Chapter THIRTEEN
Ben
Five Days to Christmas Eve
The week stretches on and on as I count the days until it’s Friday at last, the day when Ava and I are back on the road north to Ballyheaney House. We’ll be there over Christmas, so I’ve packed up our presents for all the family and my ridiculously expensive decorations, much to both of our excitement.
Never in a million years did I think I’d ever be like this, but I feel a thrill and a rush every time I think of the upcoming party. The buzz of seeing our plans come together is already brightening my whole being.
‘The primary school was absolutely delighted to be invited to sing in the welcoming reception,’
Lou told me during the week, when we caught up before bedtime on the phone.
‘So I’ve asked Mr Lowe, the principal, to prepare a selection of favourites as well as some upbeat singalongs we all know like “Jingle Bells”. That will be a sweet and festive way to open the party. And the lady from the cancer charity is going to set up an information stall in the drawing room, where we’ll also have some goody bags sponsored by a few local businesses. She’ll drop those off the day before.’
‘Gosh, you have been busy,’
I said, sitting at the island in my kitchen.
‘Well done on sorting all of that at such short notice, Lou. If you can let me know how many kids there’ll be, I’ll put down a reminder on my notes here to get them some chocolate treats for their contribution. I’m sure I can pull in a few favours close to me here too.’
I clicked my pen as I scrolled down my to-do list, wondering not only how I’d ever have managed without Lou, but also how unbelievably uplifting it was to be around her energy again. She always had filled me up with so much joy, no matter what was going on in each of our lives, but as much as we’re progressing professionally, our personal connection is staying very cool and collected.
‘I’m also waiting on confirmation from a jazz quartet as the main entertainment.’
‘Jazz?’
‘Yes, a four-piece jazz band, what do you think?’
she asked.
‘A piano, double bass, percussion and sax? I thought it would raise the roof and bring a totally different vibe from before, but in the best possible way.’
‘Wow.’
‘Wow exactly,’
she said.
‘We want this party to blow everyone’s socks off, Ben. No half measures. Cordelia agrees that it’s a good idea, but I told her I’d run it past you first of course.’
‘You rock,’
I said, knowing already this could be the best Christmas Eve party ever.
‘Or should I say, you jazz. Sorry, that was a horrible dad joke. But honestly, Lou. You’ve no idea how much of a difference you’re making already.’
‘My pleasure,’
she replied. I could hear the delight in her voice. She was enjoying the party planning as much as she used to.
‘Cordelia’s canapé menu is outstanding,’
I said, starting on my own list of updates.
‘I’ve pulled in a sponsor for the ingredients, and a friend of a friend has agreed to donate a crate of sparkling wine. Mum says the local committee are sending some extra hands on the day to help with serving food and drinks, so we’re covered in that department too, which is a relief.’
‘Serving food and drinks just like we used to do when we were young and fresh-faced,’
said Lou. I had an instant flashback to how in those early days we couldn’t walk past each other in the ballroom without a cheeky touch or a playful word.
And now, with only five days until Christmas Eve, it’s time to get planning in person again.
‘Freya was so jealous when I told her I’m allowed to choose a playlist for the drawing room, Dad, but she has no idea of the work I’m putting into it all,’
she says in the car as we travel up north at last.
‘Lou told me to try and cater for all age groups and all tastes, and to keep it festive. Not to mention helping Grandma bake more gingerbread men this weekend after our first trial run was such a success. And I haven’t even thought of what I’m going to wear yet.’
We drive along in silence at that, knowing that once again Ava isn’t like the other girls at school who get to go clothes shopping with someone who’ll fuss over them and help them choose the right colour and style with perhaps a few arguments along the way.
It’s not a sexist thing on my part. Some dads have a superb flair for fashion, but while I adore the idea of helping Ava with her wardrobe selection, I also know that no matter how cool I try to be, it’s simply not my thing, especially as she approaches her teenage years. I’m out of touch. I know I’ll only make her roll her eyes and get frustrated. Still, I can’t help trying.
‘Don’t you have a really nice red sparkly—’
‘Dad, please,’
she giggles.
