Suddenly the pieces were sliding into place.
‘I knew you were with Matt, but I promised myself that before we all left for university I would tell you how I felt – how I’ve always felt – about you. We even arranged to meet, but that was the night…’
‘… of the accident,’ I finished.
‘And after that there never seemed to be the right time to say anything. And then after uni you two were still together, so I thought I’d lost my chance.’
It broke my heart to think of the pain it must have caused him over the years to see me with someone else and never be able to say anything about it. If I lived to be a hundred I could never make up for what I had done.
‘Thank you for waiting for me,’ I whispered softly.
His answering smile was all I needed in the world right then.
‘My pleasure.’
The fire crackled quietly in the grate, the fairy lights twinkled in the darkened room, but we saw and heard nothing. Just each other.
I realised my father must have guessed what had happened between Jimmy and me by the stupid grin he wore as he greeted me in the kitchen the following morning.
‘You look happy,’ was his opening comment.
Apparently we were wearing matching grins.
‘What time did Jimmy leave last night?’
Oh Lord, the man had no subtlety at all.
‘Late,’ I confirmed, reaching for the cup of coffee he was handing me. ‘You know, don’t you?’
He nodded in confirmation. ‘Jimmy told me that he wanted to tell you how he felt.’
So that was what they had been talking about when I was out of the room!
‘Did he actually ask your permission?’ I queried, astounded at the unexpected nineteenth-century element of the situation.
‘No. Not my permission exactly. He just wanted to know if I thought you were ready to hear what he had to say, if you were strong enough yet, or if I thought you needed more time.’
‘And you said?’ I prompted.
‘I told him he had already wasted the last twenty years or so and that he should go right on ahead.’
‘I’m not sure if I was entirely ready to hear it when I was three years old.’
‘But you are now?’
Did he really need to ask? Wasn’t it written all over my face?
‘Now everything is absolutely perfect.’
I didn’t know it then, but things were about to get even better.
Midnight mass on Christmas Eve. I hadn’t been for years, but suddenly it seemed I had a lot to be grateful for. Although Jimmy was on a late shift, he would finish in enough time to join us for the service.
I sat by the lounge window and watched the soft snowflakes falling on the road and pavements, waiting for him. Before my eyes the familiar street transformed to a Christmas card idyll. I smiled as even the mundane and boring took on a white shroud of beauty.
I’d been smiling quite a lot these past few days. Every minute spent with Jimmy filled me with such joy and happiness that he felt more necessary to my existence than the air I breathed. Every minute apart was spent either thinking of him or in heady anticipation of when his familiar knock would sound on the door.
I could have been a nauseating daughter, wreathed in smiles and wistful glances, if my dad hadn’t been so patently delighted at the turn of events. He was even continuing his mission to give us as much private time together as he could, and was going to bed at night at an ever-increasingly early hour. There were six-year-olds who stayed up later than him these days.
My father entered the room, already dressed for the weather in heavy topcoat and hat.
‘Is he here yet?’
‘He will be soon,’ I assured, unaware of the serenity in my tone, which brought a responding smile to my parent’s face.
Bright headlights cut through the falling flakes as Jimmy’s car rounded the bend and pulled up beside our house. I snatched up my coat from the chair and hurried to the door, heart already beating faster. It was like being a teenager all over again.
I stood in the open doorway as he climbed out of the car, mindless of the snow buffeting against me as I waited for him. The intensity of my feelings had taken me by surprise. Having known each other for all our lives, I had expected our relationship would be more of a slow burn, and not the raging inferno that we were both happy to be consumed by.
‘You look like a snow queen,’ he murmured, when he stood before me, kissing the crystal flakes from my face. ‘And you haven’t got your coat on,’ he chided, noticing that I still held it in my hands. ‘You’ll get cold.’
‘Not with you here, I won’t,’ I said dreamily, but nevertheless slid my arms into the garment he had taken from me and was now holding out. I particularly liked the way he used the wrapping of the long scarf around my neck as a means of drawing me against him for a lingering kiss.