A Christmas to Remember

by Katie Flynn

  This conversation took place after Tess had visited the doctor in the village and been told to wear a sling and to put cold water compresses on her wrist two or three times a day. ‘You’ll be fine, but don’t let Mrs Bell tease you into using that arm,’ the doctor had said, clearly well aware of Mrs Bell’s propensity to see that everyone around her was doing their bit.

  So now Tess pulled a face at her old friend. ‘Of course it won’t put me off coming again, if I’m invited,’ she said. ‘But you’re to write me long interesting letters, Jonty, and I’ll write to you, and we’ll telephone each other every two or three months; we’ll arrange when by letter.’

  Later that day Mrs Bell approached Tess and suggested that she might like to stay on, since they were sadly in need of extra help to undo the damage caused by the hailstorm. ‘That’s been a terrible summer, first the awful heat and the drought, then the gale, and lastly that there hailstorm,’ she said. ‘If you’d care to stay on for the last two or three weeks of the school holidays, me and Mr Bell – and Jonty too – would be rare grateful.’

  For the first time, Tess thanked providence for her injured wrist. ‘It’s awfully kind of you, Mrs Bell,’ she said meekly. ‘But the doctor told me not to use my arm for at least three weeks, maybe longer. So I wouldn’t be very much use, even if my grandmother would allow me to extend my – my, er, holiday.’

  Mrs Bell sighed. ‘Mebbe you’re right,’ she said resignedly. ‘Mind you, if you wanted to stay on for longer and go back to the village school I’d not deny you’d be a grand addition to the workforce—’

  But here Tess felt she had to interrupt. ‘So you see, it’s impossible,’ she said, as though the other woman had not spoken. ‘But if you still need somebody next summer, I’d be glad to come over for two or three weeks. And now I promised Jonty that I’d see if I can milk with one hand. See you at suppertime, Mrs Bell.’

  Leaving the kitchen she went across to where Jonty was working in the milking parlour, half amused and half annoyed by Mrs Bell’s assumption that she would be prepared to leave her grandmother in order to work for nothing at a job which was both hard and taxing. But though a part of her was outraged at Mrs Bell’s assumption, another part admired the older woman’s singleness of purpose. Mrs Bell put the farm before everything else, apart from her family. Had Maggie been as keen to work at Bell Farm as Jonty was, she would have been roped in to do all the jobs that Tess had been coping with and, Tess suspected, would probably have never received a penny. Even during the war when things had been difficult, with labour short and extra paperwork on every side, Tess had been aware that farmers’ children were expected to pull their weight on the farm and were rarely paid for their trouble. However, Jonty was receiving a good education because his parents thought it important, and he would never want for anything that the farm profits could provide. School uniform, sports equipment and dinner money would be forthcoming as a matter of course. If he wanted a new record for his Dansette gramophone player – a new possession – he only had to tell his mother how much money he needed and it would be given ungrudgingly, and every Saturday he received sufficient pocket money to pay for his sweet ration.

  Tess picked up a milking stool which stood against the cowshed door and went and squatted by Violet, a placid creature who would not object if Tess fumbled to milk her with one wrist bandaged. She saw Jonty turn his head to grin at her, and when he raised his eyebrows and said ‘Well?’ in an amused voice she realised that he had guessed what his mother wanted to say. She was tempted to admit that she was rather hurt by Mrs Bell’s assumption that she would be willing to stay on at Bell Farm, though she had made it plain from the start that she meant to go home to her grandmother as soon as her three weeks were up. But that would only hurt Jonty, for though he might laugh at his mother’s tight hold on the purse strings Tess knew he loved her and his father and could never bring himself to criticise them to others.

  So she just said: ‘Mrs Bell suggested I might stay on for a little longer, but I told her I couldn’t. I’m so sorry, Jonty, but I promised Gran . . .’

  Jonty stood up, lifted his galvanised bucket of milk clear of Cowslip’s rear end – she tended to kick out – and came over to Tess. ‘I’m sure she understands that you can’t let your gran down,’ he said tactfully. ‘And I expect she told you you’d be very welcome to come back next year.’ He gave her a wicked little grin, raising one eyebrow as he did so, a trick he had been practising in his bedroom mirror ever since seeing Perry Como doing it on Pathé News. ‘Especially if you were sensible enough not to sprain your wrist in the meantime.’

