Foreign Affairs Page 6

  ‘I hope it’s the last time ever,’ Helen said firmly. ‘That safe period is a dead loss at your age.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ Maura yawned. Dusk had fallen and the rhythmic beam from the lighthouse illuminated the small bedroom. A log in the fireplace collapsed into a heap of ash scattering sparks up the chimney and the coals glowed deep orange. A whimper from the Moses basket caused two pairs of eyes to turn in that direction. ‘Aren’t you going to have a look at her?’ Maura urged softly.

  Helen gave a deep sigh, she had been delaying this moment for as long as she could. Slowly she walked over to the old well-worn but spotless basket. Peeping in she saw a pair of tiny hands waving impatiently. Gently she leaned in and picked up the tiny bundle. The old familiar ache ripped through her. She held the child close and felt it nuzzle at her face. ‘She’s beautiful, Maura, she’s so tiny.’

  ‘She’s small all right, she was only five pounds. She’s going to be petite, like Mam. I know you’re Louise’s godmother, and say no if you want, but I’d really love if you’d be godmother to this one too.’

  Helen stared down at the tiny little being in her arms, her heart bursting with love for her already.

  ‘I’d love to, Maura, what are you going to call her?’ Maura smiled contentedly.

  ‘We’re going to call her Paula.’

  Chapter Six

  Paula Matthews was so excited she had knots in her stomach. Anxiously she peered out of the sitting-room window into the gloom. Her eyes scanned the darkening sky where the first stars were beginning to twinkle. No sign of anything yet. She knew that soon Santa would be leaving the North Pole and he had to cross Greenland and Iceland before getting to Scotland, England and then Ireland. Her daddy had told her that. Paula studied the skies carefully. Santa’s fairies were still about, checking that there were no little children being bold.

  ‘Hello my darling, what are you doing?’ Auntie Helen lifted her out of the window-seat and sat down on it herself and gave Paula a great big cuddle. She had arrived from Dublin laden down with parcels. Of course she oohed and aahed when she saw Paula and exclaimed how big she’d got and how golden her curls were. She told a proud Maura that Paula was a beautiful child. It just confirmed everything that Paula knew about herself. She was perfectly happy to spend the rest of the afternoon admiring her golden curls and telling herself how beautiful she was.

  Paula loved her Auntie Helen. She loved the scent of perfume that always seemed to waft from her. She loved the softness of the clothes she wore. She loved the jangly charm bracelet and the glittering earrings that adorned her aunt’s wrist and ears. Most of all Paula loved the way her aunt always made a huge fuss of her. If there was one thing that Paula enjoyed it was being the centre of attention.

  She was the pet of the family, her older brothers and sisters took good care of her and always let her win at games. She had five brothers and sisters. The twins, Thomas and Louise, were the eldest. They were eleven. Then there was Rebecca, who was nine and a bit bossy, Joseph, who was eight, and John, who was seven. Paula had been five on her last birthday and had started school that September. She felt very grown-up setting off to school each day with John. John was her best friend. They had the greatest adventures together. Searching for buried treasure on the beach. Picking periwinkles on the rocks. Catching crabs and chasing each other with the claws. John was as excited as she was about Santa’s impending arrival. He had asked for a rescue helicopter and a surprise and Paula could hear him anxiously asking their mother, ‘Do you think he’ll remember it’s me that asked for the helicopter an’ not Joseph or Thomas?’

  ‘Stop worrying, John,’ Paula heard her mother say. ‘You’ve sent so many letters up that chimney he couldn’t possibly make a mistake.’ They had all had their baths and the youngest ones were getting their hair washed in a big basin in front of the fire in the kitchen. It would be her turn soon. Paula hated getting her hair washed. It always got tangled and she would screech when her mother brushed the tangles out for her.

  ‘Are you excited?’ Auntie Helen asked as they gazed out at the lighthouse in the middle of the sea. The wide golden beam lit up the steel-grey waters and darkening sky every sixty seconds. Surely if Paula kept looking at it she might see Santa and his sleigh. She gave a little shiver of anticipation.

  ‘I wish it was Christmas Eve every night. I really hope I get my nurse’s set. I wonder what surprise will I get?’ Paula felt a wave of impatience. She wished she could just shut her eyes and open them and it would be Christmas morning.

