A Gift to You (6 page)

‘Oh, yeah! Just imagine their faces!’ Izzy felt her previous despondency lift as a rare lightheartedness enveloped her. ‘Do you think Rita would mind?’

‘Naw.’ Bill shook his head. ‘Say we’ll take her gang if she wants to go shopping or anything.’

‘Right,’ Izzy said briskly, ‘you ring her and I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll have a cup of coffee and get going,’ Unemployment, be dammed, they were going
to have the best Christmas tree ever.

Rita obligingly agreed to keep the children for another couple of hours and gratefully agreed to Izzy’s offer to take her own children the following afternoon so she could do some Sunday
shopping in peace and quiet. For the next two hours, Izzy and Bill thoroughly enjoyed themselves as they transformed the six-foot tree into a magical delight adorned with twinkling lights and
glittering ornaments and frothy tinsel.

They laced the ceiling with garlands and Izzy prepared the crib, decorating it with black papier-mâché to give the impression of mountains, and twining ivy across the top and down
the sides. She arranged a little light in at the back and laid the straw that she kept year after year, on the floor of the crib. Bill hung up a sheriff’s star from an old cowboy set that he
had had as a child and it glittered in the firelight as bright as any star of Bethlehem. They would have a little ceremony when the children were home. Jessica, being the youngest would solemnly
place Baby Jesus in the Crib.

They stood back to admire their handiwork. ‘It’s lovely,’ Bill declared, as Izzy fussed at a piece of ivy wanting to have it just so.

‘So is the tree.’ His wife smiled. ‘Definitely the best ever.’

‘It’s a biggie all right.’ Bill grinned.

‘Bigger than Superdad’s,’ Izzy murmured wickedly. Bill caught her knowing gaze and laughed.

‘And real, as well; poor Jason has to make do with an artificial yoke, even if it is the biggest and most expensive one there is. It’s just not the same, sure it isn’t?’
His eyes twinkled.

Owen and Nicole had put their tree up over a week ago. They had been the first in the cul-de-sac to put one up. Great wreaths of holly hung on their doors and windows and Jason and Emma were
bursting with pride. Each day, Keith enquired anxiously if they were going to put their tree up and Izzy reassured her young son that indeed they would. She was dying to see his face when he saw
the six-foot giant that now reposed all alight in their front window.

Ravenous after their exertions, they decided they deserved a rare treat and ordered a Chinese. They ate it sitting in front of the fire, thoroughly enjoying their spare ribs in barbecue sauce,
and the crispy duck and prawn crackers. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and the amber luminescence of the fire enveloped them in a cocoon of golden warmth as rain and sleet lashed
against the windows and the wind howled like a banshee as it swirled and eddied around the cul-de-sac. Izzy and Bill enjoyed their fireside meal, all their troubles put behind them for the precious
few hours they had to themselves. Later they made slow, tender love in the firelight. It was the nicest time they’d had in ages and Izzy, renewed in spirit, felt she could face anything.

That evening, the dishes tidied, the lights of the tree switched off and the sitting room in darkness, they heard Rita’s car in the drive. The children, tumbling out of the car door ran to
greet their parents and shelter from the sleety rain. ‘I won’t come in!’ Rita yelled, sticking her head out the window. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow around two with my
gang.’

‘Fine, Rita, thanks a million,’ Izzy called back as Bill helped the trio divest themselves of coats and hats. Waving at her sister-in-law as she reversed down the drive, Izzy was
glad to close the door and shut out the wintry night.

‘We have a surprise for you. You’ve got to close your eyes and no peeping,’ Bill warned, as he led Rachel, Keith and Jessica to the sitting room door.

‘What is it? What is it?’ Keith was hopping from one leg to the other with impatience.

‘Keith, they’re not going to tell you ’cos it won’t be a surprise then,’ Rachel said sagely, doing her big-sister act, but Izzy could see her eyes sparkling with
anticipation.

‘Huwwy on,’ Jessica had her fingers up to her eyes and was peering anxiously through them. Watching the capers of the three of them, Izzy experienced a rare frisson of happiness and
knew that whatever happened in the future, no one could ever take these precious moments away from her.

‘Keep those eyes shut,’ Bill warned, as Izzy took Jessica by the hand and led them into the darkened sitting room illuminated only by the firelight and the little red lamp in the
crib. ‘Open up!’ Bill ordered as he plugged in the lights. He hugged Izzy as the children squealed with delight and excitement.

