Cracks in the Sidewalk(90)

“Okay.” The partridge smiled and flapped her wings.

“Good.” Claire laughed. “Very good.”

The backstage room of the auditorium was crowded with people, mostly kids, but Claire had yet to see Louise. She stood and looked across the sea of heads. With her snow-white hair Louise should have been easy enough to spot, but—

“I’m not gonna be a stupid hen!” Brenda shouted as she began to remove her costume.

Rushing over Claire asked, “What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m not gonna be a French hen. People will laugh at me.”

“What makes you think they’ll laugh?”

Brenda, the tallest and chunkiest child in the class, placed her hands on her chubby hips and stood there with a rebellious glare fixed on her face.

“Because the song says three!” she said angrily. “Three French hens, not two!”

“I’m trying to get a replacement for Dorothy. As soon as I find Miss Louise—”

“I wanna be the partridge!”

“Brenda, dear, I’ve already explained, the platform is too small to hold you—”

“I don’t care!”

“Brenda,” Claire bent and whispered in the girl’s ear, “I chose you to be a French hen because they’re the stars of the show. The French hens get to stand in the middle of the stage, right in front!”

Brenda smiled. “Really?”

Claire nodded. “Everyone in the audience is going to be busy looking at you, and they won’t even notice if a hen is missing.”

Brenda smiled and strutted off, waving her tail feathers.

Claire continued searching for Louise. Finally she spotted Pastor Branford edging his way through the crowd.

“Excuse me,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I haven’t been able to find Louise Farley yet. Have you seen—”

“She’s down with the flu and asked if you would take over the supervision of her group.”

“Me? But I don’t know—”

Pastor Branford, obviously preoccupied with something else, said, “Thanks,” then moved on.

“Oh, dear,” Claire murmured as she started through the room rounding up gold rings, geese, and swans. As it turned out one of the gold rings had his costume on backward, two geese were also home with the flu, and one swan had a broken wing.

“Five minutes ‘til curtain,” the pageant director announced.

Claire quickly scotch-taped the broken wing, reversed the gold ring costume, and went with four instead of six geese. She bunched each group together in the order of appearance on stage.

“I’ll be behind the tree,” she said, “so watch closely. When I give the signal, the group at the head of the line comes on stage singing. Now remember, you come onstage one group at a time, and you have to wait until I give the signal for your group. Okay?”

“Okay,” they answered, but Claire felt a nervous bubble bouncing around her stomach.

“One minute ‘til curtain.”

Claire hoisted Sara onto the platform. “Are you okay?”

Sara nodded wordlessly.

The house lights dimmed, the curtain opened, and the music started, but not a sound came from Sara. Finally Claire, who had squatted behind the tree, began singing a flat and somewhat off-key rendition of the song.

“On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…”

A roar of laughter came from the audience.

Claire kept singing but turned her head, peeking through the grid of the tree to check on Sara. The partridge now stood on the platform flapping her wings.

“Sit down,” Claire hissed as she signaled for the two turtle doves.

They came in on cue singing and moved to their assigned spot on the stage without incident.

The hens came next. Claire gave the signal but Brenda, preoccupied with a loose feather, failed to notice so the hens made a late entrance and Claire was already singing, “…three French hens…” The laughter from the audience sounded louder than before.

Claire peeked again. “Oh no,” she moaned. It was bad enough to have two French hens instead of the required three, but Brenda was strutting across the stage like a bandy rooster.

The calling birds came next with a flawless performance. Claire sighed with relief and signaled for the gold rings. Four gold rings marched in but Brian, the lad with his costume backward, was missing. They had already moved on to the chorus when Brian came running in—his costume backward again.

The audience laughed louder with each mishap. Between the straggling gold ring and the geese who were two short of their number, it was impossible to tell when one uproarious stretch of laughter ended and the next began. When the seven swans came on stage Claire saw her repair had not held and one swan was dangling a broken wing. Thankfully the swans were her last group.

Miss Burgess, who taught the seven-to-twelve year-olds, stood in the wings. Her maids-a-milking, ladies dancing, and lords-a-leaping moved on stage without incident, and the audience applauded loudly. The eleven pipers marched in playing flutes, and the drummers followed with real drums.

When the song ended more than seventy children stood on stage, not counting Claire still crouched behind the tree. If there had been a trap door that would enable her to fall through the floor, Claire would have taken it. But there was none, so she stood and smiled at the audience. Then she lifted Sara from her perch and herded the group of children offstage.