  ‘I bet your surprise will be lovely,’ her aunt assured her, ‘and wait until you see what I have for you under the tree.’

  ‘Tell me! Tell me! Pleeezze, Auntie Helen, Please please please.’ Paula felt like bursting with exhilaration.

  ‘Then it wouldn’t be a surprise,’ Auntie Helen laughed. ‘Come on, I’ll ask Maura if I can wash your hair while she’s drying John’s.’ They walked hand in hand into the snug aroma-filled kitchen. On the big table opposite the fire lay the huge turkey all plucked and cleaned and ready to be stuffed. Beside it lay a big platter of chopped onions, herbs and parsley, mashed potatoes and sausage meat. A big bowl of breadcrumbs waited to be mixed into the stuffing.

  They had all sat around the big table earlier rubbing chunks of bread together and crumbling them into the smallest crumbs. Only Louise, the eldest, was allowed to use the grater. It was her job to grate the crusts when the rest of them had finished crumbling. Paula longed with all her might to be allowed to use the grater. It was an important job. It wasn’t fair that Louise was the only one allowed to do it.

  When her older sister’s back was turned, she stretched out and grabbed the grater and started grating her own crusts, much to Rebecca’s chagrin. Rebecca too felt that she should be allowed to use it.

  ‘Mammy, Paula’s using the grater.’ Rebecca snatched the offending article from her younger sister, causing Paula to graze her thumb. Blood stained the soft white pile of crumbs in front of her. Paula yelled blue murder.

  ‘Look what she did, Mammy! Look what she did! Santa Claus won’t come to you, Miss Rebecca Matthews.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake,’ Maura exploded, wiping Paula’s thumb and giving Rebecca a clip on the arm at the same time. ‘Santa won’t be coming to anyone in this house. If you all don’t behave yourselves, I’m going to send the lot of you to bed and give the turkey to the poor.’

  ‘We didn’t do anything,’ Joseph exclaimed indignantly.

  ‘We’re on our best behaviour, not like them two,’ John said sanctimoniously.

  ‘That’s enough. I don’t want to hear another word out of anyone,’ Maura warned and peace reigned for another while although there were a few protests during the hair washes. But that was nothing new.

  When her hair had been washed and brushed it looked even more shiny and golden and Paula sat with her aunt’s hand-mirror and brushed it over and over again. She looked a bit like the fairy princess in the lovely book of the Sleeping Beauty which Auntie Helen had given her for her last birthday.

  Then her daddy arrived home with the Christmas tree. Paula stared in awe at the huge deep green pine that he was arranging in a bucket in the sitting-room. ‘A few more rocks, lads, to keep it steady and we’re away on a hack,’ he told the boys, who were bringing in stones and rocks from the garden. When the base was covered with soil and rocks and the tree was centred just to her father’s satisfaction he turned around and smiled at them all.

  ‘I think it’s time to try out the lights.’

  ‘Yippee!’

  ‘Great!’

  ‘Massive!’

  ‘Can I help, Daddy?’

  ‘Santa Claus is coming to town.’ (This was Joseph singing off-key.)

  Paula was too excited to speak.

  They watched as their big strong father climbed up the stepladder and hoisted himself into the attic and then the glory of glories started appearing. The big box with the crib in it was handed to Thomas
, who was now, importantly, atop the ladder. Thomas passed it tenderly to Louise, who was waiting at the bottom. Next came the box with all the paper decorations. Then the box with the tinsel. Paula could see a piece of glittering red hanging down the side of the brown cardboard. She touched it reverently. How beautiful it was. How soft and lustrous.

  ‘Be careful of the shiny balls now,’ her father’s disembodied voice came from the attic. His face suddenly appeared again as he handed down his precious cargo. Then, most thrilling of all, came the lights. Through the plastic top Paula could see the face of a little fat Santa with a red hat and red cheeks and she wanted to do a little dance of happiness. This was really exciting. The time was getting nearer and nearer to Christmas Day. Her father handed down another box, this time multicoloured carriage lights. Last came the box of Christmas candles.

  Paula watched, a little scared, her father’s legs dangling from the attic as he sought the top step of the stepladder. It was with great relief that she saw him pull across the trapdoor and descend the ladder.

