The Christmas Card

by Dilly Court

  Mrs Young came to a halt. ‘Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. I let the room to one of my husband’s workmates last evening.’ She raised her voice to make herself heard above the din emanating from the front room. ‘Be quiet, children. We have a visitor.’

  The smell of cooking wafted from the basement kitchen and the sound of childish chatter and gales of laughter filled her ears. Alice closed her eyes as the narrow hallway seemed to close in on her.

  ‘Watch out, Carrie. She’s going …’ the words barely registered in Alice’s brain as darkness swirled around her.

  The next thing she knew she was lying on a sofa in the front room surrounded by curious faces. She struggled to raise herself. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘You’re all right now,’ Carrie said kindly. ‘Move away, you little monkeys. Give Miss Radcliffe some air.’

  ‘When did you last eat, dear?’ Mrs Young peered at her over the baby’s fuzzy head.

  ‘I – I had some cake,’ Alice said dazedly.

  ‘Off you go, children.’ Mrs Young shooed the youngsters out of the door. ‘Carrie, make a pot of tea. You’ll stay for Sunday dinner, of course, but it won’t be ready for another two hours. We have to wait until my husband finishes work. Mr Young always insists on a proper Sunday roast, even if we exist on bread and dripping for the rest of the week.’

  ‘How you do go on, Ma,’ Carrie said, laughing. She leaned over Alice, feeling her forehead with a cool hand. ‘You don’t seem to have a fever so that’s something. I’ll go and make the tea.’ She glanced at the sleeping baby. ‘Shall I put little Jackie in his cot, Ma?’

  Mrs Young handed the baby to her. ‘Thank you, dear.’ She rubbed at a milky stain on her bodice. ‘A mother can never be completely tidy when there are babes to care for, Miss Radcliffe.’ She bent down to pick up the toddler, who was demanding attention. ‘There, there, Annie, there’s no need to snivel, dear.’

  ‘I’m better now.’ Alice swung her legs over the side of the sofa, but her head swam and she leaned back against the cushions. ‘Well, almost. I’ll be gone directly, Mrs Young. I’m sorry to have troubled you on a Sunday.’

  ‘Rest a while longer, my dear. You look all in.’ Mrs Young took a seat in a worn and threadbare armchair by the fire, dandling the toddler on her knee. ‘George has often spoken of you, but if I might ask, what has brought you to this sorry pass?’

  ‘I just need a place to sleep, Mrs Young. It’s purely temporary.’

  ‘I know nothing of your background, Alice, but it’s obvious that you’re used to better things.’

  ‘It’s a sorry tale, ma’am. I do find myself in straitened circumstances, but I’ll manage very well, so you mustn’t worry about me.’

  ‘But I’m right in thinking that you have nowhere else to go?’

  ‘I’m sure I can find lodgings somewhere.’

  ‘I won’t pry into your affairs, but you can stay here if you don’t mind sharing a room with Carrie. It won’t be what you’re used to, but I simply can’t allow you to wander these streets looking for accommodation.’

  ‘I can pay you, Mrs Young. I earn a good wage at Dearborns’.’

  ‘You can give me something towards your keep, but we won’t worry about that now.’ With Annie still clinging to her she rose from the chair. ‘I have to go and check on the dinner, but you stay here and I’ll see that the young ones don’t disturb you.’ She hitched Annie over her shoulder as she made for the door. ‘My name is Rose. We don’t stand on ceremony in this house.’ She was gone before Alice had a chance to thank her, and the door had barely closed when it was thrust open and Carrie entered carrying a cup of tea. She placed it on a small table within Alice’s reach.

  ‘There you are. Be careful because it’s piping hot.’

  ‘You’re very kind.’ Alice sipped the sweet tea. ‘This is wonderful, thank you.’

  ‘George had told me a little about you,’ Carrie said, smiling. ‘He said you’re an extremely talented artist.’

  Alice managed a self-deprecating smile. ‘I’m just learning.’

  ‘No, really, he’s very impressed by what you’ve achieved in such a short time. He went out earlier, but he should be home soon and I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.’ Carrie hovered by the doorway. ‘I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to help Ma with the dinner. The girls try but they’re not much use when it comes to cooking. You’ll meet them all when we sit down to eat.’