‘I had that dress when I was ten. Aunty Vic gave it to her niece once I’d outgrown it.’
‘I’m sure Vic would have helped you choose something. She has excellent taste.’
But my suggestion for Matt’s wife to help is met with a deep sigh and more silence.
‘I’d like to kind of dress differently when I’m older,’
she says.
‘You know, like Nana Molly, who works in Buds and Beans? She doesn’t follow fashion, she told me. She creates her own.’
I can’t help but raise my eyebrows. If I’m correct, Lou always questioned both her mother’s and her grandmother’s somewhat eclectic taste in clothing.
‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be unique,’
I tell her, being as diplomatic as I can, but sure, what would I know?
‘She told me last time I could hang out with her again in the florist’s,’
Ava tells me.
‘Maybe I could call in again this weekend?’
‘Of course you can,’
I say, feeling my insides glow.
‘You can pick her brain on where she gets her clothes too, perhaps?’
Once again, I seem to have said something totally ridiculous.
‘Nana Molly is like eighty or something, so even though I like her style, I don’t think it’s for me just yet,’
she says eventually.
‘I messaged Cordelia to ask her for ideas and she suggested she could paint my face with snowflakes and tiny Christmas trees. Dad, seriously. She still thinks I’m a baby when I’m practically a teenager now.’
‘Practically,’
I reply as I drive along to Chris Rea on the radio with a million plans in my head. As this is the last weekend before Christmas Eve, we need to keep everything rolling if we’re going to be ready on time.
The heat is on, but I’ve a feeling that with Lou on board and Cordelia on catering, it’s all under control.
For the first time in a long time, everything in my life feels in very safe hands.
‘You’re jittery, son,’
Mum says as I walk around the rooms of Ballyheaney House with my clipboard in hand and a frown on my face.
‘Is it because Lou is on her way?’
‘Of course not,’
I reply.
‘Why would I be jittery over Lou? She’s one of those friends where it feels like we’ve picked up where we left off. It’s easy.’
‘Gosh, it really is going to be like old times, isn’t it?’
she says, touching the walls as if they could talk back to us.
‘Uncle Eric has spent all afternoon in his dressing room, deciding what to wear for her grand arrival, even though I’ve told him to stop fussing. As if Lou will even notice!’
‘Ha, Lou always did love Uncle Eric’s style.’
‘Well, he’s not one bit impressed with how he didn’t know she’d been back in the village for the last six months working on Castle Street,’
Mum tells me.
‘You’ve no idea what I’ve had to listen to all day before you arrived. He was like a child, huffing and puffing at every opportunity.’
Roly follows me around at the same pace as my mother, sniffing into corners and whining at Uncle Eric’s absence. I don’t know what it is about my elderly uncle, but our dog adores him even more than he does me or Ava. And that’s a lot.
‘I’m with Uncle Eric on this one,’
I say, stopping in my tracks.
‘Are you honestly saying you didn’t know she had opened a place on Castle Street? Or that she’d bought Katie’s Cottage? Come on, Mum. I didn’t come up the river in a bubble. Why didn’t you tell me?’
Ava’s dramatic interruption is timely.
‘Quick, Grandma! Quickly! Dad! Help!’
Round two of the gingerbread men trial isn’t going as well as last time, it seems, and the smoke alarm lets us know there’s a disaster in the oven.
‘The feet are burnt, Grandma,’
cries Ava as my mother follows her back to the kitchen.
‘All of them. We can save the heads and bodies but they’re totally footless gingerbread men now, which is so embarrassing.’
As the smoke alarm sings and Roly howls like a wolf in its direction, Uncle Eric comes out of his dressing room in only his boxers and stands at the top of the stairs, scratching his head. I go to help Ava, only to see that Lou has arrived – but instead of receiving a warm welcome in the traditional sense, she is opening windows at the speed of light to let out the smoke.
‘I rang the doorbell but there was no answer,’
she calls out, waving a tea towel through the air.
‘Then I heard the chaos, so I hope you don’t mind me taking the initiative to try and help?’