‘Oh, Daddy, it’s
COOL
!’ Keith was beside himself.

‘Oh, Mammy, isn’t it
beeeautiful
?’ Rachel breathed. Jessica stood speechless, her big blue eyes getting rounder by the minute. Hesitantly she stretched out a chubby
little hand and touched one of the ornaments.

‘Tanta Plause,’ she exclaimed triumphantly, stroking the little fat Santa, her eyes as bright as the Christmas tree lights.

‘Oh, look at the crib, Mammy. Can we put Baby Jesus in?’ Rachel beseeched.

‘Daddy and I were waiting until you came home so we could say a little prayer to welcome Baby Jesus into our family,’ Izzy smiled and hugged her eldest daughter. She wanted her
children to appreciate the special spirituality of Christmas and the crib ceremony was one of their most important family events.

With great solemnity, Rachel placed the infant Jesus in his manger in her younger sister’s hands and guided the toddler to the correct spot in the centre of the straw, between Mary and
Joseph. ‘Welcome, Baby Jesus,’ they all chorused reverently.

‘And we hope you’ll be very comfortable in your manger,’ Rachel added as she patted the straw down. Jessica planted a big wet kiss on the newly installed infant.

‘I bet he
will
be comfortable, our crib is
much
nicer than Jason Pierce’s an’ they don’t have a light or straw either,’ Keith declared with
satisfaction as he took a bit of straw and placed it in front of the two little sheep on the mountainside. ‘In case they’re hungry,’ he explained to his parents who were having a
very hard time keeping their faces straight.

The following Monday morning, Bill arrived upstairs with a cup of early morning tea for his wife. ‘What kind of a day is it?’ Izzy murmured sleepily. She and Bill were going shopping
for the Santa toys. They had decided on a compromise and decided to borrow 150 euros from the credit union and use 100 euros out of the 250 euros that Izzy had managed to put by for expenses.
Through a chink in the curtains she could see a sliver of daylight. The wind and sleet of the previous two days had died down.

Bill drew back the curtains and peered out. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she heard him say. ‘Izzy come here, you’ve just got to see this!’

‘What?’ she asked, intrigued, wrapping the duvet around her to protect her from the early morning chill. She followed her husband’s pointing finger. And burst out laughing.
‘What a prat! What a prize prat,’ she said, chortling as she viewed an outsized Noblis fir decorated with multicoloured lights, standing in a tub in the centre of the Pierces’
front lawn.

All in all, it hadn’t been a bad Christmas, Izzy decided, as she put the finishing touches to the creamy homemade vegetable soup she was serving as a starter for lunch
with Mari. It was made with the stock of the turkey bones and there’d be plenty for tomorrow, she thought with satisfaction.

It was the day after Stephen’s Day and Bill had taken the children on the Dart into Dublin to go to the pictures, so Izzy and her friend could have a bit of peace. Izzy had lit the fire
early and had piled on the coal and briquettes so that the back boiler was boiling and the radiators were fine and hot. They were going through coal at an awful rate. Once the children were back at
school, it would be back to lighting a fire in the evening. Still, at least the house was warm for her guest today.

It had been two years since Mari had last been home. Izzy had known her since they were in their teens. They’d gone to secondary school together and worked in the civil service before Mari
had fallen in love with a young doctor. They had married and gone to live in Dubai ten years ago. Izzy and she kept in touch by email, Facebook, and the occasional phone call. Mari had come back
home several times over the years and Izzy had marvelled at how glamorous and sophisticated her friend had become.

She had, by all accounts, a glittering lifestyle out in the Emirates. A life full of parties and shopping and exotic travel. Her husband, Brett, had become a successful heart specialist and now
they had a very affluent lifestyle. Brett and Owen would get on well, Izzy reflected, grinning. In fact it would be hilarious to listen to the pair of them trying to outdo each other.

She lifted the lid of another saucepan and added some chopped chives to the flaked salmon that was poaching in a cream and white wine sauce. Her mother had made a Christmas pudding and trifle
for her and her mother-in-law had baked a Christmas cake, so at least she had dessert and afternoon tea taken care of. She also had a decent Chardonnay chilling. Someone had given it to them ages
ago and she had put it aside for a special occasion. This was just such an occasion.

