Coming Home for Christmas

by Patricia Scanlan

  She rooted in her big tote bag and took the book she’d bought in Hughes & Hughes out of its paper wrapping. Anam Cara, Spiritual Wisdom from the Celtic World by John O’Donohue. She rubbed the gold Celtic design with her thumb and opened it to see what message she’d get.

  ‘There is a unique destiny for each person. Each one of us has something to do here that can be done by no one else,’ she read.

  How apt and lovely and comforting. JJ would get such comfort from the book when he read it, she knew that without the shadow of a doubt. And maybe that was one of the things she had to do, to help bring comfort to his grieving and sad spirit. She settled into her seat and began to read the flowing, lyrical words of wisdom from the mystical poet as they flew high towards his and JJ’s beloved Connemara, and Alison forgot for a while the sadness of goodbyes.

  ‘Well she’s gone, and on time too.’ Esther flicked off the teletext, where she’d been keeping an eye on Alison’s flight.

  ‘Don’t be sad, Gran, you have us,’ Kate said, dropping an arm around her shoulder.

  ‘Yes, and she’s got no little girls to play with like you have,’ Ellie pointed out. ‘So I’ve asked Holy God to give her some, and a daddy for her as well.’

  ‘That’s very, very kind of you, Ellie. You’re all such good girls, I’m very lucky to have you,’ Esther said, gathering Ellie up on to her lap and hugging her tightly.

  ‘’Tis time for her to get married all right, she wouldn’t want to be leaving it too late. She’s a fine girl, she should have no trouble getting a man.’ Leo threw in his tuppenceworth. ‘Is she serious about that fella she’s with in America? You know the old saying: A long churning makes bad butter.’

  ‘I think that’s all off,’ Esther murmured as Liam winked at her behind his brother’s back.

  ‘And what about that chap that came to see her? Is she interested in him? He’s one of our own too,’ Leo observed.

  ‘You know, Leo, he might very well be the one for her. I had a feeling when I saw them together. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him,’ Esther said thoughtfully, remembering how Alison and JJ had looked at each other in a half-shy way the day he’d come to pick her up.

  ‘Well now, what will be will be. We’ll let the good Lord look after them, and what’s for them won’t pass them by.’ Leo reached out and gave his sister-in-law a very comforting pat on the back, as Lia took out her crayons and drew a picture of Alison in what looked suspiciously like a bridal gown.

  Alison was weary and heartsore as she lugged her case through JFK and headed for the taxi rank. ‘Need a lift?’ a deep, familiar voice said above her left ear, and Alison looked up in shock. JJ stood, strong and solid, smiling down at her.

  Her lip quivered and she dissolved into tears.

  ‘Aaahh, don’t cry, woman!’ he said in dismay, putting his arms around her. She leaned against his shoulder, inhaling the musky scent of him, and bawled her eyes out.

  ‘It was awful. The worst ever. They’re getting old, JJ. It’s scary, and I feel so lonely,’ she hiccupped eventually, as he stoically patted her back.

  ‘Well, that makes two of us. Come on back to my gaff and we’ll have a cuppa and a chat and feel sorry for each other,’ he said gently, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of his hand.

  ‘Thanks so much for coming. I really wasn’t expecting it. You gave me a surprise, but it’s lovely to see a face from home,’ she sniffed, knowing she must look an absolute sight.

  ‘Don’t give it a thought, my dear good woman,’ JJ said as he took her case. ‘I thought it might be rough coming back, especially under the circumstances. And with you not going back to your apartment and everything.’

  ‘You know,’ she sighed, ‘I’ve grown quite fond of my little studio, and my upstairs neighbour too.’ She slanted a glance up at him.

  ‘Right back at ya. Come on, woman, let’s get you home,’ JJ said easily, as he led the way out of the airport.

  ‘Bossy as ever,’ said Alison, but she was smiling.

