Page 4 of Every Christmas Eve
The older man’s raspy voice stirs me at first, but I smile as I recognise one of my favourite locals. ‘Caught again,’ I say, feeling a rush of heat go to my cheeks at being discovered waffling aloud, and not for the first time today. I hope Master Campbell didn’t hear more than he needed to. I really should stop talking to myself, at least in public places like the main street of our village where everybody likes to know your business.
‘Are you still open?’ he asks me, his words holding the weight of time in every syllable. ‘I believe there’s a cinnamon latte and a chocolate treat with my name on it if it’s not too late?’
‘I’ll always make time for you, sir,’ I reply to the dapper, recently retired schoolmaster. ‘Isn’t the crescent moonstunning? It looks like it might scoop up the old church ruins on Lough Beg and take her away.’
But Master Campbell doesn’t even glance up to the sky in response. Instead, he steps across the threshold, mumbling to himself about how he thinks it’s now cold enough for snow, and follows me over to the coffee dock.
His tailored, knee-length navy overcoat matches his once sparkling blue eyes, and his voice never fails to bring me back to my days at primary school when my only worry in life was how soon I could press fast forward and get a job in the real world.
And now here I am, right banginthe real world, where I sometimes wish I could go back and start it all over again. Only this time I’d do it very differently, avoiding all the challenges and pitfalls I’ve faced, having just about survived to tell the tale.
Or would I?
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that at the age of forty-one I’d be back in the village I grew up in, serving coffee to faces both familiar and new, soothing weary souls and aiding celebrations of people I don’t even know with a bright bouquet of fresh flowers delivered to their door.
‘This place is becoming more like a church confessional every day,’ Mum likes to remind me at every opportunity, but I know she loves it here at Buds and Beans since she left her job at a local engineering firm to help me out. ‘You must have one of those faces, Lou. You know the type. You don’t even have to utter a word and, within minutes, localsand strangers are spilling their hearts out to you over an oat cappuccino.’
She is spot on with her observations, and Master Campbell is a case in point.
‘I was dreading turning the page on the calendar this morning,’ he says as I serve him his cinnamon-laced drink with his favouritepain au chocolat. ‘Another day closer. Ah, I used to say I hated Christmas, but now I realise how much I loved it when Agnes was with me. What a difference a year makes.’
He puts his head into his hands, so I pull out a chair and sit with him to hear him out, thankful that it’s almost closing time and the place is quiet except for the sounds of Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ softly lilting in the background.
‘Agnes would have to drag me around town to shop for the grandchildren,’ he tells me, wiping his nose on a freshly pressed handkerchief. ‘Bless her, she’d panic-buy for the two of them then send me to the post office that very same day, making sure we didn’t leave it too late so the parcels would get to our Eamonn and the wee ones in New Zealand on time. I complained far too much, but I secretly enjoyed it, especially when we’d hear the gifts had arrived on the other side of the world.’
He pauses to gather his thoughts.
‘If it’s any consolation, my dad used to moan about Christmas shopping more than the government and that was a lot,’ I tell him, feeling a pang in my own gut for days gone by when my father’s one-liners were legendary. ‘Some people don’t enjoy this time of year, and that’s fine, sir. I have tosay I can think of a million things I’d rather do than bump into strangers while we all spend more money than we can afford to.’
But Master Campbell is still silent, lost in his own trip down memory lane.
My heart breaks for him, but just when I’m about to attempt to offer some more unsolicited advice, he takes a second crisp white handkerchief from his pocket, dabs his eyes and sits up straight.
‘Anyhow, that’s enough of my maudlin,’ he declares, sniffing and wiping his nose. ‘I’m sure you’ve got far more important things to be doing than listening to an old man like me yearn for times past.’
‘You can always find an ear here with me,’ I tell him.
He smiles, his bushy white eyebrows meeting like two thick caterpillars in the middle. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but his eyes look brighter already.
‘We’re all so very lucky to have you back in the village where you belong,’ he replies, tucking the hankie back in his pocket.
‘That’s nice to hear,’ I say quietly. ‘Even if I still doubt if I’ve made the right call by leaving New York.’
‘Youhavemade the right call,’ says my mother gliding past, broom in hand. ‘It’s still early days, Lou. Be patient.’
I only wish I had her confidence in my decision. There’s so much I love about being back here on my home turf, but the loneliness engulfs me sometimes when I think of my daughter so far away.
‘Ah, Christmas will be different for both of us this year,that’s all,’ says Master Campbell. ‘Is Gracie coming over from New York to see you? That’s something to look forward to.’
I meet my mother’s eye, wondering if she is thinking what I’m thinking.
‘Yes … Gracie will be here for Christmas,’ I reply, but my voice is tinged with uncertainty. ‘At least, I’m hoping so. At twenty years old, my daughter doesn’t believe in laying down roots yet. She has the travel bug well and truly alive and kicking inside her, but who am I to argue with that?’
Master Campbell nods with a smile.
‘Like mother, like daughter,’ he says with a hearty chuckle. ‘And travel far you did, and brave and buoyant you were, Lou, but more like the swallow than the swift. I knew you’d one day find your way home.’
‘I think you know me too well, sir,’ I reply, patting his hand.
