The Girl Who Couldn't Smile Part 23

'Yeah?' I said, not really listening, wis.h.i.+ng I had never let Tush talk us into this disaster.

'Ye should do that. You and the lads,' Bill said. 'I can get the animals off me mate Johno.'

'What?' I asked. 'Um ... hold on a minute ... how did it work, these plays?'

He told me, and I realized that this might just be the lifeline we needed.

It was so simple, but so beautiful.

That Friday evening, surrounded by a group of proud parents and delighted local business people, and not a small number who had come along to see a play, we created a living, breathing crib, a nativity scene with a heartbeat.

The script was provided directly from the Gospel of Luke, and we decided that Tush should read it, and the children act out what she read. The text is so rich in detail and the action so iconic it gave them plenty of work to do. So, on that crisp, frosty evening, as dusk settled, we made our way to the old church just off the village's main street. We'd had tea and a wonderful variety of food, mostly supplied by Mulligan's, in the creche, and although the kids' artwork and various other accomplishments were on display, the only thing discussed was the play.

Bill had already set up the stage for us, cordoning off an area with bales of hay where the donkey and the goat were tethered happily. A box filled with straw did admirably for a crib. When the audience and actors were a.s.sembled Tush, looking fairly angelic herself with cheeks rosy from the cold, stepped up to the microphone the parish priest had provided, and began to read lines written two thousand years ago.

'"Now it happened in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that everyone in the world should be counted. All the people went to write their names on the list, everyone to his own city. Joseph went up from Galilee to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, to enrol himself with Mary, because they were going to be married, and she was soon going to have a baby. It happened, while they were there, that the day came that she should give birth. She brought forth her first-born son, and she wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a feeding trough, because there was no room for them in the inn."'

Each line was intoned slowly, and the children acted out their parts to perfection. When it came time for Jesus to be laid in the manger, Milandra, as Mary, produced from behind the box a doll, wrapped in cloth. I peered over to see which one it was, because the face was very definitely black. To my amazement, in the light of the candles that illuminated the scene, I realized her baby Jesus was none other than the doll Susan had given her for her birthday still with no legs and only one arm.

I looked over at Susan. She had tears in her eyes.

Felicity and Tony stood front and centre and, despite our previous antagonism, I saw nothing but love and pride in the man's eyes. Mitzi's parents had come to see the performance, too, and there was no doubt that they had set aside any philosophical or theological issues they might have had about Christmas. When their daughter sang 'Silent Night', they could have burst with pride. The only parents, in fact, who were notably absent were Kylie and Dale. Tammy played her role as a shepherd with her usual stoicism, neither particularly enthusiastic nor doggedly disruptive. I felt awful for her every other child had at least one parent in attendance. But if she was disappointed she never once let on, and accepted the audience's applause calmly.

We went home that night full of good cheer and why not? Despite the fact that the performance had ended with a rendition of 'The Elephant Song', everyone decreed that it was the most authentic nativity play they'd ever seen.

35.

I drove home to Wexford on Christmas Eve to spend the holidays with my family. I ate and drank far too much, watched the same old movies for the millionth time (can you ever truly see Casablanca too often?), and walked Millie along the beach at Kaat's Strand, where she charged into the foam like a thing possessed, only to lurch right back out again when she discovered how cold the water was.

I had invited Lonnie to join me, but he had turned my offer down flat he said he had made other arrangements, though he refused to tell me what they were. I suspected they involved spending the day alone on the mountain, probably watching the same movies as me but with something peculiar he had prepared for himself to eat instead of the traditional fare. I didn't force the issue. Lonnie was ent.i.tled to his pride and dignity he had spent enough of his life trying to preserve them.

On New Year's Eve at around ten o'clock it started to snow, and didn't stop. I sat in the living room in my father's house and watched it build up on the green in drifts of pure, unblemished white. Before long children were out in the frigid night air building snowmen and having s...o...b..ll fights. When I went to bed I left the curtains open and watched the huge, fat snowflakes drifting downwards until sleep claimed me.