  Epilogue

  Five months later

  Alison sat at her desk in Arthur Morgan & Son’s investment and tax management company and gazed out at the sturdy oak tree that fringed the top of her fourth-floor window. It was a glorious early summer’s afternoon. She’d just completed her first month in her new wealth-management position, and Arthur Morgan had, ten minutes ago, dropped in personally to say that he was very happy with her work and hoped that she was settling in well. He was a rotund little man with ruddy cheeks and a comb-over, but she liked him. He was fatherly towards his clients, particularly the older ones who came to him in great anxiety because of the times that they were living in. Arthur’s bottom line and philosophy was that he wouldn’t let a client invest in something he wouldn’t let his parents invest in. He was a man of great integrity, and she respected him.

  She was settling in well, Alison thought happily. It was a much smaller firm than her previous company, and the clients were far less wealthy. She was getting less than half the salary she’d earned previously, but she had a job and a roof over her head and, compared to many, she was very lucky and she knew it. And at least the recovery from recession had started, as Obama continued to lift hearts and spirits.

  She hadn’t renewed the lease on her uptown apartment. She could always find another one if the time was right, she’d decided, when she’d had to make the decision. For now, she was happy in her studio. Melora was still in LA and showed no signs of wanting to come back. Alison was going to visit her in a few weeks’ time.

  Losing as much as she had had given Alison a freedom of sorts. She wasn’t a slave to a certain type of lifestyle any more, and that was strangely liberating. Her mother was right, the Universe was providing, in ways she never could have expected, but in ways that were far more conducive to her happiness. Esther had often said that what appeared to be a calamity was often a blessing in disguise. If Alison hadn’t been made redundant, she’d never have met JJ. What a loss that would have been, Alison thought, smiling to herself, feeling light-hearted and happy.

  Today she was leaving work early. JJ was collecting her; he was finally going to show her his new house and workshop. He’d moved out, as planned, to live in a trailer in the grounds, three months ago, when spring had come, and she missed him living in her building. But she’d got to know the other tenants, and she liked the neighbourliness compared to where she’d lived before.

  She tidied up her desk, sent an email, answered another and then logged out. ‘Bye, Sandra,’ she called to the secretary she shared with one of the other investment managers.

  ‘Have a good one.’ Sandra waved at her from her office.

  Alison took the elevator, humming to herself as it glided silently down to the carpeted foyer. Walter, the doorman, tipped his cap as he let her out. ‘Enjoy your weekend,’ he said kindly.

  ‘You too, Walter, you too,’ she returned cheerily, stepping out into the warm breeze. She walked to the trunk of the oak tree and leaned against it, eyes shaded as she looked along the street to see if she could see JJ’s jeep. Two minutes later, he beeped her and she waved, hurrying to the edge of the sidewalk as he slowed down to pick her up.

  ‘Hi,’ she grinned at him, thrilled to see him.

  ‘Hi, yourself,’ he grinned back, his face and forearms tanned from working outdoors. ‘There’s Coke in the cooler box if you’d like some.’ He pointed to the back seat, and she reached over and took a chilled bottle out of the box and drank the cold drink thirstily.

  ‘Niiiice,’ she murmured, wriggling her feet out of her high heels.

  ‘Sit back and enjoy the ride,’ he instructed, swinging left and heading for FDR. The traffic was moving well enough for a Friday, and her heart lifted several miles on as she saw the Triboro Bridge in the distance. It was nice to get off Manhattan sometimes. As they turned on to the Bruckner Expressway, the traffic slowed and JJ tapped his long fingers impatiently on the wheel. ‘Only drawback, everyone else wa
nts to get off Manhattan on a sunny Friday afternoon. I can do the trip in forty-five minutes on a normal day,’ he said as he geared up again and moved a few hundred yards.

  After they crossed the bridge, he took the left ramp on to I-278E and headed upstate towards New England, leaving Pelham Manor and New Rochelle behind until he took the turn-off to Larchmont on the shore of Long Island Sound.

  ‘This is lovely, JJ! I’ve never been this far upstate. It’s very New England. It’s great to be so near the water, it’s fabulous!’ Alison enthused, eyes swivelling left and right.

