Coming Home for Christmas

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Want to!’ she said sulkily. ‘’Snot fair!’

  ‘Now now, Santa’s fairies are listening,’ Esther warned. ‘Come on, we have to put baby Jesus in the crib and light the candle in the porch.’

  ‘Oh! I’d forgotten about the candle-lighting ceremony,’ Alison said with delight.

  ‘Can I light the match?’ Kate asked eagerly.

  ‘No, we’ll let Gran do it so there’ll be no rows,’ Olivia decreed.

  ‘What about Grandad?’ Lia piped up, always his champion.

  ‘Grandad and I will do it together. Come on, we’ll do it now,’ Esther said. They hurried out to the porch, where the tall white candle reposed in an arrangement of greenery and red and white roses. Liam handed Esther the matches, and when she had struck one, he placed his hand over hers and the two of them bent down towards the wick to light the candle to guide weary travellers and welcome the Christ child into the world. It was a lovely tradition and already several candles were flickering in windows and porches around the village.

  Alison caught Olivia’s eye. Each knew what the other was thinking. Each sent up a word of thanks to the Almighty that their parents were alive and well and with them for another Christmas.

  ‘Cam I blow it out?’ Ellie broke the moment.

  ‘Of course. Go on – we’ll light it again.’ Esther laughed. ‘Your mother and aunt were exactly the same at your age. Now come on and we’ll put baby Jesus in his crib,’ she encouraged when the candle had been blown out and relit.

  The crib was in the front room on the bookcase. Esther had made mountains out of some books covered in black papier-mâché. Some small pieces of Christmas-tree branches and ivy gave a forest effect. The Three Wise Men and the Shepherds clustered outside the stable, which was illuminated by a small light that shone on Joseph and Mary, and on the ox and the ass standing on the straw that covered the floor. A little blue angel sat atop the stable, and a silver star dangled from the roof. It hadn’t changed in over forty-five years. Esther had bought it for her and Liam’s first Christmas together. And every year it sat on the bookcase in its accustomed place and, as once her two girls had gazed in delight upon it, now her grandchildren had the same expressions of enchantment as Liam lifted Ellie up to place the small figure of the baby Jesus, on his manger, into the stable.

  ‘Baby Jesus, have a good sleep with your Mom and Dad,’ she said lovingly, stroking the little figure.

  ‘Talking of sleep, ladies, we need to be getting home. We have a lot to do in our house, and Santa will be leaving the North Pole soon,’ Olivia interjected, looking at her watch. It was almost five, and baths had to be had and hair washed before the stocking-hanging ceremony.

  ‘Please, pleezzze stay with us tonight, Auntie Alison,’ Kate begged, as Lia slipped an arm around her waist and looked up at her hopefully.

  ‘Santa will come to you in our house,’ Ellie assured her.

  ‘And what about poor Gran and Grandad? Who will stay with them?’ Alison asked, loving the feeling of being so important in their lives.

  ‘They won’t mind, sure you won’t, Gran?’ Kate said confidently. ‘They’d want you to have some fun,’ she insisted.

  ‘I was thinking more about my sleep,’ Alison said wryly. ‘What time does Santa come on Christmas Eve?’

  ‘When we’re all asleep of course, silly.’ Ellie laughed at the ridiculousness of such a question.

  ‘And what time do you get up at on Christmas morning?’

  ‘When the toys come.’

  ‘That’s what I’d be afraid of,’ Alison retorted.

  ‘Chicken,’ grinned Olivia.

  ‘Go and enjoy Christmas Eve with the children,’ Esther insisted. ‘We won’t mind.’

  ‘Pleezzze,’ they all urged, hanging on to her arms.

  ‘Oh all right then.’ Alison caved in. ‘Just let me pack an overnight bag.’

  ‘Yippee!’

  ‘Yesss!’

  ‘Cool!’

  ‘You have me twisted around your little fingers. Three against one just isn’t fair.’ Alison laughed, touched by their reactions, as they all galloped upstairs ahead of her to help her pack.

  ‘Are you bringing your very high heels for Mass?’ Lia asked hopefully, planning to have a go of them when her auntie wasn’t wearing them.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘An’ lipstick?’ Ellie demanded.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And earrings?’ Kate asked, hoping to get to open the jewellery box with the little ballerina that she loved to play with when she came to visit her Gran.

