A Christmas to Remember

by Katie Flynn

  I wonder why she didn’t want me to know this was hidden under the cutlery, Tess asked herself, carrying the wallet over to the kitchen table and clicking the clasp open. Yes, this is the one Albert and the others want. There really are insurance documents, and lots of other papers as well. But I’ll take it back to the others, and we’ll look at them together. She began to pick up the wallet without first fastening the clasp and it promptly spilled a great many papers on to the kitchen table. Cursing, Tess began to shovel them back, pausing over one which had a pattern of flowers all round the top and announced itself to be the Birth Certificate of Edith May Rogers, 15 August 1905. Tess chuckled to herself. What a scamp her grandmother was! She had fobbed Tess off when she had asked her age, but now here was the proof in Tess’s hand. She began to push the birth certificate back into the folder, then stopped short. ‘Hang on a minute,’ she murmured to herself, ‘something’s wrong here. Gran told me her maiden name was Rogers, which means this is her birth certificate all right, but then if she was born in 1905 and I’m sixteen going on seventeen, and say Mam was about eighteen when I was born, then she must have had her daughter when she was only ten years old!’

  But this was absurd; she was jumping to conclusions like a trout at a fly, Jonty would have said. The birth certificate simply must be wrong; was such a thing possible? Forgetting her intention not to pry, she began to go through the other papers and soon came across her own birth certificate. She had seen it before, had had to produce it in order to be accepted at the grammar school so that she might sit for her School Certificate; no mystery there then. She was registered as Theresa Jane Williams and on this form at any rate they had got her birthday right. Tess began to cram the papers back into the folder, then changed her mind and took her grandmother’s birth certificate back out again. She did not understand why the certificate proclaimed a date of birth so much later than it should have been, but Tess found that she did not want Albert or the two boys to see it, and begin to ask questions. So she took the certificate over to the Welsh dresser and slid it under the knives and forks, where it had been before. Then she picked up the wallet, tucked it under her arm and prepared to leave the flat. Before doing so, however, she glanced around her, to make sure that all was as it should be, and noticed for the first time a musty sort of smell. Sighing, she decided that the next day she would give the flat a good clean. Jonty would doubtless lend a hand, but she did not mean to encourage Snowy to join them. It was all very well his pretending that he had forgotten their old quarrel, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he had done no such thing. She knew he no longer went out with Marilyn and that he had had any number of girlfriends in the years which had passed since the quarrel, but she knew too that he had no particular girlfriend at present. She thought he was clearing the decks for university and was subsequently at a loose end, but she did not intend to become embroiled with him again. If he meant to join her and Jonty the following day he would find himself handed a scrubbing brush and an apron, and she guessed that he would take exception to both.

  Smiling to herself, she set off for the tobacconist’s shop, letting herself in with Albert’s spare key and running up the stairs two at a time. The mystery of the birth certificate would have to wait, and when she reached Albert’s kitchen and was told that they felt it was unfair to examine the contents of the wallet she agreed eagerly, picked up her mug of cocoa and drained it. ‘I only glanced at the contents, but I’m pretty sure there are insurance documents,’ she said. She turned to Albert. ‘Sorry I was so long, but there were two folders and I wasn’t sure which one was important. In fact I had quite a search for this one.’

  ‘So you didn’t really examine the contents?’ Albert asked, and Tess thought his glance was uncomfortably searching. ‘Well, no one is going to go through it until we’ve had Edie’s permission, and she won’t be fit enough to decide for a week or two. So in the meantime, Tess my dear, I’d be happier if I kept the folder under lock and key in the little safe set into the wall of the stockroom. Is that all right by you?’

  Tess was puzzled. Why should Albert assume that Gran had secrets which had to be locked up in a safe? Did he know something she did not? The drawer of the Welsh dresser had been good enough for Gran. But when she asked, Albert only replied that the landlord had keys to the flat and would doubtless be taking the prospective tenant around. ‘I know you sleep in the flat, but you aren’t there all day, queen,’ he explained. ‘But my shop is rarely unoccupied, which means no one is likely to go rifling through your gran’s papers.’

