Page 62 of A Miracle on Hope Street
‘That’s a toughie,’ I say to him. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m just licking my wounds, ignore me,’ he says, his voice lifting a little. ‘How did your afternoon go? Is Bernadette going to join us?’
I take a deep breath, knowing that there’s no point even trying to explain it all over the phone.
‘We’ll catch up on everything properly later when we meet,’ I say to him. ‘But it was all good. Eye- opening and not at all what I expected, but all really good, much better than I expected in the end.’
‘That’s amazing,’ he says. ‘I’m so happy for you, Ruth. So, so happy.’
‘Now, food shopping?’ I say to him, needing to get back to the job at hand. ‘Are you ready for it, because I’m just watching hundreds of human scavengers raid the shops in town from the comfort of my car and the thought of battling my way to the tills frightens me right now. Meet you at lunchtime as planned to get the grub?’
Michael pauses for a second.
‘How about I go and do the food shopping now, you do whatever it is you have to do in town and we meet back at yours in say, two hours or so and get stuck in with the preparations?’
My eyes widen. I’m impressed at his forward thinking.
‘Are you sure?’ I ask him.
‘Of course I’m sure, if you trust me. I’ve cooked a lot of Christmas dinners so I know what we need,’ he says. ‘I’m so looking forward to helping you with this one, Ruth. It’s what is keeping me going, believe me. Yes, I’m totally sure and if there’s anything you want in particular, send me a list by text, okay?’
I venture out of the car at last, the cool, crisp nip in the air catching my throat.
‘I trust you,’ I say to him. ‘Oh, and Michael?’
‘Yes?’ he says to me.
‘Well done on yesterday,’ I tell him. ‘No matter about Laura and her wedding and how angry she might feel towards you right now, you’re still Liam’s dad and you always will be. It’s not too late. You’ve made the first big move, so please don’t lose heart. It will all work out. Just stay strong and know you are doing the right thing. You’re a good person and you’ll make it up to your little boy one day very soon when the time is right. I believe in you.’
I hear him breathe.
‘Thank you,’ he replies, softly. ‘You have no idea how much I needed to hear that right now, Ruth. I’ll see you very soon. I can’t wait to see you again.’
‘Same,’ I say to Michael, feeling a warm glow in my heart. I look ahead at the hive of activity in the shops that awaits me. ‘Right, we can do this! Let’s get shopping!’
I pull the car into the onstreet space outside 41 Beech Row just under two hours later and I can’t help but take a moment to look up at all the magnificence of the house I have always called home. A grey stone building perched on a set of seven steps, four-storeys high, nestled in between eight others in a majestic terrace and valued at, according to a recent sale of a neighbour’s home, a price that would allow me to give Ally her split and my mother a split that is rightfully hers and still have enough to invest in somewhere new if I topped it up with a manageable mortgage.
It will be hard to let it go, I know it will, as it holds so many memories, from walking to primary school holding my mother’s hand as we walked down those steps, both trying to be brave but fighting back the tears on that warm sunny morning, to setting off for my first day at secondary school all by myself to catch the bus down the street as she watched me from the window, waving and crying at the enormity of the new chapter in my life. I kissed my first boyfriend at that front door when he left me after a date at the cinema where we never saw one bit of the movie for carrying on, and I walked out of the same door with Ally on her wedding day, a moment that was tinged with sadness as the huge gap we all felt lingered in our hearts, and then I cried there again when I left my dad for pastures new and he trailed my cases down those steps into his car, insisting that he saw me right to the terminal to see me off to university and the next stage of my life. I walked behind my father’s coffin from that front door after we waked him for two nights at home and it almost killed me to think that I’d never hear his voice again, calling me for breakfast, talking about the ways of the world or see him in his chair by the window, working on papers or devouring a novel.
Now, as I prepare for what will possibly be my last Christmas and perhaps the most poignant occasion of all that I’ve ever had within those walls, I ponder if it really is time to move on. Maybe I’m falling in love with the place again. Maybe, if someone makes an offer, I’ll fall back out of love with it. Who knows?
I see Michael’s car parked a bit down the street, so I make my way to the boot where I take out my bags of shopping, a buzz of excitement rushing through me when I think of some of the little things I’ve picked up on my morning’s travels.
‘Ho, ho, ho!’ shouts Michael. ‘Here, let me help you with that.’
‘No!’ I shout to him, playfully. ‘You’re not allowed to see!’
He takes a step back, genuinely surprised.
‘Okay then,’ he says, a smile beaming across his face. ‘I’ll grab the food, shall I? Meet you at the front door?’
I take out a few bags that are safe for him to see and then call after him.
‘Wait,’ I say to him. ‘Here, you can take these bits and pieces. I’ll run ahead and open up and then we can both unpack the groceries. Isn’t this fun!’
Michael follows me up to the top of the steps and I turn the key in the door. I push it open and he sets the bags I gave him into the hallway. Bags of presents big and small, of wrapping paper, of last-minute decorations, of little things I hope will make tomorrow extra special for those who need it most. But no matter what I have bought, or no matter what is given and received, the best feeling of all is doing this with Michael and knowing that, tomorrow, I will give seven other people a Christmas they are, against all odds, now looking forward to.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
