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‘What would we do without you, Ruth?’ says Margo when she senses I’ve reached the end of the piece. ‘Your coffee is getting cold, dear. Will I get you a top up? Ruth?’

‘Sorry, Margo, I’m in a bit of a trance here,’ I explain to her.

Margo’s eyes crinkle in concern.

‘Is everything okay? You’ve something else on your mind, don’t you?’

I manage a bit of a smile but a tangled web of nerves is eating me up inside.

‘I put the house on the market just before Christmas and I might have an offer already,’ I tell her, unable to believe that I’ve taken it this far. ‘I wasn’t expecting it so soon. It’s hardly the time of year to be selling up, is it? I thought it would take months at least and then I could make up my mind.’

‘So you’re really selling up Beech Row?’ Margo asks, wide-eyed.

‘I’m trying to,’ I say with an unapologetic shrug. ‘I’m waiting on a phone call from an estate agent to see if the offer is worth taking. I might have a very decent offer and I don’t know what to do. ‘

Margo’s mouth now drops in an expression of stunned surprise.

‘But this is where you belong, Ruth,’ she says to me. ‘Didn’t your whole Christmas experience remind you of that? Where would you go to? Where would top all the feelings you’ve just experienced here?’

I want to tell her that I haven’t got that far, but the call comes through with news that just might change my life, one way or another.

‘Hello? Ruth speaking,’ I say to the estate agent, and then I let fate and what is meant to be take over and guide me through the rest of my journey, whatever that may bring.

‘Happy New Year,’ he says to me. ‘I have some good news for you, Ruth. Some very good news indeed. I’ve received a whopper of an offer on your house.’

So this is it then. This is my big moment of truth.

Should I stay or should I go?

Epilogue

Eight Days before Christmas – One Year Later

‘I’m just leaving for work, love, so I’ll chat to you later,’ Marian Devine told her daughter Rebecca when she called to say she’d be arriving into Dublin airport for Christmas in just a few hours following her connecting flight from Heathrow.

‘You just love saying that, Mum,’ laughed Rebecca. ‘What on earth is it you’re hosting today? A year ago you wouldn’t leave the house and now you’re hardly ever there!’

‘Afternoon tea, of course,’ said Marian, admiring her lipstick in the mirror and fixing her favourite maroon woolly hat in the hallway. ‘It’s what I do best, or so I’m told, and the senior citizens love it especially for their Christmas party.’

She wished her daughter a safe flight, feeling a rush of excitement at seeing her again and on her way past the photo of her late husband Billy, she picked it up and smiled at the memories they shared on their various golf and walking expeditions to Slieve Donard.

Marian was able to smile again now when she looked at that photo, and she even recognised herself again. She had a golf tournament to look forward to at Easter and the walking season would soon start again once the winter thawed and the holidays were far behind them. Marian couldn’t wait. She’d was feeling on top of the world, just as she had that day with Billy in the photo when they reached the heights of Slieve Donard.

But as fond as those memories were, right now in her present ways, her afternoon tea parties for senior citizens were the best part of her new life, and with a flutter of anticipation for the big day ahead, Marian checked her lipstick once more and set off down the path with excitement in her bones and contentment in her soul.

She had been looking forward to this for ages and a text from Nicholas reminded her to hurry up.

Don’t be late, he texted to Marian, then said the same to one of his fellow choir members as he strolled across the city to the chime of the church bells with a folder full of music under his arm and a spring in his step that defied the frost beneath him. ‘This is our carol singing debut and our big chance to show off all that we’ve been practicing for.’

Nicholas adored being part of the newly formed community choir around his weekly slot at the care home and congratulated himself as he walked through the city for coming up with the idea. It was one of his better ideas, he had to admit, after having to give in and call defeat when the bagpipe lessons didn’t take off, nor did his lectures on composers of the eighteenth century, but the community choir was a big hit and this was the day he’d been looking forward to for over a month now.

When he reached his destination, he looked up to the top floor which he referred to secretly as his office, even though it wasn’t officially so. The rooms were used on a first come, first served basis and today the choir would be performing on the ground floor by the big fireplace, but that little window at the top winked at him and he knew that he would be making use of that room for a very long time, if he could only keep coming up with new ideas.

It invigorated him from top to toe to be able to play his piano properly now, without worrying about noise pollution, and everyone who met him told him he looked years younger. Hefeltyears younger too and was singing and playing as if he had never taken a break in the first place.

‘Like riding a bike,’ his fellow choir member, Beryl, had said to him when he told her how long it had been since he played. Nicholas liked Beryl. He was looking forward to seeing her again today.

Yes, today was going to be a big day for a lot of his friends, and he couldn’t wait to share it all with them, under the roof where so much magic had happened in a short space of time.