Christmas Roses Page 4

  “That’s if we can find a big tree,” Joy replied. They’d been to three stalls already but the trees were quite small and expensive as well. “I think there’s only one more stall selling trees and, even if there is a big one, we won’t be able to buy it if it costs too much.” She hoped there was only one more stall; it was cold walking round the market even though it was bustling with folk doing last minute shopping. “It’s turned even colder since we left home,” she added, “so put your balaclava back on, there’s a good lad.”

  “I hope that’s because it’s getting ready to snow again,” Doris said. “Properly this time, not like last week when it snowed hard but then disappeared the next day.”

  “Not before we get home, Doris,” said her brother. “We’d need a sledge to put the tree on then, and this is my bogey. It’s got wheels not runners.”

  “I can see that, silly,” Doris said. “And it isn’t your bogey, it’s ours. Those wheels came off the pram I had when I was a baby.”

  “No argufying, you two,” Joy told them. “Else the bogey will be going home with nothing on.”

  “It’s because we’re excited,” Doris said. “I don’t know why but that does make us argue sometimes. Oh, I can’t believe by this time tomorrow our auntie we didn’t know we had will be here and so will Auntie Rosemary we’ve always known but isn’t a real auntie and we’ll all decorate the tree together. I’m glad we always wait ’til Christmas Eve to do it, then we know the very next morning is Christmas.”

  Joy laughed, thinking her daughter sounded a bit like the chirruping bird bubble pipes she’d bought to put in the stockings. It was Betty who’d spotted them when they’d gone shopping together a few days ago. And when they’d got home, she and Betty hadn’t been able to resist trying them out. She’d only just managed to dry them and hide them away when Doris and Donald arrived home from school. And how the days seemed to have flown since then.

  Truth be known, she was probably even more excited than the children about Belle coming tomorrow. She was so looking forward to introducing her sister and Rosemary. She felt sure they’d get on well together. And, like Doris, she hoped it would snow, but not until tomorrow evening.

  “Look, Mum, there is a big tree here,” said Donald, pointing.

  “It’s seven-and-six, Donald,” she said quietly. “I can’t afford that much.”

  She saw Donald’s face drop and heard Doris’s little sigh. Maybe she could barter a bit, get the price right down.

  “It’s got good roots so you could plant it out after Christmas,” said the stall-holder, coming out from behind his stall where his fruit and vegetables were laid out.

  “It’s rather straggly,” Joy said. “And some of the needles are already dropping off. And it’s not worth what you’re asking for it,” she added, pointing to the price label.

  “And Maisie Butterworth who’s got a stall over there is a good friend,” Doris said, smiling up at the man. “That means you should let us have this straggly tree cheap.”

  The man roared with laughter. “You’ve got this young lady well-trained, Missus,” he said to Joy. “Give me three-and-a-tanner and it’s yours.”

  “Mum,” squeaked Doris as the man helped Donald place the tree lengthways on the bogey and secure it with parcel string, “it’s starting to snow.”

  “Looks like it means it an’ all,” the stall-holder said. “Safe journey home.”

  *

  “I just hope the guard will let us put it in the guard’s van,” Joy said half-an-hour later, eyeing the laden bogey worriedly as they stood on the station platform waiting for the train.

  “Don’t worry, Mum. He will if my clever sister smiles at him,” Donald told her.

  The guard pretended to grumble a bit, but they all knew he was joking. It was only a short journey, they travelled in the van along with the guard and it wasn’t long before he lifted the bogey out and placed it carefully on the platform.

  They all thanked him and, after wishing him a Merry Christmas, made their way out of the station. “Now for the walk home,” Joy said. It was snowing hard by now, settling on the ground, too. Even when it wasn’t snowing, the walk home always seemed longer than the walk to the station.

  But they had so much fun on the way back – trying to pull the bogey in a straight line and stopping every now and then to re-balance the tree which kept rolling to one side – it didn’t seem long before they were turning onto Blakeley Road. And then they had to keep stopping whenever any of Doris and Donald’s friends who were playing out, came over to look at the tree.

  “It’s got quite a lot of snow on,” said one of them. “That’s because we’ve all been singing Let it Snow to make it snow harder.”

