One Starry Christmas Night

CHAPTER ONE

‘Sorry, Bea. I’ve been meaning to call you, but you know how hectic everything is at this time of year.’

Bea could well imagine how to the brim full her mum’s calendar must be. Most times Bea phoned, her mum seemed to be super busy, mixing and partying with her fellow retirees on the Mornington Peninsular. Now, during the lead up to Christmas, her list of social engagements would be off the scale.

‘Yes, I know you have a lot on the go, Mum,’ Bea said patiently. ‘But I’m worried about Nan. She’s not answering her phone.’

For several years now, Bea and her grandmother had shared cosy phone chats on Thursday evenings. They would compare their Wordle scores, and Nan would give Bea the latest news from Wirralong—always with a juicy dose of gossip.

Bea talked about her life in the suburbs of Melbourne, where she taught a lively fourth-grade class. More recently, she’d shared her emotional angst over her break-up with Travis.

Her grandmother had been wonderfully sympathetic, and Bea had also been filling her in about her exciting new plans to spend this Christmas in Bali with two of her teacher mates. In between their weekly calls, they often shared photos via their phones. Nan’s pics were mostly of her beautiful black cat, or her garden, especially when her azaleas and camellias were bursting into flower. Sometimes she might decide that a particularly fat slug or snail was photo worthy.

Just last week, Nan had sent photos of her raised garden bed filled with ripening strawberries, while Bea had shared shots of dogs in the local park—big, small, shaggy or cute—and the cheerfully eye-catching Christmas decorations that were beginning to appear in shop windows.

But now, Bea’s mum said, ‘Nan’s had a fall.’

‘No!’ Bea was hit by a rush of horror as she pictured her dear, sweet grandmother collapsing onto the floor, or perhaps falling onto the ground somewhere outside. She would have been frightened, in pain, needing help. And quite possibly alone. ‘Is … is she okay?’

‘Yes, but she broke her hip. So, she’s in hospital, of course.’

‘Far out. That’s awful, Mum. Poor Nan. When did this happen?’

‘I believe it was… er… last Friday.’

But that was nearly a week ago.

‘And when were you planning to tell me?’ Bea couldn’t help snapping her question, even though she shouldn’t be surprised that her mother had taken so long to share this news. Zara Fraser had always been a bit vague and careless when it came to her mother-in-law’s needs and she wasn’t about to change now.

Bea’s dad—Nan’s actual son—was almost as bad. For many years his excuse had been the two-hour distance between his stud merino farm and the township of Wirralong where Nan lived. The sheep farm had also been out of the reach of the Wirralong School bus service, which was how Bea had become a weekly boarder, staying in town with her nan from Monday to Friday through all of her school years, and only going home to the farm on weekends.

In other words, Nan had pretty much raised Bea, so her bond with her grandmother was especially deep.

Meanwhile, her parents’ focus had always been their sheep property. Making a success of their farm was fiercely important to them, especially to her dad.

There’d been weekly drop-offs and pick-ups, of course, when one of Bea’s parents would pop in for a quick cuppa with Nan. But most of their contact had been limited to Mother’s Day and Nan’s birthday, when Bea’s parents had come armed with massive bunches of flowers that Nan didn’t really need, given her own beautiful garden.

Then they would take her out to dinner at an expensive restaurant where the food was usually richer than she liked.

At least they would also bring her out to their farm for a few days over Easter and Christmas. But that was about it.

Then, eighteen months ago, Bea’s parents had sold their sheep property and retired even further away, to a luxurious beach house on the coast. Her mum was busy with badminton and yoga and craft classes, plus her book club, while her dad filled his days with golf and fishing and planning their next travel jaunt.

Which was all very nice for them, of course, and after years of hard, dawn-to-dusk farm work, they’d earned a pleasant retirement. Bea was happy for them …

‘Bea, I didn’t ring you before this, because I didn’t want to bother you when I knew you’d be busy.’ Her mum definitely sounded defensive. ‘You always have so many end-of-year activities at your school, and you’re getting ready for your trip to Bali.’

Bea bit back an indignant grunt. She hadn’t been so busy that she couldn’t have taken a phone call! Nothing would be gained by pointing this out, though, especially when her parents were still recovering from the avalanche of phone calls that had followed her Travis debacle. They were already unhappy about having to cancel the expensive wedding reception venue they’d set their hearts on.

‘Poor Nan,’ she said instead. ‘She must have been so frightened.’

‘Yes, I know. It’s such a shame this has happened.’

‘Who found her?’

‘Some passer-by. I believe she was in her front yard when she fell.’

‘How awful.’

‘But she was lucky, really, Bea. The person who found her rang the paramedics and it just so happened that an orthopaedic surgeon was already scheduled at the Wirralong hospital for two days this week. After the X-rays, he was able to squeeze Lucy onto the end of his list and twenty-four hours later, she had a brand-new hip.’

‘Wow! That’s amazing.’

‘Isn’t it? And she’s getting the best care now.’

Bea certainly hoped this was the case. But she was still upset that her darling Nan could have fallen and received a new hip and Bea hadn’t known a thing about it.

‘Does Nan have her phone with her?’ she asked.

‘I’m not …’ After an awkward pause, her mum muttered, ‘… maybe not.’

‘That’s a pity. So, you haven’t spoken with her yet?’

‘No. Your father’s been managing everything. He’s spoken with her doctors and her health care fund and other medical staff.’

But what about talking to Nan?

To Bea, this question was so obvious, she wanted to shout it. But then she comforted herself with the thought that if her grandmother was in hospital now, at least she wasn’t alone.