  Tess saw the sense of this, but when she went to bed that night she lay for some time staring up at the ceiling and wondering, wondering, wondering. Was it possible to alter a birth certificate? But why on earth should anyone do so? It seemed downright ridiculous to her.

  However, she slept at last and woke sluggishly when the street noises became too insistent to be ignored. Her first thought was that this was probably Jonty’s last day in the city. He had explained that though he could have stayed a couple of days longer, he thought it would be unfair on his parents. They would be harvesting their wheat and other cereals any time now – the weather had been hot and sunny for the whole of Jonty’s stay – and now that her grandmother was out of danger the moral support he had offered, though eagerly accepted at the time, was no longer necessary. Tess got out of bed and wandered over to her washstand. Presently she would go into the kitchen, make herself some porridge, brew the tea and then go round to ask Jonty how he would like to spend his last day. She rather thought he might like to take a river trip, though he would doubtless compare the Mersey unfavourably with his beloved Broads; she knew he missed the countryside and complained that the air of the city made him sleepy and lethargic, so a trip on the water would blow away the cobwebs.

  She was standing in front of her washstand vigorously splashing, for already the day was hot and the cold water was a positive blessing, when she remembered her grandmother’s birth certificate, and as though her mind had been busy thinking it out whilst she slept the solution popped into her mind even as she began to apply soap to her flannel. Gran was not her gran, but her mother! That would explain the age anomaly. But no sooner was the thought born than Tess had to kill it. If Gran had been her mother she would have acknowledged the fact joyfully, if only to Tess herself, knowing how Tess had longed and longed for a family of her own. She had even asked Gran to tell her everything she knew about her mother, whom she could barely remember, and now that she looked back she could see how little Gran had actually known. If my mother had really been Gran’s daughter, or if Gran herself had been my mother, then Gran would have told me a great deal, if only to keep me quiet, Tess said to herself. ‘Perhaps Gran is my aunt, or perhaps we’re just cousins, cousins who have a big age difference. But now that I’ve seen the birth certificate I won’t rest until Gran is well enough to answer a few questions.’

  Edie Williams lay in her hospital bed and fretted. Although neither Tess nor Albert had voiced aloud the problem which must have been nagging away at them, as it nagged away at Edie herself, it was a problem which would have to be faced.

  Edie knew, none better, that a baker needs both hands. Even for cake decorating she would need both hands. And whilst it was possible that she might learn to manage to do certain tasks which involved her right hand and not her left, she realised that Deering’s could not possibly wait on her convenience. They now employed two people to do the work which she had undertaken alone, and Mr Deering, a delightfully easy-going employer, had already visited her twice on the ward. ‘I’ve warned the fellers I’ve took on that their jobs will finish the day you come back,’ he had told her, his tone earnest. ‘But I’ve spoke to Sister and she tells me you’ll not be baking, nor rolling pastry, nor decorating wonderful birthday cakes for many a month. You’ll get paid in full for some time yet because you’ve been with us a tidy while, but then you’ll go on to something called sickness benefit and I thought we might ask you to do the
books for us. I know you used to be an accounts clerk for Roberts and Smythe. I guess that’d mean a couple of hours a week, but if I ask around others will likely be glad to give you similar work.’ He had looked at her, his eyes full of sympathy. ‘Mrs Williams, if I could do more for you I would, honest to God I would. But the fact is, what with coupons, forms and running out of ingredients half the time, Deering’s is in a parlous state. I don’t deny there are weeks when we take a pretty sum, but there are other times when I have hard work to pay the staff. But if you have any ideas of how we might help . . .’

  Edie had been sitting up in bed in her pretty pink bedjacket, her hair tied back with lavender ribbons and her person smelling very sweetly of lavender water. She read not only sympathy but also admiration in her old boss’s eyes, but had to shake her head at the suggestion of work. ‘Thank you, Mr Deering, it’s very good of you,’ she had said gratefully. ‘But once I’m on sickness benefit I’m not allowed to earn, you know, not so much as a shilling. Yet I don’t believe the money they pay me will cover the rent of a flat, let alone our living expenses. But I’m hoping that there are jobs which someone with only one useful hand can do, and if I’m right you may be sure I shall be first in the queue at the employment exchange.’