  “And Dreaming of a White Christmas, as well,” added Dilly Butterworth.

  “I’m dreaming of getting indoors and having a cup of tea,” Joy told them, laughing.

  It was well over an hour before Joy’s dream became reality. It had been a bit of a struggle to get the tree off the bogey and inside and into the tub they’d left ready to stand it in. But they’d managed it and now Doris and Donald had gone carol singing with the church choir. Joy had promised to join them soon; it would be a lovely ending to a lovely day. And tomorrow would be lovelier still.

  *

  Belle and Rosemary had arrived within an hour of each other in the afternoon and, as Joy had guessed, they’d got on like a house on fire. Now, Rosemary was snugly tucked up in Doris and Donald’s bedroom – Donald was sleeping on a mattress on the floor so Rosemary could have his bed. He’d told her to hang her stocking up at the end of it and he’d hang his next to Doris’s at the end of her bed.

  Belle would be sharing Joy’s bed just like when they were little. Joy knew Belle wouldn’t mind Pebbles curling up with them; they used to have a cat called Timmy who’d slept on their bed. The memories were bitter-sweet, though, Joy thought to herself going back into the living room after she’d whispered goodnight to the children and Rosemary who were all nearly asleep.

  “Come on,” Belle said, clearly guessing Joy’s thoughts. “Stop thinking of what was. Think of what is, and help me put these parcels underneath the Christmas tree.”

  Joy smiled to herself and thought instead of how, back in the old days, Belle always had been a bit bossy – in a nice big sister way.

  “I’ve just peeped outside and I’m sure,” Belle continued, “the snow’s deep enough for us to build a snowman. I’ve chosen some of the little presents you were going to put in the stockings in a paper bag. We can still make the stocking nice and bulgy if we fill them up with more nuts, an extra tangerine and one of the gingerbread men Betty made for you. Just think what fun Doris and Donald will have, searching inside the snowman for presents like we used to do.”

  “I hope the snow doesn’t melt away overnight,” Joy replied. “I’d like the snowman to last until Boxing Day so we can hide more presents for Monica and her mum. But I want the roads to be clear of snow by then so they can get here all right.” Joy touched wood and crossed her fingers.

  Belle laughed and did the same. Joy found a torch in case they’d need it and then they both wrapped up in thick coats, hats and gloves, scarves and boots, picked up a bag with tiny gifts in and sneaked out into the prefab’s back garden.

  It was hard work building the snowman without laughing and talking in case they woke Doris and Donald. Just as the snowman was finished and the presents were buried inside him, the church bells rang out for the Midnight Service.

  They both forgot about not wanting to wake the sleeping children as with one accord they began to sing: “Can you hear the Christmas bells? Merrily they’re ringing. Can you hear the Christmas bells? Joyful news they’re bringing. Ring-a-ling-ring-a-ling-ring-a-ling-ring-a-ling. Ring-a-ling-ring-ding-ding.”

  Then, arm in arm, they went back inside. “It’s going to be an unforgettable Christmas,” Joy said. “This time, in the nicest way possible way,” she added, hugging Belle.

  Sn
owy Day Birthday Blues

  “Quick, Rob. Bring your ruler. These two new ones are the biggest yet.”

  Jimmy’s strident tone woke Pearl from her dream where she’d been somewhere warm and sunny and she sighed as reality burst in. She had a horrible feeling she knew what her youngest was talking about.

  Next came Babs’ voice – high-pitched and excited. “I’ll get you something to stand on, Rob.”

  A grating noise followed. Pearl guessed Babs was dragging a stool out of the kitchen. Either to the living room or the hall, she thought – knowing she should really get up. That would mean putting on a cheerful act for everyone, though.

  She turned her head slowly on the pillow to glance at Alf. He seemed to be still asleep. She didn’t have to fix a smile to her face just yet then. Because one thing she didn’t feel was cheerful. Oh, not because of the weather – though that didn’t help.

  It was the fact her birthday was fast approaching and memories of Ruby were crowding in. Her sister was three years older but their birthdays were the same date. They’d made a big thing of it until nineteen-forty-six. In the February that year, a couple of days before their birthday, Ruby had boarded the Queen Mary as a war bride and sailed across the Atlantic to join her husband, Walt.