  ‘Yeah, and it’s only twenty-five miles to drive, and that’s coming from downtown,’ he remarked as they drove through a very pretty, bustling little town with elegant Victorian buildings mingling with more contemporary ones. There were plenty of stores and restaurants, and a fine marina. It was a completely different world to the one they’d left just over an hour ago.

  Ten minutes later, he took a left at a narrow, winding, tree-lined road and stopped about half a mile along, in front of a large, double-fronted, freshly painted clapboard house with a big outhouse on the left and a trailer parked to the right. Trees surrounded the grounds, and the lawn was as big as a meadow.

  ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed. ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding since you left 3B.’

  ‘Yep,’ he said proudly, studying her intently. ‘I wanted to put some sort of manners on it before I brought you to see it.’

  ‘Well, you showed me pictures of it months ago, and it looks nothing like what I saw in them. You really have worked hard on it. I thought you were seeing someone,’ she teased.

  ‘Yeah, I was, this is her, all dressed in white,’ he said with a glint in his eye, jerking a thumb in the direction of the house. He got out of the jeep and came around to open the door for her. ‘So what do you think, my little Anam Cara?’ he asked as he put an arm around her and she snuggled in to him.

  ‘I think it’s beautiful,’ Alison said as they began to walk across the lush green grass towards the house. She felt very certain that she was coming home.

  PROLOGUE

  He could feel the heat of the sun streaming over him, and had a flash of vibrant memory of lying with his brother in a field of prickly golden stubble, the scent of new-cut straw filling his nostrils, the drone of the tractor fading as it drove away, towing its bounty of neat bales to the nearby farm.

  As adrenalin surged through him he raised his face to the blue immensity of sky, reaching higher, higher, every muscle, ligament and fibre protesting as he strained to reach his target. His hands curved around the hard leather of the ball and Jeff felt a rush of emotions, triumph, joy, and deep satisfaction that nothing else in life could equal. Every aching bone, every second of weary exhaustion from the punishing training regime he followed was worth it for this moment.

  The roar of the crowd lifted him higher. The shiny red faces of the men he soared over, a blur in the bright sunlight. If only Valerie were here to see this, he thought with a brief pang of regret as his hands tightened around his prize and he plotted the optimum trajectory towards the goalmouth. But Valerie didn’t like football. She resented the time he spent training. He should be spending it with her and their young daughter, she’d say. He hated how she made him feel guilty about his passion. It took the good out of moments like this. He twisted on the downward descent, elbowing his marker in the shoulder as he tried to grab the ball from him, clearing his way to prepare his onslaught on the box.

  The pain hit, gripping him like a vice, forcing the breath out of his lungs, and bringing him to his knees. The roar of the crowd faded. Surprise and shock staggered him. He crumpled to the ground and saw the blue of the sky briefly before the darkness enveloped him.

  And then it seemed that only a moment had passed and brightness bathed him in a soft light as he opened his eyes and felt a wondrous sense of wellbeing. Thank God for that, Jeff thought, relieved. He felt so well, so fit, so . . . so . . . perfect. Perhaps he’d imagined that brief, shocking jolt of pain. Or maybe he was in hospital and they had injected him. That must be it. He had no memory of getting there, no memory of being in an ambulance. He must have been out like a light.

  Had they won the match? He’d liked to have scored that goal; it would have been a beauty, one of his best, he mused, feeling utterly relaxed. Whatever they’d given him was working a treat. The light drew closer and his eyes widened . . .

  Everything was going to be absolutely fine, Jeff knew as he recognized his beloved grandmother coming towards him, smiling at him as he took her outstretched hand.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Briony McAllister felt the glorious heat of the Mediterranean sun on her upturned face as she contemplated the cobalt sky above her and felt the tension ease out of her body, dissipating into the soft green tartan rug she was lying on. Little cotton puffs of clouds drifted over the sharp-ridged peaks of the sierras to the north, and the breeze whispered through the pine trees.