  ‘Right then, let’s hope they’re all working.’ He gave the thumbs-up as they all trooped into the sitting-room after him carrying their treasures. Pete positioned himself by the tree and uncoiled the leads from the boxes. Placing the plugs into the adaptor, he crossed his fingers and smiled at the six anxious faces staring around in a semicircle. ‘Switch off the light!’ Thomas crossed the sitting-room and switched it off. Only the glow of the fire lit the room, the flames casting weird dancing shadows on the walls.

  ‘Ready?’ their father enquired as he plunged the plug into the socket.

  ‘OOOHHH!!!!’ A symphony of delight echoed round the room as the Christmas lights illuminated the place with a magical radiance.

  ‘Boys oh boys!’ exclaimed their father. ‘Quick, lads, get your mother. We have to show her this.’ Maura and Helen were ushered in from the kitchen and Paula saw her mother smile at her daddy for long seconds, a special smile that excluded her and all the others in the room, and then it was gone and Maura laughed and said, ‘Pete, it’s going to be the best tree ever.’

  Paula thought Auntie Helen looked strangely sad so she slipped her hand into her aunt’s and whispered, ‘I’ve got a present for you too. It’s going to be under the tree tomorrow.’ Helen swept her up in her arms and hugged her tightly.

  ‘Have you, my darling? You’re my pet, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes I am,’ she agreed happily, snuggling into her aunt’s embrace.

  Then the lights went out.

  ‘Oh no!’ came a communal moan, consternation replacing delight on all their faces.

  ‘It’s only a fuse,’ reassured her daddy. ‘I’ll fix it in a jiffy.’

  After the testing of the lights came the arranging of the crib. The six of them, under Auntie Helen’s instructions, positioned the crib on top of the bookcase, beside the wireless. Auntie Helen was very artistic and she laid a pile of books behind the crib and covered it with black papier-mâché so that it looked like cliffs and mountains. They got the ivy and greenery which they had all helped collect earlier in the day and draped it around the top of the crib and down the mountainside before placing the figures in the crib. After that it was tea-time.

  The smell of rashers and sausages sizzling on the pan made Paula’s mouth water. The turkey had been stuffed and now reposed on top of the cooker in its big roasting dish. Its bluey-veined white breasts were covered with neatly arranged streaky rashers. As a treat, they were given fried bread and mushrooms as well, but after a few mouthfuls Paula could eat no more, she was in such a tizzy of excitement. On the big black mantelpiece over the crackling flaming fire, she could see six long grey stockings waiting to be collected on the way to bed. She knew what would be in those stockings in the morning, if Santa came. Shiny red pennies. Sweets. Balloons. Little round oranges and a juicy red apple.

  ‘Has he left yet, Daddy?’ she enquired anxiously.

  ‘Good gracious, what time is it?’ exclaimed Maura, looking at the clock on the mantel. ‘Time to listen to Santa on the wireless.’ She got up from the table and went into the sitting-room and switched on the wireless. Up on the dresser, beside the delph, was a speaker, and the spellbound children heard a whistling howling gale as Santa asked his helper Aidan to give the reindeers more hay. Paula’s eyes grew wider and wider as she listened to Santa reading out letters from girls and boys.

  ‘Don’t forget my nurse’s outfit and my surprise!’ she burst out.

  ‘And my helicopter,’ John exclaimed.

  ‘And my Cowboys and Indians set.’ Joseph was not to be left out.

  ‘He won’t forget,’ Maura reassured them. ‘Listen now, Santa’s getting ready to leave the North Pole.’ They sat listening as Santa mounted his sleigh and straightened the reins. Then they heard the jingling of bells and Santa was on his way.

  It was time to get their faces and hands washed and to take their stockings, which Maura solemnly handed out to each of them. This was the moment for the last ceremony of the evening. In silence they watched as Maura lit the big red candle that stood in a terracotta plant pot which was covered in tinfoil and decorated with holly and ivy. Placing it in the centre of the sitting-room window, Maura said softly, ‘Let this light welcome your arrival this Holy Night, Sweet Jesus.’

  ‘Amen,’ they all responded.

  ‘And let it help Santa Claus find his way to us too,’ Joseph remarked firmly.

