Christmas at Bay Tree Cottage. Linn Halton B.
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?
Fortunately, Luke takes it all in his stride and he even distracts Maya when I slip Santa’s envelope off the table and onto my lap.
A Working Arrangement
Kids are funny at times, and I don’t mean in a humorous way. Clearly, Elana and Maya don’t have many dinner guests and I’m sure there are several reasons for that. But Maya was so relaxed over dinner earlier on, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for me to be here. In truth, I’d spent most of the day on the roof being mad at myself for making such a stupid suggestion. I only said it because it’s easier to help Elana out if I do it in my own time – not that Dad would mind, I’m sure, but I’d feel better about it. There didn’t seem any point in driving all the way back to the flat, only to return later, but even I was surprised when I casually invited myself for dinner.
I’d been mulling it over all afternoon and ended up thinking that I had made a big mistake. Two, in fact. First of all Elana might think I fancy her, or something, hence the inappropriate suggestion. Secondly, either Maya, or Elana, could have had a meltdown if I was the first male to sit down at the table with them since their loss. Did I need to worry? Not at all.
In fact, Maya has only just gone upstairs, after some coaxing from Elana, to get ready for bed. She’s going to have some iPad time instead of reading, which I gather is a treat, while we make a start down here.
I’m waiting for Elana to come back down, as I don’t want to go poking around on my own.
It’s a credit to her that although it is a work in progress there’s still a very comfortable feel to this cottage. She’s tried to soften the ugliness by painting it white throughout and the colourful rugs add a fun element. With only the side lights on, the unevenness of the walls and the fact that the windows badly need replacing isn’t quite so obvious. You don’t even notice the bare patches of concrete in between the splashes of colour. She’s a homemaker, that’s for sure. A twinge in my chest reminds me that I didn’t choose a homemaker to settle down with. Anita feels that things should be done for her, that life owes her something. I tried to explain that the deposit on the apartment took everything I had and after that we could only buy things as we could afford them. I worked a lot of overtime to get the basics, but my absence seemed to annoy her even more. And then, of course, she was disappointed that we could only afford to buy the more reasonably priced stuff. Every penny had to stretch as far as we could make it.
I guess Elana is in much the same position, although her situation is entirely different. Elana asked how soon she could get the chimney swept and start using the fire again. When I told her it takes about twenty-eight days for the mortar to cure, both of their faces fell. I’m not sure what that was about, but it didn’t go down well. It’s not as if it’s needed for extra heat, so I guess there’s a bit more to it.
‘Right, sorry about that,’ Elana traipses down the stairs, stopping on the last step to put her dusty slipper socks back on.
‘Those will be a thing of the past, soon,’ I comment and she looks up, smirking.
‘If only!’
‘Two very powerful words, there. I spend most of my days thinking the same thing.’
Damn it! Why did I say that? I’ve been sitting here letting everything get to me again and this isn’t the time, or the place.
Elana flicks the switch on the kettle. ‘Time for coffee, I think. I know what it’s like, Luke. Don’t feel awkward.’
Our eyes meet and I nod, because we both understand it’s all about acceptance.
‘Right, I’ll grab my clipboard.’
As I walk off into the dining/study area to grab my back pack, Elana explains her dilemma.
‘I know I can only afford to get a few things done, but as I’m not sure when I’ll get another influx of spare cash, it’s going to be tough deciding what can, or should, wait. I have to make the decision with my head and not my heart, if you know what I mean.’
‘Do you have the original survey report handy, by any chance?’
‘I’ll