Christmas at the Foyles Bookshop (The Foyles Girls)

by Elaine Roberts

  Victoria nodded. ‘I just don’t understand it all. I have a bad feeling about it. It’s like there’s a family secret, but I don’t know what it is.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘Your parents adored you all, you know that, so if there is a secret, there’ll be a good reason for it. They weren’t bad people.’

  Victoria took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Anyway, enough of that, I’ve just got to be ruthless and clear it all out.’ She forced a smile and looked across at her friends.

  The waitress appeared with the tea and chocolate cake, carefully laying out the place settings in front of each girl.

  Molly looked down at the slice on her plate. ‘Thank goodness the war hasn’t hit Monico’s.’

  The girls laughed and each picked up their cake forks.

  Victoria glanced at the china teapot. ‘Who’s going to be mother and pour the tea?’

  Molly didn’t look up. Her eyes were fixed on the decadent cake that was calling out to her. ‘Not me, I’m diving straight in.’ She stabbed the fork into the light chocolate sponge.

  Alice laughed. ‘Well, I guess that’ll be me again, then.’ She let her gaze flick between her two friends, waiting for the penny to drop.

  There was a clatter of cutlery hitting crockery, just before Molly looked up. ‘What?’

  Victoria’s mouth dropped open slightly. ‘Are you—’

  ‘Yes.’ Alice giggled at them. ‘You should see your faces.’

  ‘Gosh.’ Molly beamed. ‘Arthur is going to have a little brother or sister.’

  Victoria grinned. ‘When?’ She held up her hand and counted on her fingers, before bubbling with laughter. ‘Is it going to be a Christmas baby?’

  ‘If it is and it’s a girl, you’ll have to call her Holly.’ Molly laughed.

  ‘Or Noel if it’s a boy,’ Victoria offered.

  Alice laughed at them both. ‘I don’t think it will be a Christmas baby, but if it is, it will just have a normal name.’

  Molly picked up her fork again. ‘That’s a shame, but I suppose you could have a biblical name.’

  Alice nodded.

  Molly looked pensive for a moment. ‘Maybe David; he was a great king and killed Goliath.’

  ‘David’s a good name.’ Alice smiled at her friends. ‘I’m quite excited, because Freddie will be with me this time, so I won’t have the worry of whether he’s safe or not.’

  Victoria nodded. ‘Yes, that’s good, but I can’t believe you kept it a secret from us.’

  Alice’s lips tightened. ‘It just never seemed the right time to tell you. There’s been a lot going on.’

  ‘I’ve been too wrapped up in myself, otherwise I’m sure I would have noticed.’ Victoria looked over at Molly. ‘And to think I thought it was you, not Alice, who wanted to give us some news.’

  Molly put down her fork again. ‘You know, I don’t think I’m meant to eat this cake.’ She stared at it, before looking up and letting out a sigh. ‘Well, I wanted us to go shopping together for my wedding, but with everything that’s been going on, I’m not so sure now.’

  Victoria smiled. ‘Don’t be ridiculous; you only have one wedding. Well, at least, that’s what we all hope.’

  Alice frowned. ‘What about your mother, won’t she want to go with you? We shouldn’t tread on her toes.’

  Molly nodded. ‘I thought I’d go out with her over the weekend, while Pa’s at home to look after gran, just to get a feel for what she likes. I want to buy her and gran an outfit, but I know she’ll want to be frugal about it, so I thought if I went separately, it would keep our arguments between us. I can go out again and have fun with you two.’

  Victoria picked up her fork. ‘It sounds like you’ve thought it through.’

  Molly smiled. ‘I haven’t got much time, so if we can make it the weekend after next, that’ll be good. Maybe we’ll go to Selfridges first.’

  Victoria dropped her fork and beamed, as she clapped her hands together. ‘We haven’t had a good shopping trip for ages.’

  *

  Endell Street Military Hospital seemed quieter than usual, although the nurses were as busy as ever. Victoria carried an armful of newspapers, quietly offering them to soldiers as she walked down the ward. It was six o’clock in the evening, but the heat of the day was still strong. Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead, as the papers weighed heavily on her arms. She fleetingly wondered how the boys on the street corners managed to hold so many, and take money at the same time.

