Every Christmas Eve

Then

Christmas Eve, 25 Years Ago

‘We did it,’

said Ben.

‘We really did it! I think you might be magic, Lou Doherty.’

The brand-new life we’d just delivered moments before lay within touching distance, covered in a blanket to protect her from the elements. She was all long legs and wide blinking eyes, while her skin was still damp and downy and her ears twitched and flickered as she adapted to her whole new world.

A world I was now a big part of at the tender age of sixteen.

With the newborn baby foal beside us, Ben and I kneeled together in the shelter of the stable, the smell of damp hay and horses filling the air as the snow fell gently outside the open door.

It was already a Christmas Eve like no other, even if I’d no idea how this moment would end up shaping both of our lives forever.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in my whole life before,’

I said, staring at the tiny foal.

‘or had a Christmas gift so special. That was amazing. It was like something from a movie.’

He laughed at my wide-eyed enthusiasm, but it was true. I’d never witnessed anything like it and believed I never would again.

‘We make a good team, Lou,’

he told me.

‘You handled every bit of that so calmly, so coolly. I’d have you on my side any day of the week, and twice at weekends. Same time next year?’

Even then, although I hardly knew him, Ben Heaney had a way of making me feel like I was the only girl in the world.

‘Same time next year, Ben,’

I joked in return.

‘I think we make a great team too. Thanks for making me help you out instead of running in the opposite direction like I was so tempted to.’

We sat for what felt like ages in comfortable silence as thick flakes of snow fluttered down on to the roof of Ballyheaney House in the distance, covering its sprawling lawns like a thick, white blanket.

Not far from the stable where adrenaline kept us warm and the baby foal purred under the watchful eye of her mother, the Ballyheaney House Charity Afternoon Tea was in full festive flow inside the Heaney family home, a stunning eighteenth-century house which was inspired by St Peter’s Cathedral in Rome.

But we had escaped from all the celebrations for just a little while.

‘I wonder has my mother noticed I’m gone yet,’

Ben muttered, though I knew deep down he wasn’t bothered, considering what we’d just achieved with Sally, their adored mare.

‘Maybe we should go back?’

I suggested.

‘No, it’s fine. We can relax for another few minutes,’

he told me.

‘They’re all going to be so impressed when they hear of the new arrival. And besides all of that, I’d much rather be here with you than lifting glasses from tipsy guests who tell me how handsome and grown up I am since they saw me last year.’

It was exactly the reply I’d been hoping for.

With Ben by my side, I wished I could bottle up that moment and savour it forever.

It had been twelve whole months since I had last laid eyes on Ben Heaney.

A shy, awkward introduction and a brief conversation with instant chemistry was as far as we’d managed at last year’s party, but I’d dreamed of him ever since.

Yet nothing could have prepared me for this incredibly special, intimate and unexpected first chance to spend one-to-one time together, so far away from everyone else.

Back inside his magnificent stately home, fine bone china cups would be clinking on matching saucers in a magnificent blue ballroom as chatter and laughter formed a symphony alongside a string quartet playing Christmas carols in the corner.

Right through the centre of the room, a mouth-watering buffet was spread on a long table covered in crisp white linen, with silver candelabras circled in green holly and bright red berries foraged from the hedges close to nearby Lough Beg.

The Christmas Eve party was an annual sweet escape into a way I imagined my life could be one day.

And if I’d the chance back then to travel the world or stay in that stable with him, I’d have chosen him every single time.

He was dashing, with intense green eyes and a bird’s nest of tousled dark auburn hair I longed to touch at any given opportunity.

His body was lean and muscular, defined from seasons of training on and off the rugby pitch, but his most engaging feature was his tenderness, which defied his seventeen years.

Most of all, to me he was a mystery, whether hidden behind the gates of Ballyheaney House, or far away at boarding school, or packed off to Europe on exchange trips throughout the summer.

To get a glimpse of any of the Heaney family was always a source of village gossip.

They were different from us in so many ways, yet he and I were starting to form a bond that no one would know about for a very long time.

‘So, when do you leave for school in Dublin again?’

I asked, feeling silly for the ache in my heart I already felt for what was to come.

‘Don’t tell me you’re missing me so soon?’

he sighed.

‘You’ve got it bad. I knew it.’

I felt my cheeks flush.

‘I’m jesting,’

he continued.

‘Ah, look at your little face. I’m joking, I’m sorry.’

‘It was a very simple question,’

I reminded him, wishing the pink flush that always let me down would go away.

‘Well, school starts again in early January,’

he said.

‘so I imagine I’ll be sent off on the train as soon as the holidays are over. Packed off and packed away, never to be seen again until half-term, when I’ll be off to help Uncle Eric on his farm in Wicklow as he embraces the weird and wacky world of fast cars, faster women and fine cigars.’

‘I see,’

I gulped, feeling very ordinary in comparison.

‘He isn’t like that at all. It’s rather boring actually, so I’d much rather come back here,’

he said, fiddling with a piece of straw.

‘I’d much rather be at Ballyheaney House so I can hang out like this with you.’

His eyes were sad for a moment, and once again I was reminded of how I lived such a different life, far away from the twinkling lights and the Christmas carols and the plush ballroom that had brought us together that day.

Ben’s home was an impressive former bishop’s manor tucked away in the rolling countryside, while mine was a modest bungalow close by the banks of Lough Beg. His school was a posh boarding establishment two hours away in Dublin where ambition was high and everyone’s business was kept to themselves. Mine was the local comprehensive down the road where everybody knew your name, your address and what you were having for dinner.

