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  ‘Stop it, Pete.’ She giggled as she felt him respond to her. ‘The turkey’s looking.’

  ‘Let him look, I bet he wishes he was me.’ Her husband grinned down at her.

  ‘Get in there and fix that Christmas tree and Santa might come to you tonight if you’re good.’ Maura’s eyes sparkled with fun and the promise of pleasures to come.

  ‘Oh!’ Helen came into the kitchen and stopped suddenly at the sight of them. ‘You pair! Do you want a cup of tea to cool your ardour?’

  ‘Spoilsport! Your sister was trying to seduce me in front of the turkey. She gets her kicks in strange ways. I’m worn out with her. Look at the pathetic wreck of a man I am compared to when I got married.’

  ‘You’re not looking too bad,’ Helen said fondly as she filled the kettle.

  ‘I’d better go and start decorating, I suppose.’

  ‘You’d better!’ his wife grinned. ‘We’ll bring you in a cup of tea.’

  ‘What will I do for you?’ Helen plonked herself on the little red cushioned seat beside the fire. Maura sat herself on the opposite one and they toasted their hands against the blaze.

  ‘Would you do the sprouts?’

  ‘Sure I will,’ Helen smiled. The flames lit the creamy skin on her face, and highlighted the burnished glints in her chestnut hair. Maura felt dull and dowdy beside her. Helen was so elegant and soignée, never a hair out of place. Her nails were always perfectly shaped and varnished, her eyebrows plucked so that not a stray hair showed. Maura had meant to do her own, and she’d meant to get to the hairdresser today as well, but she just hadn’t managed it.

  ‘I wanted to get my hair done today.’ She ran her hand through brown curls that were beginning to show faint traces of grey.

  ‘Wash it when you’re ready and I’ll set it for you,’ Helen offered.

  Maura brightened. ‘Thanks, Helen, sure that’s as good as going to the hairdresser. I’m really glad you’re able to spend Christmas with us. It’s a big treat for us and Paula’s in the seventh heaven because her favourite aunt is here.’

  ‘It’s a real treat for me too, Maura. A real treat and thanks for having me. You and Pete. I’m lucky to have you.’ Helen got up from her little seat and leaned across and hugged her sister.

  Maura hugged her back tightly. Helen and she had always been close. It was a closeness that had sustained her all her life. ‘You’re a great sister, Helen.’ She smiled, giving Helen a squeeze. ‘You’re so good to my children and they all adore you. I hope this will be one of your best Christmases ever.’

  Helen lay wide-eyed, watching the magnificence of Pete’s Christmas tree with pleasure. In a minute she would hop out of bed and switch off the lights. But it was so delightful to lie in her comfortably made up bed toasting her feet against the hot-water bottle that Maura had filled for her. It reminded her of childhood Christmases, being in this room with the garlands lacing the ceiling and the rich red and green holly adorning the pictures on the walls. Maura’s shining old-fashioned candlesticks held two red candles on the mantelpiece and between them Christmas cards lay along the top, giving it a most festive air.

  Helen sighed. She hadn’t bothered to decorate her home in Dublin this year. It just hadn’t seemed worth it. Anthony was going to his mother for Christmas and she had made the spur-of-the-moment decision to go to Maura and Pete’s. To hell with it, she’d thought. After spending Christmas with the Matthews, it would only be an anticlimax coming home to her silent elegant house.

  She wondered how her husband was getting on. Poor Anthony, he’d felt so bad about spending Christmas with his mother and leaving her. But there was no point in her going with him. Stephanie Larkin couldn’t stand Helen and had never given an inch from the moment she had married her son. In her eyes Helen was not of the same social class as the affluent Larkins, and never would be. She was an intruder who had wormed her way in. Stephanie always referred to her, in the most disparaging of tones, as ‘the country girl.’

  Helen had made a tremendous effort for her husband’s sake, enduring the snubs and rebuffs and downright rudeness of her mother-in-law.

  Anthony had rebuked his mother sternly, several times, because of her treatment of Helen but this had only increased her antipathy towards her only son’s wife. In the end Helen had called a halt and told her husband that she was no longer going to visit Stephanie and that he could go alone. He had to agree that it was the best solution. Mrs Larkin was delighted to have her son to herself and told the rest of the family that ‘that awful country girl couldn’t even be bothered to visit her mother-in-law.’