  Mr Deering had looked enormously relieved. ‘You’re a courageous woman, Mrs Williams,’ he said. ‘I might have known you’d take it as a challenge and not give up. But don’t forget, if I can do anything to help . . .’

  He had left her, and Edie waited for Albert and Tess, who had taken to coming on the dot of visiting hour in the evenings since they had so much to discuss. Albert had actually begun to do something about the proposed ice cream parlour. He had visited the bank, and though the manager’s enthusiasm for the scheme had been somewhat lukewarm, at least, Albert said, he had not shot it down in flames. In fact he had promised to look into it, but had added that before he did so he would like to see Albert’s business plan.

  ‘Which must include your setting-up costs,’ he had reminded Albert, twinkling at him over the top of his spectacles. ‘And you should remember, Mr Payne, that Change of Use can sometimes take many months to obtain, especially if the authorities decide to be difficult.’

  ‘But if you approve my business plan and say that you think the scheme is not only feasible but likely to prove a winner, then I’m told the planning people are far likelier to grant Change of Use status,’ Albert had said eagerly. ‘My partner and I will begin to work out our business plan this very evening.’

  That had been several days ago, and the business plan had not, if one were honest, progressed very far. Edie could not remember without an inward chuckle Albert’s horror at the price of a coffee machine, a fizzy drinks dispenser and a great many tall glasses. Poor man, he knew to the last farthing how to cost tobacco products, but take him outside his own sphere of reference and he was as innocent – or ignorant – as a child of two. Edie was just thinking that they had a long way to go before they would manage to produce the sort of business plan which a bank manager would consider workable when she heard the tramp of many feet and knew that visiting time had arrived. She had been leaning back against her pillows, but now she sat up straight. The hospital rule that one should be in bed during visiting hours meant that there was a scramble from patients who had been in the dayroom, listening to the wireless, gossiping and, she gathered, smoking like chimneys. They would be hurrying back to the ward, to leap hastily into rumpled beds and try to look as though they had been there for hours.

  The doctor under whose charge she was thought she would be able to get around on crutches once an X-ray had shown that the broken bone was mending nicely, but this would almost certainly take twelve full weeks, of which she had only served two. Every time the doctor visited the ward she demanded to be allowed to get out of bed and practise moving around. But the limb was hoisted up on a pulley so even had she decided to ignore medical advice and try to walk, it was impossible. She could only obey instructions and hope that, by so doing, healing would come more quickly.

  Edie had explained to the doctor about the ice cream parlour and the business plan, and had said over and over that once their small business was up and running she would spend most of the day sitting in a chair, with her leg raised on another. The doctor had nodded, smiled, admired her courage and merely reiterated his conviction that impatience would get her nowhere. ‘You must serve your time, my dear lady, just like everyone else,’ he had said kindly. ‘Believe me, we are as anxious to see the back of you as you are to see the back of us, but the old adage more haste, less speed applies to anyone with a badly fractured tibia. Patience is a virtue which I fear has been left out of your make-up, but it’s a virtue I’m afraid you have to learn.’

  So now Edie awaited her visitors with no good news to impart, though she always greeted them with a bright smile and asked eagerly how things were progressing. On this particular evening she saw that Albert was alone and greeted him anxiously. ‘Where’s Tess, Albert? I thought she was working a day shift at this nursery place until school starts again.’

  ‘So she is,’ Albert agreed, sitting down on the bench beside the bed. ‘But she has booked an appointment with the headmaster this evening so I’ve agreed that tomorrow night she can come and see you by herself whilst I get on with my stock-take.’ He looked anxiously at Edie. ‘To tell you the truth, my dear, I have an uneasy feeling that Tess wants a word with you alone.’

