And as she danced around the Reading Room in the New York Public Library to that wonderful song, with a gorgeous man she’d only just met, she guessed Anna Bowery would approve.
As Greg held her hand up while they moved, Holly’s bracelet dropped down along her arm and into her field of vision. She smiled realising that she certainly wouldn’t need a charm to remember tonight – this particular memory would be with her for the rest of her life. And in the end, wasn’t it also the links - the people, the love and the memories – and not just the charms, that made the bracelet complete?
The song was just about to come to an end, when another man tapped Greg on the shoulder.
‘Son, I’m going now. I’ll see you later. Happy New Year.’
‘Oh Dad, I didn’t realise the time,’ Greg said, turning but not letting go of Holly. ‘I was hoping to talk to you before you go. This is Holly,’ he said to the man whom he quickly introduced as his father, Jeff.
The man’s eyes twinkled with humour and warmth. Rather like Greg’s, she thought as he shook her hand. ‘Holly, so lovely to meet you.’ He looked at Greg. ‘This is the lovely lady who was keeping Mom’s bracelet safe for us?’
‘Yes, I have it here actually.’ Greg reached into his pocket and handed it to Jeff.
‘This is just wonderful. On behalf of my wife – Holly, how can I ever thank you?’
‘It’s no problem, really. And I think your son is doing a pretty good job of that,’ she smiled, meeting Greg’s warm gaze.
When Jeff had taken his leave and they continued dancing slowly across the floor, Holly looked at Greg, confused.
‘Where’s your dad going?’ she asked. ‘By my watch it’s another twenty minutes till countdown.’
‘Exactly,’ Greg said with a knowing smile. ‘But Dad has a standing appointment every December thirty-first, and there’s somewhere he needs to be.’
73
Jeff Matthews walked out of the library and made his way further up Fifth Avenue, his wife’s bracelet safely in his pocket.
It was fitting, he thought, that they’d got it back.
Just in time.
Checking his watch once more, he quickened his pace and made his way along the street, past the stores and office buildings, his footsteps echoing on the footpath as he walked.
Reaching St Patrick’s Cathedral, he noticed the car parked outside and tears came to his eyes.
She had made it. Despite her pain, despite the medication, and frail as she was, his beloved wife still hadn’t let him down.
As she never had throughout their entire wonderful life together.
Their standing appointment at St Patrick’s Cathedral at midnight every 31 December had begun the night of their wedding all those years ago. Jeff and Cristina had been married at midday in St Patrick’s Cathedral, and following the wedding celebrations they had returned that very night to give thanks for their happiness, not knowing that it would be a tradition that would last for over forty years.
Jeff had been reluctant that Cristina should try to keep to the appointment this year, given the second bout of illness.
But his brave (and obstinate) wife wasn’t hearing any of it.
‘An hour or so out of that stupid bed won’t kill me,’ she had insisted, when Jeff tried to convince her not to leave the apartment dispense with the tradition – just this once.
She was such a trooper. Nothing fazed her, not the illness, the chemotherapy, and now the radiotherapy she had been having these last few weeks, which had kept her holed up in the bedroom of their Park Avenue apartment. The morphine had been making her sleep so much that she was in and out of consciousness most days.
Jeff had been worried, but the doctors insisted that the therapy seemed to be working well, and the cancer slowly abating.
It had been a hugely stressful and worrying few months for him and Greg, but now, his wonderful wife might well be on the road to recovery.
Going up the steps, Jeff knocked lightly on the door, and waited as it opened a fraction.
Father Mike was shaking his head. ‘I don’t know how I let you two keep talking me into this,’ the priest said. ‘Every single year … ’
‘Is she here?’ Jeff asked.
