Every Christmas Eve

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

Lou

Ben searches the grounds of Ballyheaney House with a fine-tooth comb, scrambling through the stable stalls while calling out Ava’s name. The rain is persistent, loud and unforgiving, making visibility even poorer, not to mention heightening the fear that she might be out there somewhere huddling for shelter.

Cordelia has gone into the village, pledging to check every nook and cranny on the streets as well as the shops and restaurants, while I’ve told Mum and Nana Molly to let us know immediately if she turns up at Buds and Beans.

‘Edward and I are going to take a drive around while Nana minds the shop,’

Mum tells me when I call her in a state of despair.

‘We’ve been so busy since you left, but this is much more important.’

‘Edward?’

I ask her.

‘Master Campbell,’

she replies.

‘He’s waiting on me outside already, so I’ll keep in touch.’

Good old Edward. He really is a decent sort. I just hope Nana Molly hasn’t knocked him back if he’s finally asked her to the Christmas Eve party tomorrow. I still haven’t had a chance to ask him if he plucked up the courage or changed his mind.

‘I didn’t even hear her leave the house,’

says Tilda.

‘Please God, let her be safe. It’s going to be dark very soon. I’ll never forgive myself for not hearing her leave if she’s come to any trouble.’

We estimate Ava had left the house no more than fifteen to twenty minutes before Cordelia discovered her missing, which gives her a fairly decent head start to make an escape, but I do my best to play it down to Ben, who’s gone so pale with worry.

‘She’s a child, she’s only a child,’

Ben keeps repeating before we go our separate ways again to continue searching.

‘She thinks she knows this area, but she doesn’t at all. And for a twelve-year-old, she isn’t streetwise. She’ll panic once she strays too far and can’t find her way back.’

‘We’ll find her,’

I promise him.

‘You and I grew up here, so we do know the area. So does Cordelia. I’ll go down to the strand boardwalk and search there. She can’t have got too far.’

We are crippled with fear, but adrenaline has kicked in and we’ve developed a plan at lightning speed, agreeing that Tilda and Uncle Eric will keep checking the house and alert us if Ava returns.

‘Be careful,’

Ben tells me as I leave him at the gates of Ballyheaney House.

‘I still have some parts of the grounds here to check. You will let me know as soon as you can if you find her?’

I nod in response, my heart bleeding for him as he sets off with Roly towards the outhouses, hoping to find his precious girl.

‘We’ll find her!’

I shout out to him again. He doesn’t hear me as he’s too busy calling for Ava through the relentless wind and rain. I jump into the car and drive as fast as I can down to the village, where I park up on the Ballydermot Road and get ready to face the elements. At least I know this area like the back of my hand.

Lough Beg in winter has always been breathtaking, but my mission here today isn’t to admire the scenery, which is slowly disappearing into the evening mist, but to search it instead.

With the hood of my waterproof coat dipping over my forehead, I scour the landscape as best I can through the sheets of icy rain. The shades of green that usually frame the strand boardwalk are now muted to greys and browns, the water on the lake is calm with small ripples forming across its surface, and the bare branches of the trees are silhouetted against the dull sky.

‘Ava!’

I call out, treading carefully along the slippery boardwalk, but my voice goes nowhere. The air is damp. It catches my breath as the smell of burning peat fills my nostrils from chimney pots in the distance. It’s already gone five o’clock, so the dark clouds and the mist in the air make it hard to see the spire on Church Island, never mind help me to find a runaway child.

My stomach clenches. I say a prayer as I leave the boardwalk and walk towards the woods, using the torch on my phone as I approach, though it doesn’t make much difference in the murky light. My gut knows that Ava won’t have ventured too far, nor would she want to feel scared, but I keep on walking, something telling me to do so.

‘Ava!’

I call again.

‘Ava, darling, are you out here? Can you hear me?’

My phone bleeps as a text message arrives. It’s Cordelia. I stop in my tracks, my fingers shaking as I open the message after wiping raindrops off my screen.

She isn’t in the village. I’ve checked everywhere. Oh Lou, this is so frightening.

I double-check to see if there’s an update from Ben, but no. There’s nothing.

