A Daughter's Courage

by Kitty Neale

  By about ten o’clock, the pub was beginning to empty and Tom looked worn out. Robbie would have to be his most charming self if he was going to pull this one off.

  ‘Err, Tom. Why don’t you grab a drink and come join me for a while? You look like you could do with a bit of a breather.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Tom replied. ‘My daughter was supposed to come over and give me a hand tonight, but she got stuck indoors with her little ’un. Little bleeder’s come down with chicken pox. Never mind, I got through it, but I’m worn out.’

  ‘It’s Christmas Day tomorrow so I expect you’ll have the day off to spend with your family?’ Robbie pried.

  ‘Yeah, but the missus passed away a couple of years ago. Still, I’m off to my daughter’s for lunch tomorrow. A few spots won’t keep me away from the grandson, not on Christmas Day. What about you, are you driving back to London tonight?’

  ‘I was planning to, but I’ve had one too many to drive. Are there any decent hotels in the area?’

  Tom rubbed his unshaven face. ‘You’ll be hard pushed to find a room at this time of night.’

  ‘Blast it. Oh well, I might as well have another pint. I can sleep in my car, that’s if you don’t mind me being parked up outside all night?’

  ‘You can’t do that – you’ll freeze to death. Tell you what, as it’s Christmas, you can have my spare room for tonight, but you’ll have to be up and out early in the morning.’

  ‘That’s really good of you. Thanks, Tom. I’ll pay you for the room and I won’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘If you insist,’ Tom answered.

  ‘I do,’ Robbie said with a laugh. ‘Drink up, and let’s both have another.’

  As closing time approached, Tom staggered over to the bell behind the bar and rang it, signalling last orders. There were only a handful of customers left, who soon finished up their drinks and bade Tom a cheery farewell as they left.

  Robbie helped the landlord lock up and then poured him another drink. He reckoned that Tom could only handle a couple more and hoped the man would then pass out.

  ‘So what brings you out to these parts then, Graham? It’s a long way from home,’ Tom asked as he took a stool at the bar.

  ‘Nothing special. I was on my way home from visiting my sister in Guildford and decided to take the scenic route back.’

  ‘That’s a lovely little motor you’ve got out the front. It must have cost you a packet. What do you do for a living?’

  ‘I’ve got a haulage business. It’s been hard work building it up, but it does me all right. I don’t get much time off so this is nice, just sitting here and relaxing with a decent ale and good company. Cheers.’ Robbie held out his pint to clink glasses and was pleased when Tom swiftly swallowed his whisky.

  ‘Look at the time,’ Tom slurred. ‘It’s nearly midnight so best we make this the last one and hit the sack.’

  ‘One more for the road, eh? Come on, man, it’s Christmas,’ said Robbie encouragingly.

  ‘Go on then, jush one more. And mewwy cwissmass …’ Tom’s head was bobbing and his eyes were slowly closing.

  Robbie wanted to punch the air with delight but refrained from doing so. This was just what he wanted – an unconscious landlord with a till full of money.

  ‘Let’s get you upstairs,’ he said gleefully as he heaved the large man up from the barstool.

  ‘I … I … I’ve gotta lock the doors and cash up,’ Tom moaned, belching loudly.

  ‘You’ve already done it, remember? Let’s just get our heads down and I’ll help you clear up the bar in the morning.’

  Tom mumbled incoherently as Robbie hauled him up the stairs. ‘Where’s your room, Tom?’

  ‘Ssthere,’ he slurred, staggering towards it.

  Robbie helped Tom over to his bed and the man almost fell onto it. He threw some covers over him and then rapidly made his way back down to the bar.

  This was a piece of cake, Robbie thought as he helped himself to a quick glass of brandy. His eyes surveyed the bar and he realised there was more than just a cash register full of money on offer. He could help himself to several large bottles of expensive spirits too.

  Robbie searched under the bar and found a bag that he stuffed with notes from the till. He quickly calculated that there was about fifty quid, if not more, so it wasn’t a bad haul. The landlord had been too drunk to realise that Robbie still had the pub keys, so grabbing a bottle of whisky he made for the doors.