  Beside her, her 4-year-old daughter, Katie, was engrossed in plaiting her Moxie Girl’s hair. It was a Sunday afternoon in September and a somnolent, peaceful air pervaded the Parque Princessa Diana, a pretty park on the Costa del Sol. Katie had wanted to go there instead of the beach, the swings and modest playground being a big attraction. Thankfully, she was now happy to play with her dolls after twenty minutes of blissful soaring back and forth on the swings, and Briony was content to lie drowsily in the late afternoon sun, her novel unopened beside her.

  Riviera, a small town on Spain’s southern coast, was empty of tourists, who had long gone back to their jobs and mundane lives, their Costa holiday a faded summer’s dream. Where once older couples and retired ex-pats would have filled the many restaurants and coffee shops, the recession had ensured that the Costa del Sol was decimated after many years of lavish boom. Briony knew full well the effects of economic collapse. She, too, should have been back behind her desk, dealing with the thousand and one queries that came with being an administrator in a busy private hospital. But life as she knew it had changed completely the day, two months previously, when the owners of the Olympus Sports clinic had called staff together and told them that due to the current economic climate and falling patient numbers, redundancies would have to be made.

  Briony knew, even before it was her turn to meet with HR, that she would be one of the staff to be ‘let go’. She had been last into the department, having left a similar position in a big teaching hospital the previous year to work nearer home and closer to her daughter’s crèche.

  Briony sighed and brushed away a mosquito that had taken a fancy to her lightly tanned flesh. The truth was that with all the cuts in her salary in the last couple of years, the prohibitive crèche fees had taken most of what was left, and now that she was redundant she and her husband, Finn, were almost no worse off with her dole money, especially without having to pay for child-minding. They had decided after much discussion that for the next year, before Katie started school, Briony would be a stay-at-home mother.

  It was disconcerting adjusting to her new circumstances. Strange not having to get up at the crack of dawn and wake her daughter from sleep to feed and dress her before dropping her off at the crèche, greeting the other equally stressed, bleary-eyed parents she had got to know. And then making the bumper-to-bumper commute to work, hoping that she would get a parking place and not be last in, keeping her head down like a naughty schoolgirl and not a thirty-something, self-confident, career woman and working mother. She was still a ‘working’ mother, she thought defensively, realizing in these last few weeks how irritating the term was to mothers who could choose to stay at home and rear their children themselves.

  Why did she feel guilty every morning, though, when she and Katie shared cuddles in bed when Finn had left for work? It was such a treat having a leisurely breakfast and fascinating conversations with her 4-year-old. She had already missed so much of her child’s development. When she’d worked in the clinic, the time they’d had together after
Briony collected her from the crèche in the evenings was often ruined by teary tantrums and squabbles over bath-time and bedtime, both of them exhausted after their early start. It was all so different now, so much fun! But no doubt this, too, would change. It was still very new and different. She felt like she was playing truant from real life.

  She was going to make the most of this unexpected blessing. It would be her gap year, Briony decided. This unemployment that had been foisted upon her would not diminish her. She would not allow herself to feel guilty that she wasn’t contributing to the family income, or that she was taking money from the state. She had paid her hard-earned money week after week, in social insurance, for just this eventuality.

  How she and her colleagues had complained bitterly about the previous government’s atrocious handling of the economy and the ‘brown envelope’ mentality that pervaded every level of society from the top down, the avarice of bankers, politicians, developers and the so-called ‘golden circle’. The negligence and incompetence of the so-called regulatory authorities, too, had led to the country being bankrupted and Briony and Katie’s generation, and generations to come, would carry a huge burden of debt. For all the good their complaining did. Ordinary folk like them were being hammered while the people responsible were still living in their big houses, holidaying in the sun and paying outrageous sums for lavish weddings, at the expense of tax payers. Every tea-break there would be heated discussion of some new revelation of chicanery, or some new pay cut proposed, that would leave Briony and her friends despairing of how they were going to manage in the future and worry about what lay ahead for their children.