  ‘Yes, the gold crescent ones. Will you get them out of my jewellery box, please? And then wind the ballerina up and we’ll watch her dance to the music.’ Alison knew exactly what her niece wanted. She had spent hours as a child fascinated by the whirling ballerina.

  ‘Come on, you lot, it’s getting late,’ Olivia called ten minutes later.

  ‘We better go, girls, we don’t want to be caught out by Santa!’ Alison made a face.

  ‘I don’t think I want that man coming into my bedroom,’ Ellie said doubtfully, slipping her hand into her aunt’s. ‘Cam I sleep with you?’

  Alison’s heart sank. Ellie was inclined to take over the bed, as she’d discovered a few days previously when her youngest niece had pleaded to stay on a sleepover with her.

  ‘We’ll see what Mam says.’

  ‘But what about your toys that Santa’s going to leave?’ Lia asked, shocked. ‘Santa won’t come into Auntie Alison’s room. He only does kids . . . no offence . . .’ she said hastily, not wishing to appear rude.

  ‘I know, pet. Let’s get home and get sorted and we’ll see what happens,’ Alison said lightly. With any luck, her niece would be asleep before hitting the pillow, she was yawning her curly little head off already.

  There was much hugging and kissing in the hall as they said goodbye to Esther and Liam, promising to keep a seat for them in the church the following morning. ‘Bye, Gran. Bye, Grandad. Happy Christmas,’ Lia said, hugging her grandad tightly.

  ‘Let me know that Santa’s come, now won’t you?’ he insisted as they trooped out the door.

  ‘We will,’ they chorused, and Esther watched them leave, happy as could be that Alison was home to share their Christmas at last.

  The Hammond household was a crazy house for the next two hours as baths were taken, hair was washed and dried, supper was eaten and prayers were said. At last, to Olivia’s relief, it was time for her overexcited daughters to put out the carrots and milk and cookies by the fire for Santa and the reindeer, hang up the stockings and go to bed.

  ‘Do you think three cookies is enough?’

  ‘Well, he might be hungry.’

  ‘Cam I have a cookie?’

  ‘Me too?’

  ‘Me too?’

  ‘Girls, I’m really losing my patience. You’ve just scoffed a huge tea. Now up to bed.’ Olivia couldn’t hide her exasperation. She still had Christmas presents to wrap.

  ‘Come on, before your Mom loses her cool,’ Alison intervened, noting her sister’s heightened colour and the spark in her eye.

  ‘Ookkkaayy.’ Lia grimaced.

  ‘Chill, Mom,’ Kate said cheekily, not actually realizing how thin the ice she was skating on was.

  ‘Cam I—’

  ‘BED!’ Olivia said emphatically, pointing a finger up the stairs.

  Alison watched as the trio hung the red stockings on the end of their bedposts. Lia neatly and exactly lined hers up parallel to the bedpost. Kate’s was higgledy-piggledy, and Ellie’s on the knob of the chest of drawers because she didn’t want ‘that man’ near her bed. Alison had promised that if she woke up and was scared she could come straight in to her.

  The big bedroom had three beds in a row, with a little locker between each bed. Kate’s was crammed with bric-a-brac and ornaments. Lia’s held her clock and book, and Ellie’s had her teddy and a page and crayons. Decorated in cream and lilac, it was a cosy bedroom and, because
it was Christmas and their mother had warned them that Santa wouldn’t come into an untidy bedroom, it was unusually shipshape.

  Watching her nieces scrambling under their duvets after kissing herself and Olivia goodnight, Alison felt a sudden emptiness as she tucked Ellie in. She was thirty-two. If she wanted children of her own and to experience a Christmas Eve such as this, she’d want to be getting a move on in finding a partner she’d like to settle down with. Jonathan had phoned to wish her a happy Christmas, with promises of a trip to Aspen in the New Year as her Christmas gift. She knew she wouldn’t be going. He was not what she wanted in life. At least she’d come to that realization. Her days of non-exclusive dating were well and truly over. She remembered JJ saying emphatically, ‘If I’m dating a woman, I’m dating her.’ It made her smile. She wondered how he was getting on. Coming home to visit his wife’s grave must be incredibly difficult. Christmas was hardly a time of joy for him, she mused as she followed Olivia downstairs.

