Coming Home for Christmas

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Ha ha, you’re hilarious!’ But Alison laughed in spite of herself, glad that she didn’t have to carry the burden of her secret life on her own any more. They might have their little tiffs, but she knew as sure as day turned into night that Olivia would always be there for her, and she too would always be on hand for her dearly loved sister, no matter what the future held.

  Chapter 13

  ‘He’s come! He’s come!’ Lia was standing by Alison’s bed, shaking her. Light spilled in from the landing, making her blink rapidly several times. She struggled to disorientated consciousness, from a deep sleep that was fuelled by the relief of confession and red wine. It seemed as though she had just laid her head on the pillow. ‘Who . . . what . . .?’

  ‘Santa. Santa has come.’ The normally restrained Lia was almost bursting with glee, her fine, caramel hair mussed all over her head. Behind her Ellie was standing motionless, unable to speak with the thrill of it all, her eyes two big blue orbs as she stared at Alison. With her halo of golden curls she looked almost angelic.

  As she sat up, she could hear Kate screeching piercingly next door: ‘Mom, Dad, wake up, he’s come.’ She shook her head to clear it. At least she’d been woken with a shake – screeching would have been unendurable with the state of her head! And you think you might want children, she thought in wry amusement as she struggled out of bed.

  ‘What time is it?’ Olivia mumbled as she staggered on to the landing, hair sticking straight up.

  ‘Something unearthly,’ Alison assured her.

  ‘Three thirty, not bad,’ Michael called, glancing at the alarm clock beside the bed as he struggled into his dressing gown.

  ‘Mom! Mom! I got a bike. We all got a bike!’ Lia was white with tiredness and excitement.

  ‘Mom! Mom! I got Swim To Me Puppy and Make Me Better with Rairity.’

  ‘And me and Lia got Diddl and Diddlina—’

  ‘Who?’ Alison was highly entertained at this stage.

  ‘Diddl and Diddlina,’ Kate said patiently. ‘They’re brilliant!’

  ‘Sounds faintly blue to me . . .’ whispered Alison to Olivia.

  ‘Stop it, you!’ Olivia snorted, as they followed the girls into their bedroom.

  ‘And Mom! The milk and cookies are gone, and the carrots have big teeth marks in them.’ Kate glanced over her shoulder as she knelt on the floor, pulling open the packaging on her toys.

  ‘Go way! Big ones!’ Olivia glanced at Michael, who had manfully chewed two large carrots.

  ‘Massive!’

  ‘Don’t eat too many sweets now, Ellie,’ Olivia warned her youngest daughter, whose cheeks were bulging as she explored the contents of her Christmas stocking. It brought a sudden rush of memories to Alison as she sat on Ellie’s bed watching the scene.

  Memories of her and Olivia waking to feel the weight of something heavy against their feet. The exhilaration, tinged with a little fear. Had Santa come? Was he still in the house? The feeling of absolute magic in the air. That one very special night where anything was possible. Racing into their parents’ room waving overflowing stockings. Racing back to the bedroom to explore their toys. Her favourite had been a cash register that gave a ding when the drawer opened, just like a real one, and a shop with tiny jars of sweets and pretend packets of groceries. Looking at Ellie chomping on her sweets, she remembered the thrill of being able to eat sweets in the middle of the night, knowing there’d still be more in the morning. The glee of rummaging in her sock to find shiny new coins, a satsuma, the much longed for sweets, balloons, hair slides and hair bands and a plethora of other little goodies that brought joy to their childish hearts.

  It really was a cycle, she thought as she watched Michael on his knees, with Ellie unpacking her Swim To Me Puppy, and Olivia’s head bent close to Lia’s as they studied a beautiful book of illustrated Christmas stories.

