Coming Home for Christmas Read online

‘You won’t eat your dinner if you keep picking,’ warned Olivia.

  ‘Yes, Mammy,’ teased Alison.

  ‘Oh God! I have turned into a real mammy, haven’t I? I hear myself saying things that Mam said to us, and I can’t believe I’m saying them. I feel middle age galloping towards me. It’s the pits.’

  The sound of a pot boiling over distracted them, and they turned to see green, steamy foam erupt down the sides of a saucepan in a lava flow that spread out over the cooker.

  ‘Those friggin’ mushy peas,’ Olivia cursed. And Alison laughed.

  ‘That’s not Mammy talking.’

  ‘Just wipe it up. You’re supposed to be watching them not scoffing stuffing – you’re the commis chef, allegedly,’ ordered Olivia.

  ‘Yes, bossy boots,’ Alison retorted, helping herself to a taste of the ham, golden with baked honey and mustard and cloves. They could hear gales of laughter coming from the sitting room and Uncle Leo booming as he called one of the girls a little scamp.

  ‘I’m starving, Mom, when are we having our dinner?’ Kate barrelled through the door.

  ‘Five minutes. Tell everyone to go and sit down and ask Daddy to pour the wine please.’

  ‘Din dins. Din dins. We all have to sit down. Dad do the wine,’ Kate roared theatrically.

  ‘That one is hyper, she’s going to be an actress.’ Olivia shook her head, amused at her darling’s antics as she and Alison began to plate up the food.

  ‘I’ve waited for three hundred and sixty-five days for this dinner,’ Kate declared as a plate of steaming food was placed in front of her a few minutes later.

  ‘Well, eat it up and enjoy it,’ Mrs Harney said happily, red-cheeked from the glass of sherry she’d been sipping earlier.

  ‘Because it will be another three hundred and sixty-five days before you get it again, ye little rascal,’ Leo chuckled.

  ‘Lia, will you say grace please?’ Esther smiled at the granddaughter who was sitting beside her. Silence descended on the table as the little girl joined her hands, followed swiftly by her sisters. Everyone bowed their heads as she said earnestly:

  ‘Bless us O God as we sit together.

  Bless the food we eat today.

  Bless the hands that made the food.

  Bless us O God. Amen.’

  As she finished, Kate picked up her fork and dived in like a kamikaze pilot, spearing a sliver of turkey. ‘My favourite,’ she enthused, much to the amusement of her grandmother.

  It was a jolly meal, full of laughter and jokes, and there was great excitement when the pudding was placed on the table, steaming and wafting the most heavenly fruity aromas around.

  ‘That’s my pudding,’ Ellie declared proudly. ‘I made that one, didn’t I, Gran?’

  ‘You did, darling.’

  ‘And ours are at home, we made them too.’ Kate was not to be left out.

  ‘And who made my one?’ Leo asked.

  ‘We all did, Uncle Leo. ’Cos we just love you,’ Ellie said, matter-of-factly, and Olivia could have kissed her for the beam of pleasure her childish declaration brought to the old man’s face.

  ‘And I love you too.’ He patted the back of Ellie’s hand.

  ‘You’re a lucky man, Leo Dunwoody. I can’t remember the last time I was told someone loved me,’ Mrs Harney said a little tipsily. She had imbibed a glass of wine as well as the sherry and, being unaccustomed to alcohol, it had gone to her head somewhat.

  ‘Well, we love you,’ Kate said stoutly, ‘’cos Gran and Grandad wouldn’t ask you for Christmas dinner if they didn’t.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Esther. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that just lovely. I’m very pleased to be here.’ Her cheeks grew even more rosy, and she gave a delicate little burp.

  ‘Have some pudding,’ offered Liam.

  ‘Plum pudding actually.’ Lia was nothing if not precise.

  ‘Plum pudding. I stand corrected,’ Liam said gravely, trying not to laugh.

  As she watched the exchange with amusement, Alison wondered why she’d left it so long to come home to celebrate Christmas with her family. Perhaps her years of absence helped her appreciate it all the more, she reflected as the children eagerly pulled the crackers after the pudding had been eaten and began reading the jokes.

  ‘Where should a dressmaker build her house?’ Kate read out.

  ‘Where?’ they responded.

