Christmas at Bay Tree Cottage Read online

  ‘Well, I hope it will be all fixed by then. So don’t worry about that now. Go and sort your homework, then after tea we can have a reading fest. Promise.’

  She saunters out of the room without saying another word. I notice that there’s no Christmas music, either. Guess we are both having a down day, so I’ll finish up and get started on dinner. I don’t know who needs this most tonight, Maya or me. As I put the PC into sleep mode, Niall’s face stares back at me. One day soon I’ll find the strength to take the photo off, but I’m still not quite ready.

  Chapter 4

  Luke

  Some People Don’t Appreciate How Lucky They Are

  It’s milder today and hard to believe it’s December. This time last week it was blowing a gale and the rain was driving across the valley in almost vertical sheets, hitting the ground like bullets. Talk about changeable, but at least this is good weather for roofing.

  I hate being the bearer of bad news for a customer, but whoever replaced this roof was either very sloppy or wasn’t an experienced roofing contractor. Not only had a few slates slipped, resulting in a lot of water damage, but the lead flashing around the chimney is a mess. A quick check in the loft confirmed that the visual damage to the bedroom below only hinted at how much water was getting in. It was only a matter of time and a couple more heavy storms, before the lady of the house had a major leak on her hands that would have brought down the ceiling.

  My mobile kicks into life and I groan as I spot the caller ID.

  ‘Yes, Anita. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Joe has an ear infection and I forgot to pick up some medicine. It’s important.’

  ‘Of course, I’m on my way.’

  I hate not knowing when Joe is ill and the fact that Anita only tells me things when it suits her. It’s hard enough when a family splits up, let alone putting up with an ex who doesn’t feel the need for two-way communication. She’s happy enough to share information when she wants me to fetch and carry, but other than that I rarely get to hear what’s happening. As I slip the phone back into my pocket and straighten, I take a moment to draw a deep breath. My eyes scan the ridge on the opposite side of the valley. A small, light aircraft is taxi-ing along the airstrip on the hill and I watch as it appears to bounce a little. The noise from the engine carries on the breeze, sounding mechanical, as old planes tend to do. Life is such a contrast at times.

  I clamber down the ladder, stopping only to knock on Mrs James door to let her know I won’t be around for an hour.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs James, I need to run an errand, but I’ll get back here as quickly as I can.’

  She blinks, as if slightly taken aback by my words and I kick myself, thinking I should have said I needed to pick up some supplies.

  ‘Oh, that’s … um … fine. And call me Elana, please.’

  She’s a good-looking woman, but she wears an almost constant frown. She’s probably only in her mid-thirties at most, but that overly serious disposition is ageing. Take now, for instance. She only opened the door about a foot and is peering out at me from the tiny gap. I mean, who does that? I’m not some stranger, I’m her building contractor and yet, on the other hand, she’s just asked me to call her by her Christian name. Talk about mixed signals – guess I’ll never understand women.

  ‘Okay. Thanks, Elana. I’ll be back shortly.’

  Eve did mention that her neighbour works from home and I was to keep the noise down whenever possible. Rather remarkably, I didn’t laugh, but managed to keep a straight face. How can you not make a noise when you’re working on a roof? I need to hammer and saw at the very least and there’s no way to do that without making a fair bit of noise.

  Anyway, I didn’t know her name was Elana. Unusual, but it suits her. She’s rather different, a little posh I’d say. She has this mop of curls, the sort of hair that won’t be tamed and her little girl is like a mini version of her. It’s quite a contrast to her general demeanour, which is rather serious, based on the little interaction we’ve had so far. Still, I’ve done the polite thing, now I’m off to sort out Anita.

  ***

  I don’t know why I fall for it every time. When I arrive at Anita’s apartment with the medicine, Joe is running around in the background looking his usual boisterous self. His face breaks out into a big grin the moment he sees me but Anita doesn’t invite me inside.

  ‘That took you a long time.’ She scowls as she takes the box from me.