  Stephanie lived with a housekeeper in a big house in Dalkey and Anthony visited her twice a week, on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings. About two weeks before Christmas she got a bad dose of flu and convinced herself and everyone else that she was dying. She pleaded with Anthony to come and spend Christmas with her, just this once, as she was sure it was to be her last. When he suggested that she come and spend it with him and Helen, she recoiled as though he had struck her.

  ‘I’ll not go where I’m not wanted and that wife of yours doesn’t want me in your house. I’ll stay here with Vera where I’m not a nuisance to anyone. Thank you very much!’ Anthony was fit to be tied.

  ‘I don’t mind having her, honestly, Anthony,’ Helen assured her husband, lying through her teeth.

  ‘I know you don’t, darling, and I really appreciate it. But you know my mother.’

  Only too well, Helen thought grimly. In the end, seeing how troubled he was and knowing the pressure Stephanie was bringing to bear, she told him to go to his mother’s for Christmas. That way neither of them could ever reproach themselves in the unlikely event of Stephanie’s sudden demise.

  ‘I can’t leave you on your own for Christmas,’ Anthony announced but she felt it was only for form’s sake. Anything for a quiet life was Anthony’s motto. Her husband was not a man to wear his heart on his sleeve or be overly demonstrative. He loved her in his own quiet way. And she supposed she loved him too. Although there were times she cast an envious eye on Maura and Pete’s marriage, envying them their spontaneity and fun and earthy lust for each other.

  She was nineteen when she met Anthony. She had been staying with a schoolfriend who was living in Dublin and they had gone to a dance in the local tennis club. Because it was all so new and exciting and sophisticated, Helen had a ball. She was exceptionally pretty and vivacious and she did not lack for partners. A tall dark-haired man smiled in her direction and she smiled back. He was a good deal older than she was. In his late twenties at least.

  ‘Who is he?’ she nudged her friend Breda.

  ‘That’s Anthony Larkin, isn’t he gorgeous? People say he’s stuck-up but I think he’s just shy. He’s a stockbroker.’

  ‘Is he going with anyone?’

  Breda giggled. ‘I don’t think so. Do you fancy him?’

  ‘Of course not. I don’t know him. He just smiled at me, that’s all. It’s probably because I’m a new face in the crowd.’

  ‘It would be just typical of you to come up to Dublin and swipe the most eligible bachelor in the club right from under our noses.’ Breda grinned.

  ‘Fat chance,’ laughed Helen.

  But he did ask her to dance. The last dance. And he asked to see her home. Breda’s eyes were out on stalks. ‘Told you,’ she whispered as they queued for the ladies just before leaving.

  ‘Give over, Breda, do I look all right?’ Now that he had asked her she was beginning to feel a bit nervous. What on earth would she talk to a stockbroker about?

  Helen smiled to herself in the half-dark remembering that first date. Anthony had been more nervous than she was and it was she who did most of the talking, telling him about her family and her job as a clerk in a shipping office in Waterford. For the rest of her holiday he squired her around Dublin. And brought her to concerts and the theatre and art galleries and restaurants. Going back to St Margaret’s Bay a week later, Helen knew she would never settl
e there again. She wanted to live in Dublin. Wanted to be part of the buzz and excitement of the capital. She began to apply for positions advertised in the national papers and, after several interviews, landed a job in a big insurance company.

  Her parents had not been too happy when she told them she was moving up to Dublin. Her father went so far as to forbid it but she went, too restless and bored to stay in her home village any longer. Her father got over his daughter’s defiance of him, eventually, and she was glad of that because they were a close family and it wasn’t nice having bad feelings between them.

  Helen took to life in the city with gusto. Before long she met Anthony again at another tennis club dance which she went to with Breda, with whom she was now sharing a flat. He had been so pleased to see her, much to her delight and surprise. She never expected someone as cosmopolitan and urbane as Anthony to be interested in someone as unsophisticated as she was. But he was interested. He found her very easy to relate to. Less than a year later they were married, much to his mother’s chagrin.

