A Family Christmas (28 page)

Prudence reached out and picked up the alarm clock Will had bought them, and threw it with all her strength in Robbie’s direction.

Fortunately he saw it coming and moved out of its way so that it hit the mirror on the dressing table, shattering the glass, just as Prudence had shattered Robbie’s dreams. He picked up the case and left the room, the alarm ringing out behind him.

Robbie had been back at Lucy’s for a week. He had been welcomed back without question by his brother. John knew better than to ask for an explanation and it was a few days before the story emerged. Lucy was shocked that the vicar’s daughter could have acted so despicably and felt sympathy for the Goodmans. Rumours soon spread about the separation, the cruellest being that Robbie had left his wife because she had suffered a miscarriage. Another being nearer the truth: that Prudence had suffered a brainstorm and tried to kill her husband. Apart from Dr Sellars only the Goodmans and the Greys knew the truth, and for the vicar’s sake they vowed to keep it that way. The following Sunday the church was full to capacity, but any of the congregation there out of curiosity were
disappointed
, as the only thing out of the ordinary was Prudence’s absence. By the end of evening service the rumour had been altered so that Prudence had left her husband and run off with someone she had met at the library. As it happened, Prudence had been sent away to stay with her aunt in Liverpool. Robbie didn’t know and he certainly didn’t care. He held his head high and sang with a lighter heart than he had felt for weeks. People watched with gaping mouths as Robbie paused at the lychgate after the service, to be greeted by the vicar and exchange pleasantries with Louisa. Nobody knew what to make of the situation, least of all Dot Greenwood.

Lucy was not only delighted to have Robbie back in the fold but also relieved to have heard nothing more concerning Mary’s wish to adopt Bernard. If she had but known, it was all down to Jacob, who had now made it clear that he would never consider the adoption of Evelyn’s child. He was suffering for his wilfulness as Mary blamed her husband for refusing to cooperate. Lucy was right: her sister had turned bitter and Mary’s mood was reflected in the clothes she wore as well as her attitude. The net curtains were still immaculate, the aspidistra still watered, the cellar steps still scrubbed and donkeys-toned and the house bottomed once a week as usual. But Mary rarely smiled, never stood at her door chatting with the neighbours and had let
herself
go. She had taken to covering her hair with a mob-cap in the way of a much older woman. Jacob wondered what had happened to the lovely woman he had married and begged her to cheer up and wear the pretty clothes that hung amongst the lavender bags in the wardrobe.

‘What does a barren woman want to look glamorous for?’ Mary would sigh and either take up her embroidery or bury her head in a book. In the end Jacob went to Lucy for advice, judging her to be more compassionate than Jane. ‘I don’t know how to handle her, Lucy. She’s blaming me for refusing to adopt your little lad.’

‘Well, I thank you for that, Jacob. I’ll come and talk to her though I don’t see as I can help. You must make enquiries about adopting, Jacob. But not Bernard,’ she added worriedly.

‘She won’t even discuss it. She’s so withdrawn I can’t seem to communicate anymore. And I swear she’s as miserable as your mother used to be.’ Jacob blushed as he realised what he had said. ‘I’m sorry, lass.’

‘It’s all right. She did remind me of my mother on her last visit. Oh, why can’t she become pregnant?’

‘Aye, but why can’t she be satisfied with what we’ve got? After all, Jane isn’t always hankering after a child.’

Lucy smiled. ‘Our Jane has a different outlook altogether. If the truth be known she wouldn’t want anyone intruding in her neatly organised life.
Not
even a baby. No! She’s quite satisfied with being able to spoil my two then go back home to her nice, comfortable life with James. Besides, she’s her job to occupy her days. She finds all the satisfaction she needs by keeping the school up to standard. And the children adore her. They bring her flowers, draw her pictures, lots of little things they do out of affection for her. No, our Jane’s perfectly happy with the present carry on. Besides, she and James wouldn’t be able to go gallivanting every weekend. He’s talking about buying a motorbike now; I heard him discussing it with our Ben. Then we shan’t see them for dust.’ Lucy laughed and she even noticed a smile appear on Jacob’s worried face.

‘So you’ll come and see her then?’ he appealed.

‘Yes I will, but I might not be welcome. I’ll do my best, Jacob. She’s my sister and I hate this awkwardness between us.’

‘Aye. But it isn’t your fault.’

Lucy frowned. ‘No, but the trouble is our Mary thinks it is.’ Lucy sighed. ‘She wanted Bernard and I stood in her way.’

