Page 33 of Secrets in the Snow
‘I’ve always thought there was something she wasn’t telling me,’ he says, allowing his imagination to drift off in a direction I’d never even have thought of. ‘As I grew older, there was always something on the tip of her tongue, or lingering in the air when I’d spend time with my uncle Peter. Maybe I’m clutching at straws when I say that, but it may have something to do with the row my dad and Peter had on the night of the accident my parents had. Now that Mabel is gone, I’ll never know, will I?’
I look at the pain on Aidan’s face and want to reach out and touch him, just to let him know that I’m right beside him for whatever will come next, but I refrain, not wanting to push him any further. He has opened up so much to me over the past few weeks, and I already feel us growing closer, just as Mabel wanted us to so badly.
‘Let’s just wait and see, eh?’ I suggest to him. ‘I’m sure Mabel’s next message isn’t too far away.’
18.
Mabel’s message for springtime comes on a bright morning in early April, just as Ben and I are leaving for the school run.
We are running late as my normal morning routine of making sure he has everything he needs for the day ahead – PE gear, an empty cereal box and an egg carton to make something for the craft table, dinner money for the week ahead, and a signed form for a forthcoming school trip to the zoo – takes longer than usual, due to an extra late night I’d spent researching online for branding ideas for the new business venture I’m working on for the near future.
I have the message here at last, courtesy of the postal service this morning. It’s a huge mystery as to who may have posted it.
The daffodils Mabel planted in her garden next door bob their yellow heads to bid us good morning as we leave the house for school and work. The sky is a magnificent shade of azure, and there’s a fresh, clean nip in the air and definitely an overall lift in our mood, but it’s the paddedenvelope in my handbag that came through the post that excites me most about the day ahead.
And now, as I drop Ben off at the school gates, try and fail to kiss him goodbye as he tells me off for embarrassing him in front of his schoolmates, I race back through the village to work, where I’m delighted to find the shop quiet with only the hum of the radio in the background and the sound of Camille’s footsteps upstairs.
‘Is that you, Roisin?’ she calls – our normal morning routine when I get here just after nine.
‘Yes, carry on what you’re doing,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll take over down here.’
But Camille comes down the stairs straight away and stops in her tracks when she sees the beaming smile on my face.
‘Have you won the lotto, or am I missing something else equally wonderful?’ she asks me as I make my way to the coffee dock for a caffeine fix. ‘You look like you’ve had a great start to your day.’
‘Something wonderfulhashappened to me this morning!’ I say, taking the envelope from my handbag and waving it in the air. ‘Ta daaa! It’s Mabel’s springtime message! She arranged somehow for it to be posted – after all our frantic searching. Oh Camille, I’m so excited to see what she has to say next!’
Camille takes the cup from my hand and playfully steers me towards the front door of the shop, grabbing my coat and keys on the way past and stuffing them into my hands.
‘So, what are you doing here then? Go home right now and watch it!’ she says, without taking no for an answer when I try to reply. ‘I know you’re not going to be much use around here until you do, so just go, and get Aidan, and watch it before you spontaneously combust!’
I squeeze Camille into a bear hug and race out of the door, barely catching my breath until I get home to Teapot Row to tell Aidan the good news.
‘It’s here!’ I tell him when he opens the door in his dressing gown. ‘You’ll never believe it, but it came through the post today, which is so intriguing and amazing! Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll open it together.’
I squeeze the padded envelope just a little, like a child trying to guess what’s inside a birthday present. I can feel the circular outline of a DVD again and I’m careful not to push too hard, as my veins rush with excitement at what Mabel will have to say to us this time. So it is another video message. I feel my skin tingle in anticipation of what she might have in store for us. We have both been waiting for this for so long.
‘So, how have you been?’ Aidan asks me when he calls in to watch Mabel’s message about twenty minutes later. He never fails to ask me that very simple but very meaningful question, no matter how tired or stressed or busy he is in his daily existence next door. ‘I thought this next message was never going to come. It’s nice to see you.’
‘I’ve been really good since I last saw you, what was it, about two days ago?’ I laugh, trying to think if I’ve any news since. ‘We’ve been so busy in work so the time has gone by a lot quicker than I’d expected.’
‘Let me guess,’ he says, scratching the side of his nose before going full drama mode. ‘After a top sales record in Truly Vintage, a lot of running around after Ben, some mighty fine home cooked cuisine in the kitchen, and a bit of creative genius in your new workshop upstairs, you are bursting with new energy and a mission to keep everyone smiling? Am I right or am I just jealous of your ability to for ever be wonder woman?’
Aidan’s humour and mock awe at how much I seem to pack into my day is often the way we kick-start our conversations, while I in turn will take the opportunity to tease him about how he doesn’t seem to do anything except work on his laptop, eat takeaway, and sleep a lot.
‘It’s called parenting and it’s never-ending,’ I tell him, marvelling at how he is of course spot on. It’s only when I hear it all back that I realize my life is a lot busier than I give myself credit for. ‘Being a mum is a full-time job in itself.’
He listens as I recall Ben’s latest obsession with all things equestrian and remarks that I look tired, which I take completely the wrong way of course, despite knowing it’s true, then backtracks by trying to compliment the yellow dress I am now modelling, all set for our big reveal from Mabel.
‘You’ve changed the living room around a bit,’ he says, observant as always and never missing a trick. ‘Wasn’t the sofa better where it was?’
I fleetingly feel as though we are just like an old married couple, the way we talk about everything so casually and smoothly these days. We bicker too, especially over very broad subjects like commercialism or waste, which I feel so passionately about, and which he is learning to be more mindful of as he learns to live a little bit more humbly here in Ballybray, far from the millionaire lifestyle he’d become accustomed to in the States.
He takes a seat on the sofa, which I’ve temporarily moved under the window, but to be honest I’m not so keen on it there myself and agree now with him totally. It was better where it was.
‘You must have gone on some sort of mad spring cleaning session, did you?’ he teases as I bend down to put the DVD into the player below the TV. ‘It smells good in here too. Very fresh and definitely not as musty as it can get next door sometimes. I tend to forget how old these cottages are and how little it takes to—’
‘Can you please be quiet for one second?’ I joke, eager to get on with the job at hand, and I take a seat beside him just in time for us to be greeted once more by the wondrous voice and delightful face of our beautiful Mabel. ‘I’m so freakin’ excited to see her again. Who could have posted this? I’ve so many questions!’