I expected that we'd have snow for a day or so, after which a thaw would set in and everything would get back to normal, but Jack Frost had other ideas, and as the days crept dangerously close to the date for me to return to work, the weather didn't break. In fact, the forecast on 2 January informed us that the temperature in Wexford that night was only a couple of degrees warmer than it was at the North Pole.

The following day I called Lonnie. 'We're snowed in,' I said.

'No s.h.i.+t. I am actually speaking to you from an igloo. I went out for a walk, and when I came back the house was buried. I had no choice but to fas.h.i.+on a shelter out of ice. It was a matter of survival.'

'Can you try to be serious for just one brief moment? How bad is it up there?'

'It's pretty bad. But some of the farmers are venturing out on tractors and whatnot. One or two of the roads have been cleared.'

'Little Scamps is due to open tomorrow. Should I try and make it up to ye?'

'Can you make it up is a more pertinent question?'

I thought about that. 'According to the news the main roads are more or less pa.s.sable. And the Austin is a really good car in snow. It's got a low centre of gravity.'

'Nice to know it's good for something. Look, if you make it, I'll go in with you. Don't have anything better to do.'

'How was Christmas?' I asked him.

'It was okay,' he said.

'Where'd you go?'

'Oh you know I was around.'

I sighed. 'You were on your own, weren't you?'

'Not completely.'

'Oh? Who were you with, then?'

He paused for a second, obviously deciding whether to tell me or not. 'Tush called around.'

'On Christmas Day?'

'Yeah. And on Stephen's Day. And we spent New Year's Eve together too, if you must know.' This last sentence came out in a rush, as if, now that he had started talking, he couldn't stop.

'You f.u.c.king dog!' I said. 'You kept that one on the down-low, didn't you?'

'Well, you know how quiet and una.s.suming I am,' he said. 'Introverted, some might call me.'

I laughed. 'I want to hear all about it when I see you. I'm going to try and do the drive today in fact I'm going to leave as soon as possible, while the daylight holds.'

'All right,' Lonnie said. 'Go carefully. Call me when you get in.'

The drive was a nightmare. Ireland is known for its temperate weather (which means it rains a lot, but never usually gets very hot or particularly cold). As a result when we do get extreme weather, the entire country shuts down.

Most of the main roads had been cleared and the going was good, but I lived within a maze of tiny, winding, narrow roads that couldn't even be called secondary in a fit of dubious generosity. The Austin does go like a dream on snow and ice, but even with its dogged grip on the road surface, there were still times when I was convinced I was going to end up in a ditch or, worse still, in the back of the car in front of me.

I stopped for petrol at a forecourt somewhere in the middle of my journey. I was tired, suffering from caffeine withdrawal, and Millie needed a run around dogs will sleep most of the time on long journeys, but there comes a time when even the laziest mutt needs some air.

I was leaning against the bonnet of my car, sipping from a Styrofoam mug of coffee while Millie snuffled around the gra.s.s verge, when a van I thought I recognized pulled in at the pumps. A young man, shaven headed and wearing an oily-looking leather jacket, got out and started to fill up with diesel. It wasn't until Kylie got out of the other door and walked past me into the shop that I realized who they were.

Kylie didn't recognize me, either, and it wasn't until I said, 'Hi,' when she was on her way back that she spotted me at all.

'Oh. h.e.l.lo,' she said, clearly uneasy around me, out of her comfort zone as she was.

'Did Tammy have a good Christmas?' I asked.

'Yeah, yeah,' Kylie said, hugging herself against the cold. 'Quiet, wasn't it?'

'My family tend to be fairly noisy,' I said. 'She with you?'

'No, one of my neighbours has her. Dale had to go and see a friend,' Kylie said.

