A Christmas to Remember

by Katie Flynn

  ‘There’s nothin’ on display so far as I can see,’ Snowy said, peering through the small square of glass. ‘But the shop’s open; why don’t you go inside?’

  The little woman sighed. ‘I reckon she’s sick of the sight of me,’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘I’ve been in and out of there ever since Christmas, ’cos me niece is gettin’ married in March. I gorra coat and skirt – real smart, they are – off of Mrs Hatchett’s stall in the market, but d’you think I can find a hat what matches? Norra chance! Still, I keep on tryin’.’

  ‘A wedding in March!’ Snowy said. ‘Still, by March some of the shops may actually be rebuilt, so I’m sure you’ll find something suitable.’ He gave her his most winning smile. ‘Good luck wi’ your search, missus.’

  ‘Ta,’ the old woman said, and entered Miss Foulks’s premises, shutting the door carefully behind her. Snowy stood for a moment, smiling to himself. His father always vowed that Liverpool people were the friendliest in the world, and wasn’t it true? That little woman had questioned him as openly as though they had known one another for years, and he had answered in the same vein. And now he knew why little Tess whatsername had refused to invite him up to her flat to meet her gran. It was because she’d been away from Liverpool for six years and still had the stiff and starchy manners learned in some other part of the country. Satisfied that his charm had not let him down, Snowy turned away from the milliner’s shop and set off down Heyworth Street once more. I’ll keep a lookout for that young Tess, he told himself. She’s a nice kid, bright as a button by the sound of it, and she needs someone to keep an eye if those little cats have got it in for her. God, who’d ha’ thought girls could be such young horrors! But it’s like she said when she were tellin’ me about the horses; they may start off pickin’ on the new one, but it won’t last. For a start I’ll have a word with Marilyn, tell her she’s to keep the other girls off of young Tess.

  Satisfied that he would be doing the right thing, Snowy continued on his way down Heyworth Street.

  Chapter Three

  BY THE TIME summer came, Albert Payne and young Tess were good friends. At first she had only popped into his shop for a quick exchange of news once a week or so, and these visits had been ruled by customers; if he was serving someone she would wait quietly by the counter until the customer had gone, and then tell him how her life was going, but would make her farewells as soon as another customer loomed.

  The more Albert saw of her the more he liked her. And when she came into the shop at the start of the summer holidays he was delighted. ‘Good morning, young lady. How can I help you?’ he asked jokingly. ‘Now that you’re out of school for six or eight weeks I suppose you’ll be desperate to find some work so that you’ll have a bit of money to spend.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Tess said, hurrying round the counter and beginning to help him set out his recent delivery of cigarettes. ‘But not straight away – I shan’t be seeing you for a while, Mr Payne, and I shan’t be getting a job either. Mrs Bell has written asking would I like to go to Norfolk for a few weeks this summer.’

  Albert felt a sharp stab of disappointment, but he did his best to hide it in the face of her sparkling eyes and obvious pleasure. ‘Well, that’s fine, I’m sure,’ he said slowly. ‘Before the war I used to close the shop for a week and take Louisa and Janine off down to Rhyl or Prestatyn or Llandudno, somewhere on the coast anyway. We always had a grand time – I don’t suppose the sun really shone every day, but that’s how I remember it – and this year I mean to close the shop and go on day trips by coach. Some of them go all the way to Aberystwyth – that’s a town I really like – so I thought mebbe I’d do that, because it’s cheaper than getting lodgings and I could space the days out, like.’

  ‘Well, so you can; there’s nothing stopping you,’ Tess said enthusiastically. ‘That would be really nice, Mr Payne, and when we got back we could exchange holiday stories. That would be grand, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, grand,’ Albert Payne said faintly. It would not do to admit that he had intended to invite Tess along. Going in a coach by oneself, he thought, would be much less enjoyable than going with a lively, chatty young person like Tess. But of course he could not spoil his little friend’s pleasure by telling her so, so he smiled and changed the subject quickly, asking whether Mrs Williams would go with her to the Bells’ farm.