  Michael had gone to visit his parents in Drogheda, and because Olivia wasn’t doing Christmas dinner, she only had to make a trifle and finish wrapping some presents.

  ‘Crack open a bottle of wine,’ she suggested. ‘We might as well enjoy the peace and quiet before the storm breaks.’

  ‘Good thinking,’ Alison agreed with alacrity. She’d turned into a lush since she’d come home, and was enjoying her red wine nights immensely.

  ‘Do you think they’ll sleep?’ she asked, listening to the excited chatter floating down the stairs.

  ‘They’d better! Because I intend to.’ Olivia grinned, clinking her glass with Alison’s. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers yourself.’

  ‘Are you glad to be home or are you missing Jonathan?’ Olivia asked a while later as she sat on the floor wrapping Leo’s presents for him.

  ‘No, I’m not missing him,’ Alison scoffed, having drunk two large glasses of wine in quick succession. Olivia was going easy as she had to do her Father Christmas duties.

  ‘Do you love him?’ Olivia looked up at her sister, surprised by her tone.

  ‘Indeed and I don’t love him. He’s far too bloody selfish, and he’s mean with money. He’s not what I want. I had a good time with him, sure, I won’t deny it, but it’s not a committed relationship.’

  ‘Oh! Would you like to have kids and a family?’ Olivia probed. ‘Or are you having such a perfect life just looking out for yourself that you can never see it happening?’

  ‘Perfect life, ha! You’re a hoot, Olivia. You think I have a dream life compared to yours, you’re always having little digs at me, but trust me, at the moment you have it easy compared to me,’ said Alison acerbically.

  ‘I do not have digs,’ Olivia said indignantly.

  ‘You do – when I cleaned out Leo’s fridge and made some comment about the amount of food past its sell-by date, you said, “Welcome to my world.” You can be such a . . . a martyr, Olivia.’ Resentment was boiling up inside her.

  ‘I am not a martyr.’ Her sister was stung. ‘You’ve such a nerve to say that. You’re just so lucky, you can swan in and swan out on a visit and you never have to worry if Mam or Dad are sick, or bring Leo to his appointments. It’s just tough sometimes and I don’t think you appreciate it.’

  ‘No one asked you to stay in Port Ross,’ Alison said heatedly.

  ‘I know that, but I’m here and I mind them the best I can. What am I supposed to do . . . ignore them!’ Olivia’s cheeks were bright red. ‘You have no idea how difficult it can be sometimes, that’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘Oh I do, I get your emails,’ Alison riposted nastily. ‘You just love making me feel guilty, don’t you, Olivia? It’s always the same.’ Alison exploded as the resentment that had been simmering away since she’d arrived erupted volcanically. ‘You think I have this wonderful easy life—’

  ‘Well, you do, you earn a fortune with your big-deal job. You’ve a fab apartment and you only have to worry about yourself—’

  ‘Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! On every count, Olivia,’ Alison retorted furiously, tongue loosened by the wine. ‘For your information, Miss-Know-All-Martyr, I’ve been fecked out on my ear from my job; I’ve had to move to a studio and sublet the apartment. I took a hammering with my investments and bonuses because the firm collapsed and because of bloody Anglo and the rest of the banks here. They were supposed to be blue-chip investments. My ass. Perfect life? HA! HA! You don’t have a frigging clue about my life, Olivia, so zip it. You know, I think I’ll go to bed. Sometimes you can be mean and nasty and thoroughly bitchy.’ Alison stood up, near to tears.

  ‘Oh don’t. Don’t! Sorry, Ali.’ Olivia was immediately contrite. ‘When did you lose your job? Why didn’t you tell me? This is awful!’ She was horrified. ‘You should have told me, Alison.’

  ‘Hell, I didn’t mean to let it slip. It’s the wine,’ Alison said miserably, all the fight gone out of her.

  ‘That’s not something you keep to yourself, Ali, that’s something you tell your family, for God’s sake. So that’s why you’ve got to spend Christmas at home. How did it happen?’ Olivia topped up both their glasses and sat down beside Alison on the sofa, visibly stunned at the news.

  ‘My firm went to the wall, my boss committed suicide, we were all let go and it’s impossible to get a job in the financial sector. I’m living on what’s left of my savings at the moment,’ Alison admitted, utterly relieved that someone knew and she didn’t have to keep it to herself any more.

