Page 80 of Every Christmas Eve
Ava points up to the bright, shining moon, showing her dad with delight.
‘I see her, baby,’ he tells her. ‘I told you I see her everywhere we go.’
I watch on with the strong feeling that the fuzzy joy of Christmas might be a bit closer now at long last. We deserve this and we need this.
And I think I can say that now for all of us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Christmas Eve
Shimmering baubles glisten under the chandeliers in the huge hallway, fairy lights twinkle and dance above the glow of flickering church candles on every surface, and the smell of spicy mulled wine mixed with fresh pine fills the air.
Everyone is dressed for the occasion already, except Ava, who is upstairs with Cordelia trying to choose between an outfit all the way from Madrid, or a sparkly dress she claims is ‘a bit last year’.
I think the Spanish option might win.
I also imagine that Cordelia will be itching to get back to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on her culinary delights in time for serving. My mouth waters at the thought of it all.
‘Excuse me? Over this way, please,’ I call out to the leader of the jazz band, who is heading in the wrong direction with what looks like a large trombone. ‘Yes, follow me and I’ll show you where to set up in the ballroom. Thank you so much. I can’t wait to hear your music. What a treat!’
The jazz musician and his fellow band members follow as Ben brushes past me, barely time to stop, though he touchesmy arm briefly before making his way to the front door to greet some of the villagers who have volunteered for car-park and waitering duties.
I shiver beneath his touch, remembering how hard it was for him to leave me last night after we’d spent a snatched couple of hours together in my cottage once Ava was tucked up in bed, fast asleep and full of excitement for everything that today will bring. We lit the fire in my bedroom for the first time, we talked through the whole event from start to finish, and we made up for our last attempt at romance by lying in each other’s arms. It was heavenly.
I tiptoe into the ballroom for a final look and my heart swells with pride. It truly is a sight to behold. The long, snow-white table is laid with fine china, while shining cutlery and crystal glasses all gleam in the soft light.
My harp sits tall and strong, waiting for me to bring it to life again, a request from Tilda I couldn’t possibly refuse and a nice way of me remembering my dad, who bought it for me all those years ago.
In the corner just like before, Jack Heaney’s stage is already filled with musical instruments and a sound system to get the party started.
I only wish Gracie was here to see it all. I wish Nana Molly was coming too, but it turns out old Edward didn’t invite her after all, and Nana laughed at the suggestion when I mentioned it, so it’s probably a good thing he didn’t.
‘Lou, he’s far too young for me,’ she said. ‘I wish you all well with the event, but I won’t be attending. I burnt my bridges with the Heaneys long ago, and I’d rather spend theafternoon in front of the telly with a sherry in peace, no harm intended.’
‘Jealous,’ whispered Mum, who to the contrary was buzzing even more than I’d anticipated. She couldn’t wait for the clock to turn two so she could show up in her new emerald-green dress and matching shoes. But I was baffled by what Nana said about burning bridges. It seems there is more to her avoidance of Ballyheaney House than she’s been letting on, but she refused to comment any further and I got tired of asking her. Maybe she’ll tell me when it’s all over.
‘Thank you, Lou,’ Tilda says, coming up behind me as I take a moment to double-check the ballroom set-up before our guests arrive. ‘I’m not sure I’ve said it to you enough, but despite whatever hiccups may have arisen over the past few days, we couldn’t have created this magic without you. The whole house is like something from a fairy tale.’
‘It really is,’ I agree. ‘It not only looks like a fairy tale, but it feels like a fairy tale too. What a team. There’s no way I can take all the credit. It’s your beautiful home, after all.’
Tilda looks around in wonder. It really is a sight to behold, from the crackling log fire in the grate to the snowflake-shaped napkin holders, which add a playful touch to the elegance. The flowers are exquisite, if I do say so myself, with the white roses looking particularly beautiful against the gold ribbon.
‘I think Jack, grumpy as he may have been, would be very proud of us today,’ says Tilda. ‘You have really made him part of it all with your finishing touches and finesse.’
My eyes fill up when she puts her arm around my shoulder,a gesture that I know is way out of her comfort zone. Tilda is a warm and loving mother and grandmother, but outside of her immediate family circle she is reserved when it comes to showing emotion.
‘Even the weather is on our side,’ I say, nodding at the long windows to acknowledge the crisp, dry afternoon we’ve been blessed with. ‘A far cry from yesterday’s torrential downpour. Yes, I agree. It sure does look like Mr Heaney might approve after all.’
Out in the hallway, Ben is organising the small group of schoolchildren, who are impeccably dressed in Christmas jumpers, ready and eager to greet our guests with Christmas carols. He looks dashing in his tuxedo, another subtle nod to his father’s absence. Despite his reluctance to embrace the party, Jack Heaney would always turn up on the day looking fresh and dapper in black and white, his dicky bow perfectly tied beneath his chin. Uncle Eric has followed suit in similar attire, and with Cordelia’s help his usually wispy white hair is slicked to the side. If I’m not mistaken, I believe he may even have allowed her to trim his bushy eyebrows.
‘There she is! My golden girl,’ Uncle Eric says to me in the hallway, looking in admiration at my black, sequinned jumpsuit and killer heels, which I know I’ll regret wearing very soon. ‘Is it too early for champagne? I feel incredibly nervous, Lou. Maybe it’s my old age but I’m shaking.’
‘Same,’ I say, linking my arm through his. I lean my head on his shoulder. ‘Uncle Eric, did you open your Christmas present early?’
I’d left him a sneaky present under the sitting-room tree which he seems to have found already.
‘I have absolutely no idea what you might be talking about, but boy, I smell good,’ he laughs.