  ‘I was on the roof of a cottage, halfway up a hill on the edge of the forest. I left as soon as I received your call, but it was a thirty-five-minute drive. So what exactly is wrong with Joe?’

  As I peer over her shoulder she continues to bar my way, making it clear I’m not going to grab a cuddle from the little fella.

  ‘He seemed a bit hot and he was pulling his ear.’

  ‘Well, he looks okay, now.’

  ‘Yeah, but kids are like that. They bounce back quickly. See you at the weekend.’

  With that Anita shuts the door. I hear a yell from inside as Joe protests, but I know there’s no point in trying to grab a few minutes with him. The court order says Saturdays ten until four, and Anita has no intention of showing any sort of flexibility.

  It’s tough being the parent who isn’t the primary carer, but I have to work. I’m not saying it’s easy for Anita either, but if she could only relax and let me help out I could easily have him more often. The problem is that the system is more about one solicitor against another, rather than common sense coming into play. And, not wanting to sound sexist here, but it favours the mother. Now I don’t disagree with that, the mother-child bond is unique, but Anita constantly complains about being a single parent. She is a mother coping on her own for seven nights and six days a week, but that’s her choice. I’ve offered to have Joe at weekends, and weekday over-nighters, if she’s in need of a rest. And yet, in court, all I ended up with was six hours on a Saturday.

  Whatever I do is wrong and no one seems to understand that it’s not fair. Anita left me, disappointed when I gave up my lucrative career in software design to help Dad out with the business. It’s a small operation with a total of five of us covering most of the skill sets, from our electrician, to myself, the general builder/roofer. Was I happy to be back in the profession I’d trained in when I left school? No, and Anita knows that, but this is all about family. The pride my dad now has seeing ‘& Son’ on those letterheads, is priceless. More importantly, Mum doesn’t have to worry quite so much about the effects of his high blood pressure. It’s under control again at the moment, but a dizzy spell when you’re thirty feet plus in the air is a real scare. It isn’t just roofing work, but anything off a ladder, or scaffolding, now makes her worry about him, so it’s my job to keep that to a minimum.

  If the price I paid is that I gave up my dream to maintain his, then what choice did I have? The livelihood of five families is on the line here.

  Besides, regrets are something I can’t afford at the moment. Having to pay maintenance for both Anita and Joe until he goes to pre-school, and Anita can get a part-time job, is understandably costly. The mortgage on our old apartment is expensive, but Anita said it was unfair to expect her to move into something cheaper. Thankfully, the tiny bedsit I rent is a good price and my needs are modest. I enjoy my own company and, to be honest, when I’m not working or with Joe, then I’m on the computer. Jeez, that makes me sound like a saddo, if ever I heard a sob story. But at the moment I can’t contemplate having anyone else in my life to complicate it even further.

  Ironically, the guy Anita left me for wasn’t in the picture for long. It takes a special person to take on someone else’s son and accept the situation; plus the fact that I had no intention of absenting myself from Joe’s life didn’t go down too well. Anita was appalled when he suggested she hand over Joe to me, so they could ‘start afresh’. The wake-up call made her bitter, because I think she began to realise that my loyalty wasn’t quite so boring after all. Maybe stability was actuall
y a big positive over wanting to socialise and party all the time. But then, she’s still only twenty-two years old and at twenty-four I’ve had a couple more of those so-called delightful party years. Personally, I thought it was all a bit over-rated, if I’m honest. Getting drunk and chatting up women just to be one of the lads was often mind-blowingly boring. And yet it was how I met Anita. She was out on a friend’s hen party at the time.

  Anyway, it is what it is. The truth is that we were simply too young when we had Joe, despite being delighted when we found out Anita was pregnant. But I guess I’d always wanted to be a part of a stable family unit of my own, because my parents are so happy together. I’m used to family life, whereas Anita feels she’s been robbed of her freedom. She’s torn between a mother’s instinctive love for her child and the hopeless feeling of being tied down, with a level of responsibility she couldn’t even comprehend in the beginning.