  Tess shook her head. ‘No, not this time, because as you know she’s got a really good job in the bakery and daren’t risk losing it,’ she told him. ‘She’s been there about six months so she could take a few days off, but the journey to Norfolk is very long and tiring and not worth doing just for a couple of days at the farm. So she’s to see me off on the train next Monday and Jonty Bell will meet me at Norwich Thorpe. Oh, I can hardly wait!’ She had been beaming up into Albert’s face but suddenly the happy look disappeared. ‘Oh, Mr Payne, I shall miss you, and I expect you’ll miss me, but I’ve had an idea. Why don’t you ask Gran if she’d like to go with you on the coach, for one of the trips at least? I’m sure you’d get on like a house on fire and I wouldn’t feel so mean about leaving Gran on her own.’

  Albert laughed but shook his head. ‘Don’t use me to salve your conscience, young lady,’ he said with mock severity. ‘I expect your gran has her own ideas on what she would like to do whilst you’re away, and it won’t include a coach trip with a stranger.’ He did not say so, but he thought that the last thing he wanted was the company of an old lady who probably needed a stick to help her to get from one end of Heyworth Street to the other. Albert was a great walker, and one of the trips he had intended to take was a visit to Snowdonia, where he could be dropped off at ten in the morning and picked up again at six in the evening having walked for most of the eight hours, apart from a stop at a convenient hostelry for a pint of beer and a sandwich. Even more leisurely walks such as going up the Great Orme by tram and down on foot, he thought, would be beyond an old lady. But Tess was looking at him so hopefully that his heart smote him. She was a kind little thing, trying to find him a suitable companion for a coach trip whilst getting her grandmother a nice little holiday as well.

  ‘Oh, do consider it, Mr Payne! I’m sure you’d enjoy my gran’s company. I know you’ve never met her, but . . .’

  ‘No, I’ve not met her, but I’ve seen her passing my window and I knew it was her because you were carrying her basket,’ Albert said. He remembered the tiny, plump little woman who had hung on to Tess’s arm and thought that, delightful though she might be, she would hold him up at every turn. No, he really must discourage Tess from plotting. Why, the child’s grandmother must be old enough to be his mother, or if not his mother, at least an aunt.

  When Tess took her leave, saying she was on her way to Lime Street to buy a third class ticket to Norwich Thorpe, Albert saw her off with mixed feelings. He knew he would miss her, knew also that his coach trips would not be such fun now that he had no one to go with. He had hoped that his ice cream parlour would widen his circle of friends, bring him into contact with others whose company he could enjoy, but his plan had come to nothing. He had visited the landlord of the empty shop down the road, but when he was shown over the premises he had realised that the shop was far too small for even the tiniest tea room. Furthermore, it had no water supply, which would have meant toiling up the stairs to the flat above every time one wanted to fill a kettle, so he had regretfully abandoned his scheme.

  He was still mentally scanning his acquaintance for someone who might enjoy a coach trip when the bell above the door tinged as it was pushed open by a customer. Albert finished arranging his packets of Players and turned to smile at old Mr Grundy, a long-time customer. ‘Mornin’, Fred,’ he said jovially. ‘I’ve just had a delivery. Want some Gold Leaf?’

  On Monday morning Gran was up betimes and so was Tess, for excitement would not let her remain in bed on such a day. She had packed her case days earlier and repacked it practically every morning since. Gran had made her a delicious carr
yout the night before, but the sandwiches would be made at the last minute, since there was nothing worse than opening a packet of sandwiches only to find the bread curling up and going dry. Accordingly, despite knowing that the train she was to catch did not leave Lime Street until eight forty-five, Tess was in the kitchen fully dressed by seven o’clock and informing Gran that she was too excited to eat.

  Gran, placidly cutting bread and sandwiching Spam in some and tomatoes in others, looked disapprovingly at Tess over the top of her spectacles. ‘You’ve been like a fly in a tar box for the best part of a week, thinking that something would come up to prevent your going,’ she said severely. ‘In fact I’ve taken offence. Anyone would think I was an evil prison warder, intent upon keeping you in Heyworth Street when your whole heart and mind was set on escaping back to Bell Farm. How you’ll tear yourself away when your holiday’s over, I can’t imagine. Perhaps you’ll decide to stay, so if that’s in your mind . . .’

