The mouth of the cave was concealed until he was almost upon it, but when Joe finally scrambled his way to the entrance, it welcomed him back into its cool darkness as if he’d never been away.  He stepped inside, the glare of the sun snapping off instantly, the faint background hum of insects and birds fading to silence.  He let his gaze wander over the timeless familiarity of the interior, his eyes accustoming to the dim light, the sweat on his skin cooling rapidly in the dampness, then he turned to sit by the entrance.  It had been a steep climb down, but he had quickly discovered that every bend, every rock, lived in the landscape of his memory and he had picked his way unhesitatingly.  Now, he tugged irritably at his sticky shirt and screwed up his eyes against the bright light outside.  From this vantage point he could see right down the remainder of the stony gully to the valley below and then far beyond, the billowing shape of the ranges against the horizon.  It was late afternoon and the ferocity of the noon heat had faded but the sky was as intensely blue as it had been all day.  It was Christmas Eve.

It was no coincidence that Joe had chosen the cave of all places to break his descent. Not only did he know it would provide useful cover from the sun and from any prying eyes, but a few yards further on, he would be able to see clear down to his mother’s house and he wasn’t sure he was ready to go there yet.  He didn’t like to investigate too far into what had driven him to visit today of all days.  Perhaps it was the way that Ned and Dan – Dan especially – always talked with such enthusiasm and affection about their family Christmases when everyone, cousins, aunts and uncles, friends, would gather together.  Perhaps listening to them made him realise how much he missed his own brothers and sisters.  Still, he’d just sit here for a while and enjoy the peace and solitude and then later, if he still wanted to, he’d wander down and say hello.

His ma would spend most of the day cleaning the already spotless house in honour of the occasion.  Joe thought wryly of the mounting excitement he had always felt as a child as he’d run errands and whitewashed walls in anticipation of the festivities to come.  The more excited he’d felt, the more frantically he’d worked – a cause and effect which his parents had been only too happy to encourage.  Later, after supper, the children led by Joe would lay the table again with the traditional repast of bread and butter and then light a candle in the window before retiring to bed leaving the door unlocked.  Even as a child he’d felt it spectacularly unlikely that the Holy Family would pass through the Woolshed on their way to Bethlehem let alone stop off at the Byrne’s for a late snack, but it was what everyone he knew did, and he enjoyed the ritual and the keen expectations of the little ones, so he kept this thought to himself. 

Eventually, Joe noticed that the light was starting to fade fast now and realised that he must have been daydreaming for some hours at the mouth of the cave.  Although it was not yet truly dark, he did not relish the prospect of climbing down the gully on foot without being able to see where he was going. He would have been perfectly happy to ride down on a horse, even in the dead of night, but this was not an option available to him right now, so he scrambled to his feet and began to follow the trail down.  For a few moments he concentrated on trying to remember the best way and kept his eyes on the ground, so when he did look up he was surprised to see that his old home was in easy view.  He was even more surprised to see that there was already a lit candle in the window.  The scene lived so clearly as a memory that it was somehow unexpected that it should actually exist before his eyes.

As he neared the homestead, there began a cacophony of honking as his approach was heralded by the flock of geese in the yard – a flock, Joe thought with amusement, that had undoubtedly lost a member that morning in preparation for tomorrow’s dinner.  The noise brought his mother to the door before he could reach it himself.  There she stood, framed in the candlelight behind him, a look of shock on her face.

“Joseph!  What are you doing here?” she asked, looking anxiously over his shoulder and peering round in the twilight.  “Will you look at the state of ye?”

“Happy Christmas to you too Ma,” grinned Joe, grasping her arm and kissing her cheek.  “It’s been a while.”

“It has that.  Will you come in now?” She drew him to the doorway, still casting a suspicious eye around the yard and the hills beyond.  “I thought we agreed ye’d send word before visiting again.  Is it safe?”

“Ma, will ye stop fussin’?  It’s fine.”  He crossed to the stove and held his palms over the heat.  “Where’s the kiddies?”

“In bed o’course."
 
Joe smiled to himself.  Some children found it impossible to sleep on Christmas Eve, but around the Irish community where he had grown up, everyone always fell into bed exhausted after the day’s laborious preparations.  Still, he felt a pang of disappointment, the visit spoiled for him now.  He wished he’d come earlier instead of loitering around trying to make his mind up whether to turn up at all.

“They’ll be sorry they missed you,” said his mother tartly, making a show of carefully folding a pile of laundry in the corner.

“Aye, I’m sorry to have missed them too,” said Joe.  “Maybe I’ll catch them in the morning?”

“Oh, so you’re thinking of staying the night then?” 

It was not the most enthusiastic invitation he’d ever received. 

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”  He moved the heavy kettle onto the hot plate and took the pile of clothes from his mother arms.  She relinquished the burden with a sigh. 

“You know you’re always welcome Joseph,” she said, her smile not quite hiding the stiffness in her tone. 

“It’s just that I’ve brought enough troubles to you already,” he supplied, qualifying the welcome before she could. 

“Well, aye, it’s not to be helped.”  She sat down heavily.  “There’s many respectable folk around here think it’s not right what’s happened to you and Ned and the rest.  I can’t say it’s easy though when those coppers are around all the time.” 

“It’s alright Ma.  I’ve not come to argue with ye.  It’s Christmas. I think we both know this wasn’t the first trouble I’ve brought to the door, even if it’s….” he trailed off, unsure of finding the words to describe what had happened to him. 

She smiled more naturally at him now and gestured to him to make tea.  “There’s the truth in that alright,” she said lightly.  “A merry dance you’ve led me over the years.  I just thank the Lord the rest of ye are angels in comparison.  Still, if you’re happy to sleep in the haystack out back, I’ll be glad of your company.” 