  Helen stretched out her limbs in the bed and gave a deep sigh. She supposed as marriages went they were happy. It was always the same, though, when she came back to St Margaret’s Bay and saw how close Maura and Pete were, the fun they had, and the joy they got from their young family. These visits always left her feeling vaguely dissatisfied.

  She had a very good life in Dublin. She had plenty of friends. She did a lot of entertaining and was in turn entertained. They travelled regularly. Went skiing every February. She had a husband who appreciated her, a beautiful home. Everything . . . except a child of her own. It was her greatest grief. The doctors had told her they could find nothing wrong with her and so she had tentatively suggested her husband go for tests. He freaked out and told her angrily that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him, going for tests was out of the question. She begged him over and over to go to be tested and he always stubbornly refused. He wouldn’t consider adoption either and it was causing enormous tension between them. He was like a bloody ostrich with his head in the sand, refusing to face the fact that their childlessness might be his fault. There were times when Helen felt that she hated her husband for putting her through this misery and expecting her to take the blame for it in the eyes of their families and friends.

  When Anthony said he couldn’t leave her alone for Christmas, she instantly thought of Maura and her family. She actually felt glad that he had given her an excuse to get away. What a joy it would be to share her darling Paula’s excitement. How she loved that child. The exquisite perfection of her. Those beautiful big blue eyes, that soft golden hair. From the moment she had picked her up out of that wicker basket when she was only a day old, Helen felt for that baby as deeply as she would feel for a child of her own. That feeling had grown stronger over the years. Her biggest joy was to have her precious niece stay for a few days with her in Dublin. It wasn’t that she didn’t love the others. She did, of course. How could she not? But Paula was precious, her little darling.

  Maura had let her fill her stocking tonight. She couldn’t describe the happiness she felt as she watched her beautiful niece fast asleep, one hand tucked under her face, her little cheeks rosy in the torchlight. She’d filled that stocking with all the goodies Maura handed her and vowed to herself that as long as she was alive Paula would have everything her dear little heart desired.

  Drowsily, Helen remembered the Christmas tree lights and slid reluctantly out of bed to switch them off. She was tired, but very happy. Maura had said she hoped it would be one of her best Christmases ever. Well it looked as if it was going to be just that.

  Chapter Seven

  Paula lay very still in the dark. Her heart was thumping so loudly she could hear the rush of blood in her ears. Slowly, cautiously, she stretched down her left foot. Yes! Yes! there was something there all right. Something hard and deliciously heavy on top of her toes. Something that felt like a box or a parcel. Her eyes widened. She could hear Joseph shouting something in the other room. Something about Santa. She wriggled her toes again. After all the waiting and wondering, the morning had finally arrived. Santa Claus had left something for her on the end of her bed. Paula savoured the moment, knowing that it would be another three hundred and sixty-five days before it could happen again. She felt Rebecca stir beside her in the double bed.

  ‘Santa’s come,’ she whispered, still too scared to get up and find out what he had brought her. He could still be in the house for all she knew. Paula was sure she could hear the reindeer’s bells tinkling on the roof. Rebecca shot up in the bed, and in the white beam of the lighthouse, Paula thought she looked like a scarecrow with all her hair sticking up on her head.

  Then Joseph and John exploded through the door, waving their bulging stockings and yelling, ‘What did you get?’

  ‘Did he come to everyone?’

  ‘Ya should see Thomas’s train set. Daddy is getting up to play with it. He’s coming to see what ya got. Wake up, wake up.’ Joseph was hopping up and down, his cow’s-lick sticking out even more than usual, as he delved into his stocking and pulled out three bright shiny pennies. ‘I’m going to buy trillions of sweets,’ he declared. ‘See did you get some, Paula. Quick, look.’ John tried to say something but his cheeks were bulging with toffees and he couldn’t speak.

