Linn Halton - Christmas at Bay Tree Cottage

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.