My heart thumps as I snap out of my dreamy state and try not to overly panic as I make my way to the hallway. I close the door behind me and the look on Michael’s face tells me that something is really and truly not going to plan.
‘What the hell? What’s wrong, Michael?’ I ask him.
He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and lets out a deep breath.
‘I don’t know how to tell you this,’ he says, glancing around him. ‘I have no idea how it happened but—’
‘Oh God, is something burning?’ I ask him, sniffing the air.
‘Yes, yes it is! I mean it was. It isn’t now. I burnt the potatoes, Ruth!’ he says, and we both burst out laughing in a fit of nerves, but this isn’t really all that funny in reality. ‘I can’t believe it but I burnt the feckin’ spuds! The older folk will have a fit! No spuds with their Christmas dinner! What will I do?’
I put my hands over my face, thinking of what on earth our options are to make up for this last minute blunder.
‘There are no shops open?’ I say, clutching at straws.
‘Definitely not. Quick, think!’
‘It’s sacrilege!’ I tell him. ‘What on earth can we give them instead?’
I try and think on my feet. I had imagined the creative delights that Michael was going to present for me to serve out to our guests and now all I can see in my mind is a plate of veg and turkey and a big gap where we Irish just love to keep our ‘spuds.’
‘Frozen chips?’ Michael suggests at last, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
‘There’s some in the freezer!’
‘It will have to do,’ he says and without waiting on my response, Michael races back to the kitchen and I go back into the sitting room where thankfully the guests are too busy chatting to care if dinner is going to be running at least thirty minutes late.
I top up their drinks and hope that by the time we get to the table, most will be too merry to care if they’re having Christmas dinner without the Irish staple diet of obligatory potatoes! What a disaster!
What feels like a lifetime later, as I sweat buckets at the thought of serving out frozen chips on a day like today, I finally get the go-ahead from Michael to call everyone to the table.
‘Grub’s up at last, everyone! Sorry for the slight delay!’ I shout across the room, but again, no one is really listening to me.. I slip across the room and turn the music off. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served! Come and get it while it’s hot.Bon Appetit!’
This time theyarelistening, but they still don’t stop talking as they make their way across to the dining room where they find their seats at the table.
‘Turkey and chips anyone,’ Michael jokes to me as he lines up the plates. ‘I can’t believe that happened. How bloody embarrassing!’
‘It will be grand!’ I try and reassure him. ‘I honestly think they’re all too giddy to care!’
Despite our last-minute mishap, I’m truly buzzing from head to toe at how everything is going and it feels so good inside to know that this orchestrated from a tiny gesture over a year ago just because I gave a desperate stranger a second glance when others didn’t. That feeling of knowing how much a difference we can make with just the smallest of actions is a powerful thought and a reminder that just one tiny act of kindness can really change someone’s world forever.
‘Is something burning?’ I hear Marian ask and I freeze on the spot. Michael’s eyes widen in fear, so I go to the dining room to explain about the burnt potatoes and the substitute chips and everyone howls with laughter when they hear the slight change in the menu.
‘It’s not the food, it’s the company that counts,’ says Molly and I mouth to her a very big ‘thank you.’
‘I’ll just get you the baby’s dinner first,’ I say to her as she places Marcus into the high chair. The relief on her face is so evident but she really is doing well and Jack is chatting to Nicholas about his days in one of Ireland’s more well-known touring bands from the seventies and a shared love of some London football team.
Before long, everyone is tucking in to their starters and then their main course of turkey, ham, stuffing, parsnips, carrots, Brussel sprouts – and chips of course; Marian and my mum are really hitting it off, Nicholas and Jack are talking music and sport ten to the dozen, Kelly and Molly talk babies and their experiences of the ‘terrible twos’ and Michael and I just look at each other and smile. I can’t do anything more than just smile as I marvel at how, at last, this table is filled with eight – no, nine – people, including little Marcus, just like it was always intended to. My heart is full, my home is full and my belly is going the same way too. This is what Christmas is all about.
I look around the table and I see forgiveness, I see the challenge that change brings, I see bravery in taking a step out of your comfort zone or facing Christmas without a loved one who you miss so much. I see the warmth that human touch can bring as I watch our new friends interacting with hugs or even just a hand on a shoulder or a pat on the arm through conversation. I hear laughter, I hear relief, I smell food on our plates and I feel warmth in our hearts. This is life, this is love, this is the overcoming of loneliness through the simplest act of sharing and I want to stay in this moment forever.
Chapter Thirty
‘That was truly delicious,’ says Marian as I take away her dinner plate. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘Your big moment is coming soon after dessert,’ I tell her with a smile and she sits back in wonder as to what that might be.
‘Compliments to the chef!’ says Nicholas. ‘You must do this for a living, yes?’