Jacob raised his trilby to his sister-in-law and went on his way. Lucy watched him leave and thought it sad that Jacob’s jaunty way of walking had disappeared; his shoulders were rounded and his walk had slowed, as if he didn’t really want to go home. And who could blame him, with his wife in her present frame of mind?

* * *

‘Ooh, Mrs Cooper, it’ll be awful leaving you.’ The tears trailed down Lily’s face at the thought of not seeing her beloved housekeeper.

‘Now stop that. Oh you are a silly Lily. Don’t yer see that you’ll never get another opportunity to mek summat of yerself and see a bit of life? Why, yer’ll be able to go dancing on the pier or in’t tower.’ Lily thought Mrs Cooper looked sad as she mentioned the tower.

‘I can’t dance.’ Lily’s eyes were still brimming with tears, but this time from the onions Mr Brown had delivered that morning and would soon be part of a hot pot.

‘Well, it’ll not be long before yer can. Yer’ll ’ave all’t lads in Blackpool running after a pretty lass like you. But yer must behave yerself. They’ll be out for a bit of hanky-panky so you just mek sure they don’t get any. It’s the air, yer see. Finest air in England, and it’s got the finest promenade.’

‘Has it really? Finest prom in England?’

Mrs Cooper thought she might have exaggerated a bit. ‘Well, I can’t say I’ve seen many. Only Whitby. Now I’ve got to admit that that’s a prettier place altogether, what with its harbour and abbey, but as for’t promenade, aye I reckon Blackpool’s best in England.’

‘Yer will be all right won’t yer? When I’ve gone I mean.’

‘Course I shall. New cook’s shaping up nicely even if she isn’t Nellie, and I shall ’ave your Molly to shout at, shan’t I?’

Lily giggled. ‘Ooh I am glad me dad said she could come and work ’ere. If ee hadn’t put ’is foot down me mam’d never ’ave let ’er.’

‘I don’t think it’s good for a young lass stuck at ’ome all day.’

‘I know, but me mam says she needs ’er to ’elp with all’t housework and to look after the little ones. She says she gets backache doing all’t work ’erself.’ Lily giggled. ‘Me dad says the only thing wrong wi’ me mam is idleitis.’

‘There’s only one thing.’ Mrs Cooper frowned. ‘I shall ’ave to keep me eye on your Molly and Larry. What with her fancying ’im and ’im fancying her, I shall need eyes in’t back of me ’ead.’

‘Ooh, I think our Molly’ll behave ’erself. Me dad warned ’er that if she don’t she’ll ’ave to go back ’ome again, and she won’t want that.’

‘Fair enough. Even so, I’d better give Larry a warning an’ all.’

‘What if I can’t do it right?’ Lily looked about to burst into tears again.

‘Can’t do what right?’

‘Serving all them people and ’elping wi’ the cooking and everything.’

‘Why, yer daft haporth. Yer’ve been doing all that for the past year or two.’

‘I know, but people in Blackpool might be posher.’

‘Will they heck as like. Now look ’ere. Nellie and Mr Johnson know ’ow capable you are – that’s providing yer don’t burst into tears every time
anybody
says owt to yer. Now that’s one habit yer’ll ’ave to grow out of. Yer can’t be dripping tears into’t soup all’t time, now can yer?’

Lily laughed, then she found something else to worry about: ‘Ooh, Nellie says I shall be taking the place of Mr Johnson’s mother. I shall never be able to do all them lovely flower thingies, like she did for’t wedding.’

‘Flower arrangements, yer mean. Course yer will. They’ll not be wanting great fancy arrangements like them, not every day. Just a few flowers on each table and in each bedroom. I expect Nellie’ll be doing them in’t lounge. Any road up, she’ll teach yer all that sort of thing. She wouldn’t ’ave sent for yer if she didn’t think yer were capable. And stop getting into such a tiswas, yer’ll be meeting yerself coming back one o’ these days.’

‘Ooh, Mrs Cooper, you always say summat to cheer me up, even when I’m scared. I don’t know what I shall do wi’out yer.’

‘Yer’ll manage.’ It’s me who’ll be lost, the housekeeper thought. She sighed as she filled in the week’s outgoings in the ledger. Oh well, at least she’d have young Molly. Besides, the new cook was shaping up right nicely; in fact she was growing quite fond of her.

By December, Lucy’s stomach felt as big as a sack of potatoes. Her legs continued to swell and John begged her to rest in the afternoon.

