Christmas at Bay Tree Cottage

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Christmas at Bay Tree Cottage Page 9

by Linn B. Halton


  ‘Ah, we have the oldies on again. How are you today, Maya?’

  I walk in and slip off my boots.

  ‘Good, thanks. Mum says if the music is too loud and it bothers you, I have to turn it down. I think she has her ear plugs in, as she’s working.’

  I smile at Maya’s earnest look and shake my head.

  ‘No, it’s fine. I like a bit of Christmas music. You go ahead, it doesn’t bother me.’

  ‘Thank you, Luke.’ She turns and shouts out, ‘Mum, Luke said the music is fine.’

  Elana appears, iPod around her neck and ear pieces hanging.

  ‘Sorry, Luke. Are you sure it’s okay? I’m editing and it will be about an hour before we eat, if you’d like to join us. Had a good day?’

  ‘Just clearing up the rubble from next door’s garden. Hopefully the skip can go in the next day or two, so it will be easier for parking.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. If you need me for anything, just shout. Well, you might have to wave your hands as I’m using whale music to counteract Maya’s noise. Editing requires concentration. I’ve washed through and the dust is much better. I’ve moved the computer into the kitchen, so it’s all yours. I’ll just make some coffee and then get back to work.’

  Obviously Elana needs to concentrate, so I nod and make my way through to the dining room, carrying a bucket of plaster. Shortly after I spread out the dust sheets on the floor, she reappears with a mug, but her ear pieces are back in and I give her a thumbs-up, by way of a thank you. She smiles at me before turning to walk away.

  Maya appears from behind the hanging sheet I put up in front of the sitting-room door.

  ‘Luke, if the chimney isn’t dry yet, should we put up a sign for Santa to let him know?’

  Her forehead is scrunched up in earnest as she awaits my reply. It takes me a moment or two to think of something.

  ‘Well, Santa is a chimney expert. In fact, he was the one who let us know something was wrong and he will be pleased to see it looking like new. But it should be fine by the time Christmas Eve comes around, anyway, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.’

  She gazes up at me, putting a finger up to her lips and then glances behind her at Elana, whose back is towards us. Then she leans in to me to whisper.

  ‘He’ll get the letters I’m leaving for him, then? I don’t want Mummy to see them, as it’s a surprise.’

  I stoop to her level, plunging the trowel into the plaster to lift a large scoop out onto the hawk.

  ‘What’s that?’ She continues to keep her voice low.

  ‘It’s a tray for the plaster so I can hold it up close like this and then spread it on to make the wall good. I promised Mummy it would be perfect for Christmas.’

  ‘That’s one of the things on my list,’ she whispers, her voice now barely audible. She swings her head back around to check on Elana, who is typing away.

  ‘Well, I’m working on it, so you can put a tick against that one.’

  ‘Thank you, Luke. I wasn’t sure whether Santa would have time. How do you spell your name?’

  ‘L-U-K-E.’

  ‘Got it, thanks.’

  With that she disappears behind the sheet, leaving me more than a little intrigued. Shouldn’t kids be making lists about the toys they hope Santa will bring them? Why on earth is Maya making a list of jobs around the house?

  As I trowel on the plaster and the new surface begins to take shape, I try to imagine Joe at Maya’s age. What will be in his letter to Santa? I hope it’s just the usual kids’ stuff and even though our situation isn’t the best, it will be a normality that we will have made acceptable to him. I guess in the case of a death, there is no way to make it normal. Now that is a tragedy.

  Chapter 17

  Luke

  Opening Up

  After dinner both Elana and Maya disappear upstairs as I continue layering on the plaster. I’m conscious that I have Joe tomorrow and need to finish this tonight. But I can’t get Maya’s words out of my head and curiosity gets the better of me. I head across to take down the dust sheet in front of the sitting room door and fold it roughly, ready to take outside to shake it out. My gaze trails over to the fireplace. It’s none of my business, but still I can’t drag my eyes away. Kneeling down in front of the grate I bend my head to look upwards into the void. Sure enough, there is a small pile of white paper neatly folded and sitting on the ledge to the right-hand side. I sit back to listen for a moment and clearly they are both upstairs in the bathroom as the shower is running. I lean in and before I can stop myself I gather up the papers in my hand and sit back on my heels, staring down at them.