  Oh, she and Ruby wrote of course, but it wasn’t the same as seeing each other. Pearl missed her sister something rotten. And it was a good few weeks since there’d been a letter from America.

  “The biggest one is five inches long and half an inch round at the thickest bit.”

  Rob’s voice stemmed Pearl’s thoughts and then Babs started to sing:

  “Over the front door and the window,

  That’s where the icicles grow, grow, grow

  Please let ours the biggest ones be

  Then we will win the prize.

  Our indoor icicles need to be

  Bigger than Bernard’s or Graham’s you see

  Bigger than Ruth’s or Vivian’s as well

  Then we will win the prize.”

  *

  Alf stirred and, grunting, opened his eyes.

  “Did you hear what our Babs is singing, Alf?”

  “Would’ve been hard not to. It doesn’t sound like it’s thawed any overnight, does it? I dunno, Pearl. Only kids could think of having a prize for the biggest indoor icicle.”

  “I suppose I’d better get up.” Pearl groaned as she wriggled round under layers of blankets and Alf’s old army greatcoat, trying to get dressed. Keeping their clothes in the bed meant they didn’t go stiff with cold – but it wasn’t easy to put them on.

  “I’m freezing,” she added, “and that’s before I get out of bed and walk into the hall what sounds like it’s full of icicles.”

  “They always said prefabs were palaces for the people, Pearl. Happen they meant ice palaces.” Alf chuckled but Pearl wasn’t amused. Thick ice on the inside of the windows, condensation and icicles on the walls weren’t her idea of funny.

  Before Pearl could tell Alf that, Babs shrieked, “I’ve made a hole in the ice on the window and guess what, Jimbo? It’s snowing really hard out there.”

  “That’ll stop you sounding so airy-fairy about it, Alf.” Pearl dug him in the ribs before scrambling out of bed. “The snow will cover all the pathways the council cut yesterday. We’re running out of food and we’ll never get to the shops with snow on top of ice because the buses won’t be running.”

  *

  “Go easy on those Sugar Puffs, Jimbo,” Pearl ordered. “There’s not many left and heaven knows when the mobile grocery van will be able to get here again. Whoever planned the prefab village never gave a thought to bad weather when they built it so far away from any shops. The milkman walked across the top of the hedges to get to us on Thursday. I hope he makes it today, we’ve only got two pints left.”

  “And their tops have lifted up with ice,” said Rob, walking to the table with a bottle in his hand. “Baggy-me the frozen cream on my hardly here sugar puffs,” he added. “Could count them on one hand, I could.”

  “Don’t think you’d even need half a hand to count the spuds or other veg we’ve got,” Pearl said gloomily. “I’m right fed up of this weather now. We’ve hardly enough food to keep a goldfish alive. Soon, we’ll all be like Grandma Grove on that television programme: Faint from the lack of nourishment.”

  “Why don’t you and the other mums do what me and my friends are doing then?” asked Rob. “We’ve put all our sweets together and we’re sharing them out so everyone gets a bit of everything.”

  “The lad’s got a point, Pearl,” Alf said. “I bet if you all pooled whatever food you’ve got left, it would make a jolly good hotpot to share out. We’ve got that huge saucepan we use for black peas on Halloween and bonfire night. I could turn a dustbin into a brazier and cook over that in the street.”

  “You two are very good, you know. Very good,” said Pearl misquoting the well-known words of the Announcer in the Goon Show. “So, right, Rob. If you three and some of your friends go round all the prefabs, tell folk the plan and see if they want to give you some veg or scraps of meat or whatever, I won’t mind preparing it all and setting it to cook.”

  “On my outdoor cooking stove,” Alf put in with a grin.

  “And,” Pearl continued, “if them who can’t possibly walk on the snow and ice give you a dish at the start, Rob, you can deliver their hotpot to them. Everyone else can turn up around, say, four o’clock with a dish to get a serving to take home – or to eat on the spot if they want.”

