I was picking my grandsons up from school last week, and I overheard a fascinating conversation in the playground …
Three women were waiting on their kids coming out. I saw them every week and we were on nodding terms. One of them was a tall lady, quite distinguished looking. She smiled, she nodded, she shook her head – but she rarely spoke.
The other two more than made up for her, though. Maggie and Lisa. They never stopped. Maybe the tall woman had just given up trying to get a word in.
“You going to the Nativity tomorrow, Margaret?”
“Nativity? Nativity! I’ll no be going to any fuckin’ nativity!
Don’t hold back, Margaret, speak up! I thought to myself.
Margaret was a tiny wee mum in a tracksuit. Her voice was really loud for someone so small – very impressive. A miniature foghorn! Feisty, I would call her – but not to her face, though!
“Why are you no’ goin, Margaret?” asked Lisa, Margaret’s mate. They were always together, and I’m pretty sure Lisa knew very well why Margaret wasn’t going to the Nativity play. I would wager wee Maggie had talked about nothing else for days.
“Hunter’s a donkey!” Margaret said. “That bitch has made my Hunter a fuckin’ donkey! That’s why I’m no’ goin’”
“What bitch, Margaret?” the first woman asked, probably innocently enough.
“Mrs Bell. Mrs fuckin’ Bell. She’s got it in for my Hunter. Hunter should have been Joseph. He had his heart set on it – he’s been going to drama classes and everything – and she makes him a fuckin’ DONKEY!’
Heads were starting to turn. Lisa said: “Keep yer voice doon, Margaret. The bairns will be oot the now!”
“Sorry, hen. I’m still fuckin’ livid” Margaret’s volume dropped a few decibels – but only a few.
“At least he’s got a part, Margaret. And did he no’ get asked to leave the drama class?”
If Margaret’s pal was trying to calm her down (and I’m not convinced she was, really), it had the opposite effect
“No, we took him out of that class, it was rubbish. Hunter is just full of energy and ideas and they couldn’t channel it properly. It was their fault. Arty-farty idiots.”
She paused for breath “What makes it worse – what really makes me SO FUCKIN’ MAD – is that that wee goody two shoes William is playing Joseph. Everybody knows he’s Joseph just because his mother is Chair of the PTA. Mrs Bell had got it in for my Hunter – and she’s a crawling bitch!”
With Margaret in full flow the women hadn’t noticed that the school bell had sounded and the children were coming out. I hoped my own grandkids would not be out too quickly as I wanted to hear the end of this saga.
The wee group was approached by another woman. “Good afternoon, ladies. Will we be seeing you at the Nativity play tomorrow?”
A strange transformation came over Margaret. She became a different person – and even sounded strangely posh! “Oh yes, Mrs Bell. We’re really looking forward to it – my Hunter is so very excited. He can hardly wait!”
As Mrs Bell walked off to speak to another group, Lisa said: “WELL, you certaintly telt here there, Margaret! You really put her in her place!”
There was a brief pause, and Margaret burst out laughing.
“You cow! That’s you off the Christmas card list, as well!”
The three women were still laughing as they left with their kids.
I never heard how Hunter got on as the donkey and whether young William was a triumph as Joseph. And I’ll never know if Margaret sent Lisa a Christmas card – but I think she probably did.
Happy Christmas everyone!
This story was written for Edinburgh International Book Festival’s Citizen Writers Christmas event at Grassmarket Community Project.
