A Christmas to Remember

by Katie Flynn

  He was glad he had done so when the vehicle began to fill up and the driver stood at the top of the steps with his checklist of passengers in one hand, ticking people off as they boarded. Albert was relieved to see that there was a good sprinkling of men amongst the trippers, and though most people seemed to be accompanied, there were one or two lonely souls like himself. At the last minute a handsome white-haired woman hurried up the steps just as the driver slid into his seat, and when she had given her name and been ticked off the checklist she smiled at Albert. ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ she said, indicating the empty seat beside him. ‘I’m afraid I’m sometimes travel-sick, so I don’t want to sit at the back – it’s always worse there, don’t you think?’

  Reluctantly, Albert agreed that the motion of the coach could be unpleasant if one were occupying a rear seat, and the woman sat down with a word of thanks. ‘Isn’t it marvellous weather for the seaside?’ she said happily. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this for days. I wondered how I would get on, being by myself, and I did mean to arrive at the coach station earlier so that I could choose my seat. But I managed to oversleep and then I had to run most of the way, a thing I haven’t done for years. I expect you were early, since you got the best place in the whole coach!’

  ‘I was,’ Albert admitted. He had intended to smile briefly at his fellow passenger and then to turn his shoulder on her, putting a stop to any attempt at conversation. But this woman, he was suddenly sure, was not the type to force her unwanted attention on anyone. In fact, chatting now and then would shorten the coach journey, make the fifty miles or so pleasanter than they might have been, so he smiled at his companion and held out a hand. ‘Since we’re fellow passengers, I think we ought to introduce ourselves,’ he said. ‘My name’s Payne . . . and you are . . .?’

  ‘I’m Mrs Williams,’ the woman said. She chuckled. ‘I’d take a bet that half the people on this coach are either Williams, Evans or Jones. And when we get to Rhyl we’ll find even more Williamses, Evanses and Joneses. Have you ever been to Rhyl before? This is my first visit.’

  By now the coach was bumping down towards the tunnel which would take them up on to the Wirral. Albert nodded. ‘Oh yes, I’ve been to Rhyl a great many times, though this is my first visit since the war. When my wife was alive we had a holiday somewhere on the Welsh coast every summer. After she died my daughter and I used to have days out, visiting Chester or Wrexham or one of the little Welsh villages where you could get a meal and a drink, but of course the beaches were all closed during the war so we couldn’t go there. My wife and I were great walkers, but Janine didn’t take after us, I’m afraid. After the war I fancied starting an ice cream parlour and putting Janine in charge, though of course the financial side of it would have been my concern, but she upped and offed to America to marry a GI. She’s got a good job in the family business, earns a far better salary than I did at her age and keeps trying to persuade me to have a holiday over there.’ He chuckled. ‘Wish I could, but money’s pretty tight and I’m still hoping to have my own ice cream parlour one of these days, even if I have to employ someone else to run it.’

  His companion heaved a sigh. ‘I’d really love to run an ice cream parlour, but I expect jobs like that go to the young, and very right and proper too,’ she added. ‘Still, I can’t help wishing.’ She looked hard at him. ‘It’s a good idea, you know – you’d be the first in Liverpool. Have you investigated any likely premises?’

  ‘One or two,’ Albert said truthfully. ‘But I’ve found nothing suitable so far. I can’t afford a large rent, but cheaper places either don’t have a water supply or aren’t connected to the electric. With ice creams you need efficient refrigeration, so I suppose I shall have to abandon my dream.’ That made him sound a much more interesting person than he really was, Albert thought, but why not? He and this Mrs Williams were, after all, ships that pass in the night. He could tell her anything, any number of lies – not that he would, of course – and she would think him one hell of a fellow, as his daughter would have said. But the time had come to ask some questions on his own account. ‘But how about you?’ he asked. ‘Do you have a job?’

  At this point the bus emerged from the tunnel and the bus driver began to address his passengers, telling them that they would stop in about forty minutes at a café with a big car park, where they might make use of the facilities and have a cup of coffee or tea if they wished. Mr Payne and Mrs Williams smiled at one another. ‘I shall invite you to share a pot of tea with me, Mrs Williams,’ Albert said grandly. ‘I might even run to a scone . . . but you’ve not answered my question. Are you a working woman?’

