Page 34 of Christmas at the Movies

James envied his father’s faith. Intellectually, he knew there was no scientific proof for the existence of a higher power, or the afterlife.

Yet, he had to hope that his father’s spirit, and that of their unborn child, were with God.

Even if heaven did not exist as a place where angels strummed on harps, James believed that his father’s spirit was alive, somewhere in the cosmos.

Energy could not be created or destroyed, it just changed form.

‘Good luck,’ whispered Sarah, her eyes bright from tears, as James stood to give the eulogy. James had agonised over the speech, knowing it was impossible to put into words how much his dad had meant to him. How he would always strive to live up to the values his dad had instilled in him.

Here goes, thought James. He cleared his throat and began to speak, hoping he would do his father justice.

‘As most of you know, my dad worked for years at Pinewood Studios. I was named after James Bond, because Dad loved those films and was proud to have worked on them. I may have been named after a movie hero, but my dad was one of life’s true unsung heroes.

He was a kind and decent man – a loyal husband, a loving father, a hard-working colleague and a caring friend.

’ James’s voice cracked with emotion as he read the words he’d written.

‘He always went out of his way to help other people and never expected a thing in return.’

Pausing to compose himself, James looked up and saw many people in the congregation nodding in agreement. He went on to tell them how much his father had adored his mother. How he’d always encouraged James’s academic interests. The happy holidays they’d had visiting family in Ireland.

He concluded by saying, ‘Some of my happiest memories of Dad were watching films together, and, later, working side by side as we restored a cinema in the Cotswolds. He was an excellent craftsman, but an even better father and grandfather. Dad, the final credits have rolled, but you will never be forgotten.’

‘Well done,’ Sarah whispered, squeezing his hand when he sank back into his seat, weak with relief that he’d got through the eulogy without breaking down.

After the mass was over, Sean’s coffin began its final journey to the strains of ‘Ave Maria’.

In the churchyard, Sean was lowered into the ground.

His name had already been added to the cross marking his wife’s grave: Sean Nicolas O’Hara and Mary Eileen O’Hara.

It gave James some small comfort to know that his parents were reunited at last.

Sarah sobbed quietly as the priest said one last prayer. But James’s eyes remained as dry as the soil that would cover his father’s grave.

Afterwards, there was a wake in the church hall, with the sandwiches Sarah had made, and cakes provided by various neighbours and parishioners. Sean’s former colleagues laughed as they traded anecdotes over cups of tea.

‘Remember when Sean pretended to have sawn off his finger on the set of Interview with a Vampire,’ said one colleague, reminiscing.

‘Oh, yes,’ said another, chuckling. ‘There was fake blood spurting everywhere.’

A bald man in a smart suit and sunglasses approached James. ‘It was a lovely service. You did your father proud,’ he said in a thick Scottish accent.

‘Mr Connery,’ James stammered. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’ He’d met the famous actor once before as a boy. His dad had taken him to visit the set during the filming of Never Say Never Again, the actor’s last appearance as Bond.

‘Sean was a fine man,’ said the film star, shaking James’s hand. ‘Everyone always used to joke that he was the most important Sean at Pinewood.’

James laughed. His dad would have loved that.

‘He was very proud of you,’ added the star. He patted James on the shoulder, then his bodyguard escorted him out of the reception.

Sarah appeared at James’s side. ‘Was that …’

‘Yup,’ said James. ‘007 himself.’

His dad would have been delighted that Sean Connery attended his funeral, but no more so than any of the other people there – Mrs Gilligan, cousin Sinead and the chippies from Pinewood. Sean had treated everyone with equal respect and had encouraged his son to do the same.

When the crusts on the remaining sandwiches had begun to curl, and the tea urn had run dry, people started to say goodbye.

As lovely as it had been to hear their stories and receive their condolences, James couldn’t wait for the funeral to be over.

Once the final stragglers had left, James and Sarah returned to the flat, which reeked of lilies.

It was preferable to the smell of smoke, which was imbued in the walls and carpet.

In the living room, James stood in front of the cabinet that housed his dad’s most prized movie memorabilia.

There was a copy of every movie he’d worked on, and props from various film sets he’d built – a James Bond pen that was secretly a recording device, a light sabre, a mask from Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut.

‘What am I going to do with all his stuff?’ wondered James. ‘Maybe we can display some of it at the cinema.’

‘We don’t have to decide now,’ said Sarah soothingly. ‘Let’s just relax – it’s been a long day.’