  Alice gulped and swallowed. ‘I don’t want to put you out. Your mama said I could share your room, but it seems like an imposition.’

  ‘You talk like a toff,’ Carrie said, chuckling. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s obvious you’re a young lady, and I dare say you’ll find us a bit rowdy.’

  ‘I think you’re the kindest people I’ve ever met, and I’m truly grateful to you.’ Alice turned away as her eyes brimmed with tears. It was easier to deal with the harsh treatment she had received from Mrs Leech than the overwhelming generosity of the Young family.

  ‘You might not say that when you’ve met the young ’uns.’ Carrie opened the door. ‘I’ll be back in a while. Put your feet up and rest while you can. Life in our house is anything but peaceful, as you’ll soon discover.’

  Carrie had spoken the truth. When she came to meet the rest of the children Alice found it almost impossible to remember their names, as they never seemed to be still for more than a few seconds at a time. There were three younger girls, apart from Annie who was barely toddling. Winnie, Nellie and Lizzie were incredibly alike, with mops of red, curly hair and blue eyes, and so close in age that they seemed to be interchangeable. The boys were slightly easier to tell apart. Charlie was fourteen, shy and fair-haired like his eldest brother and sister, and Bill was a lively ten-year-old who chattered non-stop, and Ned, aged sixteen, was the image of his father, whose booming presence filled the house from the moment he walked through the door.

  Harold Young shrugged off his pea-jacket and tossed it to Ned. ‘Hang it up, old chap.’ He greeted his children with a casual grin and ruffled the hair of those nearest to him before enveloping his wife in a great bear hug. Annie released her mother’s skirt and clung to her father’s leg, begging to be picked up. He reached down and swung her up in the curve of his arm. ‘And how’s my little flower?’

  Annie smiled and sucked her thumb.

  ‘My dear, we have a visitor.’ Rose turned to Alice with an encouraging smile. ‘Miss Radcliffe is going to stay for a few days while she looks for more suitable accommodation.’

  Harold gave Alice a cursory glance. ‘Do you have another name, miss? We don’t choose to be formal in the Young household.’

  Alice bobbed a curtsey. ‘It’s Alice, sir.’

  He guffawed loudly. ‘Ho, I see we have a young lady in our midst. Best mind your manners, children.’ He set Annie down on a stool next to Winnie. ‘Look after your sister, Nellie.’

  ‘I’m Winnie, Pa. You’re always getting us muddled up.’

  He ruffled her copper curls. ‘Well, you shouldn’t look so alike. It’s a natural mistake.’ He moved to his seat at the head of the table. ‘Serve up, Mother. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.’

  ‘This might well be such an animal,’ Rose said as she opened the oven door. ‘The butcher promised me it was prime beef, but from the price I think it might have been an old nag from the knacker’s yard. What it might lack in flavour will be made up with plenty of mustard or horseradish sauce. Stir the gravy, Winnie, if you please, and, Nellie, you can slice up the Yorkshire pudding. Pa will carve as always.’ She lifted the joint from the roasting tin and placed it on a china platter. ‘Here you are, Father. There’s plenty to go round.’ She glared at the boys, who were already seated, clutching their knives and forks with eager expressions on their faces. ‘Did you wash your hands?’

  They nodded, but Alice saw the sly grins they exchanged when their mother’s back was turned. She hesitated, not knowing where to sit, but Lizzie tu
gged at her skirt. ‘You can sit next to me, miss.’

  ‘Take a seat, do,’ Harold said grandly. ‘All are welcome in this establishment.’ He stood up to receive the platter of meat. ‘It’s a fine joint, my dear. It’s no matter what animal it came from, I’m sure it will be magnificent. What a pity that Chapman is missing this feast, but he’s visiting his aunt who lives in Wapping. She’s very religious and doesn’t believe that anyone should work or do anything other than go to church on Sundays.’

  Alice smiled at Lizzie and sat down beside her. It occurred to her that Chapman’s aunt would have a lot in common with Aunt Jane, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Any remark she might have made would have been lost in the general chatter as the children took their places at the table.