  Even though she was part of it, she felt a sudden surge of loneliness, wondering had she been right to focus so intensely on her career and let relationships fall by the wayside in her desire to climb the ladder. Olivia had once said to her that she truly felt that women couldn’t have it all, career and motherhood, because both needed one hundred per cent attention. Watching the way her sister had juggled work and family commitments the past week, she was beginning to agree with her. She knew if she’d had children, she’d never have been able to spend any amount of decent time with them if she was working the way she’d been working in New York. She would have had to hire a nanny, like many of her colleagues did. Mothers working outside the home had a hard treadmill to run on. Was it worth it in the end, she wondered, all the struggling and juggling? Even though her sister worked just mornings, she seemed to be always rushing around; she rarely sat down, except for an hour or two at night.

  But she was making a huge success of rearing her girls. They were lively, happy, confident little beings, completely secure in life – what a high achievement was that? Alison acknowledged this as she watched Olivia completely engrossed in the Diddl and Diddlina that Kate was showing her, while Ellie had a little arm around her mother’s neck pointing out some new discovery in her stocking. Michael was admiring a pair of swanky hair combs that Lia had got.

  There was a lot more to life than work and wealth and high living, thought Alison ruefully. For all her hard work and all the money she’d earned and invested, and all the high living she’d done, she didn’t have a huge amount to show for it. Maybe it was time for a rethink, she reflected as Ellie came and nuzzled up close to her to show her a pen with a pink fairy on top that she’d got in her stocking. Alison lifted her on to her lap and held her close as she examined the pen.

  ‘You know, Auntie Alison, you’re very good at snuggling,’ her niece informed her matter-of-factly.

  ‘Am I?’ she said, rather pleased with this unexpected compliment.

  ‘Yes, you’re a very good snuggler,’ Ellie said firmly, waving the twinkling fairy this way and that.

  ‘High praise,’ said Olivia, who had overheard the comment.

  ‘It certainly is.’ Alison smiled. ‘I feel just as proud as the day I got my degree.’

  ‘Right, ladies, back into bed. We have early Mass, and we don’t want you yawning on the altar when you’re doing your play.’ Olivia hauled herself up off the floor.

  ‘I’m bringing Swim To Me Puppy to bed,’ Ellie yawned, leaning against Alison’s shoulder.

  ‘Good idea, he’d probably like a cuddle in bed,’ Alison said, as she slipped the little girl under the duvet and tucked her up snug.

  ‘Why have you no little girls?’ her niece asked, in that very direct way children have.

  ‘Er . . . ah . . . Holy God didn’t give me any yet.’ She managed what she thought was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

  ‘Well, I’m going to ask him to give you some. But you need a daddy too, don’t you?’

  ‘Umm—’

  ‘Daddy and husband are the same thing at the moment,’ murmured Olivia, smirking at her sister and enjoying the discussion immensely.

  ‘I’d guessed,’ Alison said dryly. ‘You say your prayers to Holy God and we’ll see what happens.’ She kissed Ellie lightly on the forehead. ‘Go back to sleep now, pet. ’Night girls, see you in the morning.’ She blew a kiss to the twins as they clambered into bed.

  ‘’Night, Auntie Alison,’ they called sleepily.

  ‘Sleep tight, don’t let the bugs bite,’ added Lia, blowing her a kiss back.

  Smiling, Alison slid back under her duvet and burrowed into the slight hollow in the bed. This time last year she had been sipping mulled wine at a party in a snazzy penthouse in Aspen with fabulous views and she thought she was having the most fantastic Christmas. She’d felt so smug about it she’d almost felt sorry for anyone who wasn’t her. And tonight, she wouldn’t swap where she was or whom she was with for a million dollars . . . and she was a very good snuggler to boot. That was an accolade she would treasure for the rest of her life. She smiled in the dark as the hou
se became silent again, apart from the companionable creaks and groans of floorboards and pipes and a gurgling immersion that reminded her of her small studio. She wondered how JJ was getting on, knowing that he would probably visit his wife’s grave on Christmas Day, while she was being cosseted and cherished by her nearest and dearest. She found herself saying a prayer for him, and she hadn’t said prayers for anyone for as long as she could remember. This Christmas was bringing her back to basics in more ways than one, Alison thought drowsily as her eyes closed and she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  It was a bright, crisp, cold sunny morning as Olivia and her brood set off down the street to walk to church. Michael and Alison were tidying up. Olivia had to bring the girls to the church three-quarters of an hour early so they could change into their costumes for their nativity play. Their breath froze vapour-white in the frosty air, and Ellie was entranced, huffing and puffing her way down the path as she followed her older sisters, who were hopping and skipping like two marionettes. Olivia watched her three precious gifts and her heart lifted. How lucky she was, she reflected, to have three healthy, happy children, a good and loving husband, parents to cherish and a job to pay the bills. She’d often compared her life to Alison’s and felt hers was humdrum and a tad boring even, but no more. After last night’s revelation, she felt utterly sorry for her sister. Her career, in which she had invested so much time and effort, was in tatters – temporarily anyway – her best friend was on another coast, the guy she’d been dating seemed somewhat shallow, to say the least. She wouldn’t want to swap places with her under any circumstances.

