Page 25 of Every Christmas Eve
‘I thought you might like to serve him,’ Nana whispers. ‘He’s quite a dish. Look!’
I signal for her to join me in the storeroom and pull the door slightly closed behind her.
‘Nana, that’s Ben Heaney and the little girl is his daughter.’
‘Ben Heaney? Is it?’ she asks, her neck craning. ‘Are you sure? I don’t remember him being so handsome. But then again, his uncle and father were always fine-looking men too. Pity they didn’t have the personality to go with it.’
I hold back from telling her how I definitelydoremember.
‘Nana, please keep it all very cool,’ I beg her, but it’s too late. She’s gone.
‘Ben Heaney!’ she exclaims at the top of her voice, walking back on to the shop floor. Oh, how I wish I could disappear. ‘I don’t believe it! My goodness, what a lovely surprise to have you pop by!’
So much for my grandmother’s nonchalance towards the Heaneys. She’s practically salivating at the sight of him, much to my despair. I blow out a long breath, do my best to fix the strands of hair that have fallen around my face, and fish a lipstick from my apron pocket, giving my lips an extra layer of red, which has always been an instant mood-lifter.
I close my eyes and say a quick prayer, then tentatively make my way into the shop where the man I never stopped loving stands only a few feet away.
My gut instinct told me this day would one day come. I often prayed it would, and I’ve played this scene out in my head so many times over the years. Would it be when out shopping one day in a busy town that we’d find ourselves in the same place at the same time? Would it be in a strange city, or in a local park, or maybe we’d see each other somewhere that meant something to us both? But I’d never, ever dreamed they’d bring back the event that had brought us together in the first place, here in our home village.
When I’d finish daydreaming about seeing him in real life again, I’d wrestle with my feelings, doing my best to convince myself that my love for him would subside one day. I’ve kept it all to myself, because after all, who would believe that someone could still hold your heart more than two decades later? No one would.
To my friends and family, Ben Heaney is simply an old flame from yesteryear, if even that. He is someone I used to know, the son of a family I worked with during the summers when I was a schoolgirl. To them he’s only a closed chapter of my life story, to be looked back on with a faint smile and a fond but faded memory.
But they don’t know the secrets of our Christmases past. They don’t know the heartache or the pain we both went through when saying goodbye one bitter, cold Christmas Eve.
They don’t know the truth.
‘Mrs Molly Cooke,’ Ben says to my grandmother, who curtsies before him when he says her full name. My chest pulls tight. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut when I hear his voice again. ‘It’s been a long time, but I remember meetingyou in The Taphouse many moons ago. You were singing the song “Peggy Gordon” by the fire in all your glory. I must say, you’re as alluring now as you were back then.’
She puts her hand to her chest and lets out a sigh.
‘Ah, how kind. You know, that’s still my party piece, Ben,’ she replies, gazing up at him. I only wish I’d your sharp memory, but I’ll take that compliment, thank you very much.’
His shoulders look so inviting, so strong. His posture is confident, yet there’s deep pain in the way his voice shakes when he speaks. Maybe he is as taken aback as I am? I don’t think he knows I’m standing here yet, which helps me gather a little composure.
‘I was just having a very enlightening conversation with your daughter about amaryllis,’ Nana continues, her voice dropping down a few notches at last. ‘Isn’t she wonderful. I’m sure her precious mama would be very proud of her.’
Nana looks like she might cry for them both, but Ava isn’t within earshot now, thank goodness. She has made her way to the far end of the florist’s, intrigued it seems by the festive miniature train set I took with me from New York, just like most children who visit this place are, no matter their age.
I do my best not to stare in her direction, but my first thought on seeing Ava is how I’d love to give her a hug and tell her everything is going to be OK. I was only a few years older than she is now when I lost my dad suddenly, and although I appreciate that everyone’s grief is different, I do understand how it can have extra bite at certain times of the year.
‘Hello, Lou,’ Ben says gently.
My heart stops for a split second when I hear him say my name.
‘Hi, Ben,’ I reply, meeting his eyes slowly while doing my best to keep breathing. ‘I’m sorry about just now. I ran back inside because I—’
‘It’s OK,’ he says. ‘No need to explain.’
His voice to me is as soothing as it ever was.
‘Thank you.’
‘I would apologise for taking you by surprise out there, but I’d absolutely no idea you were back home. Believe me, I’m a bit shaken too. The last person I expected to see in this village is you.’
‘Lou has been back here for a whole six months now,’ Nana chimes in.
‘This is …’ Ben continues. ‘I’m a bit lost for words. Lou, you look wonderful.’
