Page 52 of Heart of the Wren
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We ate Christmas dinner in the living room of the farmhouse. Lorcan pulled the leaves out from the table and set four places. Eddie had bought a pack of Christmas crackers and put them by our plates. I made a big pot of gravy to serve with the ham and roast potatoes. Lorcan opened a bottle of red wine. We talked, and laughed, and shared stories.
After dinner, we pulled crackers. Each one snapped, puncturing the air with a brief whiff of gunpowder before a prize tumbled out. A tape measure and plastic ring were set to one side. Eddie held up his fake moustache and tried to clip it under his nose. It pinched and made his eyes water. I ran a purple comb through my goatee, while Carol held out her “fortune telling fish” — a small strip of red plastic shaped like a cod which curled in the palm of your hand.
“See?” I said. “Of all of us, you were the one who got the tool for augury. Meant to be! Synchronicity!”
Carol insisted the fish didn’t actually work, it just curled in the warmth of your hand. She made us all wear the paper crowns which camewith each cracker, and read their terrible jokes.
After dinner, Lorcan rooted around in the sideboard and drew out a record. He slipped the vinyl from its sleeve and set it onto the player. In moments, Burl Ives’s rich voice filled the room withThere Were Three Ships. “Mam always used to play this when she was cooking Christmas dinner,” he said. “Before Mairead… Before…”
I swayed to the music as I refilled his glass with wine. The blinking lights over the fireplace reflected in his watery eyes.
The snow which had started lightly in the morning grew heavier. Lorcan would have to head out to lock up the farm shortly but for the time being he made the most of the heat offered by the roaring peat fire.
“I’ll go,” Eddie said. “You stay here. Carol, do you want to—?”
Carol sat flipping through the book on Irish mythology I’d borrowed from the library in Tralee but she was on her feet and had taken him by the hand before he could finish. Giggling, she led him outside. Tails wagging, the dogs followed them.
“I should probably go after them.” In the frosty December light, the roaring fire lit Lorcan’s stern face. He wore his worries like a shawl: they weighed his head down. “But first…” He reached behind the couch and handed a crudely wrapped parcel to me.
“What’s this?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing fancy, now, but I didn’t want to give it to you in front of them.”
I set the parcel on my lap and carefully unwrapped it. “Ah, Lorcan, you didn’t need to.” I held up one of a pair of shiny new black boots. Thicksoled, leather, and tough as nails.
“Like I said, nothing fancy. I thought you could use a new pair.”
I stared down at the weather-beaten boots on my feet, with their scruffs and tears. I wobbled the loose sole and chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”
I tried on the new boots while Lorcan explained how he had to guess the size as the information on my old ones had long since worn away.
“Size 10. They’re perfect.” I lifted both legs in the air to get a better look at them before bouncing out of my seat to try them out.
“I suppose I should have given them to you this morning to wear to mass.”
He threw the cheery wrapping paper onto the fire. It crackled as it burned. We stood at the mantelpiece, Lorcan with one hand on it, me rocking back and forth on my heels.
I checked over my shoulder before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “They’re brilliant,” I said. “Thank you. And I, um, I have something for you as well.” From behind the television I produced a small object wrapped in newspaper. “I didn’t have any proper wrapping paper.”
He opened it to find a second-hand book. He read the cover. “Beyond The Pale:The History of Ross Castle.”
“I checked your shelves and I don’t think you have it?”
“I don’t. I didn’t even know there was a book about it.” He held it to his chest. “I love it.”
“I wish I could have afforded to get you a signed copy,” I said, “but my boss doesn’t pay me very well.”
“Here, you.” He playfully shoved my shoulder and we laughed. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
A shriek sent us both running outside. We flung open the back door to find Carol hugging Eddie, spinning round and round. The dogs barked happily and raced around them.
“What is it?” I held my hands up, ready to cast protection spells. “What’s happening?”
Carol held up her little finger, and the plastic ring from one of the Christmas crackers upon it. “We’re engaged!”
“Oh, Jaysus.” Lorcan’s face dropped. “Your dad’s going to kill me.”