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Weeks ago—’

  ‘But how are you managing? I mean, the flight, Mam’s present and you gave me a cheque for half the cost of the party?’ her sister demanded, ashen at her sister’s revelation.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not a pauper yet. I’d paid for the flight during the summer, I’d paid for the bracelet when I was let go and I had the money put by for the party. I have some savings—’

  ‘But why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell us?’ Olivia stared at her, appalled at the knowledge that her younger sister had carried such a burden alone.

  ‘I didn’t want to worry Mam and Dad. I didn’t want to ruin the party. I didn’t want everyone feeling sorry for me, especially Bert and Tessa and that other pair of oompa loompas. I couldn’t bear their faux sympathy, because they’re the type to be delighted that I’ve come a cropper.’

  ‘Ah, shag them, who cares what they think?’ Olivia retorted.

  ‘I know, but it’s mortifying all the same. You know, I was flying high and now I’ve hit rock bottom, and my pride is dented as well as my bank balance.’ Alison shrugged.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I can ride it out for three more months. After that I’m on my uppers, and if I don’t get a job I’ll probably have to come home and sponge off Mam and Dad,’ said Alison flatly.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Olivia protested heatedly. ‘You know they wouldn’t think like that. We’re family, we muck in together. Michael and I’ll help you out. I’m sure Leo would too until you get on your feet again. Promise if you’re absolutely stuck you’ll come to me.’ Olivia caught her by the hand. ‘I didn’t mean to be a bitch, I’ve got fierce PMT and, I swear to God, I’m like a briar sometimes. I don’t know how Michael puts up with me,’ she said shakily, as tears came to her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be daft – he loves ya.’ Alison put her glass down and hugged her. ‘Let’s not fight,’ she said.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Ali, about everything – about whinging and moaning. If only I’d known.’

  ‘Forget it, you’ve every right to moan. I know it’s not easy for you. I don’t know how you do it, to be honest. You’re pulled in every direction. You’re right, I do only have myself to think about,’ Alison admitted.

  ‘Ah, don’t mind me, I was just feeling sorry for myself.’ Olivia gave a teary grin.

  ‘Right back at ya, sis.’ Alison took a slug of wine and gave a rueful chuckle. ‘Look at the pair of us; if Michael comes i
n he’ll be horrified.’

  ‘He’d go mad knowing you never told us you were in trouble,’ Olivia said sombrely. ‘Promise me you’ll come to us if you need a helping hand.’

  ‘I promise, honest, but don’t say a word unless I tell you to. I’m not going to ruin Mam and Dad’s Christmas. They’re really enjoying it because we’re all together.’

  ‘I won’t,’ agreed Olivia. ‘But no more secrets, OK?’

  ‘OK. Look, I might be lucky and get a job. Or I can move to Europe. I’ve Googled up a few positions that I could apply for. Actually, there was one in Dublin that would suit, there may be more, so I’m not panicking.’

  ‘Could you not marry that guy Jonathan and divorce him and get a hefty settlement?’ Olivia arched an eyebrow at her.

  Alison giggled tipsily. ‘If the worst comes to the worst, I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Isn’t there anybody you fancy?’ her sister asked hopefully.

  ‘Well, there’s this guy in my building. He’s Irish, he’s a fine thing and we get on great, but I only found out before I came home that his wife died in a car crash four years ago, so he’s off the market. He comes home at Christmas to visit his parents and go to the grave. He’s going to be in Dublin in a few days’ time, so we’re going to link up. But he has a lot of baggage and oh . . . I don’t know.’ She sighed.

  ‘A widower! Oh God it gets worse. What are we going to do with you?’ Olivia shook her head.

  ‘I know! Could you not have a bit of luck?’

  ‘At least you have Leo’s plot,’ Olivia said, drinking more wine and cutting her Sellotape in a rather crooked line.

  ‘A woman of property and a spinster to boot. I’d be the catch of the parish!’ Alison snorted.

  ‘Remember Tim Griffin?’ Olivia said slyly. ‘He said you were the finest-looking girl that ever went up to receive communion—’

  ‘Stop it. He was a dirty auld lecher. No wonder he never got married.’ Alison shuddered.

  ‘Well, he has twenty acres adjoining Leo’s land; it could be a match made in heaven,’ teased Olivia. ‘You could march up the aisle in your wellies, seeing as he never wears anything else.’