Carolyn for Christmas Page 7
A couple of times Carolyn nearly went sliding on the varnished floor and her wobbles made Saoirse laugh harder.
“Wait till I tell the rest of the cleaning crew about this,” the woman said as they reached the door. She swung it open. “Not every day you come to work to find two drunkards there to greet you.”
She clasped Carolyn’s arms just before she and Saoirse exited into the dull morning outside.
“Will you tell your mam that Kathy Ryan was asking for her?”
The concern nipped at Carolyn. In all the fun with Saoirse, she’d managed to forget her mother was sick for just a few hours. That had always been part of Saoirse’s charm—she had a way of making you feel like the world was all right when you were with her.
“I will,” Carolyn said softly. She took a deep breath. “Merry Christmas to you.”
The woman patted her on the back and Carolyn walked the few feet to where Saoirse was waiting. The tarmac was cold under her feet as she moved.
“So what now?” Saoirse asked, and Carolyn wondered if she was talking about the long-term future.
“Now, we get some breakfast,” she said, deflecting the conversation. She looked at Saoirse. “That’s if you want to?”
Saoirse smiled, a warm smile that made Carolyn smile in return.
“Sounds good to me,” she said.
* * * * *
Even now, a week after they’d been locked in together, Saoirse couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that she and Carolyn Roche were “an item”.
She’d given up hope years ago that they would ever reconcile. For a long time, she had pined after her friend, but never in front of her father.
Actually, that wasn’t strictly true. She’d spent one day anxiously pacing the house, wondering why Carolyn was so rude to her after the Christmas break, but her dad had yelled at her to stop. She’d tried to talk to her mother about it, but all Clare had said to her was that sometimes things happen for a reason. Saoirse couldn’t exactly see any good reason why the one person she had to talk to should stop being friends with her.
So she shoved the hurt and pain deep down until it festered and fermented into hatred. It had exhausted her for years.
Now, as she sat and looked at Carolyn dance along to a band they had agreed to see, she felt so light. The weight of that hatred had been crushing her; now she felt like she might float away at any time on just a gust of wind.
“I love this song!” Carolyn yelled at her, and Saoirse grinned as Carolyn turned back to dance a little more.
They had decided to just go out together, to see where it would take them, and Saoirse liked that plan.
She grabbed Carolyn’s hand as the song stopped and squeezed.
“You’re not like anyone else in the world, you know.” She pressed the other woman’s hand to her mouth and kissed it softly. “And believe me, I’ve looked.”
Carolyn stopped and brushed a strand of hair out of Saoirse’s face.
“This feels so weird and not weird all at once, doesn’t it?”
Saoirse nodded, and Carolyn leaned in to kiss her softly. That part definitely never felt weird to Saoirse—it felt just right.
She pulled away from the kiss and over Carolyn’s shoulder, she saw someone. Lorna. From the shocked look on her friend’s face, she found it a lot weirder than Carolyn and Saoirse did.
She’d talk to Lorna tomorrow about all this. But not tonight. Tonight was just for Saoirse and Carolyn.
* * * * *
Doors opened at eight o’clock sharp, but as Carolyn drove up to the town hall at a quarter past seven on Christmas Eve, she saw a line of people starting to form outside.
Saoirse sat beside her in the passenger seat. Since they’d been locked into the school ten days before, Carolyn was loving how busily they were making up for lost time. They’d told each other all about their lives now—about the stresses and the strains and the highs and successes. Carolyn knew all about Saoirse’s family life now—not just the bits she’d guessed and heard when they were kids—and so much about everything made sense. Saoirse’s almost checked-out mother, her bullying father, and her two brothers—one nice but absent, and the other…well, the other was Tom. Carolyn had seen enough of his posturing around Kavanagh and Byrne’s to know exactly how infuriating he could be. Throw Suzanne into that package, and Carolyn suddenly understood why Saoirse looked so pissed off so often.