  His companion pulled a face. ‘I certainly am. I was widowed in the early thirties and worked until the war began as an accounts clerk, but now I work at Deering’s.’

  She obviously thought that Albert would know Deering’s, but on the spur of the moment he could not call it to mind so merely remarked that no doubt she would enjoy the coach trip all the more because she was not free every day. Mrs Williams nodded her agreement and they began to talk of other things.

  The rest of the journey passed very pleasantly. Mrs Williams told Albert that she had intended to bring a packed lunch, but because she had overslept she had not made herself so much as one sandwich and would have to buy a meal at one of the many cafes in town.

  ‘I’m the same,’ Albert admitted ruefully. ‘Louisa and I always made sandwiches and brought a flask of tea, and during the war Janine and I did the same, but today I made up my mind to treat myself. I know several cafés – or I used to know them before the war – and there’s one on the front called the Seagull. They used to do an excellent ham salad, and charge half a crown for three courses, bread and butter and a cup of tea. Will you join me?’

  Mrs Williams said she would be delighted but insisted that each should pay for their own meal. ‘Just because I sat myself down next to you doesn’t give me the right to expect you to pay for my lunch,’ she said. ‘But I do hate eating alone in a café, so if you’re sure you don’t mind I’ll come with you to the Seagull. Only – do you mean to go on the beach during the course of the afternoon? If so, we might take a walk along the sands together. I’d enjoy it far more with a companion and I dare say you might feel the same.’ Albert agreed that he would and presently the pair found themselves descending from the bus on the crowded promenade and promising the driver that they would congregate beside the clock tower on the prom by six o’clock at the latest.

  ‘’Cos I’m warnin’ you, I’ll leave this here resort at a minute past six and if you’re left behind that’ll be your blame,’ the driver said jovially. ‘Have a good time, ladies and gents, and don’t forget to bring me back a stick of rock wi’ Rhyl written right the way through it.’

  The passengers began to move away, eager to explore the delights of the seaside town, and Albert offered his arm to Mrs Williams. He found, as they walked along the prom, that he felt proud to be with such an attractive and well-dressed woman. Mrs Williams was only an inch or two shorter than Albert and had, besides a great deal of curling white hair, a pair of big blue eyes, a straight little nose and a soft pink mouth. She wore a blue cotton dress which exactly matched her eyes and a pair of comfortable white sandals, because, as she had already told him, she too was a keen walker and knew that fashionable shoes would soon ruin her day. Despite the earliness of the hour the beach was already crowded and Albert pointed this out, saying that, had she indeed brought sandwiches, she would have been hard pressed to find a secluded spot to eat them.

  Mrs Williams agreed, and presently suggested that they might walk along the beach now, since the tide was going out and people were starting to leave in search of lunch. Albert agreed and courteously turned his back whilst his companion hitched up her skirt, removed her sandals and trotted joyfully into the little white-topped waves.

  ‘It’s a good thing my granddaughter can’t see me now; she’d say I was entering my second childhood,’ Mrs Williams said. She
gave a squeak and pointed at the water through which she was wading. ‘Look at that shell! Can you reach it without getting too wet?’

  ‘I can if you’ll hold my jacket,’ Albert said. He had shed his jacket along with all his formality, and felt he had known Mrs Williams for years. But it wasn’t until they were seated opposite one another in the Seagull café, having been lucky enough to find a table for two, that Albert discovered he had met Tess’s grandmother at long last.

  The waitress had arrived to give them each a buttered roll, whereupon Mrs Williams had remarked that these were very similar to the ones she made at Deering’s when she was on the baking shift.

  Albert stopped with a buttered roll halfway to his mouth. ‘Do you mean Deering’s on Heyworth Street? If so you must walk past my shop every time you go to work: Albert Payne, Purveyor of Fine Tobaccos. Do you know it?’

  His companion nodded, a dimple peeping beside her mouth. ‘Course I do! And you know me, though we’ve never actually met. I’m Tess Williams’s gran, and you’re the man who rescued her when some lads chased her into your shop.’

