this mine or yours?' I asked.

‘It's mine – for the moment,' replied Christine. ‘But it will be Andy's as soon as he calls round for it. I was expecting him earlier.'

‘I don't understand,' I said. ‘I paid Andy the other weekend all we owe him for the gardening.'

Christine laughed. ‘This, I'm afraid, is for something quite different. It's for that bet you had with him – the red-tails are back!'

‘What – here?' I asked. I had hoped I'd never see those wretched squirrels again.

‘No, not here. You'd have heard about it long before if they were here. Andy called in to say that he had seen a flash of red tails down at Ted Poskitt's farm – and, incidentally, he said there's not much red on them any more. Apparently, they've taken up residence in the roof above an old tractor shed.' She stood up and crossed to stir something on the stove.

‘I expect they'll be back here soon enough, then,' I said gloomily. ‘The farm's not far away.'

No,' said Christine, who appeared amazingly calm about the return of the pesky creatures. ‘Andy thinks that they will
winter there now, hibernate, and in the spring they will be so busy thinking about babies that they will probably stay where they are.'

‘Oh, good, that's that then', I said, mightily relieved.

‘Well, don't forget you owe me for the fiver that's going to Andy,' she said.

‘I won't forget,' I said, crossing the room to put my arms round her. ‘Nor will I forget that I am married to the most enchanting girl in the world.'

Christine turned and nuzzled her face into my shoulder. ‘And that we have a wonderful son in Richard,' she murmured, ‘who would like at least two brothers and perhaps a little sister as well.'

And, in due course, that's just what happened.

Well, lad,

I'll tell thee summat:

Life for me aint been no easy road to walk.

It's been a long hard journey –

Mostly uphill all the way.

At times it's been a hot and dusty trail,

Wi' potholes and sharp stones beneath mi feet

And a sweltering sun burning the backo' mi neck.

Sometimes it's been knee-deep wi' mud

And thickwi' snow and blocked wi' fallen trees,

With an icy wind blowing full in mi face.

There were times when it's been dark and dangerous

And I've been lonely and afraid and felt like turning back.

But all the time, lad,

I've kept plodding on,

And climbing stiles,

And scaling walls,

And seeing signposts,

And reaching milestones,

And making headway.

So, lad, don't you turn round,

Don't go backon the road

For I'm still walking,

I'm still walking,

And life for me aint been no easy road to walk.