  Now she takes her frustrations out on me and I have to be man enough to accept that, because no matter what happens, we created one great little kid.

  ***

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’

  I look down over the edge of the roof to see Elana James shouting up at me, hands cupped around her mouth. You can’t shout quietly, lady, it’s a long way up. Admittedly she’s rather reserved and it’s kind of her to make the offer, so I hold up one hand in acknowledgement and shout back, ‘Thanks, tea, I’ll be down in five.’

  It’s about time I finished, anyway, so I adjust the tarpaulin and check everything is watertight for the night. I found a lot of broken slates that also need replacing and the order will be delivered in the morning. By tomorrow night I’m hoping the roof repair will be in hand and then I can start thinking about the work on the chimney. A voice suddenly rises up out of thin air, startling me; well it’s more of a mumble, really. I ease myself into a standing position and hold my breath, straining my ears to catch the direction it’s coming from. There it is again. I move closer to the chimney and now I can make out actual words.

  ‘… and you have to promise me that you won’t forget, Santa. I don’t want my daddy to think I’ve forgotten him. You can’t send presents to people who are in heaven, even though you can speak to them, of course. So I need you to take him something special from Mummy and me. I’ll let you know when the chimney is fixed. And I’ll leave you some extra biscuits on Christmas Eve. Thank you.’

  A lump rises in my throat as the voice trails off into silence. No wonder the lady is so reserved; she’s not divorced, as I’d assumed, she’s a widow. I wonder when exactly her husband died. Her daughter is a really cute kid, bright and very polite. Christmas can’t be easy for them; it’s a hard time of year when you have to live with regrets. I’ll be with my parents this year for the first time since I left home when I was eighteen. Never thought I’d find myself back there at Christmas, staying in my old bedroom as if being married and becoming a dad is merely a dream.

  I wonder if Elana heard her daughter’s plea, too. It’s none of my business, but it’s probably the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Right, time to get off this roof and drink that tea before I set off home for the day.

  Chapter 5

  Luke

  Keeping the Client Happy

  ‘Everything alright, my son?’ Dad’s voice booms down the line. Mrs James let me know he’d called in shortly after I left to run my errand.

  ‘Yep. You know what kids are like; Anita had run out of medicine and was worried Joe was getting an ear infection. He was fine when I saw him, briefly. I wasn’t invited inside.’

  Dad makes a sound like ‘harrumph’.

  ‘Just do what you can, when you can, Luke. The little dude might not be aware of it yet, but he’s lucky to have a dad who cares so much.’

  It matters to me that my dad thinks that, although I’ve failed to give Joe the stable family unit he deserves. Maybe if I’d made the effort to take Anita out more, rather than assuming she was happy enough with a life that centred around just the three of us, we’d have stayed together. I thought that was what we both wanted, and I sure got that wrong!

  ‘Thanks. Is Ma there?’

  I hear him call out, ‘Sally, it’s your favourite son on the phone.’

  A few seconds later Mum picks up the receiver.

  ‘Only because he’s my only son,’ she comments, laughing. ‘How are you, Luke – and Joe?’

  ‘I’m fine, really. I just wanted you to know that there’s no panic. Just Anita doing the usual; maybe Joe has been a little off-colour, but she wanted to remind me that she’s the one who takes the brunt. It was just a trip to the chemist, that’s all. I knew you’d be worried. He was running around in the background and seemed fine.’

  ‘She didn’t let you talk to him, then?’

  The disappointment in her voice is a killer. She simply can’t understand Anita’s actions and she hates to think of the hurt it’s causing me.

  ‘I’ll have him on Saturday, as usual. He was fine, that’s all that matters.’

  ‘Yes, that’s the main thing. And you are okay?’

  ‘Yes, Ma. I’m doing fine and loving my work.’

  I can almost see the smile on her face.

  ‘You’re a good son and one day you’ll find someone very special.’

  If only Anita had thought I was a good husband, then life would be sweet. Instead, it’s a mess and I feel like a failure. I’ve given my parents a grandchild, but one they can only see briefly every Saturday afternoon.