  Chapter Five

  TESS ARRIVED AT Lime Street station lugging her suitcase and a large canvas holdall full of good things which Mrs Bell had packed up for her to take home for Gran. ‘We never paid you no wage, my woman, money being a bit on the tight side,’ she had said as she handed over the bulging bag, ‘but I thought as how your gran might be glad of a few eggs and that.’ Tess, scrambling into the front seat of the Morris – the damage had not proved as severe as the Bells had feared – had thanked her hostess whole-heartedly, though she thought that the extra luggage would probably prove a great nuisance.

  When they reached the station Tess shook hands with Mr Bell and had prepared to do the same with Jonty, but he shook his head. ‘Dad’s goin’ to the feed merchant and I’m stayin’ with you until you’re aboard your train,’ he said, grinning. ‘You’ll need all the help you can get with carryin’ your bags.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Ma meant it for the best, but by the time you reach Liverpool you’ll be cussin’ the extra weight. And you’ll have to be rare careful ’cos of the eggs.’

  ‘Oh, Jonty, you needn’t wait,’ Tess protested. ‘How are you going to get home? Or is Mr Bell going to come back for you?’ she added as the farmer drove off.

  Jonty raised his brows and seized the holdall. ‘Never heard of buses?’ he asked. ‘I can catch the ten o’clock to the village from here. Or I can have a mooch around the city and get the one that leaves at noon. Whichever I get I’ll have plenty of time to see the last of you.’

  And so it had proved and now Tess, struggling with the suitcase and the canvas holdall, looked round hopefully when she heard a voice hail her as she crossed the concourse.

  ‘Hey, Tess Williams, isn’t it? Where are you off to?’

  Tess dumped her suitcase and smiled at the fair-haired boy who had addressed her. ‘Snowy! What do you mean, where am I going? Home, of course.’ She looked hopefully up at him. ‘Going to give me a hand with my luggage? To tell you the truth it’s a perishin’ miracle I’ve managed to get this far without dropping something.’

  Snowy seized her suitcase, smiling broadly. ‘All right, all right, so it was the wrong question; I should have said where have you been. Come to think, I’ve not seen you around since the school holidays started.’ He peered at her. ‘Go on, where have you been?’

  ‘To Norfolk, to the farm I lived on during the war.’ Tess picked up the holdall. ‘Are you going in my direction? If so, I’d be grateful if you’d give me a hand.’

  Snowy frowned, pretending to consider. ‘Well, last time I got you out of trouble you didn’t even ask me up to your place for a drink of water,’ he pointed out. ‘So I’ll carry your case, ma’am, if you’ll ask me in when we reach Heyworth Street.’

  Tess also pretended to consider, then nodded, and they set off. On Lime Street, Snowy jerked a thumb at the queue for taxis and the even longer queue for a tram. ‘Which?’ he asked. ‘Are you goin’ to ride like a lady or join the scrum aboard a number thirty-one?’

  Tess had not even considered the question since she had spent many hours wedged into stuffy compartments simply longing for a breath of fresh air, so she shook her head. ‘Neither. Will you think I’m taking advantage if I say I’d rather walk? Only I’ve been shut up in frowsty trains since early this morning . . .’

  ‘Suits me,’ Snowy said briefly. ‘Come on, then, best foot forward. Can you manage
that holdall or shall I take that as well as the suitcase?’

  Tess shook her head as they set off at a brisk pace. ‘No, I can manage it easily,’ she assured him. ‘Incidentally, what were you doing on the station? It’s pretty plain you weren’t meeting me because I wasn’t able to tell anyone what time my train would arrive. It depended on when Mr Bell’s car managed to get us to Norwich Thorpe. Did you have a fearful hailstorm about three days ago? We did, and the Bells’ car took a rare beating. One of the hailstones made a huge dent in the bonnet.’

  Snowy gave a disbelieving snort. ‘Dented the bonnet?’ he said incredulously. ‘They must have cars made of paper in Norfolk. Pull the other one, kid; it’s got bells on.’

