Christmas at Bay Tree Cottage

Is Seth worried about what I think of Aiden and concerned I’ll focus less on his talent and more on his infamous temper? And why can’t I seem to get a clear picture of who this guy is, because even as I try to piece it all together nothing seems to fit.

‘Well, um, I’ll have to think about that as there would be a few things I’d have to rearrange at this end. Is this the Morton Wiseman, you’re talking about? The actor?’

‘Yep, this year’s number-one sexiest man alive, or so the polls say. He’s not the best influence on Aiden, I’m afraid, but they’ve always been good mates. Look, I appreciate you might already have plans, but I think it would help if you meet up before you start getting down to the detail. Research is one thing; what other people tell you is another, but you also need to see the guy beneath all the hype.’

Seth is a really genuine man, very professional and very astute. He knows he can’t influence what I write, but I think he can see that I’m going into this with an open mind. I know sensationalism sells books, and the publishers will expect a full account of the years Aiden was using illegal substances, but he has changed. Yes, he still has a short fuse, but from what I’ve pieced together so far, there is often a lot of provocation before he explodes.

‘I understand. Leave it with me and I’ll do my best. Can you email me the details?’

“No need. I’ll send a car to pick you up late afternoon on the day and it’s only just over a two-hour drive. Aiden’s performance begins at nine. I’m happy to book a room at a local hotel for you if you can stay over; it’s going to be a late one.’

‘Thank you, Seth. I’ll email to confirm when I’ve sorted things at this end.’

I put down the phone thinking I rather walked into that one. New Year’s Eve has never been special, usually the three of us watching a film together before Maya went to bed. Then, Niall and I always watched one of our favourites – some of them we’d seen over and over, but never tired of the storylines. Should I feel guilty about leaving her with Mum and Dad, just so I can work? And how do I feel about dressing up and being around celebrities? The answer to that is nervous as hell. It’s certainly not something I thought about when I took this job on.

‘Mum, are you ready to play Monopoly now?’

‘Yes, honey. I’ve just finished.’

‘Can we light the fire?’

‘No, Maya. Luke is starting work on the chimney tomorrow. Then I have to book the sweep and I’m not sure he’s going to be able to come before Christmas. We might have to pile the fire grate up with logs and pretend this year. Do you mind? Maybe I could buy some red lights to put in between them, so it looks like a fire?’

She stands with her head crooked to one side, considering my offer.

‘It’s not quite the same, Mum. I suppose it’s better for Santa, though. I wonder if he’s ever burnt his feet? You know, on the hot bits in the bottom.’

I have to concentrate hard not to smile, but keep my expression as serious as hers.

‘That’s why he wears stout boots. He’s been doing it a long time, Maya, and even when there isn’t a fireplace he has a master key that fits every front door.’

She jumps up and down on the spot, her eyes wide with excitement.

‘I wondered about that! He listens, too, Mum. Doesn’t he? I’ve been talking to him and hoping he was listening.’

My frown is back, the smile no longer hovering. What has she told Santa that she hasn’t told me?

‘Well, yes, he does listen but he’s very busy in the run-up to Christmas so it’s probably better to write to him. I can post a letter for you, there’s still plenty of time. It’s express delivery to the North Pole at this time of year.’

What goes through the mind of a six-and-a-half-year-old child when they are missing their daddy at Christmas? I remember something Luke said, yesterday. ‘Life has to go on.’ It’s the same whether you are a child or an adult.

‘Think about it, Maya, I’m sure Santa would be very happy to receive a letter from you.’

‘It’s Monopoly time!’ She shrieks, and I’m not sure whether or not my words have even registered with her. It would help me to know what’s important to her this Christmas, aside from having a roaring fire, which doesn’t look very promising at the moment.

‘Go on in and set it up on the coffee table. I’ll pack this away, make a quick coffee and then I’m all yours.’

Her beam is reward enough. I quickly scoop the small pile of papers into a stack, slip them into the box file and then, with the mouse, click to change screens.

Diary Log – day 490. 22 days to Christmas. Pressed send on the Aiden Cruise book outline – now awaiting payment. Time to change my screensaver, I think, something Christmassy to show Maya I’m getting in the mood. Hoping she will write Santa a letter so I can gauge what’s going on inside that little head of hers. We’re surviving – just.

