The Christmas Café (29 page)

‘What do we do now, Mum?’ Wyatt asked, sounding a little lost.

Bea stood up and wiped the sand from her bottom, straightened her tunic and pulled her shoulders back. Wyatt did likewise, clutching his Christmas present from his dad.

‘We do what Peter taught us,’ she said through her tears. ‘We remember that life is for the brave and we make the bloody best of it – this is our one time around the block!’

Wyatt held her close, then kept his arm firmly around her shoulders as they strolled back to the house.

‘Nice walk?’ Sarah handed her mother-in-law a glass of chilled white wine as she stepped onto the deck.

‘The best. And actually, Sarah, I wanted to give you your Christmas present.’

Sarah looked from her mother-in-law to her husband. ‘But you already have – the spa voucher, that’s very generous! I’ll have a lovely day.’

‘I’ll come with you, Mum!’ Flora generously offered. ‘I can wear my new Uggs!’

‘And take your new earplugs.’ Bea winked as she stood and removed her bangles one by one. Carefully reading each inscription, she placed some in a small pile, before returning the other half to her arm. She picked up the first one from the stack and read the inside, ‘To celebrate Wyatt’s twenty-first! Milestone reached!’ before handing it to Sarah. And then another ‘Your boy’s wedding day! Let the bells ring out!’ and so on, until Sarah was in receipt of six silver bracelets, each marked with a sentiment, a reminder of a significant event throughout her husband’s life.

‘I want you to have these, Sarah.’

‘But... What? Why?’ Sarah placed her hand on her chest. ‘You love your bangles, Bea, they are part of you!’

‘I do love them, but you are my daughter, we share this history and it’s right that you should have some of them. I would get a lot of pleasure from seeing you wear them.’ Bea handed the bundle to Sarah, who was clearly overcome.

‘I don’t know what to say!’ Sarah blushed as her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I’m so touched!’ She grinned at her husband. ‘Look, Wyatt! Your mum gave me some of her bangles!’ She held out her arm, jangling the bracelets on her wrist.

‘So I see.’ He smiled.

Bea opened one eye and smiled as she slipped from the bed. It was Christmas Day and for the first time in a couple of years she wasn’t dreading it. In fact, quite the opposite. She felt a frisson of excitement as nerves made her stomach swirl. She scooped up her vintage silk kimono dressing gown from the end of her bed and tiptoed barefoot across the hallway to the kitchen.

The only sounds came from the birds chirping in the trees and the creak of the floorboards as she padded across them. She shrugged on her dressing gown, stretched, and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

‘Ooh, the chocolate mousse!’ she whispered as she filled the kettle, reminding herself to remove the monster cream creation from the freezer.

Bea’s heart leapt with happiness. She cricked her neck to the left and right and smiled. She would be fifty-five soon.
Goodness me, where has all that time gone?
If time had taught her one thing, it was that the world felt better when she didn’t carry regret and recrimination in her heart. It had been a momentous twelve months. She had given a lot of thought to her parents’ behaviour and had tried to walk in their shoes, imagining their very real pain and disappointment when things hadn’t turned out for their little girl in the way they had planned. It wasn’t that she condoned their behaviour, far from it, but she had allowed herself to understand it. They were long dead now, she was sure, and she had finally been able to forgive them. Letting go of the hard nut of blame that had sat in her throat so long had lightened her spirit to a degree she couldn’t have imagined. She felt healed.

Bea smiled as she recalled the extraordinary events of the previous December, picturing her trip to Scotland and culminating with the stroll with her son on Christmas Day; these events had changed her life forever. She took a deep breath and flicked the switch on the wall. The fairy lights twinkled on the modest Christmas tree in the corner. She touched her fingers to the dainty red and gold tartan bows that sat at the end of each branch. They looked magical.

‘What are you doing at this ungodly hour?’

She turned towards the voice behind her and felt her breath catch in her throat; it was as ever a shock and a delight to feel the presence of the person she loved, the man she lived with, who had travelled to the other side of the world and never left, not this time.

‘Just thinking how very lucky I am...’

‘How lucky we are.’

‘Yes.’ She beamed. ‘How lucky we are.’

John walked forward and pulled her towards him, cradling her head against his chest. ‘I feel quite peaceful.’

She nodded against his bare chest. ‘Me too. Although I don’t know why – I have a million and one things to do!’