She hadn’t told Saoirse about the trouble her brother was in. She couldn’t do that and maintain client confidentiality. But from what Saoirse had told her, it would cause a massive ripple through the Barrett family. She didn’t think Saoirse would be too upset about Tom having a sudden fall from grace.
They had each told their friends about their new relationship. Saoirse’s friends, Saoirse reported to Carolyn, had all been quite surprised by the revelation. Lorna’s face when she saw the two of them the other night was a testament to that. Mags, ever the blunt one, had just rolled her eyes on their video chat and given an exasperated, “Dur.” Apparently she’d figured it out about forty seconds after the incident in Kelly’s pub.
“You could see the sexual tension a mile off,” she’d announced. Carolyn had laughed at that.
Carolyn turned the corner of the town hall building, past the giant Christmas tree right outside, its star bright and hopeful at the top, and pulled into a parking spot.
When Carolyn had turned off the engine, Saoirse took her hand and pressed it to her mouth with a little kiss. It was a little habit of hers, to kiss Carolyn’s hand, and Carolyn loved it.
“This is going to be a great concert,” Saoirse said. “I can feel it.”
Carolyn looked down at her free hand and brought her thumbnail up to her mouth to chew. She released it again a couple of seconds later.
“You know, I’m really sorry for being so bitchy about you getting the solo. I’ve always thought you were the most wonderful singer. I just wanted to get this one because of my mam.”
She dared to look at Saoirse, but Saoirse’s face had clouded.
“Don’t worry about it, Carolyn,” she said softly. “I understand completely.”
Carolyn took off her seatbelt and leaned forward.
“Thanks for being so graceful, Saoirse. It’s probably classier than I could have managed.”
Saoirse laughed and her face lit up, the easiness of the moment making her sometimes-anxious features soft and delicate. She was as beautiful to Carolyn, as she’d always been.
Carolyn pressed her lips to Saoirse’s and kissed her deeply, knotting her hand in Saoirse’s hair as the kiss intensified.
She suddenly remembered. “Sorry, I’m wrecking your hair after you spent an age on it.”
Saoirse shook her head, her hair messed and at angles, and smiled.
“I don’t really care,” she said before initiating another kiss.
Carolyn could almost have forgotten about the concert—she was tempted to just turn the car around and bring Saoirse back to her house instead—but she fought the urge.
Besides, her mother was going to be let out for the concert for a few hours. Carolyn’s aunt Barbara was collecting her right now. Carolyn had made sure there were two seats front row for both of them.
Since her mother couldn’t be home on Christmas Day—Carolyn would have to visit her in the morning instead—this was an evening she was going to make the most of.
She pulled out of the kiss and put her hand on the door handle.
“Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
Inside the venue, it looked even better than Carolyn had been expecting. There was another giant Christmas tree to match the one outside, a big banner with the Leinster Cancer Support Service’s details on it, and red-and-green chair covers on all the seating. She could smell freshly baked mince pies and mulled wine as she entered, too.
Some of the rest of the choir were already there, with Damien running around like a headless chicken at the front of the stage.
“Thank God you’re here. I was worried people were going to be late. And thank you so much for filling in for Saoirse, Carolyn. I thought we were going to have a big issue when she said she wasn’t feeling well.”
Carolyn turned to Saoirse in confusion and Saoirse gave a weak cough.
“Yep, I think it’s just the touch of a cold. I’ll be fine with the rest of the choir but I wasn’t sure my voice would hold up through that solo.”
Carolyn’s mouth flopped open for the want of something appropriate to say to Saoirse, but Damien didn’t give her time to come up with something. He dragged her towards the stage and up the steps, and she craned around to see Saoirse behind her.
Saoirse just gave her a little wave and a wink and turned to join the other singers.
“So, I know you’ve been practising this a lot, so I’m sure you know exactly what to do,” Damien said to her as they bounded up the stairs, him leading the way. “But we need to go over your stage directions. At the end of the All I Want for Christmas Is You arrangement, you’re to step forward to right here”—he pointed at a spot on the stage—“and lean in to this microphone. Give it a quick test there.”
