‘Thank you kindly, lad,’ Denzil Porthleven said into a microphone. ‘One more round of applause for Tommy Craddock and his, um, Social Commentary Bears.’
The crowd of a couple of hundred mostly elderly people clapped politely as a dour-faced schoolboy lifted his puppet show theatre and carried it off into the shadows behind the stage curtain.
‘Next up,’ Denzil Porthleven said, forcing a smile, ‘is the amazing Lucy, and her, um, pen twirling.’
As Lucy reluctantly climbed onto the stage amidst a series of muted claps, she grimaced at Tarquin, who spread his arms wide and mouthed, ‘It’s Christmas.’
She made her way to the centre of the stage as Denzil turned up the speakers playing Christmas background music. Lucy, glad it was cold enough to stop her blushing, lifted a biro she had found b
