Page 49 of Every Christmas Eve
‘Nana, can you at least try to be a little bit more discreet?’I say, laughing, on my way past. ‘Ah, I think I’m going to run out of greenery for the big Ballyheaney House garland, but not to panic. I’ll go foraging for more in the next day or so. And we’re totally out of poinsettias too. This Christmas rush is very welcome, even if we’re finding it hard to catch our breath.’
My feet are aching already, but it’s not bothering me as much as it usually did as I watch the clock tick down to lunchtime. As soon as Ben gets back, he’ll drop Ava off for an hour and hopefully I can show him how my floral centrepiece displays are coming on ahead of Christmas Eve on Wednesday.
‘Lou, I know you’re incredibly busy, but could I have a quick word?’ Master Campbell asks me from his usual table when I rush past to carry on with my floral preparations. ‘I can follow you so as not to disturb you too much. We can talk as you work.’
‘Of course,’ I reply, hoping he isn’t sick or worried about something too serious. ‘Come this way. Is all OK, Edward?’
It feels strange calling him by his first name, as he’ll always be the schoolmaster to me, but after he’s told me to at least three times, I feel it’s only polite to oblige.
I walk towards my long workstation table at the back of the florist’s, where a selection of elegant white roses, pine cones, greenery, gold ribbon and church candles are waiting for me to bring them together for the tables on Christmas Eve.
While the smell of fresh coffee from the far end of the store can be overpowering, I’m delighted that today the entire place smells of floral aromas and Christmas trees. All I neednow is for Gracie to call with her final decision on where she plans to spend the holidays, and with luck, everything will fall into place in the way I am hoping.
Talk about leaving it to the last minute.
‘So, it’s nothing serious. Don’t be worrying, but I’ve bought two tickets for the Christmas Eve bash at Ballyheaney House,’ Master Campbell tells me in hushed tones, even though there’s no chance anyone could hear him over the festive music, the coffee machine and the chatter from across the room.
‘Oh yes?’ I say.
‘But that’s the problem, you see,’ he says. ‘I boughttwo.’
The penny drops.
‘Ah.’
‘I think I did it out of sheer habit, Lou,’ he says, his friendly face forlorn. ‘I mean, I’ve never bought one ticket to anything in my life, so I automatically bought two as if I’d someone to go with. What a silly fool I am.’
I can barely look him in the eye, as his words resonate with me so much. When John and I parted ways in New York, I’d been so used to buying tickets for the two of us to see theatre shows and concerts, or even reserving a table for two in a restaurant, that it was hard to adjust. After a breakup or a bereavement, it’s another slap in the face when you’re reminded of how even the simplest things are so very, very different now.
‘I don’t think you’re a silly fool at all,’ I say. Suddenly, my nimble fingers feel thick and clumsy as I try to keep working as we’re talking, like he suggested. ‘I think a lotmore people than you realise would understand your thinking totally. It’s a long, difficult journey you’re on, but you’re doing so well.’
‘Yes, yes, I suppose so,’ he replies. ‘I hope I am.’
‘The event has completely sold out,’ I tell him. ‘So, if you want to leave your extra ticket with me, I can easily sell it on and give you your money back.’
He doesn’t reply as quickly as I thought he might. Instead, he is looking over towards the coffee bar, where my mother and grandmother are in a heated debate over something or other as usual.
‘Unless?’ he suggests.
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t.
‘Aha!’ I say, my eyes widening like saucers. ‘Unless you ask someone to accompany you to the party?’
‘Yes,’ he says, brightening up already. ‘That’s what I was thinking.’
‘Now, that would be a perfect solution,’ I tell him. ‘I imagine you might want to leave it until we’re a little less busy, then pop the question. Everyone loves going to Ballyheaney House at Christmas – well, almost everyone – and I don’t think anyone wants to make a grand entrance alone.’
‘Not in a romantic way, of course,’ he declares. ‘That might be too soon, but then, time waits for none of us, does it?’
‘Time waits for none of us,’ I repeat after him. ‘I say go for it.’
He shuffles from foot to foot, staring at my handiwork.My hands have finally found their mojo again now that I know I’ve helped him find his way.
‘I’ve been thinking about this all morning, Lou,’ he says, ‘so I hope you don’t mind me running it by you for some clarity?’
‘Of course not.’
‘That’s another thing I miss,’ he says, his eyes following my hands as I arrange tiny white roses around a thick church candle. ‘I don’t have anyone to run things by, you know. We all need a second opinion now and then, but my son is so far away, and I always struggle with the time difference if I do need to ask him something.’