Carolyn, her head still reeling from the turn of events, did what she was told without question.
“Check, check,” she started. “Check, ch—”
Damien waved his hands.
“All right, let’s not go overboard. Get yourself together and get ready for curtain up.”
She couldn’t see Saoirse as she took her place in formation at the edge of the choir, but she hoped Saoirse knew just how grateful she was.
* * * * *
Saoirse always got a big bout of nerves right before a performance, but this was the first time she could ever remember having second-hand nerves for someone else.
Saoirse had already spotted June in the crowd—though she hadn’t recognised her immediately. The June she remembered had always carried a little bit of extra meat on her bones. These days, she was thin as a rail, her polo neck jumper loose and hanging from her frame, a blanket draped across her knees.
When she’d seen June smile up at Carolyn—and then throw a smile in Saoirse’s direction, too—that’s when Saoirse had finally realised who she was.
Saoirse was having fun with this song—a choral, glee-club-style arrangement that changed the feeling and the pace from the original Mariah version—but she knew, from her original place as the soloist, that O Holy Night was just coming up and with it, Carolyn’s time to shine.
The choir finished All I Want for Christmas, and Saoirse barely dared to breathe as Carolyn stepped away from the cluster of sopranos on the opposite side of the stage.
Saoirse could hear her heart pounding in her chest, the steady thump, thump, thump a metronome for Carolyn’s slow steps, but then Saoirse looked out to the audience. June was talking animatedly to the woman beside her, pointing up at the stage to Carolyn excitedly. Her face was full of pride, and Saoirse knew, looking at it, that she’d done the right thing.
Besides, she hadn’t won as a fair fight; the mess Carolyn had made of the rendition those six or seven practices ago had been an anomaly. She’d heard Carolyn sing it perfectly every time before and after that; her rediscovered affection for Carolyn couldn’t have fooled her musical ear if she wasn’t pitch perfect.
Carolyn stepped up to the microphone and the choir sat themselves on the benches behind them, waiting out the song that was to finish the concert. Saoirse could see that Carolyn’s hands were shaking as she reached out to hold the microphone stand. Saoirse willed her to look back and when she did, Saoirse smiled warmly at her and blew her a tiny kiss, so small anyone watching couldn’t tell.
But Carolyn could tell. She smiled back, the smile warming her face, and her hand stilled on the microphone when she turned back to the audience.
“Hi, everyone,” she said, and there was just the hint of a quiver of nerves to her voice before it steadied again. “I’d just like to dedicate this to my mother, June, who’s made a very special trip to be here tonight.”
She stepped back and then gave a small nod to the pianist in front of the stage.
The crowd was hushed and reverential as the piano started up, and Carolyn’s voice soared clean and rich to the whole room, each phrase she sang more beautiful than the last. As she reached the highest notes of the song, Saoirse’s heart swelled with pride. It was one of the most beautiful performances of that song she had ever heard—deep with emotion and sublime to hear.
Nothing happened for a couple of moments after Carolyn had finished the song, just the sound of sobbing from the front row. Saoirse couldn’t see who was crying, so she stood up to get a better vantage point. June was half-crying, half-laughing in delight, the woman beside her crying, too.
And then June started to applaud wildly, the crowd catching on a second later, the rumble of the applause crescendoing until a few started to get their feet, then a couple more, and a couple more, until most of the audience were up.
Carolyn turned to look at Saoirse; her face was wet with tears.
“Thank you,” she mouthed. “Thank you.”
* * * * *
“Are you sure you’re supposed to have mulled wine, June?” Carolyn’s aunt Barbara asked as June nodded at the waiter to keep going to fill the glass.
June raised an eyebrow.
“What’s it going to do? Kill me?” She turned back to the waiter. “I’ll have a big dollop of cream on that mince pie, too.” He put a spoonful on. “Keep going.”