  ‘On the outskirts. Ah hahhha,’ she guffawed.

  ‘Tee hee hee,’ tittered Mrs Harney as everyone groaned.

  ‘My turn, my turn,’ insisted Lia, planting a yellow crown on her grandfather’s head. ‘How do snails keep their shells shiny?’

  ‘How?’ came the long-suffering reply.

  ‘They use snail varnish.’ She creased up laughing.

  ‘Ho ho ho,’ chortled Leo. And Alison smiled, thinking he was as much a child at heart as the girls were. She watched Liam tenderly wiping brandy butter off Ellie’s mouth before she pulled her cracker with him. ‘Mine! Mine! Cam you read mine, Grandad?’

  ‘Yes, let me see.’ Liam put on his glasses. ‘Aaa haa, they’ll never guess this one. Who is the most famous married woman in America?’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Ellie said confidently, knowing her grandfather would whisper it in her ear.

  ‘Mrs Sippy,’ whispered Liam.

  ‘Mrs Hippy,’ shouted Ellie triumphantly.

  ‘I don’t know her, I’m Mrs Harney, dear.’ Mrs Harney came to from the little daydream she’d been in.

  ‘Will we have coffee?’ Esther suggested, wanting to sober her neighbour up a little. It would be dreadful to send her home tipsy.

  ‘Lovely. An Irish one?’ Mrs Harney asked perkily.

  Oh Lord! thought Esther in dismay.

  ‘Do you know what’s gorgeous? A Bailey’s one,’ Alison said dreamily. ‘I’ll have one of those.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Kate.

  ‘You will in your hat. Now start clearing the table, girls. We all have to help out today,’ Olivia said firmly, changing the subject, much to her mother’s relief.

  When the washing-up was done and the coffee made, with a hint of whiskey in Mrs Harney’s, a more generous helping in Leo’s, Michael’s and Liam’s, and Bailey’s for Esther and her daughters, they gathered around the low coffee table in the sitting room and the playing cards came out, reminding Alison of another time and place recently when she’d played uproarious games of cards.

  She was really looking forward to seeing JJ. Looking forward to his teasing. Looking forward to being with him far more than she’d ever looked forward to being with Jonathan, she thought in surprise. She’d hardly given her erstwhile boyfriend a thought since she’d come home. What did that say about their relationship? Not much, she conceded gloomily, wondering why she’d settled for so little. Never again, she vowed silently. New Year, new job, new outlook on life.

  As she lay in bed that night, pleasantly tired after the early start and eventful day, Alison was very glad she’d stayed on for Christmas. If she’d been working, she would have flown back to New York after her mother’s party and never had this time with her parents, sister and nieces. Her connection with her family was strong and firm again, she’d never let it slip the way she had. Home was where the heart was, and family was more important than any job or career could ever be. Her mother had often said when they were growing up and experiencing a blip in life that sometimes life’s hard knocks were blessings in disguise. If Alison hadn’t been made redundant, she’d never have been home for Christmas – a truly enjoyable Christmas at that – and neither would she have met JJ. She hoped he was looking forward to seeing her as much as she was to seeing him.

  Chapter 14

  What would she wear when JJ came round to pick her up? Alison wondered a few days later as she lazed in bed listening to the sea crashing against the rocks and the birds singing in the eaves of the house. She felt pleasantly lethargic. She hadn’t stayed in bed this la
te, for three days in a row, ever. It was ten thirty; she’d practically have a day’s work done in the US. She was beginning to realize just how hard she’d pushed herself. She’d worked like a Trojan. Her career had consumed her. Coming home had been the first time in years that her mind and body felt totally relaxed. Perhaps it was the sea air, she thought with a smile, burrowing down into her bed, unwilling to get up just yet. This time next week she’d be back in New York and her days of unaccustomed indolence would be well and truly over. She was going to get some sort of a job to keep her going until she got her career back on track.

  JJ had phoned the previous day to say that he’d be in Dublin to overnight with his sister before flying back to the States. He’d asked her if she was free to meet him in the afternoon. She’d said she was, and asked where did he want to meet, and that was when he’d suggested picking her up at her parents’. It had been good to hear his voice, but they hadn’t spoken for long because he kept drifting in and out of coverage. Alison stretched and yawned. She liked that he was picking her up and that he’d meet her parents. It seemed appropriate somehow. They weren’t taken with Jonathan, she’d accepted that. Not that they’d said anything, but she’d known. Not that JJ was anything more than a friend, because that was how she would be introducing him. He was a friend, a real friend. And she hoped very much that he felt the same about her.

