Christmas at The Arch

It’s hard to be alone at anytime of the year but it’s especially so at Christmas. My favourite coffee shop in Cobh, The Arch, is always a place where you’ll find a warm welcome and a gorgeous coffee. I love the atmosphere and paired with my love of the library on its door step I gave it the Christmas short story makeover. I hope they and you like it. Make your self a coffee (or even better order one in The Arch) and enjoy ten minutes of escape into Marie’s world.

Enjoy T x

Christmas at The Arch

It’s damp and humid, far too warm for the time of year, but people continue to be wrapped up tight against a non-existent cold, and a rain storm that passed hours ago.  Christmas hats and scarves are swung loosely onto heads and necks, flushed from heat and not from the cold.  Too many layers, too many faces, too many bags.  Marie can’t cope with this weather, it’s too unpredictable, too changeable, dressing for it is impossible, no matter how much she plans ahead.  It’s frustrating and ruining her well laid plans.  She hates to be uncomfortable, and getting the right outfit that will keep her body temperature at an optimum level is so important.  She loves the cold, crisp winter mornings, that fog up her glasses and fill her lungs with fresh, clean air.  Those mornings are easy to dress for; layers, she can peel them off as the day heats up.  But today was different, muggy, windy and showers of very heavy rain. It’s cleared now, thank god, and a watery pale sun is setting over the town unconvincingly, she’s not even sure it rose at all today, but the last of the rain has cleared and the clouds have begun to thin out and there is the slightest suggestion that there was a sun and it is now ducking off quietly.  The town is busy as dusk settles, she smiles at a mother as she tugs a red, velvet santa hat aggressively onto her toddler’s round, fat head and pulls his jacket closed.  It seems she is not the only one struggling with her wardrobe today.  

It hadn’t been her plan to venture out this late this evening.  It’s not her routine.  The two squares that stand side by side in town are lit beautifully for the season.  People are bustling, cars pulling in and out of cramped spaces, people calling across to friends and neighbours, seasonal greetings, shopping bags full to the brim, the fish stall has a queue!  She makes her way through the hustle and bustle avoiding a large muddy puddle and narrowly missing a car door flung open by a very moody teenager, phone in hand, earphones in, grunting at the driver.  She crosses the second square to her refuge; her favourite coffee shop.

Change has always been difficult for Marie, she likes routine, her tried and tested paths through day to day life, predictability is her best friend.  It keeps her calm and grounded.  She is not a follower of fashion or a slave to a trend.  She likes old, samesy, predictable.  The old cobblers in the square had been one of those solid, predictable things, it had been a stalwart in her life, the cobbler mending her Chelsea boots each summer in preparation for another winter.  When he had closed she had been distraught, there wasn’t another cobbler in town, she had loved his work and enjoyed their easy conversations.  She missed him as much as she missed his shoe repairing skills.  

Late last August when the hoarding went up her heart sank a little, what monstrosity was going to take the place of the beautiful Cobbler’s shop with its ancient workbench and haberdashery of treasures behind the counter? What character would or could replace his warm gentle welcome?  The town had lost so much of its character already to fast food chains and developments.  It was beginning to lose its charm.

She had been relieved when a young couple from town had begun an instagram page documenting the renovation of the building and the development of a coffee shop.  She had been drawn in by their sensitivity to the building, their style and ultimately curiosity got the better of her and she had found the courage to venture out for a coffee in the days after they had opened.  It hadn’t been an easy task.  It broke with routine and it was new, she didn’t know what to expect and that made her extremely uncomfortable.  She had stood at the front door for twenty minutes willing herself to take the handle and open the door. She knew once she stepped outside, over the threshold, she would keep going, but stepping over the threshold was the problem.  She had taken a deep breath and urged on by the memory of the pleasant, easy conversations she had had with the kind and patient cobbler, she had stepped out into the street.  Maybe the people in The Arch would be as warm and welcoming too.

She relaxed when she had finally braved the large wooden door and had been welcomed warmly and sincerely by the very young owner, who chatted effortlessly and recommended a glorious almond croissant and flat white.  Marie had been flustered and flabbergasted by the choice and had been only too delighted to accept the recommendations.  The space was small but the high old celingings gave it a grand Victorian feeling.  Exposed stone walls, original floor tiles and a large front window that looked out onto the square, the Lusitania monument and the library perfectly framed beyond, had stolen her heart. She loved the space and felt safe already.  She was guided to a spot at a bench at the window and just like that a new routine was formed.

Marie liked the feeling of being a regular and what it meant, her spot at the window reserved, croissants hidden under the counter, a text on days they were closed as a heads up, but most of all it was the sense of belonging, being known by name, the smiles from the baristas as you pushed the door open, the calls of ‘Your usual Marie?’  These people knew her more than anyone, they were almost like family, it would be them that would notice she was missing if a murderer finally broke into her apartment, they would identify the body and that was a comfort.