Saoirse snorted with laughter, and June tipped her glass to her.
“See, at least someone around here likes my sense of humour. With these two, you’d swear it was a funeral, not a party.”
She made a spinning motion with her finger and Barbara turned June’s wheelchair around to face Saoirse. Carolyn braced herself for what might be coming next.
“And you, Miss Saoirse Barrett. Where have you been these past few years? We’ve missed seeing you around.”
“Oh, Mam, stop,” Carolyn said, but June waved the objection away.
“I’m sorry about that,” Saoirse said quietly, her cheeks reddening. “But I’ve come back now.”
June looked quickly to Carolyn and then back to Saoirse.
“So I hear,” she said, before dropping her voice down to a whisper. “And I think you two will be lovely together. There’s always been a bond between you, even when you were little girls. Don’t go away again.”
Saoirse smiled at Carolyn, who filled with happiness. She’d never been able to see herself with anyone for too long, but she could see herself with Saoirse. Her mother was right: there was just something inexplicable that made sense about her and Saoirse.
“I won’t, June,” Saoirse said, and it sounded like she meant it. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
June grabbed Saoirse’s hand and held it.
“Come see me soon.”
Saoirse gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“I will.” She looked at someone in the distance and then to Carolyn. “I have to go deal with my folks. But we’re still meeting up after Christmas on St. Stephen’s Day? Maybe we’ll go and see your mother?”
“Sounds good,” Carolyn said and sneaked a quick kiss from Saoirse. She could definitely see herself with Saoirse for a long time.
* * * * *
Saoirse always dreaded waking up on Christmas Day—more now that she had moved out of her parents’ house. She always spent Christmas Eve with them, even in her adulthood, and then spent the better part of Christmas Day elbow deep in peeling vegetables, basting the unnecessarily giant turkey, and preparing desserts three different ways, since no one could agree on what way they liked theirs.
That Christmas Eve—after she’d left the concert—had been more awful than usual. Far from being impressed with her dramatic gesture to a woman and her sick mother, her father had been la
menting the fact that Saoirse hadn’t had the solo all the way home in the car.
“All that money on singing lessons and you’re still second fiddle on the biggest concert of the year,” he said a couple of times.
“I thought it was lovely,” her mother had said, but quieted quickly when her father had launched into a fresh round of outrage.
“I told all the fellas down at the golf club that my Saoirse was going to be doing a solo. And who’s going to look like a fool on Stephen’s Day when we meet for a round? Me, that’s who.”
Saoirse had rolled her eyes. “Hardly my fault you went and told the whole town, is it?” She regretted the outburst immediately when the thunder rolled across his face.
“Clare, do you see you raised an ingrate? A cheeky little madam, like I always said she was?”
Her mother rubbed her hands together again and again, a sure sign she was getting nervous of his temper.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Saoirse backtracked. “I’m just a little tired after everything. Tell the guys I just wasn’t feeling well enough to do it.”
That had appeased him enough for a quiet journey back to the house, but it was anyone’s guess how he’d be on Christmas Day.
That was why, this morning, Saoirse had woken up with a massive knot in her stomach.
She’d showered early, put on her new outfit for the day, and done her hair and makeup so neatly and expertly that at least her appearance would be beyond reproach.
Her mother was already in the kitchen prepping the meal at nine o’clock in the morning. Her father, she guessed, would be asleep for another couple of hours.
“Good morning, Mum,” Saoirse said as she walked into the kitchen, going over to give her mother a kiss. “And a Merry Christmas!”
Her mother kept mixing dough in a big metal bowl with her hands. She seemed startled by the intrusion.
“Oh yes, dear. A very Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Saoirse walked over to put the kettle on, and she opened the fridge to get ingredients out.
“So I went ahead and bought the cranberries and apricots for that stuffing. I figured we could have a little bit to ourselves, even if nobody else wanted any.”