Page 52 of Every Christmas Eve
In the evening, I drive on to the lane at Katie’s Cottage, around the back by the row of whitewashed outhouses, and I leave the car engine running while I wait for Lou. Our table is booked for 7.30 p.m., so I’m a little early, but our plan is to take our time over a drink first before we make the short walk from Doc’s Bar to The Taphouse, another local place that’s full of memories for both of us.
Katie’s Cottage is a treat for the eyes, no matter from what angle you look at it. I imagine it’s like a Tardis inside, with all the nooks and crannies from days gone by, as well as a modern-day renovation that has still managed to keep all the old-world charm of the place.
It was once a milking farm according to my late father, with crops of potatoes and vegetables in the adjoining fields, but now the thick white stone walls frame a perfectly manicured garden.
My mind drifts back to the day Lou and I spent a rare day in summer together, before everything went terribly wrong between us. I’d come back from my studies in Paris for myfather’s sixtieth birthday and, as chance would have it, Lou was back at home after touring around America.
‘Since it’s usually either lashing with rain or snow is thick on the ground when we’re together, how about we do something totally different when we can?’ she suggested to me. ‘Any ideas?’
She was eighteen then, I was just a year older, and we thought we’d all the time in the world to be together when it suited, both believing that a future together was inevitable.
‘I could borrow my dad’s car and we could hit the coast for a beach day?’ I said, but I knew there was something else on her mind by the way she scrunched up her face. ‘Too obvious? I love how you ask me for suggestions when you’ve already a very firm plan in that clever head of yours.’
She led me to the bike shed at Ballyheaney House, where we found Cordelia’s old Raleigh as well as my Cannondale, which was barely used. Then we raided the fridge and packed a picnic of home-made sandwiches, fruit and a bottle of fizzy wine before we hit the roads of Bellaghy, stopping off right here at Katie’s Cottage along the way.
‘There she is,’ she marvelled, waving at an elderly lady who was washing the windows. ‘That’s Katie, or Kathleen, who owns the place. Isn’t it the most precious place you’ve ever laid eyes on?’
‘It’s special,’ I said, already calculating how much it would take to renovate and modernise the cottage from what I could see from afar.
‘My dream is to live here one day,’ she told me, her eyeslike saucers as she drank in its beauty. ‘But I know it will probably never, ever come up for sale. Not in my lifetime, anyhow.’
Yet here she is.
I spot her through the white net curtains that hang on the sash windows, just like Katie had back in the day, but when I look closer I can see that she’s on the phone, so I sit back and turn up some music while I wait.
Seconds later though, I look again to see how she’s wiping away tears while trying not to ruin her make-up. Should I go inside to see if she’s OK? Or should I mind my own business and give her space to come out to me in her own time?
I decide to wait, but I can’t help glancing in every few seconds in case she needs me.
‘Are you and Lou going on a date?’ Ava had asked me before I left Ballyheaney House only a few minutes ago. She, Mum and Uncle Eric had big plans for an evening of board games and gnocchi, as his Italian theme in the kitchen continued. ‘Or is it only a dinner meeting about the party?’
I looked towards my mother, who just shrugged her shoulders while Uncle Eric waved his hands, which told me I was getting no input or advice from them on how to answer.
Not so long ago, Ava had been very keen for me to date, and for a time she was as bad as my friends Matt and Vic as she threw names around like confetti.
The lady who worked in the corner shop. The one off the telly who presented the weather. Everyone, it seemed, was fair game.
Until I tried out dating, that is. Then she couldn’tdecide if she wanted a person she hadn’t even met to be her stepmother instantly, or if she wanted to keep me all to herself.
So, even though she’s on the verge of becoming a teenager now, I’m reminded to tread carefully.
‘Lou is a very dear friend to me,’ I tell my daughter. ‘She is very kind and very funny too, but we have a lot of planning still to do for the party. And I promise you that if I ever go dating with anyone, you’ll be first to know.’
Mum nodded her head and kept quiet, as did Uncle Eric. Ava too seemed pleased with my response, but she wasn’t letting it go that easily.
‘I bet she’ll look very pretty,’ she said. ‘I really like her style.’
‘And if you do decide it’s a date and not a business meeting,’ my mother said to me, ‘you can let yourself in quietly. We won’t wait up either way.’
From what I can see from the car, Ava was bang on with her prediction. Lou is wearing red, which was always her colour with her dark hair. I wish I knew what has upset her though.
What could it be? Has she had bad news?
And then it dawns on me. Gracie has decided to stay in New York for Christmas. That will be it, for sure.
I get out of the car and make a dash through the rain for the back door of the cottage, then I quietly make my way into the living area where Lou now rocks back and forward on an old-fashioned floral armchair, still talking to her daughter.
‘I’m not crying. I think I’ve got a bit of a head cold, that’s all,’ she sniffles, even though I can see the tears in her eyes. ‘And you’ve no need to cry either, Gracie, my love. I’m happy for you. I said from the beginning that whatever you chose, I’d be right behind you every step of the way.’
