Page 42 of Every Christmas Eve
Never in a million years did I think I’d ever be like this, but I feel a thrill and a rush every time I think of the upcoming party. The buzz of seeing our plans come together is already brightening my whole being.
‘The primary school was absolutely delighted to be invited to sing in the welcoming reception,’ Lou told me during the week, when we caught up before bedtime on the phone. ‘So I’ve asked Mr Lowe, the principal, to prepare a selection of favourites as well as some upbeat singalongs we all know like “Jingle Bells”. That will be a sweet and festive way to open the party. And the lady from the cancer charity is going to setup an information stall in the drawing room, where we’ll also have some goody bags sponsored by a few local businesses. She’ll drop those off the day before.’
‘Gosh, you have been busy,’ I said, sitting at the island in my kitchen. ‘Well done on sorting all of that at such short notice, Lou. If you can let me know how many kids there’ll be, I’ll put down a reminder on my notes here to get them some chocolate treats for their contribution. I’m sure I can pull in a few favours close to me here too.’
I clicked my pen as I scrolled down my to-do list, wondering not only how I’d ever have managed without Lou, but also how unbelievably uplifting it was to be around her energy again. She always had filled me up with so much joy, no matter what was going on in each of our lives, but as much as we’re progressing professionally, our personal connection is staying very cool and collected.
‘I’m also waiting on confirmation from a jazz quartet as the main entertainment.’
‘Jazz?’
‘Yes, a four-piece jazz band, what do you think?’ she asked. ‘A piano, double bass, percussion and sax? I thought it would raise the roof and bring a totally different vibe from before, but in the best possible way.’
‘Wow.’
‘Wow exactly,’ she said. ‘We want this party to blow everyone’s socks off, Ben. No half measures. Cordelia agrees that it’s a good idea, but I told her I’d run it past you first of course.’
‘You rock,’ I said, knowing already this could be the bestChristmas Eve party ever. ‘Or should I say, you jazz. Sorry, that was a horrible dad joke. But honestly, Lou. You’ve no idea how much of a difference you’re making already.’
‘My pleasure,’ she replied. I could hear the delight in her voice. She was enjoying the party planning as much as she used to.
‘Cordelia’s canapé menu is outstanding,’ I said, starting on my own list of updates. ‘I’ve pulled in a sponsor for the ingredients, and a friend of a friend has agreed to donate a crate of sparkling wine. Mum says the local committee are sending some extra hands on the day to help with serving food and drinks, so we’re covered in that department too, which is a relief.’
‘Serving food and drinks just like we used to do when we were young and fresh-faced,’ said Lou. I had an instant flashback to how in those early days we couldn’t walk past each other in the ballroom without a cheeky touch or a playful word.
And now, with only five days until Christmas Eve, it’s time to get planning in person again.
‘Freya was so jealous when I told her I’m allowed to choose a playlist for the drawing room, Dad, but she has no idea of the work I’m putting into it all,’ she says in the car as we travel up north at last. ‘Lou told me to try and cater for all age groups and all tastes, and to keep it festive. Not to mention helping Grandma bake more gingerbread men this weekend after our first trial run was such a success. And I haven’t even thought of what I’m going to wear yet.’
We drive along in silence at that, knowing that once againAva isn’t like the other girls at school who get to go clothes shopping with someone who’ll fuss over them and help them choose the right colour and style with perhaps a few arguments along the way.
It’s not a sexist thing on my part. Some dads have a superb flair for fashion, but while I adore the idea of helping Ava with her wardrobe selection, I also know that no matter how cool I try to be, it’s simply not my thing, especially as she approaches her teenage years. I’m out of touch. I know I’ll only make her roll her eyes and get frustrated. Still, I can’t help trying.
‘Don’t you have a really nice red sparkly—’
‘Dad, please,’ she giggles. ‘I had that dress when I was ten. Aunty Vic gave it to her niece once I’d outgrown it.’
‘I’m sure Vic would have helped you choose something. She has excellent taste.’
But my suggestion for Matt’s wife to help is met with a deep sigh and more silence.
‘I’d like to kind of dress differently when I’m older,’ she says. ‘You know, like Nana Molly, who works in Buds and Beans? She doesn’t follow fashion, she told me. She creates her own.’
I can’t help but raise my eyebrows. If I’m correct, Lou always questioned both her mother’s and her grandmother’s somewhat eclectic taste in clothing.
‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be unique,’ I tell her, being as diplomatic as I can, but sure, what would I know?
‘She told me last time I could hang out with her again inthe florist’s,’ Ava tells me. ‘Maybe I could call in again this weekend?’
‘Of course you can,’ I say, feeling my insides glow. ‘You can pick her brain on where she gets her clothes too, perhaps?’
Once again, I seem to have said something totally ridiculous.
‘Nana Molly is like eighty or something, so even though I like her style, I don’t think it’s for me just yet,’ she says eventually. ‘I messaged Cordelia to ask her for ideas and she suggested she could paint my face with snowflakes and tiny Christmas trees. Dad, seriously. She still thinks I’m a baby when I’m practically a teenager now.’
‘Practically,’ I reply as I drive along to Chris Rea on the radio with a million plans in my head. As this is the last weekend before Christmas Eve, we need to keep everything rolling if we’re going to be ready on time.
The heat is on, but I’ve a feeling that with Lou on board and Cordelia on catering, it’s all under control.