It was just as well Mari had picked the day after Stephen’s Day because there was precious little left in the kitty, and what was in the fridge was going to have to do them for the rest of
the week. Still, Rachel and Keith had been thrilled with their new bikes and Jessica was playing her ABC computer morning, noon and night. It had been a good idea putting those few euros from the
children’s allowance aside over the year. It had gone a long way towards paying for their Santa gifts.

Izzy turned down the salmon and went to give a last look over the house. She had hoovered and dusted thoroughly that morning and the house was fragrant with polish and pot pourri. A thought
struck her and she ran upstairs to her bedroom and slid open her Sliderobes. On the bottom shelf of her make-up area there was a three-quarters full roll of soft floral toilet paper. Izzy took it
and went into the main bathroom to replace the cheap, rough off-white thrift roll that was in the toilet roll holder. Maybe she was being daft but she badly wanted to keep up appearances. She
always kept the expensive roll for when there was visitors. There was no need for Mari to know anything about Bill being unemployed. She couldn’t explain exactly why she didn’t want her
friend to know of their plight. Mari wouldn’t look down her nose at them in the least; she wasn’t a bit like that, for all her wealth. She’d be very sympathetic if anything. It
was just her silly pride, Izzy decided. But Bill’s being unemployed seemed almost tantamount to failure in the light of Brett’s success. It was a horrible thing to think, she scolded
herself shamefaced, but even so . . .

Just for good measure, she produced a box of matching tissues, which she was also keeping for ‘good wear’, out of her wardrobe, and placed them on the shelf under the mirror. They
gave a nice co- ordinated touch to the bathroom, and satisfied, Izzy went back downstairs to await her guest.

She paused in front of the mirror to check her appearance. She’d got her hair cut and blow-dried on Christmas Eve and it still looked good and a bit of make-up did wonders. The last year
had added a few grey hairs to her chestnut curls, she thought ruefully, and the fine lines around her wide hazel eyes had deepened perceptibly. Still, she didn’t look too bad considering, and
the black trousers and amber blouse looked very well on her. A ring on the doorbell made her jump and she glanced at her watch. Mari was early.

‘Happy Christmas,’ came the cheerful greeting as Izzy opened the door and was hugged warmly by her friend who was certainly dressed for the weather in a magnificent, expensive fur
coat. Mari had no problem wearing fur. Izzy tried not to think of the poor animals that had been slaughtered to make it.

‘Come in, come in,’ she urged. ‘Now that Mari was here, she was delighted to see her.

‘God above, I’m freezing.’ Mari grimaced as she shut the door behind her.

‘I’ve a blazing fire lit; come in and sit down beside it,’ Izzy urged, leading the way into the sitting room.

‘I’ve been cold since I came home,’ Mari explained. ‘The heat thins your blood and I know the animal lovers won’t approve of the coat but it really stops me from
freezing to death.’ She looked tired, Izzy thought, despite the fact that her make-up was perfectly applied and her blonde, highlighted hair in its classical chignon, the height of chic.

‘Well, how are you, Izzy? How are the gang?’ Mari smiled as she shrugged out of her coat, and handed it to Izzy. She sank into the big armchair in front of the fire and held out her
hands to the blaze.

‘I’m fine, we’re all fine,’ Izzy said cheerfully. ‘Sit down there and relax . . . and what will you have to drink?’

‘I have the car, Izzy, so I’ll just have the one glass of wine,’ Mari replied, and Izzy gave a mental sigh of relief. The good wine would last through lunch and she
wouldn’t have to open that awful bottle of plonk she’d bought on special offer. She should have remembered: Mari always hired a car when she was home. She hung the coat on the hallstand
and went to the kitchen to pour the wine, which was chilling in the fridge. ‘There’s a lovely smell.’ Mari followed her in. ‘What’s for lunch?’

‘Salmon and pasta and a side salad.’ Izzy answered as she did the business with the corkscrew.

‘Oh, yum, you always made great pasta dishes, Izzy,’ Mari lifted the lid of the saucepan and sniffed appreciatively. ‘I’ve really been looking forward to seeing you and
catching up on the all the craic and the gossip. Where’s Bill and the children?’

Izzy handed her a glass of wine. ‘He took them into Dublin on the Dart, for a treat. They’ve gone to the pictures.’ Mari’s face fell.

‘I will get to see them, won’t I?’