  Maya’s writing is very neat and well controlled, although I’m no expert on the abilities of a six-year-old. I’m just surprised it’s so legible.

  There are four folded pieces of paper in total and on the front of each she’s written, ‘To Santa’. On the first one, beneath the handwriting, is a little drawing of a star. The others feature a bauble, a Christmas tree and the final one has a heart. Immediately I see the heart, I gather up the slips of paper to put them back on the ledge. Even a six-year-old has the right to a little privacy and, besides, it’s not my name on those letters. Maybe Elana is aware of them and has the situation in hand; either way, it’s none of my business.

  By the time Maya is in bed and Elana comes back downstairs I’m ready to head off home.

  ‘What a difference in just a couple of hours. I have a solid wall again, no more exposed brickwork. Thanks for taking down the dust sheets. And you were right, yesterday was the worst day.’

  ‘It was best to get that mess out of the way. It’s pretty even, not perfect, but much better than it was and it’s sound. Gradually the patches will dry out and when it goes a pale-pink colour I’ll seal the wall with a coat of primer. Do you want me to do the top coats? It will need two to cover it properly.’

  Elana is standing next to me and a waft of her perfume, warm and mellow, suddenly reminds me of summer. She turns her head to look at me with grateful eyes.

  ‘You’re a saviour, Luke. I’m happy to do the painting and I’m conscious Christmas is getting closer with every hour that passes. I can wield a paintbrush, but I can’t lay flooring.’

  I nod; fair play to her that she’s prepared to roll up her sleeves and get hands-on.

  ‘Niall was good with his hands and there was quite a bit he could do, not professional stuff, though. I was always the painter. I guess the only skill you need for that is attention to detail and patience.’

  Her face changes suddenly and she looks embarrassed.

  ‘You must really miss him.’ Darn it, why did I say that?

  ‘Don’t mind me, it’s just that sometimes the memories come flooding back when you least expect them. It’s survivor’s guilt. I want to move on but—

  She’s inches away and before I can stop myself my arms are around her. I half expect Elana to recoil in horror and to push me away, but instead her head falls against my shoulder and she sinks into me. I don’t feel I have a right to hug her, so I stand there with my arms loosely draped around her, almost holding her upright. The seconds stretch into minutes and then I gently withdraw my arms and stand back. I glance at her to double-check I don’t need to make a very quick exit before she begins shouting at me.

  She swallows, hard. ‘Thanks, Luke. I needed a hug. It’s lonely at times, you know? I wonder if Maya understands that. Or will she be hurt to think I’m letting her daddy go if I decide it’s time to move on?’

  My heart begins to pound inside my chest. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ I mutter and turn to walk into the kitchen.

  Her body language wasn’t warning me off, that’s for sure, but I still can’t believe I just did that. I keep looking back at her as I grab two mugs and shovel stuff into them while waiting for the kettle to boil. It looks as if she’s taking a moment to compose herself and then she walks towards me, lowering herself into one of the seats around the table.

 
; ‘I really am sorry for putting you on the spot, there, Luke. Along with survivor’s guilt comes the awkwardness other people around you feel when they sense your inner turmoil. People are naturally uncomfortable and they don’t know what to say, or do. Thanks for not making me feel … foolish.’ What can you say to something like that? For some crazy reason it’s important to me that she knows I’m not simply feeling sorry for her. I hugged her because at that moment I wanted to be the person who was there for her. What that means, exactly, I can’t be sure. But I do know that it’s not in my nature to go around hugging women for the sake of it.

  ‘It’s okay, I understand. There are times when I get this sense of anger building up inside of me and I work it out in the gym. It’s the frustration of knowing I can’t change anything that’s happened and it’s hard to accept. I’m not comparing my situation to yours, please don’t think that, but I understand the feeling of being overwhelmed at times.’

