Page 1 of Christmas Magic at Inishbeg Cove

1

Plump snowflakes fell heavily from the sky and landed in thick clumps on the windscreen of Faye O’Leary’s Mercedes convertible. Her wipers were doing their best to clear it but they couldn’t keep up with the deluge that was falling and snow was building up thickly along the edges of the glass leaving her with an increasingly smaller gap to peer out through. Her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel as she crawled along the road – well ‘road’ was being generous - it was no more than a boreen really. A thick strip of snow cut a seam down the middle and she had to rely on the tracks made by the other drivers to stay on course. It was lethal driving along these country lanes in this weather and she knew if she didn’t get there soon, she could end up stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.

Faye had left Dublin over seven hours ago and should have arrived in Inishbeg Cove long before now but the weather conditions had made the journey treacherous. She had vaguely heard something on the news the night before about a snow storm coming in off the Atlantic, but she been engrossed in her work and hadn’t paid it much attention. She wished she had now; it would have been the perfect excuse to get out of this trip. She had only got as far as Kildare by the time the snow had begun to fall and as she had headed west along the motorway, the landscape had gradually changed to white as it began to lodge. When she eventually came off the motorway, she had travelled through villages lit up with jewel coloured Christmas lights where people thronged the streets with paper shopping bags hanging off their arms as they made a panic dash for some forgotten gift. As she neared Limerick, the snow had started to fall with alarming intensity and she felt the first prick of worry as she still had a long way left to go until she reached the village.

Chris Rea’s Driving Home for Christmas came on the radio and she shot out her hand to turn it off. Why was it that radio stations assumed everyone liked Christmas? She couldn’t understand why people made such a fuss for just one day. She hated the way people lost the run of themselves as soon as Halloween was over. The shops piled up the selection boxes and the ads on TV became full of happy, perfect families. It wasn’t realistic. Not every family was like that. She should know.

When her boss Margo Flynn had heard that Faye planned to spend Christmas alone, she had been insistent that Mistletoe Cottage was the perfect place for her to spend the holidays. Margo normally spent Christmas there herself but this year she was hosting her elderly mother-in-law and didn’t think she’d be able for the journey to the west coast of Ireland so the cottage was lying empty. She knew Margo was taking pity on her and only because Margo was her boss, Faye had reluctantly agreed to take Mistletoe Cottage. Faye had tried telling Margo that she was happy to work over Christmas. The advertising agency where they both worked closed for the break but not withstanding that, Faye usually worked from home all through the holidays. Last year she had got loads done on Christmas day when everyone else was occupied with their own celebrations and weren’t disturbing her with petty requests. But Margo had been adamant that Christmas was not a time for work. Most companies would be delighted to have an employee like her, Faye couldn’t help think churlishly.

Now, as she gripped the steering while tightly, trying her best to keep her car from veering off into a ditch, she cursed Margo once again for sending her on this hare-brained road trip. Why hadn’t she just told Margo that she was perfectly content to spend Christmas alone like she always did? This was a ridiculous jaunt across the countryside; in fact it was positively dangerous given the weather conditions outside. Why did people care so much that she didn’t celebrate Christmas? Faye wondered, as she crawled along the icy road. Whenever people in the office asked her if she had any plans for Christmas they would stand with their mouths agape when she told them that she would be spending it alone. What did it matter to everyone if she preferred spending it on her own? She could lounge round in her pyjamas; she didn’t have to get dressed up in some ridiculous sparkly dress or novelty Christmas jumper, she didn’t have to spend hours slaving over a dinner that people would be too full to eat because they had stuffed their faces with Cadbury’s Roses and mince pies. She could stick a microwaveable meal in the oven and pour herself a glass of Barolo and have a perfectly fine day.

She glanced at the satnav which told her she was only five minutes away. She exhaled heavily and felt her shoulders climb down from her ears. Nearly there now.