Hopefully, she was tucked into a comfortable bed with nice, attentive nurses bringing her painkillers and plumping up her pillows, while other friendly folk brought her cups of tea and biscuits, as well as delicious, simple meals.

Maybe her favourite roast lamb with veggies and gravy? A dessert of apple crumble with custard?

Nan would certainly appreciate not having to cook for herself.

‘I don’t suppose Nan will be able to stay in hospital till she’s fully recovered, though, will she?’ Bea asked next. ‘And at her age, her recovery is bound to be slow. What’s going to happen after she’s discharged? Who’s going to look after her?’

‘Don’t worry, Bea, your father’s got that in hand, too. There’s a new aged-care facility in Wirralong and Lucy will be moving in there. It’s called Riverbend House and is a quite wonderful facility, by all reports. Lucy can stay there till she makes a total recovery and is fully mobile again.’

‘I see. That’s good, I guess. But those places are expensive, aren’t they?’ Bea knew Nan lived quite modestly on her pension.

‘Your father’s covering any costs not covered by her health fund.’

‘Oh, that’s good of Dad.’ Bea supposed she should stop being so judgemental. ‘But will Nan have to stay in there over Christmas?’

‘Well, yes. I think they estimate at least four to six weeks for her recovery.’

‘Ouch.’ Bea couldn’t hold back her sympathetic response. ‘You know how Nan loves Christmas, Mum. I can’t imagine she’ll like spending it in a place like that.’

This was met by a small sigh and then a long stretch of silence—a silence filled for Bea by the unasked questions echoing in her head.

So, are you and Dad planning to visit Nan?

Will you also check that her house is okay?

With this thought, Bea was instantly picturing her grandmother’s neat little weatherboard cottage in Wirralong—painted pale pink and shaded by a tall, lemon-scented gum tree and surrounded by her beloved garden, her pride and joy.

What state would the garden be in, if it was left neglected over a long, hot summer? Would the man who came in to mow the lawn also water the plants?

‘I wonder who’s minding Leonardo,’ she said.

‘Leonardo?’ asked her mum. ‘Who’s he?’

This time Bea couldn’t hold back a heavy sigh. ‘Nan’s cat, Mum.’ How could her mother have forgotten Nan’s rescue kitten, now a big, fluffy, jet black, beautiful boy?

‘Oh, yes, of course. Um … well … I’m not sure. Perhaps a neighbour?’

‘Mmm. Melanie next door would be the best bet, I guess. I’ll give her a call and see if she has access to the house as well. She might be able to take Nan’s phone to the hospital.’

‘Oh, yes, that would be helpful.’

An hour later, however, Bea was not very reassured. The news from Melanie, the neighbour, had not been good. She had no idea where Leonardo was and had to confess that she hadn’t seen him lately.

She did have a key to Lucy’s front door for emergencies, though, and she’d searched the house and yard, but there’d been no sign of the cat. And although Melanie had found Nan’s phone, the battery was flat and she hadn’t been able to find the charger.

‘I have a new iPhone, I’m afraid, so my charger’s no use,’ Melanie reported back. ‘But I work downtown, so I’ll duck out in my lunch break tomorrow and I’m sure I’ll be able to get one to fit Lucy’s phone. And I’ll try to check with other folk in our street, as well, to see if anyone’s seen her cat. I’m so sorry, Bea, I never thought to look out for him. Pre-Christmas is always so busy at work and I’ve been pretty distracted.’

Bea had assured Melanie that she understood and that she was very grateful for the promised help. Nevertheless, she was feeling troubled. And guilty.

Then, along with these emotions, came the realisation that her plan to jet off to spend Christmas in Bali with two of her girlfriends was rapidly losing its appeal. Only a few hours earlier, she’d been looking forward to escaping to Bali’s famously fab parties, the gorgeous tropical beaches and mountains, the beautiful temples and music and dance concerts.

But even though Bea had leapt at the chance to join Sophie and Kate on this fun trip, her friends were well aware that she’d mainly been trying to distract herself after the ordeal of cancelling her wedding plans.

And now her head was spinning as she tried to juggle the options of continuing with the Bali trip or heading back to Wirralong, the town she still thought of as home.

The fact that Christmas was approaching only compounded the problem. All of Bea’s happiest Christmas memories involved her grandmother. Nan had always loved the festive season, especially all the planning and preparations.

She liked to make her Christmas fruitcake early, even as early as October some years and, in the weeks that followed, she would regularly spoon brandy over it.

‘To build the flavour and keep it moist,’ she would tell Bea with a cheeky wink.

Nan’s Christmas tree was always set up on the first day of December, decorated with twinkling lights and the ornaments that she and Bea had made together over the years, and it would be positioned in her front window where it looked pretty from the street. Nan had also liked to pick ripe strawberries and figs from her garden and make jars of jam for Bea to give to her teachers.

Another happy memory was of Nan making gingerbread men for Bea and her friends. Even now Bea couldn’t help smiling as she recalled her friends gathered around the kitchen table in Azalea Street, giggling happily as they squeezed bags of icing to decorate the gingerbread men, adding silver candy balls for buttons down their fronts.

One year Nan had even made an entire gingerbread house, which Bea had taken to school to share with her classmates on breaking-up day. But now …

Now Bea couldn’t stop worrying about her grandmother. Poor darling, stuck in a nursing home over the festive season. With any luck, there might be a Christmas tree somewhere in Riverbend House and perhaps a well-meaning community choir might come in to sing carols. But no family, no friends, no Leonardo.

Copyright Barbara Hannay 2025