  Her chinos, she decided, that’s what she’d wear, dressed up with a black Donna Karan wrap-around top. Not too fancy, not too dressed down. Smart casual. If she went into top gear, he might think she was making a play for him, and that was definitely not the case. Because of his circumstances, it would be very much up to him to make the first move. It had to be, for both their sakes, and she was far from convinced he would ever want to change the status quo.

  ‘Bye, Mother, see you, Dad.’ JJ hugged his parents tightly. ‘As soon as I have the place anyway shipshape, I’ll book your tickets to come over. Should be around May – nice time to visit.’

  ‘We’ll look forward to it, son. Ring us when you get to your sister’s,’ his mother instructed, linking her arm in his as she walked him to his rental car.

  ‘I will, I’m just going to meet a friend first. Now go in out of the cold, it’s a wild day and it looks like rain.’ He kissed her cheek, still soft and unlined despite the fact that she was seventy-two. His father stood with his arms folded, pipe stuck between his teeth. JJ knew it was cutting him up that he was leaving. He raised his hand in farewell, and his father did the same in return. No words were spoken.

  He had a lump in his throat as he started the engine and rolled down the window, and waved until he drove around the bend in the narrow country road and he could see them no more. He hated parting from his folks. And he knew they’d miss him.

  He had one more goodbye to make before he headed for Dublin. Half a mile down the road he came to a tidy little village. It boasted a petrol pump, supermarket, pub, school and church. He parked in the church grounds and pushed open the old wrought-iron gate that led to the small, well-kept cemetery.

  JJ took a deep breath and walked along the tarmacadam path, halfway up towards the big Celtic cross at the top. He stopped at a neat, granite headstone in the shape of a scroll. His wife had loved writing poetry, and he’d thought the headstone was apt at the time. Two large pots of pansies and polyanthus bloomed vibrantly, a colourful contrast to the white polished stones. ‘Just came to say goodbye, Anna. I love ya,’ he murmured. ‘And I hope you don’t mind, I’m going to meet a woman today that I think you might like. Hope you’re flying high up there.’ He traced his finger across her name, Anna Connelly, and then he turned and walked back the way he came, a look of bleak sadness on his face.

  He made good time to Dublin. Traffic was light because of the holidays, and as he crossed the Shannon at Athlone his mood lightened, as it always did as the West receded and he drove further east. Today was different. He was making an effort to leave the past behind him and try and move on with his life. He was looking forward to seeing Alison. He liked her a lot. Liked her humour. He could never be interested in a woman without a sense of humour, he knew that much about himself, he thought with a wry smile as the rain started to batter the window. He switched on his wipers and turned on Leonard Cohen, singing ‘Hallelujah’ the way it should be sung.

  ‘So where did you meet this chap?’ Liam asked as he poured his daughter a cup of coffee after her brunch.

  ‘He, aah . . . I met him in my building actually.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie. ‘He makes the most beautiful furniture. He’s very talented with his hands.’

  ‘And he’s from the West? A country boy?’ Esther cupped her hands around her coffee cup and smiled at her daughter. ‘Do you fancy him?’ she asked straight out.

  ‘Mam!’ Alison protested.

  She’s blushing, noted her mother. She does. ‘I always thought you went for city slickers. The suits,’ she said equably.

  ‘I don’t fancy him. He’s a friend. Actually, but please don’t say anything to him about it, he’s . . . er . . . his wife died in a car crash four years ago, so honestly, it is just friendship, so don’t go barking up the wrong tree,’ she warned.

  ‘Aw God love him. I’m sorry, Alison, I didn’t realize.’ Esther could have kicked herself.

  ‘He comes home at Christmas to see his parents and to visit the grave. It must be hard. It’s different if you can visit a grave every week or every month, I suppose you adjust at some level, but when you only get to visit once or twice a year it must make it all very raw. But I’m glad to be his friend, he’s a kind person.’

