Page 2 of Every Christmas Eve
‘Well, school starts again in early January,’ he said, ‘so I imagine I’ll be sent off on the train as soon as the holidaysare over. Packed off and packed away, never to be seen again until half-term, when I’ll be off to help Uncle Eric on his farm in Wicklow as he embraces the weird and wacky world of fast cars, faster women and fine cigars.’
‘I see,’ I gulped, feeling very ordinary in comparison.
‘He isn’t like that at all. It’s rather boring actually, so I’d much rather come back here,’ he said, fiddling with a piece of straw. ‘I’d much rather be at Ballyheaney House so I can hang out like this with you.’
His eyes were sad for a moment, and once again I was reminded of how I lived such a different life, far away from the twinkling lights and the Christmas carols and the plush ballroom that had brought us together that day.
Ben’s home was an impressive former bishop’s manor tucked away in the rolling countryside, while mine was a modest bungalow close by the banks of Lough Beg. His school was a posh boarding establishment two hours away in Dublin where ambition was high and everyone’s business was kept to themselves. Mine was the local comprehensive down the road where everybody knew your name, your address and what you were having for dinner.
And because of this, an invitation to the annual Charity Afternoon Tea on Christmas Eve at Ballyheaney House was a huge treat for all the village – and now so much more than that to me. It was a chance to sit close to him, to talk to each other, to flirt and smile, to feel that maybe, just maybe, there might be a true connection between us that would one day defy the odds and bring us properly together.
‘Will you really miss me?’ I asked, knowing that thethought of him thinking of me would keep me smiling for many, many nights to come. ‘Or was that just another jest?’
‘I will really miss you,’ he replied. ‘Truthfully, I mean it. Today has been very special.’
I thought my heart was going to burst when his hand found mine and he squeezed it, closing his eyes for a few seconds.
‘I’d like you to name her please, Lou,’ he said to me eventually. His suggestion almost took my breath away. ‘If you don’t mind?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you.’
A rush of excitement filled me from head to toe, and I could barely think straight.
‘But – but are you sure? Won’t your parents …?’
‘My parents would agree that it’s the least I can do, given how much you’ve helped me today. I’ll tell them all about how you brought her into the world with so much calm and sensitivity while they were entertaining half the village,’ he said with confidence. ‘So, I’d like you to name her. Please.’
I gulped hard, unable to hide my beaming smile. We’d been talking earlier by the swing under the oak tree when we’d heard a cry from Sally the mare in the stable. I’d wanted to run in the other direction for help, but Ben had convinced me to stay. He’d told me we could do this together, and we did.
‘Are you sure it’s a “she”?’ I asked him.
He raised an eyebrow.
‘We once had a cat called Pat with a swollen belly, wholater became Patricia when a vet told us that “he” was having kittens,’ I told him.
He threw his head back with laughter. Oh, how I savoured every ounce of him.
‘And there I was, singing your praises for how natural and calm you were,’ he said. ‘While you, on the other hand, question my ability to sex a foal. Now, what would you like to call her? Take your time.’
I did exactly that and he waited, tending to Sally as I thought of a name for this beautiful creature. I’d never been so close to nature in this way before.
And then it came to me.
‘Little Eve,’ I declared eventually, my eyes wide with excitement. ‘Maybe it’s a pretty obvious choice, but I like it. She’s so little. And she was born on Christmas Eve.’
‘Little Eve,’ he said, looking up at me with a smile. ‘I like it. Little Eve, the Christmas foal of Ballyheaney House.’
I felt a shiver running through me. My breath lingered in the cold air as I waited for him to say more, but then the most wonderous thing I’d ever witnessed with my own two eyes occurred.
Not even thirty minutes after I’d helped with her birth, the tiny foal shook her head, then leaned her weight on her brown, spindly front legs. My mouth dropped open in astonishment as she slowly found each of her back feet, one after the other. She stood up, wobbling at first, but her mother licked her tiny legs to encourage her until she stood tall.
‘Wow! Well done, Little Eve,’ I whispered with quiet admiration. ‘You are amazing! You really are!’
I looked at Ben as his green eyes glistened. Mine did too.
‘Little Eve, I love you already!’ he said with a warm smile that could have melted the snow outside. He stretched out his hand and Little Eve stumbled towards us, before falling on to the soft hay.