  The cold hit him as he dashed outside, where he put the bag of cash and the bottle in the boot of his car before going back inside for more booze. In his haste Robbie let the door slam shut behind him, but he wasn’t bothered as he was pretty sure that not even a bomb under the bed would stir Tom.

  He filled his arms with bottles of spirits then suddenly spun around when he heard a growling noise coming from the end of the bar. To his horror he saw Tom standing there, looking very dishevelled and twitching with anger. The man was holding a large wooden club in his hand and Robbie was in no doubt that the ex-docker would readily use it on him.

  ‘It’s not what you think, Tom. I was just filling up and tidying the bar for you.’ Robbie saw Tom’s eyes flit to the till and the empty open drawer. He knew his lies were useless.

  ‘You thought I was too drunk to know what you’re up to, you lying, thieving bastard!’ Tom staggered towards Robbie, brandishing the heavy club, ready to strike.

  Astonished that the man had sobered up enough to make it downstairs, Robbie dropped the bottles and fled for the door. He ran outside and jumped into the car.

  Tom was surprisingly close behind and haphazardly swung the club, just missing his target. ‘You fucking dirty toe-rag! I’ll have you …’ he bawled as he lifted his weapon again, but before he could land a blow the car engine revved into life and Robbie hit the accelerator hard with his foot.

  He sped through the dark and winding country lanes, sniggering to himself. It had been a close call but he had got away with it. It saddened him that he’d have to ditch the car now, but it was very noticeable so he had no choice. He’d been mad to keep it this long, but now he’d nick an old banger, one that even if reported stolen the police would be unlikely to pursue.

  Robbie smiled to himself. With the money he now had he’d find somewhere nice to stay, well away from this area, and then, after a quiet Christmas, he’d see the New Year in with a bang.

  Chapter 15

  After driving for half an hour, Robbie had spotted a couple of old cars parked inside a dimly lit industrial area. There wasn’t a soul around so he’d driven the MG around the back of the building and managed to break into an old grey Ford. He’d smiled when he found a hidden key, and was relieved when it started the engine. There was petrol in the tank too, so he’d put the booze in the boot and quickly driven away. He’d then travelled for hours, but finally, too tired to drive any further, he’d pulled into a parking area to grab some sleep.

  When morning dawned, Robbie rolled his neck from side to side and stretched his arms. It wasn’t the most comfortable of places to have slept and he ached all over. He climbed out of the car, stretched his back and blinked in the light, realising that it was Christmas Day.

  His stomach growled and he hoped to find a place to eat. He guessed that most establishments would be closed, but he might be able to find a hotel that wasn’t fully booked. With that in mind, he got back behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Should he go left or right? Hampshire or Dorset? The heater kicked in and he was grateful to feel the warmth. He took a coin from his pocket and flipped it in the air. Heads for Hampshire, tails for Dorset. The silver shilling landed on heads. Hampshire it is then, he thought, and revved on the accelerator.

  The roads were icy and some were covered in snow so Robbie took his time and drove carefully. He wasn’t completely sure of the way, but thought as long as he headed south it would eventually lead him to the coast. He liked the seaside and decided it could be a good place to relo
cate, though it would be cold and quiet at this time of year. A smile crossed his face as he thought about a summer daytrip he had been on with Myra and her children when they had come down on a visit from Scotland. They had visited Southsea and he had ridden the steam-powered gallopers at least four times. He remembered the kids had loved the laughing sailor, a machine that stood outside the fair. It had been worth the penny to see them splitting their sides as the sailor laughed his head off.

  He pictured them now, all getting ready to tuck into Myra’s Christmas dinner, and felt a pang of longing. He supposed it would have been nice to have enjoyed Christmas with his family, but he shook the thoughts away and shrugged his shoulders. Oh well, he mused, it’s only one day. As for Adrian, his boring brother, he would probably be spending Christmas alone too, and after filling his podgy belly full of food he’d sit in his chair, snoring away for the rest of the afternoon.

  Robbie’s stomach rumbled again at the thought of food, and he hoped he would come across a nice hotel or something soon. He wanted to eat his fill and then get his thinking cap on. As soon as the holidays were over, he planned to find a room in the Southsea area and get his hands on more cash. Once he had plenty of money lining his pockets he’d find himself a pretty young lady or two.