I close my eyes and do my best to think straight. A twelve-year-old girl, confused and angry at her father, overwhelmed with feelings of guilt, fear and longing, a little girl who only wants to be loved. Where would she go? How much does she know about Lough Beg? What did I know when I was her age? Where might I have run to?

I have an idea. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a check.

I start walking again. My pace quickens so much I’m almost jogging, until I slip and fall, catching my hand on a sharp bramble.

‘Ouch!’

I clamber back to my feet and brush the dead leaves from my legs, allowing myself a moment to get my breath back. I see a dog walker in the distance, someone out for a rainy walk completely oblivious to the terror I’m feeling as the clock ticks away. No word from Ben. No word from Tilda or Uncle Eric either, who are keeping watch at the house.

I can’t see the hut in the distance, but I head right towards it, only because I know what I’m looking for. It’s so well camouflaged, nestled in nature and almost invisible to a casual observer in daylight, never mind the dark of winter. Hundreds and hundreds of people will have passed through this dense woodland patch, never noticing the result of hours of labour by a group of young teenagers in the nineties who longed for a hideaway from the big bad world.

We called it the Shepherd’s Mud Hut, even though there was more chance of seeing cattle round here than sheep back then. Some said it had been built by the British army years ago for shelter, but I knew different.

I straighten myself up and take a deep breath, but this time I don’t call her by name.

Instead, I go to the entrance of the man-made shelter, twigs snapping under my feet and the wind whipping up a storm, though it doesn’t mask the sobbing sound from inside.

I crouch down, holding on to the sodden, weathered wood while doing my best to avoid jagged nails above me. I peer through the branches.

And then I see her.

‘Oh, Ava!’

She is a tiny and pitiful sight, tucked up against the far wall of the grubby hut. She doesn’t look at me, nor does she answer at first.

‘Ava, darling, it’s Lou,’

I say softly.

‘Are you OK? I’ve been looking for you. We all have.’

She still doesn’t look at me directly, but I can see her deep brown eyes, so full of fear.

‘What time is it?’

she asks me, sniffling as she speaks.

‘Is my dad really mad? I heard what he said to Uncle Eric about you. And then when I saw you arrive at Ballyheaney I couldn’t stay there, so I ran, but I’m sorry, Lou. I’m scared and I’m sorry.’

I crawl in beside her, hoping that if I stay calm then she will too. The hut smells of damp earth and pine, and the ground is not as dry as it used to be in here. It’s covered in soggy leaves and mossy branches. A couple of sun-faded beer cans are neatly stacked in the corner, telling me Ava isn’t the only one to have found my once-secret hiding place.

‘He isn’t mad at you, honey. He’s very worried, so why don’t I tell him I’ve found you, eh?’

I say to her. I sit down on the damp ground, trying to stay composed as I find her dad’s number on my phone.

‘Everything’s going to be fine, Ava. You’ve nothing to worry about.’

I call Ben rather than message him, knowing he’ll want to hear her voice to reassure him.

‘I’ve found her,’

I tell him, smiling at her in a bid to ease the fear in her eyes.

‘Yes, yes, she’s absolutely fine. She’s safe, she’s dry, and she’s OK. I’ll bring her home straight away. You go inside and get warmed up and we’ll be right there.’

Ava reaches for my phone, so I give it to her, noticing how shaky, bright red and bitterly cold her hands are. I take off my coat and tuck it around her shoulders. My coat may be dripping wet on the outside, but inside it’s cosy, soft and warm.

She doesn’t object.

‘I’m so sorry, Dad,’

she tells him, her little voice all aquiver.

‘I’m sorry for worrying you. I thought you were mad with me, so I ran. I know it was stupid. I’m sorry.’

I can hear Ben’s voice, but I can’t make out what he is saying so I close my eyes, savouring the relief I feel inside while knowing it’s not even a patch on what he’s going through.

‘How did you know where I was?’

Ava asks me when she ends the phone call.

‘Because I’ve been here before too, many times,’

I tell her.

‘Really?’

she asks in bewilderment.

‘Roly found this place when we went walking with Grandma. She said I’d found a secret hideout never discovered before.’

‘Well done, Roly,’

I whisper.

‘He has been helping your dad look for you too.’