  There was an energy around the village that was different to other days, and even though she knew it was fanciful, it was as if there were magic in the air. She saw a neighbour further along the road with her little boy going into the church grounds and she watched him skipping along like the twins and wondered what was it about children that they couldn’t walk anywhere, they had to run or jump or skip.

  Houses still had a sleepy look about them, blinds drawn, gates closed, cars resting in driveways. In half an hour, the village would come to life as Mass-goers in their Christmas finery made their way along the main street to the old stone church opposite White Horse Lane. The clip-clop of high heels against pavement, the giddy gaiety of excited children, neighbours calling out Christmas greetings to each other. Clusters of friends and relatives standing on the steps of the church or in the porch making plans to visit and meet up. It was always a morning unlike any other in the village, a special blessed morning.

  Later, new bikes would be tried out, first-timers wobbling unsteadily with fathers offering encouragement and a steady hand under the saddle. Rollerskaters, likewise, the nervous beginners tottering and trembling along, the more experienced speeding with nonchalant ease. Then, as late afternoon and dusk encroached, silence would descend as people went home to sit at tables laden with Christmas fare, and the lights of the trees would sparkle and shine in windows, their light spilling out into the cold, dark evening. For most, it would be a good day, for many a happy one, but for the lonely, bereaved and homeless it would be hellish, a day that couldn’t go by quickly enough.

  Thank God she wasn’t any of those poor unfortunates, she thought with sudden gratitude, following the girls around the side of the church to the small community hall where they would change. Frozen leaves crunched underfoot, a robin hopped out of the holly bush, a black cat strolled past tail high. For luck, Olivia thought, an omen for the New Year. In the distance she could hear her daughters tell their friends what Santa had brought and she was so glad they were still of an age to believe in his magic.

  She went and sat in the church to wait instead of going back home. Sun streamed in through the narrow stained-glass windows and in the nooks where statues of the Sacred Heart and Our Lady and St Anthony rested. Candles lit at the first Mass burned and flickered, casting comforting shadows.

  The crib, a work of art from the Ladies Club, was outstanding as always, even down to the fresh straw used for the manger. It was rumoured that Martha Walls and Louisa Kelly had had words and a falling-out over the placement of the Angel of the Lord atop the crib, one wanting it dead centre, the other at an angle. It wasn’t about the actual position of the angel per se; it was more a case of uppity newcomer coming up against intransigent old-timer, and not even the season of peace and goodwill to all would temper that particular battle.

  A few other mothers like herself sat dotted around the church, relishing a peaceful few moments before the festivities and all they entailed took hold. One was even asleep, head nodding on to her chest. An early start, too, thought Olivia in sympathy, longing for forty winks herself as the children arrived to practise.

  ‘Look at the two angels on the right,’ she whispered out of the side of her mouth to Alison an hour later, as the nativity play was in full swing. A silent battle was taking place between two five-year-olds in white robes and bobbing halos who were jockeying for position in the hills of Bethlehem, aka the top step of the altar. Balthazar was standing on Caspar’s robe, nearly causing the startled Wise Man to choke, giving Melchior a bit of a fright. St Joseph was yawning his head off, making his beard come askew. Kate, in her role as the innkeeper, was giving it socks on the other side of the altar, shaking her head robustly and pointing in the direction of the manger at the foot of the steps.