  “It’ll be like a street party.” Jimmy leapt up. “Come on, Rob. We’ll fetch Bernard and Graham and we can tell them how huge our icicle is as well. Babs can call for Vivian and Ruth and then we can split up to collect food from everyone.”

  “We’ll take the sledges to carry stuff on,” said Babs.

  “See if anyone’s got a couple of bits of coal or coke to spare as well,” said Alf. “We’ll need fuel for the brazier.”

  “Nana Connie will have some coke. She had a big delivery not long back.” Pearl smiled when she recalled her mother and Aunt Flo moving into a prefab on Broome Avenue a few weeks before Christmas. They’d both ordered a delivery of coke without telling the other.

  “We’ll have to go out the back way,” said Babs. “We don’t want to disturb the icicle over the front door. I bet it is the biggest of anybody’s. I can’t wait to tell Nana Connie about it. It might give her an idea of a decoration for… For something.”

  The youngsters wrapped up well and hurried off and Pearl felt her sadness creep over her again. She’d guessed the something Babs had mentioned was a birthday cake. It’d only be a single layered one. Not like when Ruby had been here and Mam had always made a double layered cake for the shared birthday. Pearl knew her mam would be thinking about their Ruby more than usual as well.

  “A hotpot party will be fun, Bead,” said Alf. “Cheer us up a bit.”

  The use of Alf’s affectionate nickname for her made Pearl realise he’d guessed she was feeling down and she decided to make a determined effort to count her blessings instead of moping. After all, she should feel glad for Ruby being happily settled with her husband in his homeland.

  And Pearl suddenly remembered one blessing. When she’d gone to help Mam and Auntie Flo pack up the old family home ready for their move, she’d found some things she and Ruby had made in the war packed away in the attic and brought them back with her.

  “Back in a tick,” she told Alf.

  She hurried into their bedroom, opened the big fitted cupboard and reached up to pull a siren suit from the shelf.

  “Won’t look exactly Grace Kellyish,” she murmured as she got herself into it. “But give me warm and cosy over glamour any day.”

  “You look like an oversize pixie,” Alf said with a grin when Pearl went back into the kitchen. “Wouldn’t mind something like that myself in this weather.”

  “I know. I should’ve thought of my old siren suit as soon as the big freeze start
ed. Anyway, love, let’s go and get the dustbin sorted ready for you to turn into a brazier because I reckon all the villagers will be taken with the idea and send food back with the young’uns.”

  *

  “Jiminy. Wherever did you get that outfit?” asked Gloria Turner as she walked into Pearl’s kitchen. Gloria, with a pair of army socks over her boots and, from the looks of it, wearing two hats under a scarf and at least three coats, gazed in wonder at Pearl’s hooded siren suit.

  “Cheeky young madam,” Pearl replied, laughing. Gloria was half her age but they’d become right good friends since helping P.C. Ken Boyce solve a crime a little while back. “You don’t look that great yourself,” added Pearl. “As for my outfit, it’s a left over from the war when a lot of folk had siren suits like this. They kept us warm in the air raid shelters and this one is keeping me warm now in an iced-up prefab.”

  “It’s a bit grim when we have to wrap up like this for being indoors.” Gloria pulled a face. “It’s not like we can a get a good fire going in the living room stove. The back boiler might burst if we do. Anyway, Pearl, I came to give you a hand and to tell you Dad’s going to attempt walking to Broome Hall across the park and—”

  “Surely her Ladyship won’t need him in this weather?” interrupted Pearl, recalling Gloria’s dad, Bill, was Broome Hall’s chauffer.

  “No, she’ll likely get him to help clear the snow and ice instead of driving her somewhere. More to the point, though, she always has plenty of supplies and Dad reckons she’ll give him a few rashers and some kidneys and such-like when he tells her about us lot pooling food to make a hotpot to share round. He thought that a cracker of an idea when Rob and Jimbo told us about it.”

  Phyllis Clarke said the same thing when she walked into Pearl’s kitchen with a few potatoes, a small onion and two sausages a few minutes later. “And I thought I’d come and help with peeling veg, Pearl. I don’t know how long it must’ve taken you to get here from Knott Lane, Gloria. It took me ages from next door but one. I had a right time trying to stay upright.”