What better place to be then in the lead up to Christmas?  Surrounded by warm, great coffee, an atmosphere that was hallmark stamped.  She knew she was late this evening, the croissants would be long gone, but that was the point of today’s excursion.  It was deliberately something different, something new, but yet familiar.  She was working on herself and this was the next step.  She paused briefly at the door, the window twinkling with fairy lights, and catching her reflection in the glass, she smiled.  She pulled her unneeded woollen hat from her head and smoothed down her hair, stuffing the hat in her pocket.  Lipstick had been applied in a gorgeous matt red, she felt buoyed by the knowledge she looked different, better she hoped but different at the very least.  She felt different, taller, more put together, more in control than she had in a very long time.  There was a faint but constant happiness or maybe it was a contentedness that was settling into her everyday, making her feel more confident and therefore braver.

She pushes the heavy turquoise door and the heat and noise greets her in a wave.  It’s busy, but not packed, larger groups occupy the communal tables towards the front and the small tables to the back are filled with couples.  There’s a hum of happiness that makes her smile, everyone is animated and eyes sparkling, voices are raised, arms fly in all directions, as Christmas Carols and cinnamon fill the air.  Best of all, her spot at the window is free.  A couple are finishing coffee at the other places at the window further up the bench, but her spot is miraculously free.  It is all going to plan.

‘The usual Marie?’  Louie’s thick french accent cuts through the noise as he greets her with a smile.  Her nerves waiver, she nearly nods in agreement but no, today is going to be different, she’s going to order something new.  She shakes her head and moves through the crowd towards him.  Louie’s face says it all as she approaches the counter, polite surprise that melts into mischief.

‘Ah so what will it be?’

‘I’d like a glass of your best red, I’ll trust your choice and one of the cheese boards please’  The words trip out of her, a little clumsily and foreign but she has said them.  The week of practice in front of the tiny bathroom mirror has paid off.  She did it.  She’s broken routine and braved something new!

Louis smiles and winks cheekily, ‘You’re expecting something French, no?  But I think I have just the Spanish Rioja for you.  It will sit well with today’s West Cork cheese board.  Are you meeting someone?’  His heavy dark eyebrow lifts inquisitively with a smile.  No one was joining her, there was no one to meet, but Marie was okay with that, she’d come to terms with it and was learning to live again. 

‘No, no one, just me this evening Louie, fancied something a little different and it is Christmas you know!’  

She surprises herself, how comfortable she is in the moment, how brave she is being.  It’s been over four years since she’s had a drink out.  Four years since she did new things, since she lived day to day without routine or a plan.  Four years of being afraid and worried to step outside and she finally is feeling like she is leaving that all behind.  He had taken enough of her that night, he had left in a blaze of violence, blood and tears, he had taken enough and now she was ready to start living again.

She pulls herself out of her too heavy winter coat and hangs it on the coat hook inside the door, she unwraps her scarf and straightens her red wool dress.  Louie’s whistles playfully and looks her up and down.  Marie delights in the attention, and an uncontrollable smile spreads across her face.

‘If I didn’t like men… you know!’  

The eye brow again and Marie giggles helplessly. She settles herself at the bench at the window, her mood soaring, her hard work paying off, this hasn’t been easy, but so far it’s been worth it.  Her life for so long has been lived within the safety of her little two up to down, but finally she can see some light, she is moving out of her comfort zone, pushing back against the fear and the anxiety.  She has found a new safe space, a place where she is happy and content and the view is way better than from home.  She loves this window and how it gives her such an insight into the town she lives in.  Marie has found she loves to people watch, and her favourite spot here in The Arch is the perfect spot to practice her newest hobby.

The light was fading fast, creating a fairy tale postcard outside the window.  The warm whites twinkle softly amid the red glow of woven hearts nestled in the trees in the square.  A tall tree of lights stands in the centre and Marie holds the image in her mind. How lucky is she to live in this town so full of community cheer.  She watches as two little girls in matching red coats dance in circles under the lights of the tree, their mother bent to her knee, phone in hand capturing it all.  The joy and innocence is contagious, life is always best at its simplest, she thinks.

The couple next to her finish their coffees and begin to stack their cups and plates, the man lifts his jackets from the stool and Marie spots two small, beady, brown eyes gazing up at her from under the bench.  The girl scoops the gorgeous eyes up into her arms and plants a kiss on the head of the most gorgeous Yorkshire Terrier.  Marie knows it’s a Yorkie as her grandmother had one when she was little.  She remembers the little dog with the big personality, the love and the cuddles.  The dog’s tail wags uncontrollably and it riggles excitedly in the girl’s arms.

‘What’s its name?’  The words are out of her mouth before she can even think about them and the girl smiles warmly in response and steps a little closer.  She offers the dog’s head to Marie, which she duly rubs and the dog turns and licks her hand, continuing to wag its tail and struggling towards her.

