Maison Majella chapter 12: "Alexa, play Christmas instrumentals"
All is calm, all is bright, in BGB
Next week, on St Stephenses Day: It’s a Christmas miracle as a new story Welcome to Ballywood begins, straight from Aisling’s mouth.
“Thanks for coming over, lads.”
I top up Aisling’s glass with more Prosecco and John hops up to get himself another can from the fridge. “I had to send Mammy and Daddy home so I could put the baby to bed. Daddy was nearly getting into the cot with her.”
“They’re just so excited for Santy to come to Baby Ais tonight, I’d say.”
Big Aisling knows well what Shem and Liz are like, especially when it comes to their first and only grandchild. Daddy had tiny bits of Sellotape all over his jumper from wrapping her present. I’ve never seen him wrap anything in his life. He used to get me to do his present for Mammy – a foot spa – every year. She eventually sold them all on Facebook marketplace and made enough for two nights in Monart. I suppose he was helping her save for a spa weekend, in a way.
“I’ll bring in a few more sticks for you.”
John’s caveman instinct must have kicked in because he’s been picking and poking at the fire since the second he arrived. The stove has really brought the new sitting room together. The tree is twinkling. The candle is lit in the window to guide all the lost souls home. All except the one lost soul, who’s stuck in the airport in Tenerife.
“Any update from him?” Aisling asks gently.
I shake my head as John takes my new log basket – a housewarming present from me to me that I picked up in Knock Garden Centre – out to the She Shed. Not that the She Shed is going to double as fuel storage long term, but it’ll do for now.
Getting the actual shed sorted has not been high on the list of priorities while we’ve been working like dogs to get the house finished in time to host Christmas. And now Baby Ais is asleep in her pink palace of dreams, there’s water flowing through every tap in the kitchen, and the oven is primed to receive an astonishingly large turkey. I swear Eustace McGonnigle was feeding those birds protein powder or something, even though he claims they’re as free range as they come. I even found the time to put the Christmas Eve sheets on me and Pablo’s new superking bed earlier in anticipation of him coming home. And then I got the call. Unprecedented snow in Tenerife. Not a lot of snow, a sprinkling really, but enough to bring the place to a grinding halt. Pablo went to the airport anyway but he knew from watching the skies that nothing was landing or taking off. He cried, I cried, and Baby Ais cried even though she was only concerned with being allowed to eat the batteries out of the back of the remote.
“I can’t believe it, mi amor. It is like a dark spirit is keeping us apart.” He had only been telling me about how the Teide, the volcano in Tenerife, has been without snow for the first winter in 108 years. Usually it’s covered in the stuff while the lower parts of the island are basking in the sunshine. This year though, no snow for Teide. There’s been talk of a curse and everything. I’d well believe it. After everything I’ve been through with the house these past few months, and with Juana out of the woods, we almost had Christmas over the line. Not even Rocky’s tea leaves could have predicted this.
“You know you can just cancel dinner for tomorrow?” Aisling suggests.
I look at her like she’s gone mad. “Sure that’s the only thing keeping me going. I’ve invited half of BGB at this stage. There are 72 cans of Coke Zero in the pantry. I have four pounds of stuffing in the utility room. My mother is at home right now doing three hams. She text me to say she’s going cross eyed looking at cloves.”