And because of this, an invitation to the annual Charity Afternoon Tea on Christmas Eve at Ballyheaney House was a huge treat for all the village – and now so much more than that to me. It was a chance to sit close to him, to talk to each other, to flirt and smile, to feel that maybe, just maybe, there might be a true connection between us that would one day defy the odds and bring us properly together.

‘Will you really miss me?’

I asked, knowing that the thought of him thinking of me would keep me smiling for many, many nights to come.

‘Or was that just another jest?’

‘I will really miss you,’

he replied.

‘Truthfully, I mean it. Today has been very special.’

I thought my heart was going to burst when his hand found mine and he squeezed it, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

‘I’d like you to name her please, Lou,’

he said to me eventually. His suggestion almost took my breath away.

‘If you don’t mind?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you.’

A rush of excitement filled me from head to toe, and I could barely think straight.

‘But – but are you sure? Won’t your parents …?’

‘My parents would agree that it’s the least I can do, given how much you’ve helped me today. I’ll tell them all about how you brought her into the world with so much calm and sensitivity while they were entertaining half the village,’

he said with confidence.

‘So, I’d like you to name her. Please.’

I gulped hard, unable to hide my beaming smile. We’d been talking earlier by the swing under the oak tree when we’d heard a cry from Sally the mare in the stable. I’d wanted to run in the other direction for help, but Ben had convinced me to stay. He’d told me we could do this together, and we did.

‘Are you sure it’s a “she”?’

I asked him.

He raised an eyebrow.

‘We once had a cat called Pat with a swollen belly, who later became Patricia when a vet told us that “he” was having kittens,’

I told him.

He threw his head back with laughter. Oh, how I savoured every ounce of him.

‘And there I was, singing your praises for how natural and calm you were,’

he said.

‘While you, on the other hand, question my ability to sex a foal. Now, what would you like to call her? Take your time.’

I did exactly that and he waited, tending to Sally as I thought of a name for this beautiful creature. I’d never been so close to nature in this way before.

And then it came to me.

‘Little Eve,’

I declared eventually, my eyes wide with excitement.

‘Maybe it’s a pretty obvious choice, but I like it. She’s so little. And she was born on Christmas Eve.’

‘Little Eve,’

he said, looking up at me with a smile.

‘I like it. Little Eve, the Christmas foal of Ballyheaney House.’

I felt a shiver running through me. My breath lingered in the cold air as I waited for him to say more, but then the most wonderous thing I’d ever witnessed with my own two eyes occurred.

Not even thirty minutes after I’d helped with her birth, the tiny foal shook her head, then leaned her weight on her brown, spindly front legs. My mouth dropped open in astonishment as she slowly found each of her back feet, one after the other. She stood up, wobbling at first, but her mother licked her tiny legs to encourage her until she stood tall.

‘Wow! Well done, Little Eve,’

I whispered with quiet admiration.

‘You are amazing! You really are!’

I looked at Ben as his green eyes glistened. Mine did too.

‘Little Eve, I love you already!’

he said with a warm smile that could have melted the snow outside. He stretched out his hand and Little Eve stumbled towards us, before falling on to the soft hay.

‘I’m so in awe of her,’

I cried.

‘What a little star. A Christmas star, that’s what you are, Little Eve.’

I leaned back on the cold stone wall in wonder at the blinking foal as she took in her new world.

‘And I’m in awe of you,’

he said to me.

I shivered again and he quickly fixed a blanket round my shoulders, then tilted my chin towards him.

‘Can I kiss you?’

he asked.

‘I’ve been wanting to do it for a whole year now.’

I did my best to play it cool, hoping my cheeks wouldn’t let me down again by flushing pink.

‘Um, yes. Yes, I’d like that very much,’

I replied, feeling like my heart might explode, then I slowly closed my eyes as his lips met mine. It was lingering, it was perfect, and it made my insides glow. I had dreamed of this moment a million times, I had longed for it, and now it was really happening.

‘We’d better get back inside, but before we go, please tell me something I’ll remember forever,’

he asked me.

‘Something I can think of when I’m learning Latin and French in a cold Dublin classroom in a few weeks.’

I turned towards him. Our gaze locked. I didn’t have to think fast. I knew exactly what I wanted to say to him, so I sat up straight and looked into his soul.

‘That’s easy,’

I said softly, feeling tears prick my eyes at the thought of him being so far away from me once more.

‘Every Christmas Eve, let’s always think of this moment, and of our precious Little Eve, no matter where we are, for the rest of our lives.’

He pulled me close again, and I melted into the safety of his strong arms.

‘You, me and Little Eve.’

As we walked our separate ways minutes later, back to the sticky heat of the tea party where no one else knew of our bond, I don’t think I’d ever smiled so much in my life. Ben disappeared to tell his father the news of the foal’s unexpected arrival, and I joined my parents, who were already tipsy on the fizzy wine.

As small talk surrounded me and laughter filled the air, I knew in my young heart I could easily love him forever, but I also knew that life would have very different plans for us.

The youngest Heaney boy was worldly, whereas I was na?ve and protected in my small family circle. He was gentle and kind but wild and carefree, and led such a different life from me.

Yet he’d agreed to our promise, and although we only had a few wonderful Christmas Eves together after that, before a final, heart-wrenching goodbye, I’ve never forgotten that very first kiss in the stable where we brought new life into the world before our very eyes.

These days I think of him just like we agreed to every Christmas Eve.

And I can’t help but wonder, wherever he might be, if Ben Heaney still thinks of me too.