As I make a cup of coffee, I wonder what I’d write in a letter to Santa. What would I ask for? What do I want? My mind is blank, like a chalkboard that has been cleaned and is ready and waiting for someone to begin writing on it. Except that I have no idea what to ask for, even if Santa was real and could deliver whatever my heart desired. Everything I wanted was wrapped up in Niall. All I want now is a rosy future for my daughter, but should I also want something for myself? I suppose what I’d really like is for someone to wave a magic wand and make Bay Tree Cottage perfect. If we can’t have Niall, then maybe we can surround ourselves with a home that still feels like he’s here with us. I’m only guessing Maya feels that way, too, but I’m pretty sure it would be very different if we moved somewhere new. The problem is that until she’s prepared to tell me in her own time, I’m second-guessing. Okay, Santa, find a way to sort out this cottage once and for all. I don’t care if it’s a lottery win, although I’ll have to remember to buy a ticket – or an unexpected cheque in the post.

I look down at my slipper-socks, covered in white concrete dust, and sigh. Just make it happen soon, Santa.

Chapter 8

Elana

Santa to the Rescue

By seven a.m. Luke is already on the roof clambering around. The intention was for Maya to have an early night after several hours of board games yesterday, but we ended up reading quite a few bedtime stories. She went to sleep a little later than usual for a Sunday night. Her last words were that it had been a lovely day and that actually brought a tear to my eye. The cottage doesn’t feel full any more with just the two of us and she obviously feels the same way, but we’d laughed a lot. It had turned into one of those days that you re-live with a smile on your face, as it’s a reminder that life can still be good.

I pop out to put some rubbish in the bin and pass Rick on the drive.

‘Hey, Elana. How’re things?’

‘Hey, stranger. Good and I owe you a big thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Eve looking out for me. I hear you’ve been busy.’

He’s carrying a large pile of files under one arm and a small suitcase in the other.

‘It’s not a problem; I’m only sorry it meant more expense for you. I’m off to London again; at this rate it would be easier to rent an apartment up there. The travelling is the worst part, although usually I can work on the train. Today I have to take the car as I’m dropping off files and then heading off to Surrey.’

‘Well, just drive safely.’

We exchange glances and Rick nods in agreement; I didn’t mean to say that, as immediately we both think of Niall.

‘Will do and enjoy your week,’ he calls out as I head down to the cottage.

Today I have to phone Mum about New Year’s Eve, to see whether they will be able to have Maya. I did think of asking Eve first, as she’s having a small family party and it would be great for the two girls to keep each other company. However, I know that it’s a night Mum and Dad rarely go out and they love spending time with Maya. Since Niall passed away there are few reasons for her to go and stay over, so I know they’ll be delighted.

When I open the post I’m rather surprised to see an envelope with Mum’s writing on it. Slitting it open, it’s a card with a picture of some hand-tied roses on the front of it. Inside is a cheque, folded in half, and the note on the card says:

This is a Christmas present and you can’t refuse something that’s given with love at this time of year. Mum and Dad xxx

When I unfold the paper it’s for five thousand pounds. My legs wobble a bit and I sink down onto the dining chair.

‘What the … I can’t take this!’ Talking to oneself out loud probably isn’t best with a six-year-old around, so I stuff the handful of post into my filing tray on the desk. I shout up to Maya to clean her teeth and come straight down afterwards, or we will be late for school. Amelie is probably already waiting for us as it’s my turn to do the ferrying this week.

All the way to school, and back, I can’t stop thinking about the cheque. Yes, I need it, but will my conscience allow me to take it? I have a roof over my head and we don’t go short of anything – all it lacks is a little cosmetics. Is that really enough justification to begin emptying my parents’ little nest egg?

When your thought processes are churning it’s almost like having two voices in your head. Good cop, bad cop. Okay, that’s not quite right, but it’s how it feels.

They’re going to be upset if you don’t take it.

There goes their dream trip to Australia.

No more concrete dust – a floor you can clean!

Mum will admit that she wasn’t looking forward to the long flight anyway.

