To us children, Christmas seemed to be taking forever. But the magical night eventually arrived. At the Roseiral, Christmas was a ritual that didn’t differ much from one year to the next. However, it always brought some joy that gave life to that house, which was grim the rest of the year.
The manor was enormous. It was the type of dwelling that only intense human warmth could make less empty. Maybe things had been different if my Mother was alive, but my Father was a bitter man who became even bitterer as time went on and the liberals were approaching power. And besides him, only Cecília and the other servants, whom we seldom saw, and us children who spent most of the time outside, lived in the manor. The bedrooms and the great halls conveyed and uncomfortable feeling of void and although I was still too young to sense that, later on, when I was approaching my teenage years and our conflicts began, that heavy silence felt unbearable to me and hurt my ears worse than any kind of intense and persistent noise.
However, when December the 24th arrived, it was as if someone opened a window in an old abandoned castle and the sun crept in, timidly at first, and then spread to the entire house.
Besides his children and some very distant relatives who lived far from there, my Father had no living relatives. It wasn’t, therefore, a greater amount of people that transformed the atmosphere of the manor, despite the contribution that was the presence of Father Ricardo at supper. It was the Christmas season itself that seemed to have that benevolent effect not only on the manor but on all of its dwellers, including the usually sullen D. José Ávila.
When Father Ricardo arrived, invariably around half past five in the afternoon, my Father would lead him to the living room, where they would spend some time engaged in conversation. My Father would then light the fireplace, not so much because of the cold but because it made our home more cosy and filled it with the Christmas spirit. Lighting the fire was the responsibility of the servants on every other days of the year. But on Christmas Eve, my Father insisted on attending to that and other small tasks personally.
The themes that the two adults talked about were constantly religion, always started by the priest, and politics, the favourite subject of D. José Ávila.
Although later my life became almost entirely governed by the cause that I embraced, at that time, I was not old enough to be seriously interested in any of those topics.
Thus, while supper was not ready, Diogo, Luz and I went to play in the kitchen, because Cecília had not allowed us to go outside in that cold and our running-around was not appropriate for the room where my Father entertained the priest.
Our games were multiple, but usually, tired of all the running, we would gather around Cecília, watching her as she cooked; especially if she was preparing the traditional season’s desserts. «You felt the smell already, didn’t you, you little sugar fiends?», she’d say, unable to disguise a secret satisfaction for the interest that her cooking abilities aroused in us. And if everything was going well with the recipe, she would end up by handing us a small plate with some jam or any other delicacies.
To me – and also to Luz and Diogo – the sadder part of Christmas would come around half past seven. Cecília would tell us to get dressed to eat and we knew that we would only see Diogo again after supper. It was no different from any other day. Diogo always ate before we did, so that Cecília would be free to serve us dinner. But that habit, which did not really bother us throughout the year, distressed us on Christmas Eve. Those evenings, more than ever, we wanted to have our friend with us, sitting at our table, sharing our meal. I lost count of the times Luz and I pestered Cecília, asking for her to let Diogo eat dinner with us. «It cannot be», she would say, as patiently as a saint. «Do you want to see D. José get mad?» That admonition was enough for us to stop pushing. Anyway, Cecília would have to eat before us, so that she could serve us, and Diogo would not have wanted to let his Mother eat alone on Christmas Eve, so he wouldn’t have accepted our invitation to have dinner with us.
While Luz and I were getting dressed, Cecília would spread the linen cloth from my Mother’s trousseau on the table and set it with our best dinnerware, the silver cutlery and the crystal glasses. Shortly afterwards Cecília had informed my Father that dinner was ready, we would hear his voice telling her to fetch the children and then serve dinner. Luz and I would then come out of our rooms to the hall, where Cecília would make us stop to straighten my collar, arrange the pleats on Luz’s dress and adjust our hairs one last time. Next, she would lead us to the dinning room and helped us to our seats. My Father and Father Ricardo would have already taken their places. Finally, dinner was served. My sister and I turned up our noses to the boiled codfish. We were still too young to appreciate the delicacy. But we could never avoid trying at least a little bit. However, our sacrifice was generously rewarded by the delicious desserts.
