Page 18 of Every Christmas Eve
‘No, it’s nothing you said, and I’m not in trouble. I wasn’t even going to tell you today but now I feel I should,’ she says without looking at the camera. I swallow hard, hoping that whatever comes next isn’t as serious as she thinks. ‘Mom, I’m so torn. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Oh, Gracie.’
‘I know how much this Christmas means to you,’ she says, ‘especially with it being your first one in Ireland, but if I leave Dad then I’ll feel so guilty too because the little ones want me there and they’re growing up so fast. They’re so excited for Santa.’
My heart bleeds for her while a wave of mum guilt rips through my veins.
‘I haven’t booked a flight yet because I am torn between Nana Molly getting older, and being with you of course, but then Charlie and Lily are at a magical age that won’t last forever either,’ she continues. ‘They really want me to stay, Mom. I don’t know what to do.’
As upset as I know this is going to make me when it all sinks in, I can breathe again knowing my daughter isn’t in any sort of danger, that she isn’t sick and that she isn’t going to come to any harm.
‘Gracie, darling, you don’t need to cry, honey,’ I whisper, shaking my head as I try to reassure her. ‘I totally understandhow hard this must be for you, but if it’s upsetting you this much then just go with what your gut tells you and stick with it.’
‘But, Mom.’
‘There are no buts in all of this,’ I tell her, even though my insides are brewing up an earthquake of disappointment. It’s something I’m going to have to discuss with her dad so we can both ensure she doesn’t feel she has to be split down the middle between us at any time of the year. ‘You are an adult now, and you are entitled to make up your own mind with every decision that comes your way. But at the same time, sometimes being an adult sucks, and we have to make decisions we don’t really want to.’
‘It sucks big time,’ she says, looking relieved already.
‘As long as you know that I’m always here for advice or to brainstorm any problem you ever have,’ I tell her. ‘And never forget I’ll support you every step of the way. Whatever you decide, me and your dad will run with it. End of story.’
I can almost see the stress lift from Gracie’s face when I finish, which makes me happy even though deep down I am engulfed with sadness. I’m not mad with her, I’m sad at the situation we’re now in. A situation I created by upping sticks and moving so far away from her, even though she was the one who convinced me to make it all happen.
‘You’re the best, Mom,’ she tells me.
‘I know, I know,’ I say, hoping it will raise a smile. ‘What can I say? I’m fully schooled in matters of the heart, and I may as well be a guru when it comes to parenting. I learnedit all on the job, with no formal training whatsoever, but that doesn’t matter because I knoweverything.’
She laughs and rolls her eyes on hearing a phrase I’ve said to her many times, especially throughout her teenage years when I used to remind her how it’s my first time on this planet too, yet I’m always only ever going to do my best for her even when I’m winging it.
‘I have to go now,’ she says, sounding like a weight has been lifted off her young shoulders. ‘I’ve a lecture on Linguistics for two whole hours, but I’ll be able to concentrate on it a bit more now we’ve had this conversation. I’ll make a proper decision really soon. Love you!’
‘I love you too, Gracie,’ I reply, before we wave like maniacs and debate over who will hang up first, just for fun.
But there’s nothing fun about the possibility of facing Christmas in a different country, far from your only daughter, is there? And I must understand that as much as I could jump on the phone now and ask John if he’s been stirring things up, his family has a right to want to spend Christmas with her too.
So I’ll just have to take it on the chin if she decides to stay stateside this year, something which is much easier said than done. I love my gorgeous cottage and my wonderful job, and being so close to my mum and my grandmother is the best in so many ways, but there are still times like this when I ask the universe why it brought me back here after all these years.
Or why the hell I ever chose to listen to it in the first place.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ben
Twelve Days to Christmas Eve
Ava is almost levitating with excitement when I pick her up from school at lunchtime on Friday before we embark on our first party-planning journey to Ballyheaney House.
She has already taken off her school tie by the time she gets into the car, chatting ten to the dozen.
‘Careful Roly doesn’t jump out!’ I remind her, but she’s an expert at manoeuvring our ten-year-old canine friend by now. ‘He seems very excited to be on a road trip, but we’ll have to stop at all the usual places to let him stretch his legs.’
‘And pee, Dad,’ says Ava, leaning in to pet his furry face. ‘We don’t want any accidents on the new leather seats, do we, Roly? Dad would go mental, wouldn’t he?’
I’m not sure I’ve heard such joy in her voice or seen such a grin on her face since we won Meet and Greet tickets to see some cool indie band she was into a few months ago. Apparently, they’re already ‘so last year’, but at the time she was like the cat that had got the cream.
‘It’s one-thirty now,’ I say out loud. ‘I want to get to Ballyheaney House in daylight if possible so I can check over as much as I can before we leave again tomorrow. But next weekend, I’ll be driving there after school finishes, and we’ll stay for Christmas.’
My daughter is barely listening to my terms and conditions, nor does she care that we only have two weekends to plan this whole thing.