‘She likes you and Pip is a very good judge of character.  It’s a Yorkie’s superpower, you know!  Do you mind holding her while I put on my coat?’

It was a statement rather than a question, because as she asks the question she thrusts the dog into Marie’s hands.  It’s an odd, but familiar sensation, one she hasn’t experienced in years but one she remembers.  She has never held a baby, never had a sibling, never had her own dog, but Nanny Murphy’s little terrier Scamp was the closest to any of that she had ever had and she remembers fondly that soft wriggling, the warmth and the light weight of responsibility she had felt when left in charge of Scamp. She liked that feeling and as she looks down into Pip’s eyes, she sees what she saw all those years ago; no judgement, just the expectation and Marie knows automatically what to do.  She scratches the top of the little dog’s head gently and feels her nestle closer to her and settles in.

‘See I told you she likes you!  Hugh look, Pip’s made a new friend.’ He turns and looks at the dog and scuffs.  Marie feels Pip may make friends with everyone she meets from Hugh’s reaction, but she’ll take this moment, thank you.  With that Hugh and the girl ready themselves to leave and she scoops Pip into her arms and is gone out the door.  Marie watches them, hand in hand stroll across the square, Pip securely tucked under Hugh’s stronger arm, they walk past the tree, stopping briefly to take a photo with the dog in front of it and then disappear around the corner and are gone.  

‘Pip is a very cute name for such a gorgeous dog.  Maybe I’ll get myself a Pip in the new year.’  She smiles to herself contentedly.

The lights in the library are going out one by one, she can trace the movement of Julie, the librarian, through the old building.  It’s a game she plays from time to time at lunchtime in the winter when Julie takes her lunch break in The Arch on a Wednesday.  If she gets the timing right she can pinpoint exactly Julie’s movement through the building, room by room.  But tonight she is off on every one, Julie is in a hurry obviously tonight, moving faster through the building than normal.  As the final light goes out Louie appears next to her with a large glass of red and a cheese board for one.  

‘For Madame’  he sweeps the cheese board dramatically under her nose and places it in front of her.  The wine glass is different however, no sweeping or dramatics, he holds it under her nose and says, ‘Breathe, breathe it in and smell that gorgeous, rich rioja magic.’

Marie inhales deeply and holds her breath. It’s true, it’s magic, rich aromas of dark berries, subtle hints of exotics spices and then the earthy tones of wood.  It is glorious.

‘Good, no?’  She nods in agreement. ‘Bon appetit!’

He squeezes her shoulder lightly and twirls around and is gone.  She looks at the miniature feast in front of her, prosciutto ham, sliced paper thin, rich spicy chorizo, a blue veined cheese, a dark cheddar, a light goat’s cheese and breads, oh the breads.  Marie’s mouth waters.  This is a far cry from her usual and she savours the moment and its appearance.  Progress is wonderfully delicious.  

She lifts the glass to her mouth and as she does Julie launches in the door, bag, coat and scarf all hung over her arm, flustered and fussing.  She lands everything on the stool next to Marie and turns to the counter, shouting above the hum, ‘I’ll have what Marie has and bring the bottle, not just a glass.’  She turns and winks, Marie a little taken aback, smiles back.  Julie settles her things under the bench, brushes herself down, takes out her phone, taps frantically and then drops it dramatically into her handbag. 

‘Now.’

She sits patiently looking at Marie, and Marie questions whether she’s missed something or a question.  Is she supposed to say something?  Is she supposed to do something?’

‘Sorry’, Julie laughs, ‘I had this all worked out in my head you know and realised I had forgotten to tell you!  I saw you cross the square and come in earlier and I rushed the shut up to catch you.  I’ve been meaning to ask you to come out for a Christmas drink for weeks now and you were in on Wednesday returning books and I missed ya. So here we are! Christmas drinks!’

Marie’s heart melts, and a smile spreads widely across her narrow face.  Someone had wanted to have drinks with her, to organise Christmas drinks with her.  Someone had rushed a close up to make sure they had Christmas drinks with her.  She is having Christmas drinks!

‘You’ve been such an enormous help this year reviewing books and creating recommendations, it’s made my life so much easier and I love our book chats.  I’ve you on my resolution list already – my new coffee buddy, that’s if you’re interested?  It’s just so hard to make friends as an adult, I always feel like it’s an uphill battle, so many married people who have no time and so, so many weirdos.’

Louie arrives with Julie’s glass, the bottle and another glass.  He pours her wine and a small one for himself.  

‘Merry Christmas Ladies’ 

It sounds so wonderful in he’s heavy accent and Marie feels like she’s in a movie, the stone walls, the Christmas carols, twinkling lights, happy banter,  friends toasting.  She raises her glass and clinks it with the strangers in front of her, she’s never been okay with change, but she is slowly realising that it can be such a good thing.  She beams from within.  Christmas Parties might be her new favourite hobby.

If you have read this in The Arch take a photo or drop me a line I’d love to know!