‘I’m fine,’ she told him. ‘I’ve never felt better.’ Actually she did put her feet up for an hour every day when Mrs Slater took charge of Bernard and Rosie. Then the two women would enjoy a chat and a cup of tea together as they watched Bernard push the brightly painted wheelbarrow Robbie had made for him up the yard and back again, filling it with stones along the way. ‘Just look at them cheeks,’ Mrs Slater said. Bernard’s cheeks were as red as the gloves and helmet Lucy had knitted over the past week. ‘Ee looks the picture of ’ealth does that little lad.’

‘Evelyn would have been so proud of him,’ Lucy sighed.

‘Oh well, soon be Christmas.’ Enid changed the subject as she dipped a digestive in her tea.

‘Yes.’ Lucy was looking forward to the festivities. ‘I should have enough in the Christmas club to get him and Rosie a few presents and something for our Will and Robbie.’

‘Has he heard owt yet from that no-good wife of ’is?’

‘Not a word. Something’ll have to be done, though I’ve no idea what. He can’t go on wasting his life in this way. He’s so wrapped up in his work, which I suppose is a good thing as it’s taking his mind off the problem, but it needs solving.’

‘Aye, a young man like ’im should be on top of’t world, whereas Robbie’s world is neither one thing or another. What good’s a wife who’s gone absent?’

‘In my opinion she’s better absent.’

‘Well, that’s as may be, but whilst ee’s stuck with her he can’t be with the lass ee loves.’

‘Namely, Dot Greenwood.’

‘Aye. According to our Ernest Robbie worships the lass. Eeh, it’s wicked what that lass ’as done to ’im.’

Much as Lucy trusted Mrs Slater she sometimes wished she’d never revealed the truth to her about Robbie’s marriage; she tended to go on a bit once she got started and it wasn’t something Lucy cared to gossip about. ‘I’ve ordered a couple of fowls from Greenwood’s farm for Christmas.’

‘Aye, I shall ’ave to see about one I suppose.’ Mrs Slater took the tea things to the sink and washed them. ‘I suppose you’ll be ’aving a quiet Christmas Day; I mean you’ll be nearing yer time by then.’

‘Oh I shall invite our Jane and Ben. I don’t suppose our Mary’ll grace us with her presence.’

‘No improvement then?’

‘None. I feel so sorry for Jacob. He really loves this family. I shall invite them all the same. I wish our Nellie could be here; I really miss her.’

‘Aye, still the lass is doing well by the sound of it. Yer dad’d ’ave been right proud of her. And yer mam,’ she added as an afterthought. ‘Oh aye, she’d ’ave been proud of you all, especially that little flower in’t pram.’

‘Yes, I’m sure they would, but I wish our Mary could have one all the same.’

‘Aye, still it’ll happen if it’s God’s will.’

Lucy laughed. ‘You sounded just like my mother when you said that.’

‘Well I daresay she’s ’ere somewhere, putting words in me mouth.’

‘Yes I expect she is.’ Lucy was surprised how the thought of her mother’s presence comforted her. If only Annie Gabbitas’s spirit would visit Mary and tell her to buck herself up, otherwise poor Jacob’s life wouldn’t be worth living.

Dot Greenwood had finished work for the day. The poultry orders had been delivered along with the potatoes and eggs. The farmhouse had been fettled from top to bottom and trimmed with greenery from down the lane. Pies both sweet and savoury were cooling on the kitchen table and muslin-coated puddings were simmering merrily over the fire. Tomorrow would be a busy day with Little Arthur’s sister and her family and Boadacea’s parents here for the day. Christ’s birthday was usually celebrated with one big party and only essential farmwork being done. This year however, everyone seemed to be putting on an act to cheer each other. If anyone had voiced their thoughts they would have admitted that only Robbie Grey’s presence would have brought out the Christmas spirit.

Dot wandered out to the derelict old cottage attached to the main house. Not long ago she had imagined her and Robbie living there. The stone
walls
would have been pointed, the windows and doors replaced – Robbie could have done that easily enough – and the inside walls plastered. That would have been all the work needed to make the sturdy old dwelling habitable. She wandered from kitchen to front room, then up the crooked staircase and into the main bedroom, bending to avoid the low doorway. There was even a wardrobe standing dusty but proud against the far wall. She cleared a patch on the mirror and stared at her reflection, at her hair which needed trimming and the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Christmas Eve and here she was still in her working clothes. It wouldn’t do. She would doll herself up a bit and go out. There would be a dance at the Victoria Hall, and after that she would go to midnight mass. She couldn’t waste her life away fretting about somebody who was unavailable. It would please her parents if she went out. There was no point in spoiling their Christmas. No, she would put on her powder and her best dress and a smile.