  ***

  The replacement slates for Bay Tree Cottage don’t arrive until late morning. Fortunately, it’s a dry, bright day and even the sun is putting in an appearance. I can only hope this weather continues into next week, as I can’t start work on the repointing if there’s any sign of a frost. It’s a job I’d normally look to postpone until early spring, but like Hillside View, it’s a job that has to be done sooner rather than later. One really strong gust of wind could do a lot of damage and the debris falling from a roof could potentially kill someone.

  The bonus of working up here is that it’s quiet for the most part. The drone of traffic is hardly noticeable in the distance, and the odd car driving down the hill is merely a reminder of the existence of other people. It’s certainly a great place to live. It’s just a pity for Elana that the inside still needs quite a lot of work to finish it off.

  As I climb down the scaffolding, more than ready to demolish my packed lunch, the postman is at the door of Hillside View and Eve looks up.

  ‘Luke, I have a cheque here for you. Step inside while I go and find it.’

  I loiter inside the porch, making sure I don’t step off the coir matting. My boots are mostly clean, but the light-cream carpet beyond it isn’t exactly practical. I guess when you have money that’s not a major consideration.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Luke. Here you go. Please tell Matthew that we’re thrilled with the work and ask if he can confirm when exactly in January he’s able to make a start on the new conservatory.’

  ‘No problem, and it’s nice to get feedback. And thanks, too, for your recommendation to next door.’

  ‘Oh, Elana. Yes, an unfortunate expense for her, I’m afraid, but in another way she’s relieved to think it will all be fixed very soon.’

  I turn to go, then hesitate.

  ‘Um … just so I don’t put my foot in it, or anything. Do you mind if I ask when her husband died? I heard her daughter talking about it.’

  ‘About sixteen months ago in a tragic accident. A tyre blowout on the motorway. It’s considerate of you to ask. So easy to assume a husband is around and she’s very fragile still, naturally.’

  I nod my thanks, holding up the cheque in acknowledgement and head off to the van.

  It’s a bit chilly, but with the radio playing in the background I’m happy enough sitting here eating my sandwiches and looking out over the extensive views. If only I could stop my mind wandering and wondering ‘what if’. If Anita wasn’t s
o bitter, if I’d realised how trapped she’d end up feeling—

  A movement in front of me makes me jerk my head up and I see Elana parking her car up by the garage. As she walks down the path it would be rude not to wave. She smiles and when she draws alongside the van I wind the window down, because she appears to be slowing her pace.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch, Luke. When you’ve finished do you think you could pop in and take a look at something?’

  ‘Will do, Mrs James – I mean, Elana. I’ll be in shortly.’

  Even when she smiles there’s that little hint of sadness in those green eyes of hers. Something that she probably isn’t even aware is there, or maybe it takes one to know one. People who have sadness in their lives often carry it inside, unseen, but the eyes are the windows of the soul. When a hurt runs deep there’s no getting away from it. I wonder if that’s what people see when they look at me – the disappointment and sense of failure I feel.

  I straighten my back and stretch out my arms, my muscles beginning to ache a little from sitting in a cramped space. I can’t wait to get to the gym tonight and have a really good workout. Then it’s a takeaway pizza and a little software program to test out. One of these days, hopefully, I’ll have something to sell that will take away all of my money worries. Until then, though, it’s back to the job in hand.

  As I walk up to the front door of Bay Tree Cottage, Elana is looking out for me and immediately opens the door.

  ‘Thanks, Luke. Much appreciated. The problem is in the utility room, this way. Don’t bother about your boots, it’s hardly pristine in here.’

  She sounds accepting of the situation and I feel for her, now I understand the position she’s in. She appears to be quite a proud lady and it must hurt, being alone with a child and living in something that is only partially completed.

  I follow her into the narrow utility room and she pulls open the doors to the sink unit, exposing a large bucket half-full of water. A constant drip that is running quite fast is like a low drumbeat.