How selfish are you prepared to be?

It’s a temptation to just take it and say thank you, but it doesn’t feel right. In the end, when I arrive home I go straight inside and phone Mum. An hour and quite a few tears later, I place the cheque on my desk, ready to take it to the bank this afternoon. Mum is over the moon about having Maya to stay on New Year’s Eve, but I’m still feeling as if I’ve been talked into doing something that will rob them of one of their dreams. I’ve become a liability and somehow I have to turn that around. The time has come to stop making excuses and start grabbing hold of life again.

I’m going to do such a great job of this biography that lots of new work will come my way and then I’ll repay my parents every single penny. As a rush of enthusiasm rolls over me the door bell chimes, interrupting my determined, ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ moment.

It’s Luke.

‘Sorry to bother you, Elana. The flashing is done and that’s the really noisy bit out of the way, now. I need to use your outside tap to mix up the cement for the chimney, but it appears to have been turned off, so it must have a separate stop valve. Do you mind if I take a look?’

‘No problem, help yourself.’

Luke steps inside and I leave him to forage under the stairs. On his way out he shouts out a quick thanks and I hurry to catch him before he shuts the door.

‘When you stop for lunch do you think you could pop in? I’d like to talk to you about some of the outstanding work on the cottage. If you haven’t prepared anything, I could make us some sandwiches.’

He nods his head. ‘Sure. I have a pasty if you could nuke it in the microwave for me.’

I can’t help laughing at the thought. ‘No problem. See you in a bit, then.’

He’s so easy-going that’s it’s hard to understand what could have gone wrong with his relationship. Yes, he’s very young, but he seems mature and level-headed enough. Maybe going through the experience of fatherhood and a break-up has made him that way. I catch sight of myself in the hallway mirror and run a hand through my hair, thinking it’s about time I had it cut. I lean in, noticing that the little crow’s feet around my eyes seem much deeper these days. And I now have an awfully sharp frown line on my forehead that seems to deepen with each week that passes. That’s another awful thing about grief, it ages you.

Diary Log – day 491. 21 days to Christmas. Must remember not to frown quite so much. Yes, bad things have happened – the worst – but I’m lucky in that I still have people around me to love and who love me unreservedly in return. Time to remember to count my blessings – appreciate what I have, as opposed to what I haven’t … And Santa, thank you! I didn’t realise you could work that fast.

Chapter 9

Elana

Moving Forward Means Accepting Change

Sitting around the kitchen table with Luke, he seems remarkably relaxed and there’s no indication that he feels I’m encroaching on his lunch break. The re-heated pasty on the plate in front of him looks anaemic and unappetising, but that doesn’t put him off as he tucks into it quite heartily. Alongside his plate I’ve buttered some thick slices of beetroot-and-apple bread and he’s already devoured one slice.

‘I’m sorry to be a pain and you must really long to just get on with the original job you’re here to do, so you can finish. It’s just that—’ I stop to find the right words, my eyes sinking to the dusty, grey concrete floor.

‘It’s just that you are living in a partially finished cottage and while you’re pretending everything is fine, it isn’t.’

My mouth goes dry as I look up at him in utter surprise.

‘Oops. Sorry, that sort of came out sounding a bit, um, well – blunt. Some things sound harmless enough when you think them, but unexpectedly harsh when you try to put them into words. I hope I haven’t offended you, that wasn’t my intention.’

He doesn’t seem upset, quite prosaic, actually, and it hasn’t stopped him munching his way through the last of his pasty. I toy with my neat little sandwich.

‘No, not at all. Spot on, really. I try not to let it get to me because up until now there was nothing I could do about it. You see, my husband died last year. Since then virtually nothing has been done on the cottage. It’s like living in two different homes at the same time. Upstairs is a reminder of how the whole place should look: the moment we descend the stairs it’s rather like camping out. Yes, the new kitchen is in place, and I managed to give the walls a coat of paint to tidy it up, but we never expected to live like this for months on end. The dust permeates everything and it’s ruining the sofa, and I worry about how much of it Maya is inhaling—’

Luke hasn’t moved, but he has stopped eating. That’s not a good sign. I feel rather silly, now, as if I’ve just emptied my head of a jumble of words that won’t really mean anything to a young man like Luke.

