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held my breath but Andrew was there to intervene. No kids would be traumatised by seeing Baby Jesus eaten at birth.
    ‘And there were in the same country, shepherds abiding in their fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night.’
    I spared a thought for Russell and Martin, searching for their own flocks out there in the snow. Surely they should be back by now. Surely I would return to Frogmorton to find Russell sprawled in front of the range with a beer in one hand and a bacon sandwich in the other, full of inventive excuses for his non-appearance. Please. Let that happen.
    Under cover of looking around the church, I kept craning my neck to see if Russell was maybe standing at the back. On the other side of the aisle, I could see Monica doing the same. In this quiet church, the wind sounded very loud.
    ‘And lo – the angel of the Lord came upon them and the glory of the Lord shone about them and they were sore afraid.’
    Cue the spotlight on three dramatically cowering shepherds and a very unimpressed and very fat sheep.
    We sang ‘While Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night’, as the three shepherds heaved themselves to their feet and appeared in the stable. Marilyn immediately abandoned her scrutiny of the Baby Jesus and fixed the sheep with an expression of deep professional rivalry. The sheep ignored her and tried to lie down. There was a small wrestling match between the sheep and the shepherds, one of whom was Martin’s son and who was looking extremely anxious.
    I wished that Russell was here. He would have enjoyed this so much. As would Thomas. And today, neither of them was present. I folded my arms over my stomach and leaned forward to ease the cramp. It didn’t help at all.
    ‘Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem, behold, there came three wise men from the East. And lo – the star which they saw in the East went before them.’
    And here came the Wise Men, beautifully attired in their mothers’ curtains and a vast amount of Christmas tinsel, all clutching their meticulously painted tea caddies. Before them, carefully watching where he put his feet, walked young Charlie Kessler, grinning from ear to ear. Charlie went to the special school on the other side of Rushford and this was his first nativity play ever. He was obviously enjoying every moment. And he had a line to say, as well. According to his mother, he had been practising solidly for the last two weeks. He beamed with pride and excitement and waved madly to his family, all of whom beamed and waved right back. Charlie was portraying The Star, and as such, carried a long pole with a beautiful golden star (Russell again) dangling from the end.
    The congregation sang ‘We Three Kings’ as they slowly approached the stable.
    That sheep was making a lot of noise. I saw Andrew lean over to look. Marilyn also, was struggling to climb over the straw bales to see what was going on.
    One of the shepherds, Martin’s son, said doubtfully, ‘Um, Mr Checkland …?’
    Oh God. The sheep was dying. Our nativity play was to be presided over by a dead sheep. Surely this could not be happening …
    Andrew handed Marilyn’s lead to Charlie. ‘Here you go, Charlie. You’re in charge of the donkey for a moment. Hold tight now,’
    Charlie nearly burst. This was easily the most exciting day of his life.
    The sheep really was making an awful lot of noise, completely upstaging the Virgin Mary who, with commendable dedication to her part, still knelt in prayer but was looking extremely cross about it. Marilyn was craning her neck like a giraffe. Charlie leaned over to have a look and gasped with excitement.
    ‘Hey, Mum! Guess what’s just fallen out of this sheep’s bottom!’
    Even Mary opened her eyes at that, screamed ‘Eeeew!’, and scrambled to get away, abandoning Baby Jesus to his fate. I saw Fiona Braithwaite and her mother exchange glances and then look away again. Monica looked particularly pleased with herself. I wondered just who had selected