Page 29 of Every Christmas Eve
‘We’ll be with you soon,’ I shout back to him. ‘Whatever you do, don’t come out here to greet us. No, no, don’t budge. We’ll come to you. As usual, Your Highness.’
I wink at my mum, who tilts her head.
‘It’s so good to have you both here,’ she says, her smile contradicting the sadness in her eyes.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’
‘Of course I am, now you’re here. Do I tell you enough how fine you are to me, Ben?’ she asks me. ‘You’re so like your father, but nowhere near as moody, thank the Lord. I hope he doesn’t haunt me for saying that.’
I nod towards a family portrait that hangs on the wall. It’s from the late nineties, our whole attire is abysmal, but I love it because every one of us has laughter and boldness in our eyes. It took ages for my dad to stop blinking every timethe photographer took a shot, which led to his frustration, which ultimately made the rest of laugh before he joined in with the giggles too.
‘He’s never too far away, is he?’ I say with a smile. ‘Which is both comforting and frightening at the same time. What do you think he’d say about us bringing back the party on Christmas Eve?’
My mother’s eyes widen. She takes a deep breath.
‘Funnily, I think he’d rather be where he is now than face all that again,’ she says. ‘If there’s such a thing as turning in his grave, he’ll be spinning.’
‘I have a feeling you could be right,’ I say, following her into the kitchen.
‘What about you?’ she asks. ‘Do you think this is a good idea, or are you still on the proverbial fence? That local committee was very persuasive, Ben. I’m sorry if it’s putting you under pressure. Two weeks isn’t a long time to organise a party.’
‘I just hope and pray that the committee has plenty of members who are as keen on the day itself, when we need all hands on deck,’ I tell her. ‘Ah, I’ve mixed feelings about it all, Mum, but we’ve made our call now, so I guess we run with it and pray it’s not a big fat disaster like the last one.’
Mum closes her eyes and shudders.
‘Let’s not even go there,’ she whispers. ‘I could have a heart attack just thinking of it, but these rooms have been too still for too long. Ballyheaney House wasn’t built for that.’
She looks away. I couldn’t agree more. It’s exceptionallybeautiful but it has been so quiet here in recent years, it’s almost ghostly.
‘This Mrs Quinn lady who wrote to you,’ I say to her. ‘Perhaps we could meet with her to see if her people can help us in advance with the planning since it was their grand idea?’
‘No,’ Mum replies, then a little more softly. ‘No, Ben. I don’t think that will be necessary. I don’t want anyone involved who wasn’t involved before. Let’s keep our circle small and surprise them all with a wonderful day at the most wonderful time of the year.’
‘Point noted and taken, loud and clear,’ I reply.
‘Do you have a Christmas tree up yet, Grandma?’ Ava asks, wandering around and looking for even the slightest sign that Christmas might be a stone’s throw away. There’s nothing as far as I can see.
‘I don’t yet, but that’s a job for your dad this weekend,’ she replies. ‘I don’t fancy going into the dusty attic and there’s no way Uncle Eric will be of any help, so it’s over to Ben, I’m afraid. Oops, I don’t think he knew about that!’
‘But we’re only here for one night,’ I remind her. ‘That can wait until next weekend, surely. One step at a time, ladies. I’m only one person.’
‘You’re our real-life hero,’ says Mum, while Ava nods in agreement. I’ve a feeling there could be a lot of jobs ahead I didn’t know about.
‘Any chance of some help with the horse racing at Sandown, Ben, before it’s bloody bedtime?’ Uncle Eric comes waddling into the kitchen, speaking at the top of his voice. ‘I’ve been flicking through all afternoon, and I simply cannotfind it. There’s nothing smart about this TV. Codswallop, that’s what it is. Bring back analogue, for crying out loud!’
‘Come on, let me figure it out,’ I reply, as my mother goes to lead Ava off in the opposite direction. ‘But I told you on the phone last week. You need to be smart to use a smart TV.’
‘Ha, flaming ha!’ he chuckles in return. ‘Well then, we’re all feckin’ goosed, aren’t we!’
‘Welcome home,’ whispers Mum over her shoulder. Her eyes meet mine, and I feel my heart soar.
I say this every time I come here, but I should really do this more often.
With my uncle tucked up in the sitting room watching his beloved sport at last, and Roly at his feet by the fire, and with Ava happy and content with her grandma in the kitchen, I leave them all to it as I carry in our overnight bags from the car, followed by the bunch of flowers and holly wreath, and finally the two hot chocolate drinks which will need a blast in the microwave by now.
‘Why don’t you give mine to Uncle Eric for his sweet tooth,’ I say with a wink to Ava. ‘Between that, the horse racing and the holly wreath, we should be off to a very positive start.’
Uncle Eric’s mood changes remarkably when we show him the holly wreath. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, I can almost say he gets emotional.
