The Fierce Brave Gang – Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: Characters and their backgrounds in this story are not necessarily the same as they are in Casualty.

As Mr Kendal had feared, the Tinies' letters were delayed by the Christmas post and didn't arrive until the Saturday morning, after they'd 'broken up' on Friday.

"Mum! I'm going to be young Princess Lisa!" Alicia shouted, making her mum almost drop a Christmas tree decoration.

"Well, try not to say your lines as loudly as that, love. I'll come and have a look in a minute; I'm doing the tree now. Why not come over and help so I can get it done faster?"

The letter came to confirm that Jamie was in the dance chorus came when Lloyd was playing over at his house. Generous Lloyd shared Jamie's excitement but he felt a little worried. Hadn't he been chosen?

Just then the call came through from his mum.

The two little boys danced round the kitchen:

"We're going to be bats! We're going to be bats!"

Albert, the cat, looked at them in total disgust and slunk off to his basket.

Tom opened the letter and read it twice in case he'd made a big mistake. But, no. They wanted him to play Young Sebastian. He almost wanted Christmas to hurry and be over, so he could ask Cal lots of questions at the Forum. But then he didn't; he was hoping for a mini laptop this year; he'd learned how to use one at school and he'd been good – well, mostly – all year.

"Dad! Come and look at this!" he cried.

Guppy and his mum were getting ready to shop together when the letter came.

A single parent, his mum found things difficult, despite constant help from Guppy who was a kind little boy. She watched her boy opening the letter, and tears running down his face. She suspected the worst.

"Mum! I can help with the Summer holiday! Look how much they want to give me for having fun!"

His mum looked at the amount that Guppy would receive at the end of July, and high-fived him.

"I think we can afford a stop for coffee and cake, darling."

Guppy grinned; he loved the tiny little cake stall in the market with the seating area at the back. You can keep your posh coffee shops, he thought, I like going to Ransome's. He couldn't wait to tell kind Mr Ransome about his good luck.

"Shut up, woman! I'm trying to watch football here." Mr Winters bawled.

"I need some housekeeping money!"

"Get off your fat arse and get a job!"

"You sh*t!"

Ruth put the letter in her pocket wearily. They wouldn't be interested – they might not even drive her to the theatre for the rehearsals if they'd been to the pub the previous night, or had bottles and cans in. They'd only care when she got the cheque next Summer.

And she'd wanted this part more than anything.

"Ruth! Get in here! Your mum wants you to go to the corner shop!"

"Go for it, idiot! She can only say no!"

"I'm not like you, Cal, able to have any girl you want."

"Stop that. Anybody would think you're ugly, Ethan. Now, look. Jess and Jeff split up last summer; they haven't got back together yet so chances are they won't. Ask her out! She can only say 'no'."

"Well, I've got all Christmas to think about it… oh heck."

Ethan had remembered Mrs Beauchamp's New Year's Eve party. (He loved her but could never quite think of her as Mum, though he called her that often because he knew she liked it.) The Tinies would have their time in the afternoon, the lower sixth in the evening.

"Before the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve…." Cal intoned.

"Pasta shells… we need pasta shells…" Ethan chanted doggedly, then suddenly bumped into a small figure.

"Hi, Ruth! How are you? Shopping with your mum or dad?"

But Ruth's sad eyes and red face and the lack of any parents told him the truth.

"They've never sent you shopping on your own?"

Ruth looked as if she wanted to make a dash for it. Then the tears betrayed her.

"Hey, it's okay, we'll walk you back home."

"They don't care…" there, she'd said it!

Ethan misinterpreted her tears.

"Didn't you get the part, sweetie?"

"I got it. But they might not take me to rehearsals if they feel… ill… in the mornings and then Mr Kendal will take the part off me."

"Well is THAT all you're worried about?" Cal tried to turn it into a joke, "We'll let Mrs Beauchamp know on New Year's Eve; she'll sort something out."

"P-please can you stop here? I can go up the steps on my own."

Ruth was scarlet with embarrassment. If Cal and Ethan saw the bottles…."

But Cal and Ethan already knew; they knew just what being 'ill' meant.

"What's that bloody Headmistress doing, coming here?" Bob Winters looked mutinous. Bloody Christmas Eve as well."

Ruth's heart skipped. Was she in trouble?

"Hello, Mrs Beauchamp. SO sorry the house isn't tidier; we had visitors last night."

Take-away cartons, cans, no Christmas tree.

Connie felt sick.

"I can see you're really busy, so I have an idea…"

Marsha and Bob felt happier than they'd been for a long time. Ruth was going to stay over at Mrs Beauchamp's for Christmas and New Year, and the frosty-faced bitch was even going to lay on transport for Ruth to go to practise for that show she'd been babbling about. What did it matter if she'd caught them in a mess?

Connie couldn't have looked less frosty-faced at the moment.

"Like the tree, Ruth?"

The little girl nodded shyly.

Rita, a couple of interesting looking parcels in her bag, sneaked upstairs behind her while Ruth's attention was diverted.

"H-have we got to watch horror films tonight?"

"What, on Christmas Eve? We're going to have a Disney marathon! Ethan'll cry his eyes out, but that's part of the fun. Or else he'll have to go for a wee and miss bits. I swear he should have been nicknamed Tiddles, not Nibbles!"

Ethan was glad to be ridiculed if it made the small, serious-looking girl smile like that. And it had taken Cal's mind off Jess.

"Dervla, mind that tree! If you bang into it again, it's going in the bin and you with it!"

Dervla looked at Dylan, her tail wagging, a 'just try it, mate' look on her face.

"Ahh, we can't get rid of our Dervla!"

"It speaks" Dylan said wickedly, and then said point-blank:

"Ben, I'm not daft. You've been quiet all evening and it's Christmas tomorrow, normally festive joy's radiating from you! What is it, son? We can sort it out. If you've been stupid with the credit card, you won't be the first or the last. I'll pay it off and you can repay me each month…"

Dylan's voice trailed off, as Ben shook his head.

"I haven't touched that Visa card you got for me at all yet, Dad. I… I've got something to tell you and you're not going to like it."

Ben had wanted to keep quiet and let his dad enjoy Christmas, but had forgotten how his face gave everything away.

"Go ahead."

Ben began to speak.

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