‘Life isn’t very fair at times, is it, Elana? I’m really sorry for what you’ve been through. I could seal the floor for you, to stop you worrying about Maya—’

‘Oh, no, really, I wasn’t … didn’t mean. You see, I’ve been given a present that will allow me to have some of the work done. Obviously I’m going to ask your company to give me a quote. But I need help making a list of the jobs that need doing and their individual costs, so that I can decide what exactly I can afford to have done. I mean, is it wise to have the flooring sorted, or will the walls need re-plastering, first? I’m afraid I don’t have a clue about building work in general. Filling, sanding and painting I can do myself, but I have no idea if there’s damp, or any other serious problems that are more important than a nice, clean floor covering. Could you help me on that? I’m happy to pay for your time.’

He picks up the last piece of bread and begins chewing.

‘I’ll tell you what, invite me to dinner this evening and I’ll do a thorough inspection. Then we can sit down after Maya’s gone to bed to look at potential costs and priorities. Or is that over-stepping the mark?’

‘Not at all, it’s helpful. Really. Do you like beef casserole?’

‘I’ll eat anything, if I’m honest. I’m used to microwave meals for one these days, but even before that Anita wasn’t a cook. Highlights for me are trips home for some old-fashioned, hearty dinners. Anyway, I have to get back to work now. My client is a rather demanding lady.’

He starts laughing and I join in. I hope I’m not the proverbial home-owner from hell, but then it’s not that I keep changing my mind, more that the list of jobs that need doing seems endless.

***

‘Mum, here are the words I have to learn for the Christmas play. I’m the wishing star!’

‘Wishing star, you say? And you have words?’ That’s a little puzzling.

‘Of course! I grant each of the three wise men a wish. A bit like Santa, I suppose.’

My heart skips a beat. This could be my opportunity.

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll do a great job. Do you want to write that letter to Santa this evening? Luke is joining us for dinner as he’s going to make a big list of all the jobs that need doing in the cottage. I think it’s time we began to sort things out, don’t you?’

She stares at me without blinking, what did I say?

‘You mean, we have money?’

She’s six, well, six and a half, and I can’t believe my own daughter just said those words. What has she overheard me saying – does she worry about our future, too?

‘Yes, darling, we have money, of course we do. We simply have to use it wisely. Mummy has just been so busy that I haven’t had time to decide what to do next. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a lovely clean floor, one where we could walk about without raising dust clouds?’ I force out a laugh, trying to lighten the moment.

‘You mean like in Amelie’s cottage?’

Was I being very naive thinking that, at that tender age, kids didn’t take much notice of their surroundings?

‘Well, maybe not quite as stylish as Hillside View, as I don’t think cream carpet would be practical for us. But some rather nice wood flooring would make things a lot cosier, don’t you think?’

Maya gazes down at the assortment of rugs covering about eighty per cent of the floor.

‘I like the colours, I just don’t like the dust.’

‘Me too, darling. Hopefully Luke will come up with a plan so we can get the work started very soon.’

Maya comes close, putting her arms around my waist and hugging me with great force.

‘I’ll write that note to Santa, Mum, before it’s too late.’ She sounds subdued and I can only assume that this has, unwittingly, raked up some old memories of Niall and me working upstairs together. On several occasions Maya, too, wielded a paintbrush, usually preferring to paint in circular sweeps rather than going for coverage. And, more often than not, getting more paint on herself and the floor than the walls. But those were fun times, for the most part. Times I didn’t realise she would readily remember.

I head off to check the slow cooker. Luke usually finishes work for the day at about five-thirty, so he could be knocking on the door shortly. As I set the table, it seems strange putting out three place settings again. I purposely set a place for Luke in the chair opposite the one Niall always occupied. I hope it’s not going to upset Maya as she’s usually quite bouncy. Sadness comes in fleeting moments, until I can distract her. I won’t know until we all sit down together how she’s going to react.

As the big hand on the clock hits the six, there’s a tap on the front door. I wonder why he didn’t ring the doorbell.

‘Hi, thanks for coming, Luke.’