  Robbie found he was relishing the more free-spirited life, and enjoying the excitement of not knowing exactly what the future held. There was one thing he was sure of, and that was that he wouldn’t work for his cash. Stealing it was much easier.

  Alice was up before Dorothy and decided to let the girl sleep in. The walls were thin and she’d heard her crying in the night. She had been tempted to go to her daughter and offer her comfort, but decided against it. Molly-coddling Dottie wouldn’t do any good. No, the girl had to be strong and work her own way through her grief.

  She crept down the creaky stairs and into the kitchen to set the kettle on the stove to boil, before bracing herself to visit the toilet in the back yard. Alice shivered as cold, wet snow bit at her foot through the hole in the bottom of her slipper.

  The kettle was whistling as Alice came back into the kitchen, and to her surprise she found Dorothy was already up, preparing the tea.

  ‘Good morning, Dottie. I thought you were in bed. Merry Christmas,’ Alice said with a smile. Her chest felt tight, and though she put it down to the cold air, she hoped her daughter wouldn’t notice her discomfort.

  ‘Morning, Mum, and to you.’

  Alice saw that Dottie was smiling, but the smile didn’t reach her puffy eyes. She was obviously putting on a brave face so Alice went along with it, knowing that any sympathy could shatter the forced cheer. ‘Be a love and go light the fire in the front room. We’ll get it nice and toasty before we get your father up. And no peeping under the tree in there. We’ll wait ’til Adrian is here before we open the presents. After all, most of them are from him. I feel terrible that we ain’t got something for him in return.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry, Mum. I shouldn’t think he’ll be expecting anything.’

  ‘Yeah, he said that.’

  ‘Anyway, it’s nice you invited him for lunch.’

  ‘I just hope he likes it,’ Alice mused as she drank her tea and then put some toast on for their breakfast.

  A short while later, with one meal eaten, Alice busied herself preparing another – the Christmas lunch. Thanks to Adrian there would be extra treats on their plates. She had refused any help from her daughter, because the girl still needed to fully recover from her miscarriage, and now she could hear that Dorothy and Bill were listening to the wireless in the front room. It was something she was looking forward to later, putting her feet up and listening to the Queen’s Christmas speech. It would be nice to have a telly, she thought to herself. It might have been a good distraction for her husband but it wasn’t a luxury they could afford, especially now that Dottie was out of work. Alice hadn’t broken the bad news to her yet. Dorothy appeared to be in quite good spirits, even though they were forced, and Alice didn’t want to ruin her Christmas.

  With everything cooking nicely, Alice changed, and at one o’clock there was a knock on the front door. She heard Dottie calling out excitedly for her to come and wondered what all the fuss was about. It would only be Adrian as expected, but she walked through to the hall and was stunned to find Father Christmas filling the doorway.

  ‘Merry Christmas, one and all,’ Adrian bellowed, with his thumbs tucked into a wide black belt.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Alice said, laughing. ‘I was expecting Adrian Ferguson, not Santa Claus! You’d better come in and have a mince tart.’

  Alice noticed her daughter look over at Adrian and silently mouth, ‘Thank you.’

  They must have cooked this up between them, the daft buggers, she thought, smiling. She hadn’t expected the atmosphere to be so cheery and was glad Dorothy now looked as if she was genuinely enjoying herself.

  ‘It’s lovely and warm in here,’ said Adrian as he took a seat on the sofa. ‘Do you mind if I remove my beard and jacket?’

  Alice handed him a mince tart and a glass of stout. ‘Of course not, Santa, make yourself at home.’

  ‘I must say, Alice, you look a picture today. I can see where your daughter gets her good looks from.’

  Alice felt her cheeks burn. She wasn’t used to receiving compliments but was secretly pleased that her best dress and curled hair hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  ‘Aw, off with you,’ she blustered and hurriedly changed the subject. ‘I’ve got to see to a few things in the kitchen, but then we’ll open all those smashing gifts you brought us. I’m sure Dottie is chomping at the bit.’

  Alice checked on the turkey that was slowly roasting. They hadn’t had a turkey for as long as she could remember. Last year it had been a belly of pork, but this year, thanks to Adrian’s generosity, they were having this rare treat.