  Rebecca leaned down the bed, yanked up her stocking and pulled up the big box that lay against her side. Paula reached down tentatively and poked the box which was lying on her toes. It felt very mysterious. Slowly she got out of bed and walked down to the bedpost where her stocking was. Last night when she had hung it up, it had been limp and empty. Now it was full to the brim. Her little hands traced the outline. Down in the toe there was something round. Along the middle something rustling. Something soft up near the top. Her blue eyes wide with wonder and excitement, she pulled out a shiny tin with ladies in long dresses on the lid. She opened it and saw that it was full of toffees, all wrapped in papers of different colours. A tin of sweets! All for herself. What luxury. Two red and white balloons fell out. Her daddy would blow them up for her. A white lacy handkerchief came next and then a packet of crayons and a colouring book. Another book fell out and Paula gave a squeal of pleasure. It was a cut-out doll book with different outfits. Emily Leahy had one and would never share it. Paula could only sit and watch her playing at dressing up her dolls. Now she had one for herself.

  She delved deeper and pulled out an apple, and right down in the toe, a little orange, and then she heard the clink of coins and triumphantly curled her fingers around her shiny pennies.

  ‘What else did he bring?’ Paula heard her daddy ask. He was standing at the door with her mother and they were smiling in at the scenes of delighted discovery. In her excitement Paula had forgotten her big box. Rebecca and Louise had already opened theirs and Louise was parading around with her shiny boots on her bare feet under her nightdress. She had got a matching shoulder bag as well and she thought she was the bee’s knees. Rebecca was entranced with her easel and painting-by-numbers kit and couldn’t wait to get started on a picture.

  ‘Open up your present, Paula,’ she heard her mother say and, suddenly brave, she tore at the wrappings on the rectangular box. Eyes wide, she discovered a white apron with a red cross on the front of it, a navy cloak, white armbands and a white nurse’s hat. In a separate section there was a stethoscope, thermometer, nurse’s watch and a notebook and pen. Paula was ecstatic. She loved nurses and what fun she was going to have pretending to be one.

  ‘Look.’ Her daddy pointed to another smaller box which she hadn’t even noticed. Paula couldn’t believe her luck. Another gift as well as her nurse’s outfit. Santa must have thought she was a very special girl indeed. Her heart almost burst with happiness when she saw the pair of gold high-heeled Cinderella slippers which nestled in white tissue. High heels! How grown-up. She couldn’t wait to get into them.

  Paula was not allowed to wear her magnificent new shoes to Mass and so she threw a
mighty tantrum. She knew she was quite safe in misbehaving as Santa had come, and there was no danger that she would be the recipient of a sack of ashes.

  She wanted so badly to show off her new Cinderella shoes. She wanted everyone at Mass to look at her and admire her golden curls and glorious high-heeled slippers. Emily Leahy would be so jealous of her.

  ‘They’re not for wearing outside. They’re not real shoes, pet. You couldn’t walk to Mass in them. You can wear them when you get home,’ her mother explained patiently as she pulled the velvet dress that Auntie Helen had bought her over Paula’s head.

  ‘But I want to wear them.’ Paula was outraged that her mother would not give in to her wishes.

  ‘Paula, don’t be a bold girl now on baby Jesus’s birthday, after Santa was so good to you.’ Maura began brushing her daughter’s hair.

  Paula pulled her head away and said petulantly, ‘Don’t want you to brush my hair. Want Auntie Helen to do it. She’s my kind auntie.’

  Maura gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘Suit yourself.’ She handed her daughter the brush. Paula was one of the most stubborn little characters she knew. She’d have a face on her for hours because she wasn’t allowed to wear her Cinderella slippers to Mass. Well let her, Miss Paula had to learn that she couldn’t always have her own way. The trouble with her was she got her own way far too often.

  Helen pulled her cashmere scarf tighter around her neck. It was a crisp cold morning and frost-wrapped leaves crunched underfoot as they all made their way to the Star of the Sea Church for the first Mass of Christmas.

  It was still pitch-dark and Helen took great pleasure in gazing at the sky. You’d never get a sky like this in the city, she mused. It looked as if someone had flung a scattering of sparkling diamonds into a sea of black velvet. The stars were so bright and so near, it added to the sense of wonder and magic. All around, people were making their way to church, calling out Christmas greetings to their neighbours. Everyone was dressed in their best finery and Helen smiled to herself as she saw Florence Crosbie wearing a frothy veiled creation in rich emerald green. Florence was noted for her hats and always had something new for Easter and Christmas. Her hats were almost a village tradition. Children danced up and down, calling out to their friends what Santa had brought them for Christmas.