  The ten-year-old who was playing Our Lady clutched her tummy dramatically, gave a groan and was hastily instructed to get to the manger. Lia, the shepherd, pointed vigorously to the star that hung from a rafter to distract the audience as Holy Mary whisked the infant from underneath the manger and placed him in it with a deft flick of a wrist.

  ‘Oh that it were that easy,’ muttered Olivia, and Alison giggled, enjoying the goings-on immensely. Ellie, proud as Punch, was a bell ringer, as was another little girl, who promptly burst into tears when it was her star turn.

  Olivia glanced over at her mother and father as they sat engrossed in the drama on the altar. Esther still had a touch of pallor from the flu, and Liam gave the odd chesty cough. Her parents were getting old. She and Alison would cook the dinner in their house, she would insist upon it. Their mother had cooked enough Christmas dinners, today she could relax and have fun with the girls and be treated like the Queen that she was.

  There were squeals of delight when the Mass was over, and the girls, back in their own clothes, came into the pews to greet their grandparents. ‘Come on, Gran, come on, Grandad, you’re coming back to our house for breakfast. It’s in the oven cooking.’ Kate kissed her grandmother soundly. They loved when their grandparents visited, and today was extra special because there were new toys to show off.

  They emerged blinking out into the sunlight to the sound of laughter and lively chat, and when the neighbours had been spoken to and wished the season’s greetings, they all strolled back to Olivia and Michael’s house, where a feast of thick Vienna roll slathered in creamy butter and crispy sausages and rashers which had been cooking in the oven while Mass was on, was devoured, with mugs of hot, sweet tea to wash it down.

  The bikes were taken out and shown off, as were the contents of the stockings and the rest of the toys, and the energy of delight and innocent pleasure was palpable. ‘It’s a wonderful time for children,’ Esther said wistfully. ‘We had so many happy Christmases with you two.’

  ‘Well, they’re still happy, just different, Mam,’ Alison pointed out.

  ‘True, and this one is all the more special because you’re home.’

  ‘Indeed it is. I don’t know what you want to be going back to that place for. Sure, couldn’t you get a job over here?’ Leo interjected.

  ‘It might not be so easy to get a job in this economic climate, she might be better off where she is for the time being,’ Liam remarked as he drew a picture of a Christmas tree for Ellie. Olivia caught Alison’s gaze and gave her the tiniest wink, and received one back in return.

  Alison had just slid the tray of crisp,
golden roast potatoes back in the oven when she heard her cell tinkle telling her she had a message. It must be Melora, she thought, pulling it out of the small pocket in the side of her bag. She had sent Melora, and her friends in New York, a text to wish them a Happy Christmas. She opened it and her eyes widened:

  Hope ur having a good time with ur folks and taking ur naps. Will see u later in the week if ur free and u still want 2. Will ring 2 make arrangements. Have a lovely day with ur family. JJ.

  How nice of him to send her a text on Christmas Day, she thought, grinning at his message. Naps, indeed – would he never let her live it down? She’d temporarily forgotten about meeting him, there’d been so much going on but, now that he’d reminded her, she was looking forward to it. How easily her life in New York had drifted from her memory, the balm of family erasing all the worry and tension she’d come home with. Even if there was only to be friendship between them, it was a friendship well worth having.

  Hope ur having a peaceful day, please do ring, I’ll take my nap early so I can meet u, luv Rip Van Winkle.

  She texted swiftly back. She thought ‘peaceful’ was an appropriate word, as it was hardly a happy day for him if he had to visit his wife’s grave. What a horrible, horrible thing for him to have to do, she thought sombrely, putting her phone back in her bag.

  ‘You look a bit down – anything wrong?’ asked Olivia, as she expertly carved moist white turkey breast into slices.

  ‘Ah no, just got a text from the friend I was telling you about. The one from the West. It’s kinda sad really, here are we having fun and he’s been standing at a graveside.’

  ‘That’s awful. You just couldn’t imagine it. How fortunate are we when you think about it?’ her sister remarked.

  ‘Very, very lucky,’ agreed Alison fervently, snaffling a piece of stuffing and savouring every mouthful.