  ‘Come on, lads, help a girl out and take a newspaper off her.’

  Victoria spun round on her heels, to see Nurse Atkins following her.

  ‘It’s no good you whispering, girl. You’ve got to shout for all you’re worth and pretend you’re one of the lads selling papers on the street corners.’

  Colour flooded Victoria’s cheeks.

  ‘Come on, they won’t bite, well at least most of them won’t.’ Mabel frowned at Victoria’s obvious discomfort.

  Victoria gave an anxious look up and down the ward, before taking a deep breath. ‘Come on you men, take some of these newspapers off my hands. You’d be helping me out, of that there’s no doubt.’

  Some of the men cheered and clapped. There was a chorus of ‘I’ll take one’ from around the room.

  Mabel patted her on the back. ‘That’s a girl, I said you could do it, didn’t I?’

  ‘Get your paper now, before they all go!’ Victoria shouted, before her courage left her. ‘Winston Churchill is home from the frontline and back in politics. He’s been appointed Minister of Munitions.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I don’t know whether that’s a good thing, or not.’

  Another nurse spoke, as she walked past Victoria. ‘It all takes a bit of getting used to.’

  Victoria nodded.

  Corporal Peters shouted out, ‘You’ll have to read it to me, Atkins.’

  Mabel laughed. ‘Good try, Peters. Victoria can do that, if you want her to.’

  ‘Oh, you got better things to do than read to me then, have you, Atkins?’

  Mabel took a step nearer to his bed. ‘No, not better, just other things.’ She paused. ‘Stop trying to make me feel bad, when you know I have patients to bathe, dressings and bedding to change. You’ll get me shot, at this rate.’

  ‘Sorry, Atkins, I just get so bored lying here.’ Corporal Peters fidgeted in the bed.

  Mabel glanced across at Victoria, before turning her attention back to Peters. ‘Well, you don’t have to be lying there, feeling sorry for yourself. You could get out of bed, for a start. Sit in a chair and feel sorry for yourself, if that’s what you want to do, or here’s a thought, talk to the poor bloke in the next bed. You don’t have to be able to see to do that.’

  Victoria gasped, holding her breath, waiting for the anger that was surely going to come Mabel’s way.

  There was silence between them for a moment, before laughter burst from Peters. ‘Try not to be too nice to me.’

  Atkins shook her head and lowered her tone, when she finally spoke. ‘Nice won’t get you back on your feet, or feeling like you can cope as a man.’

  Tension filled the silence between them. Mabel turned back to Victoria. ‘Right, I can’t stand here chatting all day. I have loads to do, and as my Sid would have said, Sister will have my guts for garters, if I don’t get a move on.’ Mabel turned and paced it to the other end of the ward.

  Victoria couldn’t help smiling, as she watched her stopping at beds along the way. She had to learn to chat to the men more, and not be frightened about what she said. After all, most of them just wanted company. She watched Mabel go into the side room and hoped the corporal was improving.

  ‘Victoria.’ Corporal Peters’ voice jolted her back to her task at hand. ‘Victoria, are you still there?’ He sniffed. ‘I think you are, because I can smell your perfume. I don’t know what it smells of.’ He sniffed again. ‘It could be spring flowers maybe, who knows, but it’s a lovely smell.’

  ‘I’m still here
, Corporal Peters.’ Victoria cleared her throat. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

  Corporal Peters laughed. ‘If your perfume is anything to go by, I’m sure there’s a lot you can do for me.’

  Victoria felt the heat rising in her cheeks, and a nervous giggle escaped. ‘Shall I rephrase what I said—’

  ‘No, that won’t be necessary, I’m just playing with you.’ Peters paused. ‘You sound so young and timid.’

  Victoria pushed back her shoulders and pulled herself up tall. ‘I’m not as timid as you may think.’

  Peters laughed. ‘I don’t think any woman is.’

  Victoria smiled. ‘I think you could have a point there; anyway, I must get on.’

  ‘No wait.’ Peters stopped and listened hard. ‘I want you to help me get out of bed, and onto the chair.’

  Victoria frowned as she looked along the ward. All the nurses were busy with patients. Would she get into trouble if she helped move him? After all, she wasn’t a nurse.