Joe fumbled with the unfamiliar teapot, searching for cups and concentrating on remembering where the milk was kept.  He was conscious of his mother’s eyes following him. 

“It’s been a while Joseph, and I have to say, I can’t believe the state of ye.  Always such a smart boy you were, now look at ye.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Joe, not sure what he was apologising for but anxious to placate his mother.  

“Ah well, you’ve not had it easy either, I know that.  I just wish you’d been around a bit more to help out here after your father died.  Settled to something, then maybe…” 

The visit was panning out exactly as Joe had expected, although as he’d sat up the gully earlier he’d entertained a brief fantasy of being welcomed with open arms into the bosom of his family, the smallest members sitting on his knee, the ones closer in age perhaps clapping him on the back admiringly.  Eejit that he was. 

“You’re alright for money though?” he asked.  It sounded a polite enquiry any concerned son might make to his widowed mother, but he was actually making a pointed reminder to her that his outlawry had enabled him to settle all her debts. 

“Yes. Well….” Mrs Byrne tailed off again.  Joe watched the struggle on her face.  He understood this precisely.  Fair enough, she disapproved of, well, just about everything he’d ever done save coming first in class at school now and again and making it to mass once in a while.  Yet many people in the community to whom she looked up told her that what he and Ned and the others were doing was a fine thing.  And it was certainly true that she could hold her head up in town these days after years of struggling to keep the dairy running and look after her family single-handed. 

“Are you courtin’?” she asked suddenly by way of changing the subject. 

Joe laughed and sipped his tea to play for time.  His mother knew that he had always had plenty of time for girls, but for her, courting had only one meaning – marriage on the cards.  Well, he was going to disappoint her again, wasn’t he?  There was nobody he was about to bring home and introduce to her as his intended. 

“Ma, you know, it’s not easy, the way I’m fixed,” he said eventually.  “There’s not many girls…at least, come on, maybe I’ve not a lot in the way of a future to offer anyone right now.” 

Mrs Byrne drew herself up at the table.  Joe had an uncomfortable feeling that she understood more about his love life than either of them might care to discuss.  Women she would prefer not to meet socially – barmaids for instance – girls who loved him and let him love them when he could.  The honest truth was possibly more palatable to her, but how could he ever explain that? 

He laid down his empty cup on the table and looked at the loaf of bread there.  It sat, large and solid and inviting, a dish of rich yellow butter next to it, plates and knives to one side.  He was reminded of how long it was since he’d eaten, and yet his mother made no move to ask him to help himself.  In her eyes, it seemed, the loaf was destined for higher things.  

“I see you’re all ready for Christmas now,” he said, hunger and disappointment making sarcasm hard to resist.  He nodded at the food.  “Still expecting the Holy Family to call by then?” 

Mrs Byrne stood up.  Joe waited for the sharp edge of her tongue, but it didn’t come.  

“No,” she said sadly, a trace of resigned bitterness in her voice.  “I don’t reckon they’ll call here of all places, do you?”

* * *

It was warm and comfortable enough in the haystack, but Joe lay awake for a long while before sleep claimed him.  The midsummer sun rose early though and woke him again before he was ready to face the day.  Wearily he climbed to his feet and stood picking hay out of his hair and clothes and looking out across the distant purple hills.  Presently he’d go back in the house, have a wash, see the rest of the family and then make his excuses to go.  He wondered if they’d offer him breakfast, and when he’d have the chance to visit again.    He stretched in the morning air and sighed.  Suddenly, his attention was distracted by a small familiar figure striding up the tinder path towards him.  A slow smile of relief spread across his face and he raised a hand in greeting.  

“Oh Joe,” panted Claire when she finally stood before him.  “Thought I’d find you here.  You’ve been gone hours.  Did you realise?”

Joe reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping one arm around her waist. 

“Hey beautiful,” he smiled into her eyes.  “I’ve missed you too.  Happy Christmas.” 

Claire pulled back and looked at him curiously.  She removed another piece of hay that had become tangled in one of his curls and straightened his shirt for him.  He smelled deliciously of dried grass and sunshine and of the way he always did when he had been sleeping. 

“Well, merry Christmas to you too,” she said affectionately.  “You’re a bit early though.  Are you alright? I was worried about you.” 

“I'm fine – now,” said Joe truthfully enough, drinking in the concern in her expression. “You don’t want to go worrying yerself about me.  How did you find me here?” 

“It wasn't difficult,” said Claire reaching up to kiss him.  “After all, I've found you against far worse odds before haven't I?” 

“Aye, that's true enough.  And thank Christ for that, eh?”  He pulled her close again, feeling her body mould into his, the curve of her waist against his hip, the familiar tickle of her hair on his face.  He felt her fingers slide into his and squeeze them and he closed his eyes.  

“Tell me about it later eh?” he heard her murmur into his shoulder. 

Brusquely he stepped away and looked her up and down.  “Sure you've not walked all the way out here in them shoes?" he teased, gesturing at her high heels and hearing that his voice still sounded a little thick. 

Claire laughed  "Of course I haven't silly.  The car's just down here.  Come on.  Let's go home.  It’s Christmas Eve, remember?  Half my family are turning up later and I need you to help me.”  She tugged at his hand. 

Joe turned and looked behind him at the bare, scrubby ground stretching away to the gully beyond.  If there’d ever been buildings or fences there, they’d long gone, claimed once again by the earth from which they’d once been hewn with such toil.  For a moment he thought he heard the sound of children’s laughter, but it was gone again so quickly it might only have been a passing breeze.