She sniffles loudly and gasps.

‘I wasn’t going to stay here for long though,’

she says quickly.

‘I only wanted to get away from everything and have a think. I’m not sure what’s going on with you and my dad and it scares me.’

I remind myself how Ava doesn’t know me very much at all yet. To her, I’m the florist in the place that makes nice hot chocolate, I’m the family friend who helped a bit with the party. I’m the one who was once in love with her dad, though I don’t know how much of that she’s heard so far.

‘When I was about thirteen, not much older than you,’

I tell her.

‘me and my friends would come down here in the summer. I wasn’t allowed out this far, so I didn’t dare tell my parents or Nana Molly where I was going. Some local boys gathered wood, we found some rubber coverings in my dad’s shed to make a patchwork roof, and soon we had our very own place to play card games, listen to music on our battery radio and hang out together away from it all. I’d sometimes come here alone too when I was confused or scared, to think, just like you were doing. We called it the Shepherd’s Mud Hut. It’s cool, isn’t it?’

She nods, looking around her, wide-eyed in wonder.

‘So, you built this?’

‘Yep,’

I say, feeling a pinch of nostalgia for innocent days gone by.

‘With a little help from my friends. But see that patch of rubber right above you? If you look really closely, you can see where I wrote my initials in permanent marker. It was my thirteenth birthday, and I thought it was the coolest place in the whole world.’

I point my phone torch towards it to show her.

‘Impressive,’

she says, taking in her surroundings.

We sit side by side, shoulder to shoulder, and suddenly I’m hiding here at the age of thirteen again, caught up in tangled emotions. One minute bold and confident, the next full of fear and frustration.

‘Ava, I know that Christmas can be hard when you’ve lost someone special, especially your beautiful mum,’

I tell her, hoping I haven’t crossed a line by bringing it up.

‘You see lots of friends your age with both parents, and it makes you feel very lonely and very different.’

She wipes away some fresh tears from her eyes, staring at the ground with her knees huddled under her chin.

‘No, you don’t know,’

she replies.

‘How would you know what it feels like? You’re a grown-up, so you can’t know anything about it. You all think you do, but you don’t.’

I take a deep breath, understanding how isolated she is feeling right now.

‘You’re right, I don’t know fully what you’re going through, but I can understand a little because my daddy died very suddenly when I was a teenager,’

I explain.

‘Oh,’

she replies.

‘Very suddenly,’

I reply.

‘He was killed in an accident at work. I was so angry at myself for a long time. I was angry at everyone, to tell you the truth. I ran away too. Not in this way, but I ran away to America for the summer, as I couldn’t bear to be at home without him.’

‘Sorry to hear that,’

she mumbles.

‘And even though I was quite a bit older than you were when it happened, it hurt like nothing had ever hurt before,’

I say, doing my best not to well up.

‘I still feel very sad when I think of him and how much he missed out on. And then when I think of my mum, who really misses her husband, that can make me sad too. It wasn’t fair. It still isn’t fair, even though I’m a grown-up now. It still hurts. I still miss him.’

Ava stares at the ground. I realise I need to get her home quickly to the cosy fire in Ballyheaney House, but I also need to let her air her feelings now that she’s away from it all.

‘I don’t remember her all that much,’

she gasps.

‘Oh, Ava.’

‘It scares me,’

she says, her chin trembling and her shoulders shaking as she speaks. I could put my arm around her, but I don’t want to interrupt what she’s saying.

‘I’m so afraid I’m forgetting her that it keeps me awake at night. And now I’m afraid that Dad will forget her too.’

‘Your dad could never forget your mummy,’ I say.

‘He will now that he’s found his one true love again,’

she tells me.

My heart skips a beat.

‘His one true love?’

I ask her.

‘Who said that?’

‘Uncle Eric said that you are Dad’s one true love, so he needs to be careful not to lose you again,’

she sobs.

‘If that’s the case, then why did he marry my mummy? Why didn’t he marry you instead? Hearing that makes me think he didn’t love her in the first place. He loved you more.’

I shake my head, wanting to shake Uncle Eric too for putting such notions into a child’s head, even though I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm. Well, this changes things entirely. No wonder the poor child is confused.