  Giggling, Tess bounced across the kitchen and flung both arms round Gran, squeezing her tightly and plonking a kiss upon the older woman’s smooth pink cheek. ‘Oh, Gran, you are daft,’ she said affectionately. ‘When I first came back to Liverpool I admit I was pretty unhappy. It was mostly because the other girls at school hated me. But now I wouldn’t go back to the farm full time even if they paid me. I’ve several friends in my class now, and ever since Snowy White took me up, so to speak, no one’s tried to bully me. But best of all is you and me. We’re a little family and we look out for each other. I just wish you could come to the farm as well, but I know it’s not on, not this year at any rate. The Bells are nice, but if I’m honest I know they’ve only invited me to keep Jonty quiet and because I can be useful. It’s not that they’re hard, exactly . . . well, I suppose it is really. Farming isn’t a nine-to-five job, Mrs Bell used to say, it’s twenty-four hours, and it makes farmers despise anyone not working all out.’

  Gran returned the hug and, in her turn, kissed Tess’s cheek. ‘I was only teasing, queen,’ she said remorsefully. ‘I know you wouldn’t desert me, although one of these days, when you’re older, you’ll want a place of your own and a husband too. And now sit down and eat your porridge. I shall come to the station with you, because it’s always nice to be waved off, and I shall expect a nice newsy letter telling me all about the farm as soon as you’ve time to pen one.’

  ‘I will write, I promise,’ Tess said sitting down at the table and pulling her bowl of porridge towards her. ‘But don’t expect a letter straight away . . .’ She giggled, spooning porridge. ‘Remember the postcards, Gran, when all us kids were first evacuated? Our teachers had already written our home address on one side and we were to fill them in and send them off as soon as we were told what our new address was going to be. Gosh, when I look back and remember what a frightened little kid I was, I’m astonished that I managed to send that postcard at all. And of course I didn’t go to the Bells at first, but to that nasty old lady who begrudged every mouthful of food I ate, and then the ones who nagged me about wetting the bed, until I was so scared I tried to run away. Only then Mrs Bell took me in and everything was different.’

  Gran nodded, sitting down opposite Tess and beginning to eat her own porridge. ‘That’s all best forgotten,’ she said between mouthfuls. ‘Just you concentrate on the list of stations we made out. Don’t forget, porters are there to help people when they have to change trains. Oh, dear. In a way I wish I was going with you, but I suspect that it would probably be you leading me and not vice versa.’ She smiled as Tess jumped to her feet and took her empty bowl over to the sink. ‘It’s a brilliant day already. Are you sure you want to wear your mackintosh? You’ll be awfully hot by the time you reach Norwich Thorpe. Only I dare say it wouldn’t fit into your suitcase, so perhaps you had better wear it.’

  ‘I might as well,’ Tess said. ‘Have you finished your porridge, Gran? ’Cos if you’re ready we might as well leave. I know trains are always late, but you never know, this one might be the exception.’

  Gran laughed but got to her feet. ‘All right, all right, I knew how it would be,’ she said resignedly. ‘Just give me time to visit the lavvy and I’ll be with you.’

  Twenty minutes later Gran and Tess, Tess carrying a suitcase and listing heavily to port, arrived at Lime Street station. Gran suggested they might go to the refreshment room and have a cup of tea, since it was quarter of an hour before their train was due, but Tess pointed out that if she drank too much and the train was very crowded she might have to get out when it stopped to find a Ladies and then the train might go off without her, so she and Gran perched on one of the benches until their train was announced. Gran bought a platform ticket and carried Tess’s mac over her arm whilst Tess teetered along in her wake. They got aboard and bagged the corner seat by the simple expedient of putting Tess’s mac down on it and the suitcase on top of that; then Tess shooed Gran back on to the platform, worried that the train might suddenly start and carry the older woman off too. Instead she let down the leather strap to open the window and leaned out so that they could say goodbye. For once the train was on time and they could hear the engine getting up steam even as the porter came along, waving his flag and slamming doors.