  Albert stared for a moment, quite bereft of speech, but then he too began to smile. ‘Well, of all the odd coincidences . . .’ he said. ‘And what a happy one! I’ve often wanted to meet you, because of course I’ve heard a great deal about you, but somehow it’s never happened. How Tess will laugh when we tell her how we met! Forgive me, but you don’t look old enough to be anyone’s grandmother, let alone a great girl like Tess’s.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Mrs Williams said. ‘If I tell you, will you promise not to say anything to Tess?’

  Albert frowned, ‘I don’t understand,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t wish to deceive Tess . . . do you not want me to say we’ve met?’

  Mrs Williams shook her head impatiently. ‘No, no, nothing like that. But the truth is, I’m not anyone’s gran. During the war I got friendly with an elderly lady who was actually Tess’s grandmother. But she died just before the end of the war and when the authorities were looking for someone to take care of Tess I’m afraid I misled them. My name was Williams too, you see, Edith as well, so when they asked about an Edith Williams I stepped forward. I couldn’t bear the thought of my friend’s granddaughter being put in a children’s home, which would have happened, because she had no other relatives willing to take her on. And once I started the deception, and Tess never queried our relationship – she was only six when she was evacuated, and since Edith and her daughter didn’t get on she hardly remembered her grandmother at all – I couldn’t get out of it; didn’t want to, in fact. Tess is a grand girl, marvellous company and bright as a button. At first we had a struggle to manage but she never complained even when food was scarce, and she’s got a healthy appetite. Only then I got the job at Deering’s – at first it was just for special Christmas orders, but when they realised I was a good worker they took me on full time.’

  ‘And you still never told Tess that you’re no relation?’ Albert asked incredulously. He grinned. ‘You say she’s bright as a button, so why on earth hasn’t she done her sums? There’s just no way you could have a granddaughter her age. When are you going to tell her? You’ll have to do so some time!’

  But his companion shook her head. ‘I shan’t, because Tess herself has found a way round it, though she hasn’t realised it yet. She has a friend called Lucy who lives on Mere Lane. They walk to and from school together, and one day Lucy came in early, whilst I was still making Tess’s butties. They went into the front room because I had the wireless playing and they wanted to check their French homework, and I heard them talking. They were laughing about how women hate to reveal their age and Tess told Lucy that even her gran kept her age a secret though she simply had to be in her mid-forties at least. I heard Lucy say, “Your gran’s ever so young-looking. In fact, apart from her white hair, you’d be surprised to find that she was forty, let alone fifty-five.” So now Tess has got it fixed in her head that I’m fifty-five, and I’m not saying anything!’

  Albert made a dignified little bow. ‘Lucy was right,’ he said. ‘Ah, here comes the waitress. Shall I say tomato soup, ham salad and ice cream for two?’

  On the way home in the coach Albert reflected that he felt as though he had known Mrs Williams for years. They planned to book a coach trip to Llandudno for the following week and would meet up beforehand to be sure of sitting together. By now Albert felt it was only sensible to suggest they should use each other’s Christian names, though his companion said that she would prefer it if he called her Edie.

  ‘And don’t forget I’m fifty-five and need a hand going up and down steps,’ she said, gaily, as they stood on the pavement outside Albert’s shop. ‘I suppose you’re right and one of these days I may have to tell Tess the truth, but that day hasn’t come yet. She’s a dear girl and sets enormous store by the fact that we are a family. Her mother – well, let’s say she wasn’t the maternal type, and I suspect she was often made to feel like an outsider on the farm too, though I’m sure the Bells didn’t mean to do so. To tell you the truth I think the invitation to visit them again has been a revelation to Tess. I know she’s only been there a week but she’s working all out and having to visit friends in the village at the end of a very hard day. I’m certain she’s valued, but perhaps not in quite the way she would like, so I’m sure she’ll come back to us very well content with her life here. Though of course she’ll never quite forget her happy days on the farm and her friendship with this boy Jonty, and I wouldn’t want her to.’

  ‘Good, good,’ Albert said absently. He was thinking how nice it was to spend time with an intelligent woman who shared many of his own interests. They had discussed the possibility of his setting up an ice cream parlour in various locations, but had decided in the end that he had been right to aim for a property on Heyworth Street. There was little bomb damage here, and because of her work in Deering’s Edie Williams knew a great deal about catering. She agreed with him that water and electricity supplies were essential and pointed out that premises which had been used for food preparation were the sort he should be looking for.