  ‘Well, she wouldn’t approve of you working then, Harold,’ Rose said, ladling gravy into a large jug.

  ‘I have a family to feed,’ he said piously. ‘I think the Good Lord would rather I put food on the table for my young ’uns than spend Sunday on my knees in church. Someone has to keep an eye on everything at work or there’d be pilfering and goodness knows what else going on under our noses.’ He proceeded to carve the meat, laying a slice on each plate as it was passed to him. He glanced at the empty place at the end of the table. ‘Where’s that boy? If George can’t be punctual for meals he will have to go without.’

  Almost as the words left his mouth the door opened and George breezed in, pink-cheeked and breathless. ‘Sorry I’m late, Ma. I got into a conversation with Bert and forgot the time.’ His eyes swept round the table and his mouth fell open when he spotted Alice. ‘You came. Alice, that’s wonderful.’

  ‘Sit down, boy.’ Harold scowled at him beneath lowered eyebrows, but his tone was jovial. ‘Your mother’s cooking deserves our full attention and our grateful thanks for all her efforts.’

  This remark was greeted by an enthusiastic murmur of appreciation and at last the children fell silent as they bent their heads over their plates. George took his seat, grinning broadly as he picked up his knife and fork. ‘Welcome to our home, Alice.’

  She smiled and nodded as she tucked in with the rest of them. It was the best meal she had had since she left the Dearborns’ establishment.

  Later, when the last scrap of suet pudding and custard had been consumed, Alice helped the girls clear the table while the boys fetched water from the pump at the end of the street, and Carrie rolled up her sleeves to begin the washing up. Mrs Young was consigned to the parlour to put her feet up and feed the baby, while Harold sat in his usual seat by the fire and smoked his pipe. George directed the efforts of his younger brothers like a maestro conducting an orchestra, which amused Alice greatly.

  ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to take a turn at the sink,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘That’s woman’s work,’ he replied casually. ‘But you’re a guest. You shouldn’t be helping.’

  ‘Indeed I should. Your mother was kind enough to take me in,’ Alice said in a low voice, ‘and Carrie is willing to share her room with me. I’m overwhelmed by their kindness to a complete stranger.’

  Carrie glanced over her shoulder, half hidden by the steam rising from the hot water that Winnie was pouring into the sink. ‘You might change your mind when you’ve been here for a few days, Alice. If living in a madhouse with kids chattering like monkeys is your idea of heaven then welcome to paradise.’

  Alice shrugged and continued to wipe the dishes, handing them to Lizzie, who put them away in the oak dresser. Even as she worked Alice could not help smiling. The noise, the constant babel of young voices, the warmth and the genuine affection that enveloped the family members like a warm hug was touching and something to which she had always aspired. But even in the midst of the rough and tumble of the cheerful household she could not forget Flora’s plight. It had been possible to put the worry from her mind for a short while, but now it all came back to her threefold. She could empathise entirely with the fear and loneliness that Flora must be feeling far away from the only family she had ever known, and her heart ached for the unhappy child.

  ‘What’s the matter, Alice?’ George asked anxiously. ‘Have I said something to upset you?’

  ‘No, George. I was thinking of Flora having to remain in the place she hates so much.’

  He laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘At least she’s safe from those who wish to harm her.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. I think Molly has found out that I sent them on a wild-goose chase. I know her men are following me, although I think I gave them the slip this morning after I went to see Mr Dearborn.’

  ‘You went to the boss’s house? Why?’

  ‘I went to warn him that Flora is in danger, but he seems to think that the police are the best people to handle things.’

  ‘Maybe he’s right. There’s little enough you can do, so you’d best leave it to Mr Dearborn. He is Flora’s legal guardian, even if he isn’t her father. You must leave it to them, Alice. Don’t put yourself in danger and don’t think you can stand up to the sort of people who join these criminal gangs, because you can’t. You’ll come off the worst.’

  Alice folded the drying cloth and laid it on the table. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said reluctantly, although in her heart she did not agree.