‘Let’s start walking home and we can talk more,’

I suggest.

‘Would that be all right?’

She nods, her little face furrowed into a frown. I attempt to crawl out of the hut without scraping my knees or grazing my hands again. Thankfully, when we get outside, the rain has subsided into a light drizzle, leaving the ground mulchy and slippery beneath our feet.

‘I think us grown-ups have some explaining to do,’

I say as we walk side by side towards the boardwalk.

‘Ava, your daddy found his perfect life partner when he met your mum. Cordelia was telling me all about her and she sounds so wonderful. Please don’t listen to what Uncle Eric said. The whole family were utterly heartbroken to lose her, which says a lot for how much she was loved by you all.’

She fixes my coat against her chin, still too cold to brave the elements without it.

‘Dad says he feels her near him sometimes, but I never get that,’

she says when we’re about halfway across the boardwalk. She stops, then bends down and lifts a twig before throwing it into the lake.

A pair of swans fly above our heads, so closely that we duck down to avoid their swooping wings from brushing our heads.

‘Wow!’

she says.

‘Did you feel that?’

This makes her giggle. It makes me laugh too.

‘Did you know that when two swans fall in love, they mate for life?’

I say to Ava as we watch them land on the lake under the moonlight, their huge grey-white wings flapping until they find their balance.

‘Watch how they glide together, almost synchronised in every way as a sign of their deep love. They are fiercely protective of each other, especially when they’ve a young cygnet. And that baby becomes the most important thing in the whole world for them. The swan mum and dad would do anything for her. Anything.’

Ava’s eyes flicker back and forth as she concentrates. Her head tilts slightly and she purses her lips in deep thought.

‘Your dad has told me how happy he and your mum were together, Ava,’

I continue.

‘He didn’t want anyone else but his very beautiful, caring wife. He chose to marry her, and they pledged to be together for as long as they both lived, which they did, just like the swans do.’

I watch as Ava’s eyes follow the gracious birds until they almost disappear into the distance.

‘But what if one of the swans dies?’

she asks me.

‘What does the other one do then?’

I thought she might say as much.

‘When one swan dies, the other grieves for a very long time,’

I explain, glad that I’d heard all about this from Nana Molly when I was a child.

‘The other swan will usually be extremely sad and lonely. He or she will have a broken heart.’

‘Forever?’

she asks me.

‘Sometimes forever,’

I tell her.

‘Though sometimes he or she might meet a new mate, meaning they get to be happy again, sometimes for the rest of their life. It doesn’t mean they didn’t love the first swan, of course. Or that the first swan will ever be forgotten. Our hearts are made for lots of love, Ava. Even when they’re broken.’

She takes a deep breath.

‘So he won’t ever forget her?’

she asks me.

‘Never,’

I say straight back.

‘And you won’t forget your mum either, because she can’t be too far away when you are here. You are part of her. Ava, your precious young mother left everyone who loved her one of the favourite parts of her behind. You.’

Ava puts her hand to her chest, then looks up to the sky as the moon shines brightly through the clouds. We both stare in wonder at the drastic change in weather, then our eyes meet for the first time since I found her huddled in the hut.

‘Look, it’s her!’

Ava tells me, her face now full of hope.

‘She loved the sun and she loved the moon so much. Not as much as she loved me and Dad of course.’

‘That’s her saying hello,’

I whisper, putting my hand on her shoulder.

‘See? You only have to look or ask, and she’ll be right beside you every step of the way.’

Ava beams a smile almost as bright as the moon above us.

‘So I’ve nothing to worry about,’

she says, but I think it’s more to herself than it is to me.

‘There’s enough love for everyone, even when a heart is broken.’

‘You’d better believe it,’

I tell her.

We walk along the rest of the boardwalk in silence, and when we get to the car park at the Ballydermot Road, Ben is there waiting for his number-one girl, with his arms outstretched and tears in his eyes.

Ava points up to the bright, shining moon, showing her dad with delight.

‘I see her, baby,’

he tells her.

‘I told you I see her everywhere we go.’

I watch on with the strong feeling that the fuzzy joy of Christmas might be a bit closer now at long last. We deserve this and we need this.

And I think I can say that now for all of us.