  Peters snapped at her. ‘Are you going to help me, or not?’

  Fear ran across Victoria’s pale complexion, as she looked back at him. ‘I’m not a nurse, so I don’t think I’m allowed to.’

  Peters laughed. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me except I’m blind, so I’m sure you can guide me to a chair.’

  Victoria nodded. She blushed when she realised he couldn’t see her nodding. Taking a deep breath, she moved nearer to the bed. ‘All right, I’ll help you, but you will have to guide me, because I’ve never done anything like this before.’

  Peters smiled in her direction. ‘Ahh, what can go wrong?’

  Victoria couldn’t help thinking those words were tempting fate. She tentatively stretched out her arm and her fingertips touched his arm, so he knew she was there.

  Peters laughed. ‘Don’t be frightened girl; I won’t bite. I’m probably old enough to be your father.’

  Victoria pulled back the blankets and sheet, clasping his thin arm in her hand. ‘Are you ready for this?’

  ‘You have very soft hands.’

  Victoria whispered, ‘Thank you.’

  Peters’ eyes, blank of expression, stared at her. ‘Are your father or brother away fighting?’

  ‘My brother is; we write to each other regularly.’ Victoria paused, wondering how much to tell this man. ‘My parents died in a train crash, several years ago, before the war started.’

  Peters’ tone dropped. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. You don’t sound very old, so you must have been quite young to lose both your parents.’

  ‘I was sixteen, but it’s in the past. It’s hard, but we have to move on and deal with what’s in front of us now.’ As the words came out, Victoria realised it was time she practised what she preached. ‘Life goes on, you know, whether you like it or not. I have a friend who’s getting married next month, and another one who’s expecting her second child.’

  Peters tiled his head slightly. ‘And yet I sense you feel you haven’t moved on.’

  Victoria laughed. ‘I am meant to be getting you out of bed, so your life can move one.’

  ‘All right, don’t let go, and you’ll have to give me instructions of where to go.’

  ‘This will be interesting.’ Victoria looked across at the chair and back at Peters, before she let go of his arm and stepped aside. ‘All right, swing your legs off the bed.’

  Peters looked down at his legs. ‘You know, I’m a little bit scared.’

  ‘You are?’ Victoria gave a nervous giggle. ‘Do you know how many times I say left, when I mean right? Of course you don’t, but it’s more times than I care to admit to.’

  Peters laughed. ‘Now you tell me.’ He immediately swung his legs out of bed, his feet dangling several inches off the floor.

  Victoria clasped his arm again. ‘Right, shuffle yourself forward a bit, so you are still on the bed, but at the very edge.’

  Without saying a word, Peters did as she asked.

  ‘Excellent, right give me your hand and slowly lower yourself, so one foot is on the ground.’

  Peters again followed her instructions.

  Victoria held his hand in a vice like grip, as he was suddenly standing on two feet. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Peters laughed. ‘Were you holding your breath?’

  ‘Not knowingly, but yes, I think I was.’ She glanced over at the chair. ‘Right, I think you need to take about two small steps in an off-right direction.’

  ‘What does that mean, “off-right”?’

  Victoria hesitated for a moment. ‘Well, it’s sort of straight but it isn’t.’ She giggled. ‘I told you I’d be rubbish at this.’

  ‘You’re not rubbish, but you’re keeping it interesting, I’ll say that for you.’

  Victoria shook her head. ‘Take one step forward and then another, slightly to the right.’

  Peters did as she asked and could feel the hard wood of the chair’s legs against his own.

  ‘Now you need to turn.’ Victoria let go of his arm but kept her hand hovering nearby. ‘And it doesn’t matter which way, because I’ll make sure you’re in line with the chair.’

  Peters slowly took the tentative steps to turn around.

  Victoria didn’t take her eyes off him. When he had finished moving, she pulled the chair in line with his legs.

  ‘I can feel the chair, so does that mean I can sit down?’

  Victoria held onto his arm with one hand and the chair with the other. ‘Yes, you can now sit down.’

  Peters gradually lowered himself onto the chair, smiling as he finally sat on the seat. ‘We did it.’ He laughed.