  Elana takes the coffee mug from me as I sit down opposite her. The frown on her forehead is back and there’s a look in her eyes that isn’t anything to do with sadness.

  ‘I can’t bring him back, Luke. He’s never going to be sitting at this table with me again. I can’t change that and it isn’t my fault. And yet it’s hard to accept it’s over, which sounds ridiculous. I mean, death is the very definition of no going back. I don’t want to be alone forever and that hug kinda reminded me of that.’ Now she looks uncomfortable as the colour rises in her cheeks.

  I’m conscious that no matter how attractive I find her, she’s a customer and I definitely crossed the line. All I can do is try to redeem myself so she doesn’t think I took a liberty.

  ‘You’re doing the only thing you can, and that’s to focus on Maya and rebuild your life one day at a time. My mum is the one I turn to when I’m feeling desperate and she keeps saying the same thing over and over again. We have to learn to accept the things we can’t change and move on. It sounds harsh, doesn’t it? But I’ve come to realise that the danger of ignoring those words of wisdom is that the pain never lessens. It’s a way of keeping it raw, of punishing ourselves because when things go badly wrong it has to be because of something we’ve done, isn’t that right? But now I know different. I made the choices I made based on what I knew at the time and there’s no way I could see what was going to happen. As you said, there’s nothing you could have done to change what happened, Elana, it wasn’t within your control. That’s what you have to accept and I know that’s very easy for me to say, but it’s not a platitude. If you learn to embrace the concept, you can change your future but you can only take it one day at a time.’

  I’ve just poured out everything I’ve been thinking since I met Elana and now I’m feeling her pain. Elana’s head is bowed over her coffee mug.

  ‘I’m listening,’ she says, so quietly I have to strain my ears. ‘There’s no way to compare levels of pain and I appreciate that you know what it’s like. It’s the constant pressure to be strong when other people are around, in order to avoid the pity factor. I see it in the eyes of my family and friends all the time. Then there are days I could scream and I just want life to be normal again. But the old normal, so it doesn’t involve me stepping outside of my comfort zone. I find myself resenting Niall for putting us through this. How can I do that to him? It wasn’t his fault, either. And then I feel guilty. Again.’

  What I hear is someone who is holding back her emotions and I reach out to grab her hand.

  ‘No, it wasn’t his fault, but it’s also true that you didn’t deserve for this to happen. Your life has been torn apart, literally, and no one is ever prepared to cope with that. Learn to cut yourself some slack, Elana, and don’t feel you have to be this superwoman figure who can roll with the punches. Life hurts at times, and this is one of those times. It’s not weakness to admit that, it’s simply the truth.’ I squeeze her hand and then pull back, immediately grabbing my coffee mug to make the action seem more natural. Holding her hand was unnerving me, the feel of her skin against mine seemed too natural and left me wanting more.

  ‘My counsellor would be impressed, Luke. Maybe you missed your calling.’

  ‘That was a bit heavy; I hope I wasn’t crossing a line. It just touched a nerve with me. There’s something about this time of the year that makes it even harder trying to act as if everything is fine when it isn’t. I mean, I’m back with my parents this Christmas, just the three of us. How sad is that?’

  Elana looks directly at me and smiles, the corners of her mouth lifting just enough to soften her face and dispel that haunted look.

  ‘But knowing they are there for you, no matter what, shows how much you are loved. That’s something I remind myself of all the time. I’ll get through this and so will you. That doesn’t make it easy, or take away the pain, but you are right. There is no going back and that’s the thing I still struggle with. I keep asking myself why? Why me, why Niall; why does an accident have to happen? But accidents do happen and the harsh truth is that it will never make any sense. Ahh … I bet you wish you had some simple little job to do, rather than working in the home of an emotionally unstable woman.’

  She begins laughing as she raises the mug of coffee to her mouth.

  ‘Every day that passes takes you another step towards becoming stronger. Maya is one lucky little girl.’

  A sudden flush of guilt washes over me as I remember Maya’s handwritten letters sitting on the ledge up the chimney. Now obviously isn’t the time to raise it with Elana, she has enough to worry about.

  ‘If you ever need a listening ear, I’m only a phone call away.’