  As she stood up from bending down to the oven, the room began to swim and Alice grabbed hold of the hob to steady herself. She felt light-headed and nausea washed over her. Everything went white in her field of vision and she struggled to focus, fearing she would faint. Then, as quickly as the funny turn had come on, it passed, and Alice took a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time she’d experienced this, but she quickly dismissed her fears. It was probably all the anxiety about Dorothy over the past week, nothing to worry about. Anyway, there was Bill to care for and with Dorothy out of work she couldn’t afford to be ill.

  No, she was fine. She couldn’t be poorly, Alice resolved. She wouldn’t allow it.

  Dorothy looked gorgeous and Adrian found he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He doubted that her father would notice as he appeared to be in a semi-comatose state. He hadn’t responded to seeing the Santa outfit, or to anything else, and Adrian had seen both Dorothy’s and her mother’s disappointment.

  Adrian watched as Dorothy knelt beneath the small Christmas tree. It was adorned with homemade decorations, adding a lovely personal touch. Adrian wondered if Bill had made any of the ornaments before he’d lost his mind. There were several beautifully carved wooden reindeer and colourfully painted baked-dough elves. Red and silver ribbons were tied in pretty bows to most of the branches and a delicate-looking tissue angel sat on the top.

  ‘Your tree looks very nice, Dottie. I bet it has lots of special family memories.’

  ‘It does. I remember when I was knee-high to a grasshopper, my dad would carve a new reindeer every year. If you count them, there’s one for every year of my life – until he went off to war, of course.’

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ said Adrian, wanting to add that he thought she was too.

  ‘There’s so much stuff under here – you really shouldn’t have, Adrian.’

  ‘It’s selfish of me really. I’ll enjoy the pleasure of seeing you and your mum open the gifts. Best of all though, it got me a very welcome invite to lunch, which smells delicious.’

  Alice came through carrying a plate of dried prunes and offered them to Adrian, whi
ch he politely declined. He couldn’t help noticing that she looked sheet white and he wondered if she was overworking herself in the kitchen. He was glad when she announced they could open their presents because he knew there were more appetising delights to savour amongst the gifts under the tree.

  Alice sat on the armchair next to her husband and Dorothy loaded her lap with the packages. ‘You first, Mum,’ she said, flashing Adrian a wide smile.

  ‘No, don’t be silly, open yours,’ Alice protested.

  Dorothy went for the largest box first and eagerly pulled off the wrapping paper. She carefully opened the cardboard box and peered inside. She gave Adrian a puzzled look and then pulled out another wrapped box. Inside that there was another, and another, and another. By now, Alice and Dorothy were chuckling and Adrian was pleased that his ‘joke’ had the desired effect.

  Eventually, Dorothy pulled out the last box, a small one, and gasped when she opened it. ‘Oh, Adrian, they’re wonderful! It’s too much though, I can’t accept them. Look, Mum,’ she said, and she handed Alice a cream satin-covered box containing a pair of gold and pearl earrings.

  ‘Adrian, whatever were you thinking? I can see they’re real pearls and they must have cost you a bomb,’ Alice said, clearly shocked.

  ‘The cost is irrelevant. I saw them and thought they’d look nice on Dottie.’

  As Alice handed them back to her daughter, Adrian said, ‘Try them on, I bet they suit you a treat.’

  ‘But …’ said Dorothy.

  ‘No buts about it. Go on, clip them on,’ he replied.

  Dorothy did as instructed and stood to look in the mirror that hung over the mantelpiece. ‘They’re beautiful,’ she said, ‘thank you so much.’ She dashed over to Adrian and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

  At that moment Adrian thought the hefty price he had paid for the earrings had most definitely been worth it. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, longing to hold her in his arms.

  Once all the gifts had been opened, Alice instructed Dorothy to put up the drop-leaf table and set it for dinner. Adrian tried to help but Dottie had everything organised in whippet time. They attempted to persuade Bill to take his place at the head of the table, but their pleas fell on deaf ears and the man refused to budge from his armchair. Instead, Alice pulled a small wooden table in front of his knees and said he could eat his Christmas lunch there.