  Victoria relaxed her shoulders as she smiled too. ‘We did.’ She clasped his hand with hers and squeezed it. ‘Well done, you should be proud. You’ve taken the first difficult step to moving on.’ She immediately thought of her parents’ bedroom. And so have I.

  Peters nodded, as he beamed from ear to ear. ‘Thank you.’

  *

  John sat on the wooden bench staring out at the deep blue sea, watching the white-tipped waves gradually lose their force, to roll in and move amongst the pebbles. Pools of water settled between the many shapes and colours, leaving a shine on each of the stones. John smiled as he remembered coming down to the beach as a child, collecting and polishing the more unusual stones and smuggling them into the house, because his grandfather would moan about him bringing them home. His grandmother had encouraged him to hide them in his bedroom, where his grandfather would never go. John sighed; he had been stronger then, at least that was how he remembered it.

  Many people were in various states of undress, sitting in deck chairs or lying on towels. Women wore large hats, to protect themselves from the sun. Children paddled at the water’s edge, screaming with joy every time a wave crashed into their legs.

  He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the sun, which was energising his body. He knew he was growing weaker with each passing day, and wondered how much of his young life he had left. He tried to take a deep breath, enjoying the salty smell of the sea and committing it to memory, but his body started to convulse with coughing. He took a large white handkerchief from his trouser pocket and held it to his mouth. He knew, without looking, that it had blood on it; the taste of it filled his mouth. He shivered as though it was the middle of winter, instead of a warm summer’s day.

  ‘Are you all right, John?’

  John squinted, as he looked along the footpath at his grandmother, walking towards him, carrying two mugs of tea. ‘Yes, Gran, I’m just enjoying the sea.’

  ‘Look.’ Beatrice beamed. ‘The man who owns the café isn’t in today, so Mavis gave me a couple of mugs of tea and a slice of Madeira cake for us to share.’

  John laughed at his grandmother’s obvious delight. ‘That was very kind of her.’

  ‘Yes, especially as they are quite busy in there.’

  John took the mug of tea from her outstretched hand and stood it on the ground, next t
o his feet.

  ‘Make sure you don’t kick it over, we might not get another treat like this again.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Gran, I’ll take care.’

  Beatrice lifted the mug to her lips, the steam clouding her vision, as she sipped the strong brown liquid. She put the mug down, as John had done before her, pulling a white folded napkin from her lightweight, lavender jacket pocket. She slowly peeled away the layers, to reveal a yellow sponge. She carefully broke it in half and offered the cake to her grandson.

  John smiled. ‘I can’t resist a piece of cake; it looks delicious.’ He picked it up and hungrily bit into it. ‘Hmm, it tastes as good as it looks.’ He licked his lips, before popping the final piece into his mouth.

  Beatrice laughed, as she broke off a small piece of cake. ‘Isn’t it a beautiful day? I know we haven’t walked far from the house, but I’m glad we ventured outside.’

  John nodded. ‘Me too, it’s been a long time since I felt the warmth of the sun on my face.’ He looked over at his grandmother, who was smiling at something she could see on the beach. John guessed it was the squealing children at the water’s edge. He picked up his mug, taking a mouthful of the warm liquid, removing the last of the cake crumbs from around his teeth. ‘Gran, you know I’ve never wanted to be a problem for you, don’t you?’

  Beatrice frowned, but kept her eyes focused on the children having fun. ‘You have never been a problem to me, John. You have only ever brought joy into my life. I would hope you’d know that.’ She popped the last few crumbs of the cake into her mouth and folded the napkin into a small square, returning it to her pocket. ‘That was very enjoyable.’

  John gave a faint smile; he had been brought up to always take his rubbish home and never drop paper, or anything else, on the ground. ‘Gran, while we are out of the house and away from Grandpa, I wanted to talk to you about my parents.’

  Beatrice looked at him through hooded eyes. ‘What did you want to know?’

  John reached out and grabbed her soft wrinkled hand in his. ‘I don’t want to hurt you or open up old wounds. I love you too much to want to hurt you on purpose.’

  Beatrice forced a smile as she looked at him. She knew the time was getting closer. She knew their time together had all been borrowed, and she would do anything to make her grandson happy, in whatever time was left. ‘I know, and I love you too.’ She took a deep breath, before looking back out to where the blue of the sea met the lighter blue of the sky.