‘I’m actually a bit hungry,’ admitted James. ‘I didn’t eat anything at the wake.’

Sarah microwaved two portions of Mrs Gilligan’s spicy tuna pasta bake and poured them each a glass of wine.

‘Interesting,’ he said, taking a bite. ‘I’ve never had tuna with jalapenos before.’

‘It’s … tangy,’ said Sarah.

‘Are you tired?’ asked James, as they washed up.

Sarah handed him a dish to dry. ‘Not really.’

‘Let’s watch a movie,’ said James. There could be no better way of honouring his dad. ‘Maybe a romcom, as it’s Valentine’s Day.’

Sarah browsed through Sean’s collection of films that he’d worked on at Pinewood. ‘Aha!’ she cried, pulling out a DVD of Love, Actually. ‘Perfect!’

They settled back down on the sofa with their wine to watch the Richard Curtis romcom, which wove together the stories of eight couples over Christmastime, at different points in their relationships – from first love through to marriage breakdown and … grief.

As James watched Liam Neeson give a moving speech at his wife’s funeral on screen, the dam inside him finally burst. James began to sob and sob.

‘Oh, God,’ Sarah said, lunging for the remote control to stop the movie. ‘I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about this scene.’ She held him tight, as tears poured out. ‘It’s OK,’ she murmured, stroking his back soothingly. ‘Let it all out.’

When he’d finished crying, James felt a million times lighter. The tears had been cathartic. He reached for the remote to turn the movie back on.

‘We can watch something else,’ said Sarah.

‘It’s OK,’ said James. ‘Let’s stick with this one.’

He lay down on the sofa, resting his head on Sarah’s lap.

As she gently stroked his hair, he let himself escape into the movie.

For 135 blissful minutes, he could forget about his own sadness.

It was how he and his dad had coped with his mother’s passing, using films to temporarily relieve the pain.

As the final credits rolled, James searched for his father’s name in tiny letters. ‘Christmas will be weird without him,’ he said, sitting up with a lump in his throat. His dad always spent Christmas with them.

‘Maybe we should go away this year,’ suggested Sarah. ‘We could visit Meg in Edinburgh, or my dad in Spain.’

As James pondered her proposal, Sarah suddenly clutched her stomach.

‘What’s wrong?’ James asked.

‘I don’t feel so good …’ Lurching up from the sofa, she ran to the bathroom. A moment later, James heard the sound of retching.

‘Oh, no,’ said James, when she emerged from the bathroom. ‘Mrs Gilligan’s spicy tuna bake was a mistake.’

‘I don’t think it’s that,’ she said.

‘Did the egg mayo sandwiches go bad?’ James hoped they hadn’t given Sir Sean Connery and all the other funeral guests food poisoning.

Sarah sat down next to him and smiled. ‘I think I’m pregnant, James.

I’ll have to take a test to be one hundred per cent sure, but I’m nearly a week late.

With everything that’s been going on, I didn’t even notice.

’ She pressed a hand to her chest and winced.

‘My boobs are sore, which is always one of the first signs.’

He stared at her in astonishment. ‘That’s incredible.’

‘It’s early days,’ Sarah said nervously. ‘Lots of things could still go wrong. I won’t be able to relax until we know everything’s OK.’

James knew that they would both worry constantly until they saw a heartbeat on an ultrasound. But his own heart was already racing with excitement and hope – something that he would never have thought possible on such a sad day.

Please, Dad, if you’re up there somewhere, can you keep an eye on this little one …

James could feel tears welling up inside him again – a poignant mixture of grief and joy. He’d thought there were none left, but he was wrong. ‘It makes me sad that Dad won’t get to meet the new baby. He would have been so happy for us.’

‘He’ll be with us in spirit,’ said Sarah. ‘And we’ll make sure to tell the baby all about him.’

James nodded, blinking back his tears.

‘If it’s a boy, we can call him after your dad,’ suggested Sarah. ‘Sean Nicolas.’

‘Or maybe Nicolas Sean,’ said James. The baby would be his own person and deserved his own name.

James put his hand on Sarah’s belly and gently caressed it.

There wasn’t a bump yet, but a baby was growing inside her.

Just as one life had ended, a new life was taking its place.

Perhaps it was just magical thinking, but James felt as if his dad was still looking out for him, letting him know that life would go on without him.

‘I can’t wait to meet you, little one,’ he whispered, his heart full of love.