  ‘Aha, then it was just a freak hailstorm, and not countrywide,’ Tess said wisely. ‘But I can prove that I’m speaking the truth when we get back to the flat because I cut out a piece about it from the Eastern Evening News. Not that I care whether you believe me or not,’ she finished.

  Snowy flung up his free hand in a gesture of submission. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said. ‘But I’ve not told you what I was doing on the station. I was seeing off a cousin of mine who came to stay for a couple of days. She’s a rare clever girl and has got a scholarship to a private school somewhere in North Wales. She came over here to get her school uniform . . .’

  Tess interrupted. ‘Oh, Snowy, I’m so sorry! You must have had your exam results. Did you get good marks?’

  ‘Fancy you remembering,’ Snowy said, his tone sarcastic. ‘And you not even bothering to say goodbye to me when you went off to Norfolk! But yes, you’re quite right, I’ve got my results and if I do as well in my School Cert next year I’ll be taking up a place in the sixth form. What about you? I remember Marilyn saying you were bright.’

  Tess stopped short so abruptly that the woman walking behind her cannoned into her. Apologies were exchanged before Tess turned an incredulous face to her companion. ‘Marilyn Thomas said I was bright?’ she squeaked. ‘But she doesn’t like me! Oh, I know I haven’t been bullied since you started keeping an eye on me, but I can’t imagine her ever throwing me a nice word.’

  ‘Well, she did then, if you count her saying that you might get a scholarship,’ Snowy said definitely. ‘She’s all right is Marilyn, but I guess she was jealous of you at first, you being so young and still managing to get to the head of the class. Still, she left school at the end of the summer term and she’s working already, so you won’t need to worry about her when term starts.’

  Tess began to walk once more, looking up at Snowy as they went. ‘I bet she’s got a super job, with a decent salary,’ she said wistfully. ‘When I leave school I’ll go straight into a job too, because Gran works terribly hard and it’s about time I contributed something to our little household. Gran would like me to try for a scholarship but I mean to tell her it’s not on. Why, if I got a place at a private school it might be years before I began to earn.’

  Snowy nodded. ‘I know what you mean,’ he admitted. ‘I’m an only child and my parents can well afford for me to go on to further education. But for you it’s different, and it’s different for Marilyn too. Her dad went off in the early days of the war with some young floozy, leaving Mrs Thomas to bring Marilyn up by herself. That’s why she took over the corner shop. And it’s probably why Marilyn’s jealous of you.’

  ‘Jealous? Of me?’ Tess said incredulously. ‘Why on earth would she be jealous of me? I don’t have a mother, though Gran’s as good or better than any mother could possibly be. So how can Marilyn be jealous?’

  Snowy smiled knowingly. ‘Can’t you guess? Marilyn would have given a great deal to be able to get a scholarship. She’s got a job behind the haberdashery counter at one of the big stores – I’m not sure which – but I believe she despises shop work, or at least shop work on the haberdashery counter. And the salary’s nothing to write home about, believe me.’

  Tess shrugged. ‘Well, I think she’s mad,’ she said. ‘Jobs aren’t easy to find and she’s so pretty she’ll soon be moved from haberdashery into something more interesting. Why, she could be a mannequin and show off beautiful dresses and smart suits. Don’t tell me she wouldn’t like that!’

  Snowy laughed. ‘So could you – show off dresses and suits, I mean – and you’ve got brains as well,’ he pointed out. ‘What made you have your hair cut short, when everyone else is wearing it long?’

  Tess giggled. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever read Anne of Green Gables,’ she said. ‘It’s a grand story. I read it for the first time before I was evacuated, and because it was my favourite book I took it down to Norfolk with me. It’s all about this girl, Anne, who’s an orphan and goes to live on a farm run by an elderly couple who had asked for a boy and were very disappointed to get a girl. But Anne is a real little devil, red-haired and freckly, and she decides to dye her hair black. Only something goes wrong and her hair comes out green. So she has to have her head shaved and it regrows a sort of reddy-gold colour and is like a curly cap on her head. So when the hairdresser asked me how I wanted my hair done I said short and crisp, hoping that mine might curl too, only as you can see it didn’t work. But I like it and I don’t care if it’s not fashionable. It’s easy to keep tidy and provided I have a trim every four or five weeks it’s no trouble at all. Gran likes it too,’ she added defiantly.