The smoke alarm stops at last.
‘Thank you!’
I reply in relief.
‘You’re very welcome. All in a day’s work.’
I make my way towards her, full of apologies for the commotion. She looks so young in her denim dungarees under a heavy khaki coat, with her dark hair falling over her face as usual and a red hat covering her ears.
‘Your timing, as always, is impeccable. Thanks for saving us from the madness,’
I say, greeting her with a friendly kiss on the cheek.
‘Let’s go say hello to Mum and Ava in the kitchen. Don’t suppose you know how to rescue gingerbread men with burnt feet?’
But before we have taken another step, my mother and daughter arrive in the hallway to meet us, still flustered from the great gingerbread man rescue.
‘How about some brightly coloured icing to give them winter boots?’
Lou suggests to Ava, who looks truly heartbroken.
‘Or you could always give each one a nice pair of Christmas socks to wear? Reds and greens and golds?’
Ava’s eyes light up as she almost dances on the spot.
‘That’s the best idea ever!’
she says.
‘How did you think of that so quickly?’
Lou shrugs and gives Ava a high five.
‘The best thing is,’
whispers Lou.
‘You can give them extra-long socks if their gingerbread legs are a bit burnt too. And have them mismatch just for fun.’
Ava raises her eyebrows and purses her lips tightly in thought.
‘Sounds like you still have all the best ideas, Lou,’
says my mother, extending her arms for a hug.
‘Ah, you always were our secret weapon here at Ballyheaney House, not only at party time but in summer too. It’s so good to have you back again. And it’s so good that you’ll be reunited with your old friend at long last.’
Lou and I exchange a shy glance.
‘I agree,’
I tell them.
‘Uncle Eric is—’
‘Uncle Eric is what?’
I hear him interrupt as he scuffles down the stairs.
‘Uncle Eric is very, very glad to see Lou Doherty again at long, long last, that’s what Uncle Eric is. Hello, duck!’
Lou meets him at the bottom of the stairs and throws her arms around him in a huge embrace, making all the time between them instantly disappear.
‘Hello, my old goose,’
she replies.
‘It’s been far too long.’
‘Our girl,’
he mumbles into her shoulder.
‘That’s our sweet, sweet girl.’
I see Mum bite her lip and bow her head at the sight of their emotional reunion, so she takes Ava back to the kitchen to try out their new approach to festive gingerbread men, while I watch on with glee.
‘How about we make ourselves useful?’
asks Lou.
‘No time like the present to get stuck in.’
Uncle Eric and I both roll our eyes.
‘Some things never change,’
I say to Lou.
‘You have us marching to your tune already.’
‘Well, I’m off to the kitchen, so, to count plates and glasses, is that OK, chief?’
asks Uncle Eric, still licking his lips and clapping his hands.
We laugh as neither of us have appointed a chief, but I have a strong feeling he’s talking to Lou.
‘And Ben and I are going to take on our old job of stringing the fairy lights around the walls in the hallway,’
she tells him.
‘Then we’ll switch them all on and toast this year’s party, just like we always used to.’
Uncle Eric’s fluffy white eyebrows bounce up and down. He sing.
‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’
in a deep baritone as he walks away from us, which makes my heart sing too.
Moments later, I’m standing by a stepladder, handing a string of lights up to Lou.
‘I can reach, don’t worry,’
she tells me.
‘I know exactly where they used to be hung. It’s like time has stood still, it really is. Uncle Eric and I used to do this in record time.’
I can hear laughter coming from the kitchen now that the gingerbread men are back on track, Uncle Eric is clattering his way through the dishes and glasses, and out here it’s just the two of us, like it used to be in the very early days all those years ago, when Lou and I were captains of this ship.
Until I left for university in Paris, that is. Then Uncle Eric and Lou became the dream team around here.
‘Imagine after all this we plugged these lights in and they didn’t work,’
Lou says as she stretches as high as she can to tape them on to the walls.
‘I hope you tested them out this evening like I asked you to, Ben. Your poor father spent far too long at the eleventh hour one year looking for replacement bulbs when someone bought the wrong ones.’