  Tess tilted out at a perilous angle, waving violently as the train’s speed increased and Gran’s figure got smaller and smaller, and presently, as she turned away from the window and returned to her seat, she was aware of a tight feeling in her throat, and tears beginning to gather in her eyes. Gran was such a lovely person! She had been as good as a mother to her granddaughter, possibly even better, sharing all Tess’s hopes and fears, and getting the job in the bakery so that they could manage financially. Tess intended to begin earning as soon as she could find someone willing to employ her, but this had not yet happened, and partly, she knew, it was her own fault. Gran had talked to Clackem, telling her that at the Norfolk school they had expected Tess to get a scholarship to one of the fee-paying schools in the area and go on to further education. Gran had pointed out that a scholarship girl would be a feather in the cap of her council school and most particularly of her teacher, and ever since that meeting life had been a lot easier for Tess. With the teacher on her side, actually setting her homework which would help rather than hinder her, Tess saw that if she worked all out she might eventually go to university and herself be a teacher, which as far as Clackem was concerned was what every bright girl should aspire to.

  But now, sitting in her corner seat and watching Liverpool’s houses and factories gradually disappearing and rolling countryside appearing in their place, scholarships, examinations and university were the last things on Tess’s mind. In her imagination she was sliding a hand into the nesting box at the farm and taking the warm brown eggs which lay there. Then she was holding the bucket of sweet milk and dipping her fingers into it so that the leggy little calf, born only a few weeks previously, might suck the milk off them. There were so many tasks which, the previous year, had seemed more like fun than work. Tess hugged herself and looked around the compartment, which was only half full. A woman was immersed in a copy of the Echo while her son was staring out of the window and asking every five minutes: ‘Are we nearly there yet, Mam?’ They sat opposite Tess, and beside her, further up the seat, was a middle-aged couple who had already told Tess that they were going to visit their daughter who worked in Rugby, and her fiancé, whom they had never met.

  When asked where she herself was bound, Tess had just replied she was to stay with relatives, for though this was not precisely true she had no desire to fall into conversation. She much preferred her own thoughts, and time to anticipate the visit to come.

  The train drew to a halt at Norwich Thorpe and the young man who had been chatting to Tess on the last leg of her journey swung her case down from the rack and followed her along the corridor and down on to the platform. He stood the suitcase at his feet, then looked around him. ‘You said you were being met—’ he began, but he was interrupted.

 
‘Tess, you idiot, over here!’

  Tess looked around wildly but could see no one she recognised, then spotted someone pushing his way towards her. She stared. When she had last seen Jonty he had been about her own height and wearing short trousers and a stained shirt. But the person who approached was a good deal taller than her and broad shouldered, and wearing patched jeans, a leather jacket and stout working boots. He reached her side and grinned and then Tess knew him immediately. Oh, he might be taller and broader, his hair lightened by the hot summer sun and his clothing that of a young man rather than a boy, but he was still undoubtedly her old pal.

  ‘Jonty!’ she gasped, and grabbed his hands in both of hers. ‘Oh, Jonty, I’m so sorry I didn’t recognise you. You’ve changed so much!’ She turned to the young man who had carried her case for her. ‘This is my pal, the one I told you would be meeting me. Jonty, this is Mr Potter, who’s come here to take up a job with the Norwich Union Insurance Company. He was kind enough to help with my case, but now he can go along to the guard’s van and fetch his trunk.’ She smiled gratefully at the young man. ‘Thank you for your help, Mr Potter. I’ll be all right now.’

  She bent to pick up her suitcase, but Jonty was ahead of her. He grabbed it, grinned at young Mr Potter and began to stride towards the barrier, where he surrendered his platform ticket and Tess showed her own ticket. Then they were out on the concourse. ‘We’re going to have to catch a bus to the village,’ Jonty said, glancing at the large watch on his wrist, ‘but the next one won’t be along for half an hour. Want to grab tea and a wad in the refreshment room? You look as though you could do with feeding up.’

  ‘You look as though you’ve been doing too much feeding altogether,’ Tess said frankly. ‘You’re huge, Jonty. How on earth have you managed to get so tall and broad in such a short time? And your hair always did get lighter in summer, but I swear you didn’t have so many freckles before.’