‘Well, you’ll have plenty of help. Want me to wake Flora?’

‘No! She and Callum were out till goodness knows when. Let them sleep.’

‘She’s leading that poor boy astray! She keeps reminding me that she’s very nearly fifteen, and God only knows what that means she’ll be getting up to! Poor Callum is wide-eyed, not used to the Sydney high-life his cousin leads. He’ll be exhausted after a month of this, be glad to get back to Scotland.’ John chuckled.

‘Ha! He is more than capable of leading himself astray, I can assure you!’

‘You’re a good gran.’ He smiled.

‘I try. Anyway, Kim and Tait have prepped nearly everything. I think I’m probably overstating my role – things are actually all under control.’

‘Oh good. In that case, you can bring that tea back to bed and we can catch up on the news. Plus I’m struggling with a crossword clue in the local paper.’ He took her hand inside his, where it seemed to fit perfectly, and led her towards the bedroom.

‘What’s the clue?’ she asked.

‘Copy of Baroque bronze, a famous Sydney Hospital landmark that is believed to bring good luck. Ten letters, ends with an “o”.’

‘Ah, that’s our famous boar, Porcellino.’ Bea smiled at Peter’s photograph on the wall. He smiled back.

It was mid morning when Bea opened the door to the Reservoir Street Kitchen – or, as it was to be known for one day only, as denoted by the banner painted by Flora and Callum that hung on the wall, ‘The Christmas Café!’ The place looked amazing. Tait had done a great job of stringing the lights from girder to girder, and the vast tree with its abundance of red and gold tartan bows looked magnificent. The tables had been pushed together to form a large U shape and the white linen cloths were decorated with ornate centrepieces of candles, sprigs of Monterey pine, gold-painted pine cones, nuts and candy canes. Each place was set with an elaborate display of vintage china and a place name.

Bea cast her eyes over the settings. Mr Giraldi was of course sitting with his family: his son Giovanni would be there with his wife and boys, Claudia and Roberto were bringing their two kids, and Berta had travelled up from Melbourne. Tait and his parents were to sit in the centre, with Kim tucked in on Tait’s left. Bea’s sister Diane, her husband and their daughter Lou were next to Wyatt, Sarah and Flora. For Bea, the joy of having her sister back in her life was incomparable; this would be their first Christmas together in almost forty years. Bea ran her finger over Marcus’ name card. Lovely, lovely Marcus, with his great grades and glowing future, who had, despite being on the receiving end of a well-placed right hook a year or so ago, forgiven Little Klitschko and was now well and truly besotted. The confident duo had ditched the unsavoury Lori and her big boobs. Alexander was going to be opposite Flora and she and John were to have Moira and her husband next to them, with Callum on the end.

Tait rushed through the door. ‘Happy Christmas, Bea!’ He waved as he hung his bag on a hook by the door. ‘The place looks awesome!’ He placed his hands on his hips and counted. ‘How many for lunch now?’

‘Twenty-seven.’ Bea smiled.

‘Just going to see if Kim and Mario need a hand.’

Bea followed him into the kitchen, where every square inch of counter-top was covered in bowls of sauces, platters of seafood, plates of salad, dishes of roasted meats resting under foil and beautiful patisserie that made her mouth water.

‘Hey, guys, Merry Christmas! Need a hand with anything?’ Tait asked as he gathered his long blond hair into a bun.

‘Yes! Get over here and start wrapping these pigs in blankets and then you can whip some cream for the puds.’ Kim issued the instructions assertively and blew her fringe from her forehead as she skewered the turkey breast to check on its progress. Bea laughed.

‘Anything else, Miss Bossy Pants?’ Tait quipped.

Kim looked up. ‘I think that’ll do for now, but if I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.’

‘Only me!’ Alex called from the front entrance. He marched into the kitchen in his cut-offs and singlet, the ideal outfit for showing off his mahogany tan. ‘I know we said no presents, but seeing as you’re my best e-penfriend...’ He winked and handed Bea a rectangle-shaped gift.

‘Oh, Alex! You shouldn’t have!’ Bea tore at the red-foil wrapping to reveal a set of notelets. ‘Thank you, darling. It’s just what I wanted.’

‘I rather liked you being my penfriend. This will encourage you to write to me more!’

‘I will, darling.’ She smiled.

‘Plus you need to keep me informed about what the old fella is up to.’

‘I will, Alex. He misses you, you know. So good to have you here. We need you to come back soon!’