  ‘So do I,’ Snowy said, just as they reached the milliner’s shop and the green-painted door which led to Gran’s apartment. ‘Look, are you sure it’ll be all right for me to come up? Only if you’d rather I visited you another day, when you’ve had a chance to warn your gran . . .’

  ‘Nonsense; we reached an agreement and I know Gran wouldn’t want me to break my word,’ Tess said. ‘Besides, she’s at work. But she’ll have left me a snack and knowing Gran there’ll be plenty for two, so you’re very welcome to come up. You can take a look round the flat and if you’re very good you can have a read of my copy of Anne of Green Gables, though I dare say it’ll seem a bit babyish for someone who’s recently entered her teens.’

  It was not far from Deering’s to the flat and Gran set off up Heyworth Street aware of a tingle of excitement. Tess was coming home – in fact she should be home by now – and Gran couldn’t wait to hear from her own lips how her holiday had gone. She had written home several times but hadn’t said much about how she was enjoying herself, if indeed she was. She had explained that the weather had made everything difficult, but hadn’t gone into detail, saying that she would tell Gran all about it upon her return home. Gran guessed that the letters were written not in the privacy of her own room but in the kitchen, on the long wooden table she had described, with Jonty sitting opposite and Mr and Mrs Bell glancing curiously at their guest’s writing paper as she kept Gran abreast of events.

  It had been different for Gran, of course. She was able to write about all that had happened at Deering’s and in the flat, but now that she thought about it she realised that she too had not been entirely frank. To be sure, she had said that she and Albert Payne had gone on a few coach trips together, but had let it appear that when they reached their destination they had gone their separate ways. She was not sure why she had not admitted that she and Albert shared a very pleasant friendship, but knew that once Tess was home all would be revealed.

  Reaching the green front door she unlocked it, hoping, as she hurried up the stairs, that Tess would have pulled the pan of potatoes over the flame and found the two tiny chops which she had managed to acquire from the butcher down the road. A can of Batchelors Peas, round and fat, awaited the tin opener and in Gran’s bag nestled a small sponge cake. She intended to make a custard to pour over the cake, which would do for a pudding.

  Already smiling at the thought of the news-filled evening to come, she opened the door, and even as she did so she heard a voice. She guessed that Tess would be chatting away to herself as she made a nice cup of tea and Gran smiled as she crossed the hallway and opened the door into the kitchen. ‘How you do run on,
you daft girl,’ she said, her tone half teasing, half affectionate. ‘I’m not sure whether you’re talking to the pan of potatoes or the teapot, but—’

  At this point she entered the kitchen and saw both Tess and Snowy. She stopped short, a hand flying to her heart. ‘My goodness, aren’t I a silly old woman! Who’s your friend, Tess? You must introduce us.’

  Tess rushed across the room and enveloped Gran in a huge hug, knocking her hat askew and causing her to drop her shopping bag. Laughing and exclaiming, she said excitedly: ‘It’s Snowy White, Gran – I’m sure I’ve told you about him. He’s the one who kept an eye on me so I wouldn’t be bullied, and he very kindly offered to carry my suitcase from the station, which was just as well because Mrs Bell packed a canvas holdall full of nice things and I couldn’t have managed both bags by myself.’

  Gran smiled at the boy. She guessed him to be a couple of years older than Tess and remembered how frightened Tess had been about going to and from school until some young feller had taken her part. Obviously this was the young feller in question, so she gave him a big smile. ‘How do you do, Mr White,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I believe I have reason to be grateful to you, since Tess likes school now that she’s not being bullied. In fact I keep telling her she ought to sit for the School Certificate, but she’s that obstinate . . .’

  ‘It’s not that I’m obstinate; in a way I’d like to take the exam, and the Higher too, but I’d like to work and earn money as well,’ Tess explained. ‘If I could do both that would be grand, but I can’t see someone paying me not to work for them, can you?’

  Snowy laughed. Apart from murmuring how do you do, he had said nothing, embarrassed to be found making himself at home in the flat when its owner was not present, but now he smiled. ‘If you keep on coming top of the class you may yet end up going in for further education, like me,’ he said. ‘But right now I’d best be off. You’ll have a lot you want to discuss, and I’ll only be in the way.’