‘OH MY LORD, isn’t this just TOTAL hell?’ came a strident voice. She glanced up. To her utter surprise, Caroline, in a bright red fitted dress that was almost totally inappropriate for a school concert, but which also still looked slightly amazing, was marching through the serried ranks of other parents, who parted to let her through.

‘Darling, thank GOD there’s someone I know here. Everyone else looks COMPLETELY feral.’

Issy winced and tried to make a ‘she doesn’t really mean it’ face to the rest of the world.

‘Sssh,’ she said. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Oh GOD, well, if that bastard goes through with what he’s threatening, I’m going to have to send Hermia to this hellhole one day and have her mugged for her watch and shoes before she’s even made it through the metal detector.’

‘Caroline, can you keep your voice down?’

Caroline looked mutinous. ‘I was hoping they’d ban me, then the Bastard would have to keep them at their private school like any rational human being. I don’t understand how he can be so evil.’

‘I think it’s rather a good school,’ said Issy. ‘It’s integrated, progressive—’

‘I don’t want progressive,’ hissed Caroline. ‘I want them hit on the hand with a ruler three times a day and doing cold runs in their underpants. Build a bit of bloody backbone, that’s what this country needs.’

‘But doesn’t that turn out bastards like your ex?’ said Issy. The mulled wine must be stronger than she’d thought.

‘Well, quite,’ said Caroline. ‘He shafted me before I had the chance to shaft him. If it wasn’t happening to me, I’d probably be quite impressed.’

A slightly fusty-looking older man was standing on the platform, speaking into a microphone that bent feedback in and out. ‘Can everyone sit down, please?’ he was saying, his tone of voice indicating that he fully expected to repeat that exact sentence several times before anyone actually listened to him. The sole spotlight reflected off his bald head as he bent over to look at his notes.

‘Christ,’ said Caroline. ‘Is there anywhere we can get a drink round here?’

‘I think he’s asking us to sit down,’ said Issy.

‘Well, I can see what you were like at school,’ said Caroline.

‘Yeah, likewise,’ said Issy, steering her gently up the aisle and passing over her mulled wine. Caroline tasted it and made a face. Everyone had started shuffling in and Issy couldn’t see a seat anywhere. All eyes were on Caroline in her bright tight dress. Issy was burning up.

Finally they landed right at the front.

‘Oh God,’ said Caroline loudly. ‘I think I’ve seen enough, actually.’ She stared meaningfully at the teacher on stage.

‘I will take you out,’ said Issy warningly.

‘What?’ said Caroline. ‘We’re paying for this school, I think we deserve to see how it stacks up.’

‘Actually it’s a publicly funded school so everyone’s paying for it,’ said Issy. ‘It can kind of do what it likes.’

Caroline snorted again. ‘Ha, as if Richard pays tax. Right, if he says “Winterval”, I’m out of here.’

‘I think Winterval is an urban myth,’ said Issy.

‘Like Kwanzaa?’

‘No, I think Kwanzaa is a real holiday.’

‘Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Carnforth Road School Christmas celebration – happy Christmas, Hanukkah, Winterval or Kwanzaa, whichever you would like.’

Issy cringed as Caroline gave her a pointed look.

‘We have, this year, with the help of our wonderful drama mistress Miss Fleur, put together something of an alternative event for you … The Tale of the Spaceman.’

There was a flourish of excited applause, as the overhead speakers came on and started with an enormous burst of synth chords. The curtain went up to reveal a perfectly black stage with nothing visible on it except, hanging from the top of it, a torch.

‘Hang on,’ said Issy. ‘Is that “A Spaceman Came Travelling”?’ She glanced at Caroline. ‘OK, it is. You win. Let’s go.’

‘I LOVE this song,’ said Caroline, suddenly looking fascinated.

In fact, despite the inevitable silliness – some very painfully sincerely delivered homilies on being an alien sent to earth to discover the terrible fate that it had been left to; a long piece on polar bears dancing that was obviously meant to be very moving but in fact left most of the audience in uncontrollable fits of mirth; a line of girls dressed as sexy penguins which was obviously meant to be funny but was in fact profoundly uncomfortable as row after row of fathers pretended they weren’t secretly figuring out how old they were; and a truly horrible orchestral interlude that wasn’t improved by being right next to the tuba player – on the whole there was a definite effort being made, which made Issy feel proud and Caroline fiddle with her telephone.

Then it was Darny’s turn. One of the smallest in the lowest year in the school, he stepped forward boldly. Issy was used to thinking of him as a large presence in their lives, as denoted by his enormous smelly trainers and pots of cheap hair gel strewn across their only bathroom, but now he seemed tiny, a small boy amidst the hulking teens and young adults.

Issy, however, had finally relaxed. Something with a strong environmental message was surely well within Darny’s remit for being on message. She quickly pulled out her phone and took an illegal photo for Austin. They were all supposed to buy the official, non-paedophile photo album afterwards, but she wasn’t sure she could wait that long. And he would have been proud, despite himself, that Darny had such a large speaking role.

Darny walked confidently towards the podium with the microphone. Issy realised she was nervous for him. She couldn’t bear speaking in public; even welcoming people into the café was hard enough some days. It didn’t seem to bother Darny at all, though. Come on, she found herself thinking. A nice little speech about saving the planet for tomorrow and they’d be home free and ready for another glass of terrible mulled wine. Caroline might even take her for a real drink.

Darny lifted up his speech as he got to the podium.

‘Written on recycled paper,’ he quipped, which got an appreciative laugh from the audience. He paused, then began.