Page 71 of A Miracle on Hope Street
She gasps when she opens it and puts her hand on her chest then touches the varnished wood with such care.
‘It’s from Sorrento,’ I say to her as she admires the delicacy of the vintage music box which is decorated with the most intricate carvings of ‘la rosa,’ her favourite flower.
‘Oh it’s just beautiful! It’s perfect’ she says and we all take a moment to listen to the chimes of the little music box as it plays the tune of ‘Edelweiss,’ a song that always reminded me of her from when we used to sit together and watchThe Sound of Musicon cosy winter days in our pyjamas by the roaring fire in the sitting room across the way.
I close my eyes and listen to the elusive sounds of the tune that takes me right back to such happy times when I felt so safe and secure by her side in this house, then I take a deep breath, and find the next gift to pass on.
‘Kelly, my dear Kelly,’ I say next of all and Kelly tilts her head to the side as she awaits her present. ‘For you I have something that’s just as pretty as you are, but is also very practical and I hope you put it to good use.’
She opens up a leatherbound diary and planner for the year ahead, and she nods her head when she realises what I mean by gifting this to her.
‘Keep setting goals,’ I say to her. ‘You have shown us all here today what you can do with your fantastic creations and now you know again how good it makes you feel to be in the kitchen, baking up a storm. I happen to know a great café around here who, I’m sure, would take some orders from you, so when loneliness or fear of the unknown strikes again, get stuck in and be reminded always that no matter how low we may feel, when we find our purpose in life, it makes everything a little bit brighter.’
‘I can’t wait to get this diary filled with orders,’ says Kelly, hugging the book close to her. ‘Wow, thank you so much!’
I have one more gift left, well, two, actually, but I want to save Michael’s for later, when we have some time alone.
‘Finally, Marian,’ I say, reaching for the larger, square-shaped box I chose especially for her. She tears open the paper like a child would and when she sees what’s inside, to my surprise, she covers her mouth with her hand and then starts to cry.
‘I’m sorry,’ she sniffles, ‘but I know why you are giving me this and it just means so much to me, Ruth. You remembered what I said to you just a few days ago. Gosh, how thoughtful. Thank you so much.’
Necks crane around the table to see Marian’s present so I think I’d better explain.
‘It’s a new teapot,’ says Marian, getting in there just before me.
‘It’s a reallyniceteapot,’ says Molly, a little bewildered, as are the others. I definitely need to explain.
‘Marian, please let this teapot be a reminder to you that there are still lots of friends for you out there to share your teatime with. I think you might have even made a few of those here today.’
‘Oh, I certainly have,’ she says, smiling at my mother in particular.
‘And on that note,’ I continue, ‘you can start by helping me serve the tea now as we have dessert. Would that be okay with you?’
She dabs her eyes with a napkin.
‘It would be an absolute pleasure to make tea for you all,’ she says, taking a deep breath. ‘I didn’t think I’d react like that to a teapot – you must all think I’ve lost the plot!’
Then Michael takes my hand.
‘I wasn’t going to divulge any of my own story, but since we’re in such understanding company, it’s fair to say that a year ago, I didn’t think I’d make it to Christmas,’ he says, timidly. ‘I didn’t think I’d make it through another day, in fact, as I lay on the streets feeling so low, so undeserving, so forgotten by everyone I used to hold close, and I hated myself for how I’d let so many people down. I was, I’m not ashamed or afraid to say, suicidal.’
I hear a few gasps around the room.
‘Ruth, although she didn’t realise it until very lately, gave me new hope,’ he continues. ‘She looked right into my eyes and she saw me as a person when others walked by and ignored that I was even there. She gave me hope on a very dark night when all in my life felt hopeless, and now here we are today in her beautiful home, sharing dinner and company and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who I’ve laughed as much with, who I’ve shopped and cooked and shared meals with, who I’ve argued with, cried with and who, every time I leave her company, I can’t wait to see again. You’ve made miracles happen today for many of us, Ruth and from the bottom of my heart I want you to know just how special you truly are. Thank you.’
I bite my lip as I take in Michael’s kind words, and I must admit my stomach did a little somersault when he said that he always looked forward to seeing me after we said goodbye as that’s how I feel about him too. What a difference a week makes . . .
‘You are all special too and your words are so meaningful,’ I manage to say without turning into a blubbering mess. ‘Let’s continue to celebrate this wonderful day; let’s eat, drink and be merry and enjoy these wonderful delights that Kelly brought for us today. We are all deserving and we are all worthy! Now let’s have tea and cake to celebrate!’
‘Hear, hear!’ says Nicholas.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ says Marian. ‘Come on, Elena. You can give me a hand.’
My mother looks delighted to be included and gets up immediately.
‘I think it’s time for a Christmas carol,’ says Michael. ‘What do you say, Nicholas?’
Nicholas stalls, rubs his white beard for a moment, thinks a little more and then breaks into a confident grin.
