Chapter Six
I barely sleep the next few days. Barely do anything.
It’s like I’m walking through a dream each waking hour, and I don’t even realize it until I catch sight of my reflection one morning and see that I’m smiling.
It’s a miracle I get through my chores, though strangely no one is onto me about them.
Mam keeps sending me sly glances that make me think she knows something happened.
Probably because Rachel said something to her. While my dad just lets me be.
The next Friday, we do what we do every year and walk the three miles into the village.
I’ve always liked Christmas here. They’ve strung lights from building to building and put a tree up in the main square, decorated with handmade ornaments from the younger schoolchildren.
My own collection of brightly colored pipe-cleaner stars used to hang there and still take pride of place in our house next to Rachel’s paper chains.
Some of the shops are still open for last-minute gifts, while others have braved the cold to set up market stalls to sell frosted buns and cups of hot cocoa.
It’s busy and noisy, but I don’t mind it.
The whole parish is here, everyone celebrating together, and there’s just something about this tradition that puts everyone in a good mood.
With a nod, Dad wanders off to the pub with the other men while Mam and Rachel are quickly engulfed by their friends. I linger by the manger, alternating between watching the choir set up and waiting for her.
I don’t have to wait long.
Colleen emerges from one of the shops with her mother and immediately spots me. With a quick word to her family, she makes her way over, her smile growing with each step until it’s probably as wide as mine.
“Hello,” she says when she reaches my side. She’s wearing a coat today and has a red bobble hat over her hair. “Are you all ready for the big day?”
“Do you mean did Mam make us scrub the house from top to bottom?”
She laughs, and I try not to stare as her face lights up.
She’s so beautiful it hurts sometimes just to look at her.
But even though she’s here beside me, even though we’re surrounded by our friends and neighbors and Christmas is so close I can almost taste it, I can’t shake that feeling that something is missing.
“You’ve gone quiet,” Colleen teases, pressing her arm against mine.
“Sorry, it’s just …” I trail off as I gaze around the crowd, realizing what’s wrong. “Mrs Fallon isn’t here.”
“Mrs Fallon?” Her brow furrows. “By the hill?”
“Yeah.”
“She never comes down,” Colleen says, shrugging when I raise a brow. “Mam said she’s a hermit.” She grimaces. “Dad says she thinks she’s too good for the likes of us.”
I don’t think he’s entirely wrong. But he’s not entirely right, either. And just like I keep quiet to protect myself, my guess is that her attitude is a bit like armor. The world can’t hurt you if you don’t let it in.
“She’d like the choir,” I say, thinking of her records. “She loves music.”
Colleen looks surprised. “How do you know?”
“I deliver food to her house sometimes.” I glance around the square. “It’s Christmas,” I say. “It feels wrong that we’re all here celebrating, and she’s by herself.”
Colleen doesn’t answer, and when I look back at her, it’s to find her watching me with a small smile.
“Well then,” she says. “Let’s go get her.”
*
“I’m still learning,” Colleen says as we drive up Mrs Fallon’s lane twenty minutes later. She borrowed her older sister’s car, a machine that’s barely surviving as it is, but with Colleen behind the wheel … “I think I’m getting the hang of it, though.”
She’s not. She’s a terrible driver. But I lie and nod because I want to make her happy.
“There we— sorry! Sorry.” She winces as we stop abruptly, the seatbelt catching me just in time. “Sorry.”
“I’m grand,” I say, wheezing slightly.
“I didn’t see the gate.”
“It’s dark,” I agree and get out of the car to open her door.
“This place is even bigger up close,” Colleen says, gazing over my shoulder. I glance back at the house. I guess it does look a little foreboding at night. You’d probably think it was abandoned if it wasn’t for the warm light coming from the downstairs windows.
“She lives here?” Colleen breathes.
I nod.
“All by herself?”
Something in her tone makes me pause. “I think she likes it like that.”
“If you say so,” Colleen says, sounding unsure. I feel an unexpected surge of defensiveness for my dance teacher, even though I know Colleen doesn’t mean anything cruel. It’s the same thought I had myself when I first started coming.
“You wouldn’t like to live here?” I ask.
“It’s beautiful. But I wouldn’t want to live alone. I want a full house. People and animals.”
“You like animals?”
“I love them. Dogs especially,” she adds with a grin. “Mam won’t let me get one.”
And I make a silent promise right there that I will get her as many dogs as she wants.
We open the gate and walk slowly up the driveway, the frosted ground crunching beneath our feet.
Mrs Fallon doesn’t come out, which surprises me. The car engine isn’t quiet, and she must have heard us come up, but no one appears, so I ring the bell and settle back to wait.