‘Why do we need him to come back soon? I’ve only just settled here and already the kids have followed me out! There’s no escape.’ John laughed as he stepped into the kitchen.

‘You need me here because I make the best Christmas cake this side of Dundee!’ Alex winked.

‘I have no doubt you do.’ John chuckled. ‘Who’s going to help me with these?’ He held up a string of Chinese lanterns that he wanted dotted along the girders.

‘Ah, they’ll look lovely!’ Bea beamed.

Bea looked at the happy faces around the table as John carried in the gigantic golden turkey to resounding applause. He set it down and stood poised with the carving knife in his hand. The wine had been flowing for a good hour and the atmosphere was buzzing.

‘I think a wee toast is in order.’ John lifted his glass and spoke to the assembled crowd. ‘This is a very, very special celebration. Who would have thought, this time last year, that we would all be gathered here, as family, on this day of all days.’

Mr Giraldi sat up straight, beaming with pride at his brood and no doubt thinking of his beloved Angelica.

Bea smiled at her sister Diane, who winked at the woman she thought she had lost for good. ‘Don’t worry, Di, we’ve got Bird’s Instant Whip with our Christmas pud!’ She laughed.

‘Banana flavour?’ Di asked.

‘Of course!’ Bea assured her.

Sarah placed her arm around Flora’s shoulders, enjoying the sound of the silver bangles that jangled on her wrist. She was so proud of her daughter and very much approved of her choice of boyfriend. Bea winked at her daughter-in-law, making a point of fingering the fabulous scarf at her neck that Sarah had given her for Christmas. She had to admit, Sarah had exceptionally good taste. Moira and Alex smiled at Bea, the woman who had made their dad happy in a way they had never seen before, bringing him much deserved joy in his twilight years.

John coughed and continued. ‘I would like to propose a toast to us all; to the first but definitely not the last celebration at the Christmas Café, whose purpose it is to celebrate togetherness and the spirit of sharing and to give a warm welcome to strangers.’ He raised his glass. ‘Cheers!’

Shouts of ‘Cheers’ and ‘Saluté!’ and ‘The Christmas Café!’ rang out around the room amid the whoops and yells.

‘And finally,’ he said firmly and slowly, ‘I would like to give the last word today to a Miss E. H. Arbuckle, who I think phrases it better than I ever could.’ He turned to the sampler that hung alongside the other pictures on Bea’s café wall and read its words aloud. ‘Find the courage to grow, the courage to leave, the courage to return, for only by being brave will you ever find your true happiness.’

‘Hear hear!’ shouted the voices from around the table.

It was a lunch that no one present that day would ever forget. The food, a combination of traditional Christmas fare, the best Aussie seafood and exquisite Italian puddings, made the most sumptuous feast. Everyone saved a small amount of space for Sarah’s world famous chocolate mousse. Alex kept the crowd amused with his raucous anecdotes that sent giggles bouncing from the roof. Love and laughter were the glue that bound this very special family.

Bea looked at her man as he chatted to Diane, laughing no doubt at tales of Byron Bay, at how they had boarded a tall ship with no clue as to how that one short trip up to the Cape Byron lighthouse would change so many lives.

There was a knock on the door. ‘We’re closed!’ came the unanimous reply, not for the first time that day, followed by laughter.

‘Ah, wait a minute, that’ll be my guests!’ John made a dash for the door. He looked back into the room. ‘Clear the tables! Come on! Push them to the sides!’

Everyone got up and did as he instructed. Bea stood by the wall, not sure what was going on and, if truth be told, more than a little nervous.

John reappeared minutes later with four men in Irish costume: one held a concertina, another a fiddle, one had both a whistle and a flute and the fourth man held a bodhrán.

Bea placed her hand over her mouth, trying to calm her breathing and halt her tears.

The band took up position in the corner and started to play. The music was infectious, it was mere minutes before everyone took to the floor and the dancing began. Flora jumped up and grabbed her dad’s wrist, swirling him around and around as the beat sped up. She shouted over to her gran, ‘Now
this
is a proper party!’ Bea beamed; it sure was. Wyatt threw caution to the wind and laughed as their feet stamped on the concrete floor. Bea had never seen him so relaxed. Marcus gallantly took Sarah’s hand.

Kim ran over to Tait and grabbed him by the arm. ‘I’ve thought of something else.’