After supper, my Father and Father Ricardo returned to the living room, where Luz and I were forced to stay too, in order not to stain or rumple our clothes. When the clock stroked half past ten, my Father, Father Ricardo, Cecília and the other servants went to church, where the priest would celebrate Christmas Midnight Mass. My Father and the priest lead the way in one of the carriages, followed by two or three more for the servants. But before they left, Cecília would prepare us for bed.
The grown-ups wouldn’t be back before one in the morning, so, as soon as they were all out, Diogo and I jumped off our beds, knocked on the door to Cecília’s bedroom, where Luz slept, and the three of us went to the chimney, hoping to see Santa Claus. We had not lit a candle but there was a full moon and the bluish light that passed through the curtains gave the kitchen a mystical quality. We looked at each other’s faces with curiosity, as if watching ghosts. We were enveloped in a strange feeling which was partly fear but at the same time, felt good. And as if we didn’t want to break the spell, we kept our voices low. «At what time does he arrive?», my sister asked. «I don’t know, but only after midnight», answered Diogo.
For about half an hour, excited at the prospect of seeing Santa – and also because we were sort of “clandestinely” at that place at that time of night – we awaited eagerly. But then, when Santa didn’t come, our eyelids started feeling heavy. Luz was the first to fall asleep and shortly afterwards, Diogo was also sleeping. I looked at them and I started feeling desolate. Could it be that Santa had decided not to come? Had we been so naughty that year that we were not getting presents? Pondering all this, I fell asleep myself, right where I was. I woke up startled by a noise which I immediately recognized as steps. Sleepy as I was, it took me a few seconds to realise where I was and what I was doing there, but as soon as I recalled our plan to see Santa, I got up to my feet and listened intently. The steps were quickly getting closer. Could it be him? Should I wake my friends? But suddenly, I remembered Santa entered houses through the chimney. It didn’t make since that the steps I was hearing were coming from any other part of the house. Who could it be? The mystery wouldn’t go unexplained for much longer, for Cecília appeared and looked at us, half surprised and half angry. «Children, what are you doing here?» Although she had not raised her tone, her voice was so energetic that both my friends awoke. «Diogo», she said. «What are you doing up?» «And the two of you too. I just arrived and I didn’t see Miss Maria da Luz in the bedroom. I’ve been looking all over for her. What if D. José finds out? You’re lucky he went straight to bed and didn’t notice a thing. Why did you come here?» «Cecília, we just wanted...», Luz started to explain. «Wanted what?» «We wanted to see Santa Claus», she embarrassedly admitted, with her eyes on the ground. Cecília couldn’t help but laugh. «So that’s what this is about! But you won’t see him». «Why not?» «Maybe you don’t know this, but Santa is very shy. He doesn’t like to be seen and he won’t come in until everyone is asleep». «Really?» «Really». The three of us looked at each other, somewhat disappointed. Then we’d never see Santa. «Go to bed», Cecília told us. «And hurry, if you want Santa to bring you anything. And sleep!» Yawning and rubbing our eyes, we obeyed and went to our rooms. I don’t know if Luz fell asleep immediately or if she had trouble getting her sleep back, but as for Diogo and me, as soon as our heads hit the pillows, we resumed our interrupted journey through the world of dreams. Next morning, even though we had stayed up so late, we rose quite early. «Good morning», Diogo said to me, as soon as I opened my eyes. «Morning», I replied, still nested under the warmth of the covers. «It’s really cold, today!» «Smells like Christmas!» Diogo laughed at my words but I think deep down he felt the same. «Let’s look at the chimney», I said. «Shouldn’t we wait for Miss Luz?» «She’s probably up already». «Then, let’s go!» We got dressed as quickly as possibly and ran to our presents. As I had guessed, Luz was already up and we found her next to the chimney, gazing in wonder at the packages and fighting the temptation of opening them before we arrived. «Finally, you lazy heads! Come on, let’s see what Santa brought us!» She didn’t need to say it twice. Diogo, Luz and I attacked the packages with our names on them and were happy to see that all our requests had been met.
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