  ‘Let me look out, Daddy,’ Paula commanded. Her father lifted her up in his strong arms and she nestled close against him, loving the bristly feeling of his chin against her skin. ‘Where is he now, Daddy?’ she whispered.

  ‘Heading for Iceland now, I’d say,’ Pete said reflectively.

  Outside in the wintry dark Paula could see the beam of the lighthouse. She could hear the crash of the waves against the pier and the whistling of the wind as it blew around the gables and down the chimney. Along the village she could see the flickering glow of candles in the windows of the other houses. Some houses even had their Christmas trees up and their twinkling sparkling lights were like stars in the windows. Her daddy was going to decorate the tree when they were in bed. In the morning the whole house would be transformed into a magical wonderland and it would be Christmas Day. Santa would have come and then they would go to early Mass while it was still dark and she would see baby Jesus in his crib and feel so tender towards the smiling child as she listened to the story of His birth. Like her, Jesus was a special child. How she would love to have been born in a stable and laid on a bed of straw in a manger, with all those kings from foreign countries coming to worship her with their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

  ‘I think it’s time for bed, Missy,’ her father interrupted her reverie. ‘Have you got your stocking?’ Paula waved the precious sock at him. Soon it would be filled to the brim with goodies.

  Auntie Helen helped her to tie her stocking onto the end of her bed and then her mammy and daddy came in to kiss them and tuck them up and tell them to hurry on and go to sleep. Auntie Helen gave her one last hug and the light was put out and only the rhythmic beam of the lighthouse illuminated the room. Paula lay cosy and warm in her flannelette sheets and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Out there amid the whistling wind and the roar of the sea she was certain she had heard the faint tinkling of sleigh bells. Santa was on his way for sure.

  ‘Now what have I got left to do?’ Maura murmured to herself as she dried up the dishes after the tea. ‘Steep the peas. Parboil the potatoes. Peel the sprouts and make the brandy butter.’ It had been go, go, go, for the past two weeks. Getting the house spick and span. Washing windows and curtains. Doing the Christmas shopping.

  That was no joke, she smiled to herself. John had changed his mind three times before finally settling on that rescue helicopter. And Louise! Maura was sure she knew there was no Santa. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted the shiny long boots or a fashion doll with all the accessories. In the end, Maura asked Helen’s ad
vice, and bought the boots for Louise. Helen had bought her a doll for under the tree. The excitement that had been building in this house for the past month had more energy and power than several atomic bombs, she reflected with a smile.

  They had been rowing and squabbling until she was nearly driven mad. But it was always the same coming up to Christmas, and of course with Pete working all the hours that God sent, it was she who bore the brunt of it. Still, it would be worth it all in the morning to see their faces, Maura thought happily as she poured a kettle of boiling water over the marrowfats and watched it turn cloudy.

  It was a real bonus having Helen to stay as well. Poor Helen, unable to bear a child, and she blessed with six of them. God, the huge eyes of Paula as she watched the candle being lit. Those moments were so precious. And Helen would never have them. No wonder she spoilt Paula rotten. Maura should put her foot down, but Paula was the nearest Helen would have to a child of her own and there was a strong bond between them. Her sister was an exceptionally kind and good aunt to the other five but Paula was her pet, there was no denying it. If it gave her sister happiness, Maura wouldn’t interfere.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Pete came in to the kitchen and slipped his arms around her. Maura nuzzled in against him contentedly.

  ‘Not too bad, I just have to do the spuds and sprouts and the brandy butter and then I’m more or less organized.’

  ‘Did you see the faces of them? I thought Joseph was going to burst when he hung up his stocking, he was being ever so particular about the angle of it,’ Pete laughed.

  ‘Wait until Thomas sees the train set,’ Maura grinned. ‘And can you imagine the faces of Rebecca and Paula when they see their Cinderella high-heeled slippers. I love Christmas.’

  ‘And I love you. Wasn’t I the lucky man the day I married you?’ Pete turned her round to face him and lowered his head and kissed her. Maura returned his kiss ardently. She loved her husband passionately. He was a kind hard-working man who wanted only the best for his wife and family and even after all these years of marriage and six children, he could still make her tingle with pleasure when he touched her and kissed her.