Page 30 of Every Christmas Eve
‘Ah, I’ve always said it never feels like Christmas until I see the holly,’ he says, his aged voice cracking. ‘Now, that brings me back. I’ll hang this on the front door, and we’ll allhave a prosperous season. In fact, Ben, you can do that now that you’re here. I can keep my feet up and pretend I’m a man of leisure for a little longer.’
The amaryllis are a similar hit with my mother. She takes her time to admire the flowers in the kitchen, then catches my eye with what I believe to be a knowing smile as she slowly smells them.
‘This is all very cute,’ she says, peeling off the small sticker on the wrapping paper that bears the Buds and Beans logo. ‘Isn’t that the new place in the village? I keep meaning to do so, but I haven’t managed to pop by just yet.’
But she doesn’t fool me.
‘Oh, and while we’re on the subject, thanks for the heads-up about you know who. That was a bit of a shock, to say the least,’ I say to her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me she was back here? I could have been more prepared, and don’t say you didn’t know. You may be tucked away in this big house, but news travels very fast around here.’
Mum pops her flowers into a tall vase.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ben,’ she says, then turns her attention back to Ava, who already has her apron on in preparation for their baking session. ‘But the flowers have brightened up this place no end. Thank you both.’
I carry our bags up the heavy red carpeted stairs, past tapestries on the walls that date from different centuries and magnificent oil paintings depicting generations of Heaney men and women from days gone by. As I do so, I already notice some parts of the house that are going to need afreshening up over the coming weeks. Despite my mother’s best efforts to keep on top of it all, there are cobwebs in high corners, chips of paint on woodwork here and there, and the blue room, fondly known as the ballroom even though its nowhere near as big as it sounds, smells musty and damp. Uncle Eric has dabbled with the heating system in there for certain, so my first job will be to make sure it stays on as much as possible between now and Christmas Eve.
I find my bedroom for the night, where I drop my overnight bag and fall on to the bed to gather my thoughts for a moment, even though it isn’t even teatime yet. I put my hands behind my head as a million things run through my mind. There’s simply so much to do, I feel suffocated already. Are we crazy to think we can coordinate all this in just two weeks?
What if no one shows up? Now, that would be a disaster. We haven’t even asked if it’s what the public wants. As far as we know, it’s just one tiny committee who wants it, so I hope it’s got a big voice.
Maybe we need a proper guest list so that we can invite people personally to bring the public in, rather than depend on posters. I’m thinking social media types, community representatives and local businesses who aren’t afraid to show up to support charitable events, especially at this time of year.
I can feel your panic all the way from here, my sister texts me, just as I was about to secretly curse her up and down for getting me into this in the first place.Remember, you don’t have to do it all by yourself, brother. Mum has the contact details for MrsQuinn and her posse, so we need to use them if only from afar. Then you can make one of your famous lists and delegate.
I raise an eyebrow. Knowing Cordelia, she is no doubt texting me from a fancy wine bar or restaurant in southern Spain, where she is being treated like a queen by God knows who. I always said if she fell in manure, she’d get up smelling of roses.
Mum says this is entirely a family affair, sis, I reply.She’s happy for the committee to help on the day, but she doesn’t want a group of strangers traipsing round Ballyheaney House like they own the place before that. Only those involved in the olden days need apply.
Where’s Lou Doherty with her creative genius when we need her?Cordelia texts back immediately.
I choose not to even go there.
Did it really happen? I need a bit of time to process it all, so I go back to when I first saw her reflection in the florist’s window and replay it all in my mind.
My heart beats faster when I think of the utter surprise I felt, and smile when I think of her hiding away from me at first. I have goosebumps when I hear her voice in my head, saying my name, telling me she’d thought about a day when we’d meet again just like I had so many times.
Most of all, I feel a deep sense of pride for her ballsy return here, for building her business in a short space of time and for all she has already brought back to our community from what I can see so far. Her shop front is stunning, and her taste is as impeccable as it always was.
Right now, she is within walking distance from where Ilie here this evening. Right now, she is at home in this very same village.
The distance and its layer of protection no longer exist, so as if I’ve already lost all sense of self-control when it comes to Lou Doherty, I do what I promised I wouldn’t do.
I lift my phone from where it lies on top of the bed, and I search for Buds and Beans on Google. Within a millisecond I have her business social media page and her picture on my screen, which makes me short of breath but also full of adrenaline.
I almost wish this wasn’t so easy. Icouldsend a message to her page, but instead I tap her number into my phone and save it, then I send a text as quickly as possible before I change my mind.
Despite my earlier bravado, I know there’s simply no way I can drive back to Dublin without doing something.
CHAPTER NINE
Lou
‘A new-build bungalow, yellow door, third house from the end of the lane. Yes, yes, I hear you, messages,’ I say to my bleeping phone as I drive along a very windy country lane, searching frantically for number 137 Old Forge Lane. ‘So much for Apple Maps taking me right to the door.’
It’s my final delivery of the day. I’m very conscious that I’m running behind on this one, and time is of the essence, according to the customer. I thrive on meeting deadlines for my small but growing customer base, but it’s fair to say the events of this afternoon have delayed me somewhat.
My tummy rumbles, and it dawns on me that I don’t have a lot in the fridge for dinner. I’ll stop and get some groceries on the way home, but firstly, I need to find this house.
After Ben and Ava left Buds and Beans about forty minutes ago, I managed to pull myself together and made every excuse under the sun to Nana Molly for my reddened eyes. She eventually decided it had to be an allergy to the pollen from a new delivery of flowers, which I ran with, thankful to get off the hook.