  ‘An uneasy feeling? What on earth should give you that impression? Oh, I know you told me she’d brought my business folder to you so that you might put it away for safe keeping whilst the landlord is taking prospective tenants round the flat, but you said she hadn’t opened it, and anyway I’ve gone through it in my mind and there’s nothing in it I wouldn’t want Tess to see. It’s just insurance policies, wage returns, contracts and so on. Nothing which relates to Tess herself, so far as I can remember.’

  Albert gave a sigh of relief. ‘That’s all right then,’ he said thankfully. ‘I know I’ve never been good at secrets – keeping them, I mean – so I’m probably just imagining that Tess has given me one or two strange looks lately. But I wanted to talk to you seriously anyway. I’ve got a whole heap of information from the people who advise small businesses, and we were quite right when we thought the milliner’s shop wouldn’t be suitable. It isn’t just that it’s too small, it’s the wrong shape, if you understand me. The average ice cream parlour needs to have kitchen premises . . . oh, I can’t explain . . .’ He hooked out the briefcase which he had pushed under the bench, clicked it open and produced a pile of papers, handing them to Edie. ‘There are plans for several different milk bars, ice cream parlours and small cafés, and try though I might I can’t make the milliner’s shop fit into any of these categories. As you know, it’s wider than it’s long, and the ideal ice cream parlour should be longer than it’s wide. Oh, dear, that isn’t a very good explanation, but you’ll see what I mean when you’ve studied the examples our business adviser has found up.’

  Edie looked up from her perusal of the first plan. ‘Our business adviser?’ she said. ‘Who’s he when he’s at home?’ She was amused to see Albert bridle slightly.

  ‘I rather think he’s a volunteer from the Chamber of Trade, of which I’m already a member,’ Albert said. ‘They’re a great organisation and they’ll help us in any way they can. They don’t make mistakes, either. If they say an ice cream parlour in Miss Foulks’s shop is a non-starter, I’m afraid they’re right, but Mr Clegg – that’s his name – is going to keep an eye open for suitable property, hopefully within our budget, and will guide us through the shoals and hidden snags which we’re bound to come across.’

  ‘Well that’s grand,’ Edie said absently, and hoped Albert did not pick up on her lack of enthusiasm. The truth was she was worried over Tess’s apparent desire to speak to her alone. Ever since Albert had told her that Tess had found the wallet which she had kept under the old crockery in the Welsh dresser she had
had an uneasy feeling. Only Albert knew that she had been living a lie ever since she had taken Tess on, and now she feared that the moment of truth had arrived. She could not imagine how anything in the manila wallet could have caused Tess to suspect that she had not told her the whole truth, so perhaps it was something totally unconnected with the papers. Perhaps it was something someone had said; she had pretended to be delighted that the ancient quarrel between Snowy and Tess had been resolved, that they were now friends once more, but perhaps it was not such a good thing. She had sometimes wondered whether Marilyn Thomas’s dislike of Tess came from some knowledge which Edie herself did not have. Perhaps Marilyn had passed this knowledge on to Snowy and now, with Gran out of the way, Snowy had told Tess something which Edie would much rather he had kept to himself.

  But Albert was looking at her anxiously. ‘Something’s not right, Edie,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to come with Tess tomorrow evening, when she visits? I’ll willingly do so, only I’m afraid she’ll think it rather strange . . .’

  Edie summoned up a bright and cheerful smile. ‘Nonsense, Albert!’ she said bracingly. She waved one of the plans. ‘And now just explain to me all the jargon on this sheet of paper . . .’

  Chapter Nine

  TESS HAD HAD her interview with the headmaster, who had been very sympathetic. ‘Naturally you’d like to get your Higher and go on to university, but like several of my pupils you feel that the financial strain on your parents would be unfair,’ he said. ‘Is that it, Miss Williams?’

  ‘Yes, that’s it exactly; only in my case I only have my gran,’ Tess explained. ‘At present she’s in hospital and won’t be able to leave the ward for another ten weeks. There are various complications too, such as the fact that our landlord is trying to let our flat as one unit with the shop beneath. Gran is in no condition to go searching for somewhere else for us to live, and since her injuries mean she won’t be able to take up her old job again even when she’s well, I can’t even consider leaving her alone.’