  That night, Carrie sat by the simple pine dressing table in her room vigorously brushing her blonde curly hair. She glanced at Alice’s reflection in the mirror and sighed. ‘I do envy you having such lovely straight hair. I spend hours trying to brush out my wretched curls but they insist on returning, especially when it’s damp or raining.’

  Alice was already in bed, propped up on pillows as she watched her new friend complete her toilette. Her hand flew automatically to her own hair, which hung straight and loose around her shoulders. ‘I hadn’t given it much thought lately,’ she confessed. ‘But you have lovely hair. It’s the colour of a golden guinea – not that I’ve seen too many of those recently.’

  Carrie twisted round on the stool. ‘I’d like to hear all about you, Alice. My life is so dull compared to yours.’

  ‘I don’t think you’d want to know all the details,’ Alice said evasively. ‘She had not even told George the full extent of her trials, and she did not want to burden Carrie with her problems. She put her head on one side. ‘You say your life is dull, but I saw you blush when George talked of his friend Bert. Is he someone special?’

  Carrie’s cheeks flushed bright pink and her eyes shone. ‘He is rather a splendid person.’ She leaned forward, lowering her voice. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, but you must promise not to tell anyone, least of all George.’

  Alice made the sign of the cross on her bosom. ‘I promise. Do go on.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘Well, Bertie is George’s friend really, but I could tell by the way he looked at me that he thought I was rather special. Anyway, he asked me to go for a walk with him one Sunday after supper. That was back in the summer when the evenings were light, and we walked and talked and found that we had a lot in common.’

  ‘And you fell in love?’ Alice asked eagerly.

  ‘Yes, to tell the truth we did, but it’s difficult.’

  ‘I don’t understand. He sounds like a nice young man.’

  ‘His family own a rival printing firm to Dearborns’. They make beautiful greeting cards with such lovely sentiments and pretty pictures. They’re very well off and have a nice house overlooking the river in Chelsea.’

  ‘I don’t see the problem. Does George object to you seeing him?’

  ‘He doesn’t know about us. Nobody does except Ma, but I’ve sworn her to secrecy. The trouble is that Bertie is engaged to be married.’ Carrie tugged at a partic- ularly stubborn tangle and her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Alice said hastily. ‘I can see that makes things difficult.’

  Carrie wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. ‘They’d known each other since they were children, and their fathers were close friends as well as
business partners. Bertie said it was always assumed that they would make a match and he went along with it to please his parents.’

  ‘Has he spoken to his fiancée about you?’

  ‘Yes, of course he has, but she won’t release him. His family wouldn’t approve of me anyway.’

  ‘I don’t see why. You’re lovely and you’re nice. Bertie would be a lucky man to marry someone like you.’

  ‘Thank you, but we’re not the sort of people that Bertie’s parents would think suitable. The girl they want him to marry has been brought up to be a lady; a bit like you, Alice. She talks proper and she knows how to conduct herself in society. I’m afraid I’m just a common girl and not good enough for a man like Bertie Challoner.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Alice said angrily. ‘I’ve only known you and your family for half a day – apart from George, of course – but I’ve never met such fine folk.’ She frowned thoughtfully. ‘But a previous engagement is a problem, I admit.’

  Carrie abandoned the hairbrush and swivelled round on the stool to face Alice. ‘I’ve told you my sorry story, now tell me yours.’ She rose to her feet and moved to the bed, pulling back the patchwork coverlet. ‘I hope you don’t mind sharing with me. I don’t think I snore.’

  Alice pulled the quilt up to her chin. A fire burned in the grate and the room was pleasantly warm. In the adjacent room she could hear the subdued chatter and giggles of the younger girls as they settled down for the night. From the room above there was the sound of heavy footsteps as the lodger made ready for bed, and there was the occasional dull thud followed by a stern warning from George as the boys larked around in the attic when they should be in bed fast asleep. All was quiet from the ground floor, where their parents shared the back room with the two youngest children. Alice was a stranger in their home and yet she felt more comfortable and relaxed than she had since the terrible day of the eviction from Doughty Street.

  The bedsprings creaked as Carrie climbed in beside her and snuggled down. ‘Come on, Alice, don’t be a spoilsport. I’ve told you my secret, now you must tell me yours.’