  ‘He’s lucky to have you as a friend,’ her father said kindly, giving her hand a squeeze.

  ‘Your Dad and I were great friends first, before we got . . . romantic . . . weren’t we, Liam? It gave us a real strong bond that’s never been broken.’ Esther kissed the top of her husband’s head.

  ‘And we still are the best of friends. Friendship is a great gift to give and receive. Remember that.’ Liam smiled.

  ‘And are you still seeing Jonathan?’ Esther queried as she wiped the crumbs off the table.

  ‘Nope!’ Alison said firmly. ‘He’s in the past. I’m footloose and fancy free.’

  ‘There’s worse ways to be, pet,’ her mother assured her.

  ‘Yeah, I know that,’ Alison agreed. ‘I’ve never had a problem being on my own.’

  ‘Don’t we know it,’ Esther said wryly, and gave her a hug. Alison hugged her back. She knew her mother was dreading her departure back to America.

  It was just after two when a black VW Golf drew up outside the house. Alison had been keeping an eye out, and she went and opened the front door so that JJ would know he was at the right address.

  ‘Hey, Dunwoody.’ His face broke into a smile when he saw her, his eyes crinkling in that familiar way of his.

  ‘How you doin’, Connelly?’

  They met halfway and hugged.

  Esther, who was up in her bedroom and had seen the car pull up and heard the exchange, smiled to herself. That was more like it, she thought with satisfaction. JJ Connelly, from what she could see, was a real man. Not like that yoke her daughter had been gadding around with in America. She smoothed her hair, straightened her skirt and went downstairs to meet Alison’s friend.

  ‘Did you have a good trip?’ Alison asked, as she led JJ into the house.

  ‘Got here in good time? You forget that Christmas lasts so long here. Traffic was very light.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, it’s straight back to work stateside.’ Alison smiled. ‘It’s nice – I’ve really relaxed.’

  ‘Naps and all?’ He smiled at her, just as Esther walked down the stairs.

  ‘Mam, this is JJ Connelly, a friend of mine. JJ, this is my mother.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Dunwoody, nice to meet you.’ He held out his hand and gave Esther a warm handshake.

  ‘And you too, JJ. Come in and have a cup of tea and a bite to eat. You must be hungry after the long d
rive,’ Esther invited.

  ‘Ah you’re grand; a cup of tea will be lovely,’ he said easily.

  ‘Come in and sit down and I’ll rustle you up a little snack,’ Esther ordered.

  Alison laughed. ‘My mother’s a bossy woman. Poor JJ complains he was bossed around by his sisters.’

  ‘I was and how,’ he asserted as he followed them into the kitchen.

  ‘Are you being bossed around by these women, son?’ Liam, who had heard the exchange, held out his hand in greeting.

  ‘Hello, Mr Dunwoody. I guess there’s no escaping the creatures. Bossiness is in their genes.’

  ‘You never said a truer word. Sit down there and make yourself at home.’

  ‘I will so.’ JJ sat down at the table and smiled at Alison.

  ‘So this is home.’

  ‘This is home,’ she echoed.

  ‘I didn’t realize you were so near the sea.’

  ‘Why don’t you bring JJ down to the end of the garden and show him the view while I’m waiting for the kettle to boil,’ Esther suggested.

  ‘It’s lovely, not as wild as Connemara, but I love it, I have it on my screensaver,’ she said, glad to get him on her own for a while. She’d realized when her mother was asking her where she’d met JJ that she hadn’t told him not to mention that she was unemployed.

  ‘Your folks are very welcoming,’ JJ remarked as they strolled down the garden path to the little wooden picket fence with the wooden gate that led to the top of the bank that overlooked the sea.

  ‘They’re great, I love them dearly – and it’s good to have a minute on my own with you because I haven’t told them I’m unemployed or that I’ve moved. I didn’t want to have them worrying and spoil the party and Christmas for them,’ she explained.

  ‘Gottcha! Just as well you flagged it up – I might have put my two big feet in it. Didn’t you tell anyone? Have you kept it bottled up the whole time?’ He frowned.

  ‘Naw, I was pissed one night and let it slip with Olivia.’

  ‘Good! You need to share things like that,’ he said sternly. ‘That’s what family are for, Miss!’