Colleen hops up and down beside me, but I think it’s more out of nerves than cold, as proven by the tiny step back she takes when the door suddenly flies open.
“What?” Mrs Fallon barks before I can open my mouth.
Colleen tenses beside me, but I feel a smile pull at my lips.
“Merry Christmas,” I say. Mrs Fallon peers at me like she’s trying to find the secret truth behind my words.
“You came all the way here to say that? You’re letting the heat out,” she adds crossly, gesturing us inside. “You think I’m made of money?”
I decide not to answer that and instinctively place a hand on Colleen’s back, leading her through. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans into my touch. Something that makes me incredibly pleased.
“Judging by the awful sound I was forced to listen to for the last minute, I presume you didn’t walk here?” Mrs Fallon continues.
“I drove my sister’s car,” Colleen says brightly.
“She’s been teaching me how to … Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
” Her voice drops to a hushed whisper as she comes to an abrupt halt in the hallway.
“Your home is beautiful,” she continues, louder now but no less earnest. Mrs Fallon’s attention snaps to her, and I brace myself for some cutting remark.
But she doesn’t say anything, at least not at first. Just takes in Colleen properly, examining her from her head to her toes.
“Well, it makes sense now,” she finally says to me and lets out a small cackle at my look. “You’ll want tea, I suppose. Always looking for something.”
“Actually,” I say, “we came to collect you.”
“Oh? Am I a thing to be collected?”
“For the Christmas party,” I explain, trailing her as she goes into the front room.
Colleen trips along beside me, her head swinging left and right as she tries to take everything in.
“In the village. The one that you know about, so don’t pretend you don’t.
There’s warm cider and the choir is on again in an hour. ”
“A bunch of schoolchildren singing out of tune. What a treat.” She glares at me. “You think anyone wants me there?”
“I’d like you to be there,” I say patiently. “I don’t really care what anyone else thinks.”
“Well, that’s not exactly true, is it?” There’s a slight mocking in her tone as she nods to Colleen, but there’s no bite to it. If anything, Colleen seems flattered.
“I’d like you to be there too,” Colleen says, surprising us both, and for the longest moment, Mrs Fallon just stares at us.
“And I suppose you won’t leave unless I go?
” she asks eventually. She doesn’t wait for an answer.
“Well, at least let me get properly dressed. Showing up here with no warning. You’re lucky I did my hair this morning, or else you’d be stuck on the porch all night, and the guards would be at my door wondering why I have two frozen children outside.
” She keeps talking as she shuffles out of the room, and a second later, I hear her go up the stairs.
“Are we supposed to follow her?” Colleen whispers, and I shake my head.
“She’ll come back.”
“She likes you,” she continues solemnly, and I frown because, no, she doesn’t. She puts up with me.
But I guess we are kind of used to each other by now. She probably wouldn’t open the door to me otherwise.
Colleen goes over to the shelves, examining the photographs just like I did. “She’s the one who taught you to dance?” She smiles when I nod. “Then I guess I’ll have to thank her.”
“She got thanks enough with all the chores I had to do around here,” I tell her, and she laughs.
“Sweeping the floors, were you?”
“And mopping them. Fetching coal. Scrubbing pans. She’d have had me repaint the entire hallway if she’d ever decide on a color.”
“You’re just like Cinderella.”
“Not the prince?” I ask as her smile widens.
“The prince didn’t have to mop the—” She breaks off in a delighted giggle as I catch her hand and spin her around. “Okay,” she says. “You’re my prince.”
I spin her again, and her face takes on this dreamy expression, all her previous nerves gone.
“No music?”
“I learned without,” I say as we start to dance.
The movements come easier to me than they did outside the school hall.
Maybe it’s because I’m in familiar surroundings, but whatever it is, my confidence kicks up a notch, and I surprise her again when I lead her into a dip, smiling when her breath catches.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of that,” she admits as the stairs creak.
We straighten, and a moment later, Mrs Fallon appears wearing a stiff red dress with a black collar.
She’s changed her shoes as well, from beaded slippers to shining black loafers, and carries an enormous fur coat over her arm.
“Only thing that will keep me warm,” she mutters as she shakes it out. She wobbles slightly on her cane, and Colleen steps forward.
“I can help if you like,” she says softly. Mrs Fallon doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t glare at her either, so Colleen straightens the sleeves and helps her put it on, adjusting it so it sits just right.
The thing is enormous, so much so that it would look ridiculous on anyone else.
But I guess my dance teacher isn’t just anyone.
When we’re ready to go, Colleen slips her hand into mine as I hold my other arm out to Mrs Fallon.
“If nothing else, I taught you some manners,” she grumbles, but she cups my elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze as I lead both women out of the house and into the Christmas night.