Page 46 of A Miracle on Hope Street
‘I’ve a piano in the drawing room that is hanging out for a tune,’ I say to him and his blue eyes light up.
‘This is going to be the best Christmas I’ve had then for a very long time,’ he says, his eyes glistening now.
And I have to agree. I think it’s going to be the best in a long time too.
I go home, buzzing inside with the progress of my morning and feeling very full up at how much this dinner means to Marian and Nicholas for such very different reasons. I long to hear Nicholas play again and I’m going to do my very best to think of somewhere that might itself avail of his talents. There has to be somewhere he could go, even if it’s just a few days or evenings a week, to let him express his creativity and feed his soul as he so longs to. I’m a little stunned too, after our meeting in the church where I used to go as a child with my mother and the hymn that made me drift back to those Sundays when she’d cry quietly as I stood by her side. Why was she so sad back then? Meeting Nicholas has reignited that memory and it’s one that I just cannot ignore.
And then there was the warm and lovely Marian who hugged me like I was one of her own, and I hugged her back wondering just how many hugs I’ve missed giving my own mother. Marian already felt empowered enough after my visit to venture out to the park to see the butterfly monuments and it really does warm my heart to picture her walking and slowly building her confidence again after the death of her husband. I hope that Christmas dinner with such lovely people will help her even more.
As I bask in the glory of a truly fulfilling morning, I can’t help but wonder about my last guest, Paul, the young recovering addict who I’ve yet to hear back from. Paul was the last person I found when reading through my emails and he is the one I’m looking forward to meeting the most. I feel like a teacher who shouldn’t have favourites, but at just twenty years old, and with so many demons fighting for his time and attention, Paul is the one who needs to be shown some love, now more than ever, so I check my emails again for a reply from him but there is still nothing. I check my phone for a text but there is just one message in my inbox and it’s from Michael, saying he has an unexpected afternoon off work and asking if I fancy getting out of here for a few hours if I’m not too busy.
Michael.
When I think of Michael now my head is a mix of emotions and I don’t know which way to turn. I’d love to spend the afternoon with him and I like his thinking but I’m very taken aback by his message after our conversation last night. I need to think about my day ahead before I reply with an instant ‘yes’ which is my first instinct as there’s nothing I’d love more than to get away from it all for a few hours, especially with him.
But am I too busy? Or am I choosing to be too stubborn after last night. I’m not sure . . .
Workwise, I’ve already got my list for this week’s column chosen and need to write up my replies, of course, but I can do that later tonight or even tomorrow morning at a push. I need to chase up Paul’s invitation to our Christmas dinner, but again, I want to give him time to respond himself, and I’ve so much to get for dinner in just a few days but that can all be done later, so yes, I do have a few hours to spare and I’d love to go somewhere different.
Where are we going to?I ask him by text, pulling on a sweater to fend off the nip in the air. Not that it really makes any difference. I’d go to the moon right now just for a change of scenery.
Let’s just go on a road trip, he replies.Let’s go exploring, Ruth. Do something adventurous. Life is for living! I think we both need to get away from it all even just for one day, don’t you think? Last night was heavy on us both. Let’s just go and switch off and have some fun . . .
Gosh, he must have had some sort of revelation through the night, but I appreciate his positivity and willingness to move on. We both made our point, after all, so what’s the point in bearing grudges? Maybe he’s got some good news to share? Maybe he’s finally been in touch with his son? I really hope he has.
You sound chirpy, I text back and then the phone rings. It’s him.
‘I thought I’d let you hear my chirpiness for real,’ he says to me with a laugh.
‘I like it,’ I tell him. ‘It’s nice to hear you sounding happy.’
I think of Marian and all the wonderful adventures she had with her dear husband and how much she would give to have him here again to do some travelling and exploring with.
‘Okay, I’m up for it, yes,’ I tell him.
‘Brilliant!’ he replies. ‘I can pick you up in say, half an hour? We’ll wrap up in our winter woollies and get out of here. I think we both need to blow off the city smog with some fresh air and a change of scenery.’
I’m excited at the idea.
‘Seaside?’ I suggest.
‘Now, you’ve got it. See you soon.’
I strip off the sweater and warm my body in the heat of a quick shower, unable to contain my enthusiasm for the spontaneous afternoon away. The zest of the shower gel brings me into the moment and I shampoo my hair, knowing that it will be a nightmare to blow dry so quickly but I want to feel fresh and invigorated for whatever might lie ahead.
So, this is what it feels like to have someone close to you in life; to have someone to do things with and see places with at the drop of a hat. I could get very used to this, but I’m not going to let myself get carried away. I need to protect myself, just like my sister said. I need to play it cool and just enjoy it as it is – a day out with a new friend . . . a new friend who I really enjoy being with even if we’ve spent the evening before battling out our differences.
Simple, really when you put it that way . . . isn’t it?
Michael texts me to say that he is outside, so I linger for a few minutes in the hallway, not wanting him to realise that I’ve been ready for at least ten minutes, and am beginning to boil over in my grey woolly hat and matching scarf and yellow puffy coat that makes me feel like I’m wrapped in pneumatic tyres.
‘I met another two of our dinner guests this morning,’ I tell him, bursting with enthusiasm when I get into the passenger seat of his car. ‘First of all I met Marian, you know, the widow who lost her husband recently?’
‘No, but I’m sure she is lovely,’ he says.
Although we left each other last night on good terms, there is still that hint of tension that lingers in the air. I decide to stick to the Christmas dinner talk for now.
‘Oh, she is,’ I reply. ‘You know, she never leaves the house and only ever speaks to her daughters on the phone, or the postman sometimes or the supermarket delivery guy, but after our chat she was going to head out for a walk.’