  When Elana closes the door behind me and I walk up to the van, the quiet darkness all around feels alien to me. The emotion and warmth I’ve left behind leaves me feeling exposed in some way and the chilly breeze is akin to being attacked with knives. I’m going home to an empty flat, cold and drab. Time to take your own advice, Luke. Tomorrow is another day and there’s no point in looking back. But you also can’t fool yourself that you are becoming a part of someone else’s life just because you recognise another soul who is suffering in much the same way. Elana needed a hug and you were the only one around. Don’t fool yourself into thinking it meant something.

  Chapter 18

  Luke

  Why is Life so Complicated?

  ‘Greg, it’s Luke. Sorry I didn’t get to return your call yesterday but it was a late one. I’m just heading over to pick up Joe, so I’ll drop by yours on the way for a quick coffee.’

  Greg answers the door, looking unusually smart considering it’s early Saturday morning.

  ‘How’re things? Still seeing the same lady?’

  ‘Cheryl, yes. She’s pretty special and it’s going really well. I’m in a bit of a spot, though. Seems she promised Lisa she’d talk me into dragging you along for a foursome. Believe me, mate, it wasn’t my idea but she won’t give up on it. I know what you said, but could you do this as a favour? An hour, max, and then you walk away and everyone is happy. You know what women are like, they won’t give up until it’s obvious you aren’t interested. Cheryl thinks that you would like Lisa if you just gave her a chance.’

  He rolls his eyes upwards and gives a shrug. I let out a loud sigh, knowing this is the worst idea ever.

  ‘Okay, as a favour. But it isn’t going anywhere and I’m not going to pretend I’m even mildly interested in her just to get you in the good books of your latest love interest. Text me where and when. And this is a huge favour because it means I’ll be pulled away from this job I’m doing. I hope you feel guilty.’

  ‘How is the widow lady?’

  The label seems to have stuck and for some reason I suddenly take offence at it.

  ‘Her name is Elana and I’ll be working there for a couple of weeks. I told you, I need the money and Anita and Joe are going away at New Year to a holiday camp with a friend and her daughter. I said I’d chip in on the cost of that.’

  Greg claps me on the back, a
big grin on his face.

  ‘You’ve saved my life, mate. Pity Anita didn’t ask you along instead of her friend. Seems a bit unfair.’

  Greg has no idea and, in fairness, I can’t expect him to understand.

  ‘It wouldn’t work, trust me. I just need to earn what I can at the moment to cover everything. I won’t stop; I have a few things to pick up before I collect Joe.’

  He shrugs, probably thinking I’m a mug because he has no idea what a huge responsibility it is to have a family to support. To him I’m a single guy, so should be as free as he is to spend my money how I want. And now he’s roped me into something that I know isn’t right, because it will imply an interest that just isn’t there. I suppose the sooner we get it over, the better.

  ***

  I end up at Anita’s on the dot, but instead of simply handing over a bag and encouraging Joe out of the door, she invites me inside.

  ‘Joe’s watching TV; I’ll just grab his bag.’

  I stand inside, pushing the door shut behind me and just a little surprised that Anita seems so relaxed. She reappears, handing me a full back pack with Joe’s things.

  ‘I was wondering if you’d like to have Joe overnight sometime, you know, as we’ll be away the last Saturday in December. I know it’s only the Lakeside Park Resort, and you could collect him and take him out for the day, but it would be easier if he stayed with me. What do you think?’

  ‘As I said, it’s not a problem and I’d love to have Joe overnight, if you’re sure.’ I mean, this is a big step forward for us. Maybe it’s time, at last, to put the old hurt behind us and forget personal hang-ups, so we can concentrate on what’s best for Joe.

  I can’t wait to call in to see Mum and Dad, and when I break the news Mum lifts Joe up in her arms and hugs him close, spinning him around in her excitement.

  ‘Are you and Daddy going to come for a sleepover?’

  Joe, bless, nods his head. ‘Leep. Dada.’ He continues nodding, enthusiastically. Maybe he does understand a bit of what’s going on, because he seems excited.

 

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