I think she is enjoying being in charge just a little bit too much, but I like it.
‘Ah, I knew I’d forgotten something. Sorry, boss,’
I reply, only to hear her gasp in response.
‘I’m kidding! I haven’t forgotten a thing. I’ll have you know that I’ve been very efficient since I got here.’
‘You could tell me anything,’
she says.
‘But the proof will be in the pudding. We’ll soon find out.’
‘I beg your pardon,’
I say.
‘I’ve dusted more cobwebs than I ever knew existed, I’ve cleaned down chandeliers and I’ve marked the walls with masking tape where they need a touch-up of paint, though that’s Uncle Eric’s next job. He just doesn’t know it yet. And as I’m sure you noticed, I’ve draped the fir trees outside with what felt like a million lights, but we’ve waited for you for the switch-on as usual.’
She isn’t going to let me get away with any bragging though.
‘You’re the best boy, Ben Heaney. The very best boy. Now, does that look OK?’
she asks when she’s fixed the last few inches of lights on to the walls.
‘I’ve tried to keep each loop between as even as I can, but it’s hard to tell from up here.’
I step back into the wide hallway, watching her every move as she examines her work with pride, but the pride I’m feeling is for her. The way she pushes her hair from her eyes, the way she squints when she’s thinking. The way she asks for my approval even though we both know she’ll do it her own way anyhow. The familiarity of every move she makes stirs up old feelings inside of me.
‘It looks … it looks absolutely perfect to me, Lou,’
I tell her.
‘Great job. You’d almost think you’d done this before.’
She shoots me a friendly smile, then dusts off her hands and grips on to the top of the ladder to make her descent.
I instinctively rush to hold it at the bottom as she climbs down, which creates an intimate space between us, one charged with electricity and unspoken yearning.
‘Take your time, I’ve got you,’
I say, doing my best not to stare.
I feel my heart thump in my chest as her hands graze past mine on the way down. She reaches the final step, still within the circle of my arms, which makes every nerve ending in my body tingle.
She is taking her time. I am too. I close my eyes for a second, as the scent of her fills my senses. Her hair, her back, every part of her body is so close to me now. I can barely breathe.
She stops when she reaches the bottom step, but I don’t want to move a muscle. I get the impression that she doesn’t either. I want to savour this brief interaction for all it’s worth, for as long as we can possibly hold it.
‘So, I’ve counted forty-five side plates and there’s only twenty flute glasses, but we can get more of those from – oh, am I interrupting something?’
‘Uncle Eric!’
we both sing in unison, springing backwards.
‘Not at all,’
I say, as if I’ve been electrocuted on the spot.
‘So, yes, that’s so good to know. I’ll write that down before either of us forgets.’
My hands are shaking as I grab my pen and clipboard from a table on the other side of the hallway. Lou looks like she might explode with giddy schoolgirl laughter, while I do my best to hold it together. We are both in our early forties, yet we reacted just now like we were teenagers again.
And it felt so good.
‘I think we should get Cordelia on FaceTime now for our grand switch-on,’
Lou suggests. This is the perfect distraction for Uncle Eric, even though I’m not sure exactly how much he saw just now.
‘Great idea! I’ll fetch Ava and Tilda from the kitchen,’
he says with a wry smile.
‘You two continue what you’re doing in the meantime.’
‘We’re all done, honestly,’ says Lou.
Uncle Eric waves back as he hobbles away.
‘There’s no hurry, is there?’
he says, turning in our direction once more with a wink and a nod.
‘It’s been a long time since Ballyheaney House was lit up for Christmas like this, so we can wait another few minutes if we need to.’
‘Seriously, we’re all good,’
I call out to him.
‘We don’t need to worry about a power cut, that’s for sure,’
laughs Uncle Eric, continuing on his way.
‘There’s enough electricity in this hallway alone to light the feckin’
Eiffel Tower.’
I take a deep breath. My heart is thumping, so I excuse myself and go outside for some fresh air.
Lou doesn’t follow. Maybe that’s a good thing.