Page 43 of Every Christmas Eve
For the first time in a long time, everything in my life feels in very safe hands.
‘You’re jittery, son,’ Mum says as I walk around the rooms of Ballyheaney House with my clipboard in hand and a frown on my face. ‘Is it because Lou is on her way?’
‘Of course not,’ I reply. ‘Why would I be jittery over Lou? She’s one of those friends where it feels like we’ve picked up where we left off. It’s easy.’
‘Gosh, it really is going to be like old times, isn’t it?’ she says, touching the walls as if they could talk back to us. ‘Uncle Eric has spent all afternoon in his dressing room, deciding what to wear for her grand arrival, even though I’ve told him to stop fussing. As if Lou will even notice!’
‘Ha, Lou always did love Uncle Eric’s style.’
‘Well, he’s not one bit impressed with how he didn’t know she’d been back in the village for the last six months working on Castle Street,’ Mum tells me. ‘You’ve no idea what I’ve had to listen to all day before you arrived. He was like a child, huffing and puffing at every opportunity.’
Roly follows me around at the same pace as my mother, sniffing into corners and whining at Uncle Eric’s absence. I don’t know what it is about my elderly uncle, but our dog adores him even more than he does me or Ava. And that’s a lot.
‘I’m with Uncle Eric on this one,’ I say, stopping in my tracks. ‘Are you honestly saying you didn’t know she had opened a place on Castle Street? Or that she’d bought Katie’s Cottage? Come on, Mum. I didn’t come up the river in a bubble. Why didn’t you tell me?’
Ava’s dramatic interruption is timely.
‘Quick, Grandma! Quickly! Dad! Help!’
Round two of the gingerbread men trial isn’t going as well as last time, it seems, and the smoke alarm lets us know there’s a disaster in the oven.
‘The feet are burnt, Grandma,’ cries Ava as my mother follows her back to the kitchen. ‘All of them. We can save theheads and bodies but they’re totally footless gingerbread men now, which is so embarrassing.’
As the smoke alarm sings and Roly howls like a wolf in its direction, Uncle Eric comes out of his dressing room in only his boxers and stands at the top of the stairs, scratching his head. I go to help Ava, only to see that Lou has arrived – but instead of receiving a warm welcome in the traditional sense, she is opening windows at the speed of light to let out the smoke.
‘I rang the doorbell but there was no answer,’ she calls out, waving a tea towel through the air. ‘Then I heard the chaos, so I hope you don’t mind me taking the initiative to try and help?’
The smoke alarm stops at last.
‘Thank you!’ I reply in relief.
‘You’re very welcome. All in a day’s work.’
I make my way towards her, full of apologies for the commotion. She looks so young in her denim dungarees under a heavy khaki coat, with her dark hair falling over her face as usual and a red hat covering her ears.
‘Your timing, as always, is impeccable. Thanks for saving us from the madness,’ I say, greeting her with a friendly kiss on the cheek. ‘Let’s go say hello to Mum and Ava in the kitchen. Don’t suppose you know how to rescue gingerbread men with burnt feet?’
But before we have taken another step, my mother and daughter arrive in the hallway to meet us, still flustered from the great gingerbread man rescue.
‘How about some brightly coloured icing to give them winter boots?’ Lou suggests to Ava, who looks truly heartbroken. ‘Or you could always give each one a nice pair of Christmas socks to wear? Reds and greens and golds?’
Ava’s eyes light up as she almost dances on the spot.
‘That’s the best idea ever!’ she says. ‘How did you think of that so quickly?’
Lou shrugs and gives Ava a high five.
‘The best thing is,’ whispers Lou. ‘You can give them extra-long socks if their gingerbreadlegsare a bit burnt too. And have them mismatch just for fun.’
Ava raises her eyebrows and purses her lips tightly in thought.
‘Sounds like you still have all the best ideas, Lou,’ says my mother, extending her arms for a hug. ‘Ah, you always were our secret weapon here at Ballyheaney House, not only at party time but in summer too. It’s so good to have you back again. And it’s so good that you’ll be reunited with your old friend at long last.’
Lou and I exchange a shy glance.
‘I agree,’ I tell them. ‘Uncle Eric is—’
‘Uncle Eric is what?’ I hear him interrupt as he scuffles down the stairs. ‘Uncle Eric is very, very glad to see Lou Doherty again at long, long last, that’s what Uncle Eric is. Hello, duck!’
