The Butterfly Box(76)
shrivelled face pressed up against the hymn book because she was too proud to admit she needed glasses. A murmur passed through the congregation when the Appleby family entered and took their places at the front of the church. Nuno trotted in first on the balls of his feet with his tortoise nose in the air and a devout expression frozen onto his face. ‘Girls, you’re not a pair of pious penguins. Hold your hands together in front of you like vestal virgins,’ he hissed to Molly and Hester whose shoulders hunched up and shuddered as they tried their best to suppress their giggles. Hester caught Federica’s eye as she passed and winked at her. Federica forced a thin smile in return but she didn’t feel like smiling. Ingrid swept by dressed in a velvet turban and long green velvet coat that reached to the ground and trailed along behind her as if she were an ageing bride. She greeted everyone with a gracious nod of her noble head but she didn’t see any of their faces because her eyes had misted over with the beauty of the music. Inigo shuffled down in a mangy brown duffel coat and felt hat pulled low over his ill-tempered face followed by Sam, who was already bored, Bea in a short skirt, Lucien and Joey.
Once the Applebys had settled into their seats the Reverend Boyble sprung into the centre of the nave like a jolly frog. His bulbous brown eyes swept
cheerfully over the attentive faces of his congregation and he smiled a very wide, charming smile. ‘Welcome,’ he enthused in a surprisingly high, thin voice. ‘Welcome everyone. Today is a very special day because it is Jesus’ birthday.’
Sam yawned, opening his mouth wide like a hippo. The Reverend Boyble noticed his yawn and chuckled. ‘I see some of you would prefer to be in bed on this glorious morning, or perhaps you’re tired of opening all those presents. I thank you for making the effort to come.’ Sam sat up stiffly and tried to prevent his face from flushing by focusing on the crucifix that hung above the altar.
‘Effort, hmmm . . .’ murmured Reverend Boyble thoughtfully, rubbing his thumbs over the surface of his prayer book. ‘Effort is a virtuous thing. It’s all too easy to allow laziness to lead us down the path of evil. I wonder whether you all know the story of the two frogs in the milk bowl.’ He cast his eyes about the faces that stared back at him expectantly. ‘They were stuck and couldn’t get out. It would have been quite easy for the stronger frog to have stepped on the weaker frog, thereby ensuring him a swiff leg-up to safety. But the stronger frog didn’t go for the easy option. Instead he continued to kick and kick together with the weaker frog in an enormous effort to throw himself
up the side of the bowl. Well, his efforts were rewarded. They kicked so hard and for so long that the milk turned to butter, thereby allowing them to simply hop out with no trouble at all. That is effort, my good people. It brings its own rewards.’ A murmur of admiration rippled through the congregation. Today is Jesus’ birthday, so let us celebrate with the first carol on your service sheet, “Away in a Manger.’”
Federica knew some carols because they had sung them at school in Chile, although the words had been in Spanish. It had been an age since she had last spoken Spanish, she thought unhappily, and she attempted to sing along quietly the way she had been taught in Viña. Suddenly all the homesickness and longing she had suffered silently for so long rebelled against her failing will and clawed their way into her throat, causing her eyes to water in discomfort and her chin to tremble. In her mind’s eye she saw scenes of her past opening up to her like a vision of a lost world. Her heart stalled when she saw the dark face of her father emerge in all its magnificence and as much as she tried to hold back the tears they cascaded down her cheeks because she searched his eyes for love but found only indifference. At once she felt desperately empty and sad. All those wasted hours believing he’d come and visit. How naive she
had been. He had obviously forgotten about them because it was Christmas and he had never missed a Christmas, ever. She knew now that he would never come and her spirits sunk lower than they had ever sunk. Helena placed a hand on her shoulder, sensing her daughter’s distress. She too missed Chile and in a strange way, Ramon. But she was more practised at hiding her melancholy and sang more heartily than ever.
During the sermon Reverend Boyble spoke about the meaning of Christmas with great enthusiasm. ‘Christmas is a time for love and forgiveness,’ he preached. Federica listened to him but she felt no love or forgiveness, just an aching wound that refused to heal. As the full enormity of her father’s rejection reached her understanding, her vision misted until the candles glowed like small suns and Reverend Boyble was reduced to a black blur, his voice no more than a low hum in the distance. She felt the heat prickle on her skin as she made one last effort to suppress a sob, but her chest was too small to withstand such a violent tirade. Abruptly she stood up and shuffled blindly past her grandparents who looked at each other in bewilderment. She then ran up the aisle, pushed open the heavy oak door and burst out into the snow where she was finally able to let herself go and howl into the icy air.