He looks hesitantly at me and doesn’t appear to be making any attempt to take a step forward and come inside.

‘I realised afterwards that I kinda invited myself along this evening and that might have been out of order. I can come back another time just to take a look, if it’s inconvenient.’

‘Hey, you are doing me a huge favour and I would have suggested the same thing if you hadn’t. Come in, please.’

‘Maya, when will you be finished?’ I call out, leaving Luke to wrestle with the laces on his boots. Silence reigns.

‘Do you mind if I wash my face and hands? I have a towel, so I’m not going to leave mortar everywhere, promise.’ He indicates a backpack slung from one shoulder.

‘That’s fine, of course. There’s a cloakroom leading off the utility room. Help yourself.’

Maya still hasn’t answered me.

‘Maya, are you on your iPad?’

I’m expecting her to shout down, but she’s in her bedroom and from the dull thumping, she probably has her Disney CD playing. When I go up to check, popping my head around the door discreetly, she’s at her desk writing. I back out slowly, not wanting to disturb her, and creep back downstairs.

Luke has changed his trousers and shirt, which surprises me, and I look at him with a smile.

‘I always carry something a bit tidy in the van, just in case. I’ve also had the odd occasion when I’ve worked until late on an empty property and ended up sleeping on the floor. A change of clothes is essential in this business.’ As he smiles his eyes twinkle and I hadn’t noticed that before. He seems more relaxed this evening, maybe enjoying the fact that the working day is over at last.

‘It can’t be easy working up so high all the time, in all weathers. Please, take a seat. What would you like to drink? Hot, cold or something alcoholic? I have wine and beer.’

Instead of pulling out a chair he stands there looking at the table and clears his throat.

‘Um, where would you prefer me to sit?’

At that precise moment Maya appears, letter in hand. It’s one of those split seconds where everything and nothing happens all at once. No one moves but I glance at Maya, who glances across at Luke, whose eyes nervously seek out my own, before we both return our gaze to Maya.

‘You can sit in my chair if you like and I’ll sit in Daddy’s chair. Mum, I have my letter.’

She walks past us both, placing the hand-written envelope on the table. Then she slides one of the place settings around in front of Niall’s seat and hoists herself up onto the chair.

‘Is it nearly ready, because I’m starving?’ she states, quite casually, unaware of the way Luke and I are watching in amazement.

With that, I give Luke an encouraging nod and he walks across to sit down next to Maya.

‘What are you hoping Santa will bring you this year, then, Maya?’

It’s not a straightforward question and, with a lot of seriousness, Maya begins to explain that she’s between toys; too old for dolls and too young for her own real computer. The look on Luke’s face is priceless. I’m sure he was just being polite, but what follows is a critique of the most popular toys and why Maya wouldn’t be pleased to find them under the tree on Christmas Day.

Out of Maya’s line of sight I hold up a beer in one hand and a bottle of white wine in the other. Luke nods in the direction of the beer and I carry two across to the table, together with an apple juice for Maya.

‘It’s serious stuff, then,’ Luke says in earnest to Maya. ‘What if he gets it wrong?’

‘Oh, he won’t. He brought me my iPad last year and I didn’t make up my mind about that until Christmas Eve. I nearly had a bike, but Mummy said it was a bit difficult to have one here because of the hill.’

‘Sensible decision. Anyway, what’s the final verdict, then, for this year?’

‘A piano.’

I look at Maya, stunned. A piano? Where on earth did that come from? She doesn’t know how to play the piano and, unless they’ve been doing it at school, I wasn’t aware she’d ever seen one up close. Luke can see I’m speechless and begins to laugh.

‘Well, I’m sure whatever Santa brings you will be the right thing. Don’t you agree, Elana?’

I nod enthusiastically, wondering how on earth I’m going to talk her out of this idea. Besides, I have other plans for her Christmas present.

It’s funny how with children you worry about the things that you perceive are likely to upset them. Then they totally surprise you. Maya chattered away quite easily, as did Luke, and the meal passed very pleasantly. It was actually nice having some company. Usually we only get that when we’re away from home, as I still shy away from inviting people here. Who wants to eat surrounded by a hollow room with bare floors and a thin layer of powdery dust covering everything you touch?