Bella hoped her voice sounded convincing because it really wasn’t that believable in her head. The truth was, the more she read through the script the more she thought it was all a bit … odd. Not that Mr Osbourne was right. She didn’t see anything wrong with the songs. In fact, she thought Mrs Brody had done a wonderful job, but the scenes were a bit all over the place. One minute Mary and Joseph were on a donkey and the next minute a mixture of animals that had never before been seen in a Christmas play were singing modern hits in a chorus line, all with a bit of thigh-slapping panto flavour thrown in. It would definitely be one the parents didn’t forget, but Mrs Brody’s enthusiasm always swept them along. Unless you were Nina and Johnny, in which case your abject terror swept you along.

‘Amias, give Richard back his script please. It’s not yours; you have your own, so I suggest you pick it up and look at it.’

Amias had clearly thought she hadn’t noticed him snatch it as she was talking to Hannah, but over the years Bella had perfected that technique teachers and parents often do of predicting events before they happen. Knowing that Amias was getting bored and a little disruptive, she had kept watch from the corner of her eye and, sure enough, as soon as he suspected her attention was elsewhere, he’d taken poor Richard’s script and was refusing to give it back, despite being asked nicely. Amias definitely needed to run off some energy at breaktime.

‘Desmond, can you recite your line for me, please? Then we’ll finish this scene and have afternoon break.’

‘But the other kids have already gone out,’ moaned Amias.

‘Yes, but, Amias, if you hadn’t been messing around so much, we’d have got further along. I’m sorry to say you’ve been a bit silly this afternoon, haven’t you?’

Knowing he was about to refute the allegation, Bella hurried Desmond on. He recited his line in that strange way children have of sounding like a robot whilst also placing inflections in entirely the wrong places.

‘Why did that angel have to send us all the way to Bethlehem, Mary? It’s miles away and there isn’t even a McDonald’s.’