Dale had seen me too, now, and made no effort to hide a scowl. 'I'm goin' t' use the jacks,' he shouted over, and made a beeline for the toilets.

We were quiet for a few moments, uncomfortable in each other's company.

Finally I said, 'Tammy is an amazing little girl.'

'Do you think?' Kylie asked.

'I do. She never ceases to surprise me. I think she's an incredible kid.'

Kylie didn't seem to know what to do with that. 'Do you have kids?' she asked.

'No,' I said. 'Haven't been blessed with them yet.'

She nodded, as if that explained a lot. 'If you did, maybe it'd change your mind about certain things.'

I sipped my coffee and said nothing. Millie had ranged a little bit beyond what I considered a comfortable distance, and I whistled for her to come back. She ignored me for a second she was chewing something she probably shouldn't then started to make her way slowly towards the car.

'Havin' kids is tough, y'know. Dunno how me 'n' Dale've stayed together through it all.'

'You're lucky to have a relations.h.i.+p like that,' I said.

'We're a team, so we are.' She paused. 'Sometimes I think havin' Tammy made us stronger. Other times I think she tore a huge chunk outta me heart.'

'Kids'll do that,' I said.

'I wanted to have an abortion,' Kylie said. 'Just f.u.c.kin' get rid of the thing.'

The thing, I thought. This is Tammy she's talking about.

'But Dale wouldn't hear of it,' she continued.

'Good for him,' I said. 'Lot of men wouldn't give a d.a.m.n.'

Dale came out of the toilet block and started to walk in our direction. Kylie glanced at him and shuddered, as if waking from a deep sleep. 'I'll see you,' she said, and got back into the van.

I let Millie get a little more air, then followed suit.

The entire trip usually took three hours and lasted six. I was exhausted and very grumpy by the time I finally unlocked the door to my cottage, muttering obscenities about having to stand in the cold while Millie scouted about for somewhere suitable to relieve herself. I texted Lonnie to let him know we had landed safely, then lit the fire and made a hot whiskey. With Rio Bravo on TV and my dog snuggled up beside me on the couch, life seemed a lot friendlier. And I only wanted a cigarette a little.

I left early the next morning to pick up Lonnie, a.s.suming that the mountain road would be treacherous, but in fact it was fairly clear the farmers who used it on the way to tend their sheep must have made a point of keeping it gritted.

'Happy new year,' my friend said, as he hopped in.

'Back at you,' I said. 'You need any wood or coal or anything? We can pick some up on the way home.'

'No. I went into the village with Tush yesterday and we stocked up.'

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but his face was obscured by the enormous fur-lined hood of his coat, and I couldn't see if he was grinning.

'Lonnie, you're going to have to tell me what happened.'

'No, I am not,' he said, and I was sure I heard a laugh in his voice.

'You owe me that much. Come on I invited you to my father's place for Christmas. Who else is going to inflict you on their family? Huh? Is that not worth something?'

'All right, all right,' he said, and he was definitely laughing. 'She called over on Christmas Eve. We ... um ... talked.'

'Talked?'

'Yeah. You know about our relations.h.i.+p. And stuff.'

'And did you decide anything?'

'Well ...' Lonnie paused. How much did he feel comfortable telling me? 'I will say that Tush and I are together.'

'What does that mean?' I asked, more out of devilment than anything else.

'It means that we're going out as boyfriend and girlfriend, all right?'

'I see. And are you both ... you know ... I mean, did you ...'

'A gentleman does not kiss and tell,' he said.

'I see,' I said, enjoying winding him up. 'You know what that means, of course, don't you?'

'What?'

'It means that you have something to tell.'

'Listen, this conversation is over,' Lonnie said, crossing his arms with great finality.

I drove on for half a mile, neither of us speaking. Finally I said, 'Lonnie?'

'What?' he barked.

'Congratulations, man.'

'Thanks,' he said, and the smile was unmistakable in his voice this time.