Page 66 of A Miracle on Hope Street
‘I was hoping you might say that,’ she says to me. ‘Oh Ruth, it’s so good to be here with you at long last.’
‘And it’s good to have you back, Mama,’ I say to her, not realising as the word slips out that I just called her by a name I only used when I was very, very young.
She reaches out for my hand and I hold hers in mine as we take in how far we have come in just a few days. This is what Christmas is all about. I’m looking forward to seeing what the rest of the day might bring.
Just before we reach the street where the local church is, I do a bit of a detour that brings us to the nondenominational city cemetery that sits up on a hill to the side of the city like a sloping sea of grey crosses and black headstones.
‘This isn’t where your dad is buried?’ my mum says, confused at my sudden change in direction.
‘It isn’t,’ I say to her. ‘Just give me a second.’
I reach into the back seat of the car and take out a little Christmas bauble I’d bought on my travels yesterday, hoping that I’d find the time to make this quick visit. I scan through the new, freshly dug graves hoping to find a wreath or some sort of indication that might have Paul Connolly’s name on it. And then I find it – a raised bed of soil with just one wreath in the most beautiful festive colours, red, gold and green, and a note from Sonia and his friends at the hostel. Unlike the other graves that lie beside his, there are no family messages, no personal symbols of his life or what he represented.
‘I wish you’d been able to make it today,’ I say to Paul, putting the Christmas decoration on his grave. I chose one with a robin on it as I believe the robin represents a returning soul, and I hope, if nothing else, it shows a bit of warmth on this silent hill on such a poignant day. ‘Rest easy, young man. I’m so sorry we didn’t get the chance to meet. I’m sorry I was late.’
I walk back down the hill, fighting back tears of sorrow against the cool December breeze for someone I didn’t even know, for a young life lost and I’m glad to get back to the car where my mother sits in waiting.
I’m going to remember Paul today and count my blessings for everything I have in life, because sometimes it’s just too easy to forget. It’s Christmas Day. I’m getting to spend it with my own mother after all this time. How many people are out there who would love to be able to do this?
‘Can I tell you something?’ my mother asks me as we stand by my dad’s graveside in the church grounds just over an hour later when Mass is over. I left a key out for Michael and told him where I was going in a quick message and he responded to say that he was already there and cooking up a storm, preparing two starters that just might steal the show. I truly want to bottle up the way he makes me feel and keep it somewhere in case this all just ever disappears. I won’t think that way. I refuse to think that way, not today anyhow.
‘I’d love you to tell me whatever is on your mind,’ I say to her, wondering what on earth I’m about to hear.
‘My favourite time of year has always been Christmas,’ she says to me. ‘Ever since I was a little girl growing up in Italy, I dreamed of when I would have children of my own to enjoy it with and when I was in my teens I used to imagine how their faces would look when they came downstairs on Christmas morning to see what Santa would bring.’
She always was so soft, so maternal, so loving and giving. ‘Your illness really did steal a lot of happiness from you, didn’t it?’
She lets out a deep sigh.
‘Yes, I suppose it did,’ she says to me. ‘But what I wanted to tell you was that no matter how bad I felt as I battled my way through those very dark times, Christmas was the one day where everything would seem so much brighter and the reason for that was you and Ally. When I looked at your faces on Christmas morning, everything else in the world stopped as far as I was concerned. Nothing else mattered to me. For those short moments on that one day of the year, I was the happiest that I’ve ever been in my whole life, Ruth. I thought I’d never get that feeling again, darling, but when you opened the door to me this morning you had that . . . you had that same look on your face that I remember you had when you were just a little girl and I got that same feeling back again like a big familiar rush of immense happiness. I became the happiest again that I’ve ever been. Thank you for giving me this second chance to be your mother. I’ll do my best never to let you down again, I promise.’
I put my arm around her and we both stand by my father’s grave, weeping tears of joy and sorrow for all that we had lost and for all that we have now found again.
‘You haven’t let me down, Mum,’ I whisper but she doesn’t seem to be listening as she is so lost in thought. It’s cold and I don’t want to keep her outside for too long, not when I think of the blazing fire that Michael, bless him, will no doubt have going when we get home.
‘Thank you, Dad, for waiting for her,’ I say before we leave his grave. ‘You were right. She did come back. She did come home just like you always said so.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘Fancy doing a sweepstake as to who will arrive first?’ says Michael cheerfully as I hover around the kitchen in absolute awe of the works of art he has produced so far for our starters. There are martini glasses filled with multi-coloured balls of fresh melon in pink, green and yellow, there’s sweet potato-and-butternut squash soup with garlic toast, and a smart little fish mousse garnished with green leaves that he’s made up from the leftovers from our dinner the night before.
I can’t help but slip my arms around his waist from behind and lean my head against his back, just for a few moments. I want to savour every minute of this heaven.
‘I say Nicholas will be here first,’ I whisper to him.
‘Sorry, was I being too loud? Is your mum still asleep?’
He turns round to face me, still locked in my embrace.
‘She’s out cold, poor thing,’ I say to him. ‘She’d an early start and I think the whole emotional side of things hit her a lot harder than she thought when she got here. She’s still on a lot of medication to stay on top of things, Michael, so I have to tread very softly and take things at her pace, though she’s set her alarm to wake her up in time to get ready for dinner. I hope she enjoys it when she settles in, I really do.’
I want to help him with the final touches to dinner but to be honest I’m afraid to ruin anything when I look around the kitchen at his efforts so far. The turkey is browning nicely in the oven, the honey-roasted ham crackles and smells out of this world and the veg just needs to be finished off with his magic touch, so I daren’t even try to interfere. I’m just washing up as much as I can, trying to give him the space he needs.
‘I’ve my money on the couple with the kid not showing at all,’ he says to me. ‘Sorry, I’m just trying to spice things up a bit. You know I’m joking. Of course they’ll be here.’
I know he’s taking the mick, but it has crossed my mind that the Flowers family will have second thoughts, I have to admit. Coming for dinner on Christmas Day to a group of strangers is a one-person decision when you’re on your own, but a young couple who have to convince each other that it’s worth swallowing their pride for is another matter.
I send Molly a quick message, just to test the water.