She passed a row of redbrick cottages and rounded a bend to see a snow covered anchor perched on some rocks making a roundabout of sorts and she realised this must be Inishbeg Cove. The village was small, even smaller than she had expected. She saw a post office, a pub and a pretty, snow-covered church looming at the end of the street. The place was deserted, which wasn’t surprising given the weather conditions. Margo had raved about the views across the cove but all Faye could see was thick, leaden cloud hanging low over the water.

The satnav told her to take a left so she signalled and the road began to climb up along a headland. As the gradient grew steeper, her car began to stall on the hill, she pressed the accelerator harder but the wheels began to spin. She tried again, pressing more gently on the accelerator this time and she was relieved when the car gained purchase on the slippery road but once the road climbed higher, the tyres began to spin and alarmingly, it fishtailed from side-to-side across the road. She eased off the accelerator and suddenly she felt her car slip backwards. She screamed as she veered to the left before eventually coming to a stop at the bottom where the road levelled out. Blood was pounding in her ears and her hands were trembling. How the hell was she going to get up this blasted hill? Suddenly she saw a shadow appear beside her, startling her. She unwound her window and a settling of icy snow fell in through the gap and landed in her lap. Great, she thought, as it melted into her jeans, just great. A man dressed in wellingtons and a bottle green wax jacket was standing there. He had a cable-knit woollen hat pulled down over his unruly, dark hair.

‘You frighted the life out of me!’ she admonished.

‘You’re wasting your time,’ he said to her, thumbing towards the red Mercedes. ‘It’s rear wheel drive.’

‘And?’ she demanded impatiently.

‘Well, it’s more suited to city roads. It’s not going to get you up that hill in this weather.’

‘Of course it will,’ she said stubbornly. Who the hell did he think he was telling her what her car could or couldn’t do?

He shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

She raised the window and put the car into drive again and lightly pressed the accelerator. She slowly began to move forward and she thought she might just make it this time but as soon as the road grew steeper, the same thing happened again. She pressed harder on the accelerator, determined to prove him wrong but the wheels spun as she lost traction and her car slipped sideways down the road. It felt as though she was sliding for an eternity until eventually she heard the clang of metal on metal as she collided with something. She was shunted forward as the car finally came to a stop. She tried to open the door but it took several attempts because her hands were trembling so much. Tears filled her eyes as she flicked on her hazard lights, then she pulled up the hood of her coat, bracing herself for the cold onslaught before stepping outside to survey the damage.

‘Are you okay?’ the man asked. She realised she had collided into his Land Rover which had been parked at the bottom of the hill.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said abashed, following him as he inspected the damage.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘You came out worst.’ She looked at his jeep and saw the bull-bars on the front of it had taken the impact without even a dent. She wanted to cry when she saw the passenger door of her lovely red coupe was mangled. Her car was her pride and joy. Damn Margo anyway for bringing her to this place! And what was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t turn around and go home and she wasn’t going to get the car up the hill. She would have to abandon the car here and trudge the rest of the way on foot, lugging her case with her.

‘I told you, you wouldn’t make it up the hill,’ he said grinning at her with amusement written all over his face.

‘I think I’ve figured that out!’ she snapped. ‘Is there a tow company or something who can get the car up the hill?’

The man shook his head. ‘The nearest town to here is Ballymcconnell and I don’t think you’d have a hope of getting anyone to come out here in this weather.’

‘What am I meant to do?’ she wailed. ‘I knew this was a ridiculous idea…’ she muttered to herself. ‘Coming to this backwater place in the middle of nowhere…’

‘Where are you trying to go?’

‘Mistletoe Cottage.’

A flicker of recognition passed across his eyes. ‘Ah,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘So you’re the one.’

She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. ‘And what exactly is that supposed to mean?’

‘My aunt owns Mistletoe Cottage.’

Faye blinked. ‘Margo is your aunt?’

‘Uh-huh, she’s my father’s sister.’