  ‘The shop right next door to Deering’s will come on the market within the next six months, I believe,’ she told him. ‘But there will be others, as places run by elderly folk become too much for them to cope with, what with rationing and rules and so on. Become a burden, in fact. So I’ll keep my eyes open and you must do the same.’

  Albert agreed to do so, immensely heartened by the fact that this new and delightful friend had actually suggested a partnership, for though she enjoyed her work at Deering’s she was ambitious and saw a part share in an ice cream parlour as a definite step up. She quite agreed with Albert that Tess should continue her education, but knew that she could do so by taking evening classes, which would leave her free to earn money in the prospective ice cream parlour. So now he let himself into the shop, sniffing the familiar scent of tobacco and Ronuk floor polish, and wishing that he had had the courage to suggest that Edie Williams might accompany him up to his flat for a cup of cocoa before they parted. But had she refused, on no matter what grounds, he would have felt deeply humiliated. Best, therefore, not to push things, not to try to run before he could walk.

  Satisfied that he had done the right thing, Albert locked the door and shot the bolts across, then crossed the stockroom and ascended the stairs, feeling the weariness of a long day, but also a sense of achievement, because he had made a friend.

  He pushed open the kitchen door and lit the gas under the kettle; a cup of tea would be welcome and he wondered whether he should put a soothing lotion on his arms, which were turning pink and stinging. He went through to his bedroom and, in what he still thought of as ‘Louisa’s half’, found a bottle of something called moisturiser, which he knew his wife had spread on burnt skin in days gone by. He unstoppered the lotion, and by the time he had spread it on his forearms the kettle was boiling.

  He got into bed that night knowing that he would fall asleep a
lmost at once, for the day, though infinitely pleasurable, had been a long one. During the drive home, the driver had started a sing-song. Albert, naturally shy, would not have joined in, but Edie would not allow him to remain silent. ‘You must know the words, so sing up,’ she urged him. ‘Tell you what, if you give it a go I’ll pay for your glass of beer when we stop at that café place.’

  Albert did not feel he sang well, but he joined in with such verve and vigour that Edie Williams told him he had a grand voice and insisted on buying him half a pint of Worthington’s, though she herself stuck to coffee.

  ‘You ought to join a choir; it would get you out a bit and you’d enjoy it,’ she had told him. ‘There’s lots of choirs around in Liverpool, the city being so near Wales. Well, they used to call it the capital of Wales at one time, because Cardiff’s such a long way off. What d’you say?’

  Albert had laughed. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he had promised, and now, as sleep claimed him, he saw himself dressed in Tyrolean shorts and a perky hat with a feather, dancing up Heyworth Street, singing and playing a musical instrument. Even in his dream he laughed at the absurdity of it, but then he was on Rhyl beach once more, paddling at the water’s edge and shouting out to Mrs Edie Williams that she was the prettiest woman on the coach and he was a lucky fellow to have her company.

  Chapter Four

  BY THE TIME Tess had been at the farm for ten days she had slipped thoroughly into the way of things. Because the only other worker was an old man of seventy-five, who prefaced most of his remarks with a grumble about the lack of proper assistance, Jonty and Tess found they were supposed to be in several places at once, and had almost no time to themselves. Tess was thankful that the majority of the fruit in the orchard close to the house would not be ripe until after she had left, but even so there was a deal of work to be done. The field known as the hazel pasture, because it was hedged on one side with well-grown hazels, now contained a number of pigs and small shelters into which the sows could just about cram themselves along with their squealing, fighting progeny. The only boar, Crippen, was now the sole occupant of the big brick-built pigsty up against the house, and since he had an uncertain temper Jonty and Tess steered well clear of the enormous creature, leaving Mr and Mrs Bell and old Adam to deal with him. The original plan had been to take Crippen to the sows when they were ready for mating, but because of his evil temper they now took the sows to Crippen, and though an unpopular beast he fathered huge litters of piglets and so was unlikely to be sold on, though Jonty frequently suggested it.