by Leah Fleming
Plum wasn’t listening at all.
‘Don’t be a chump,’ laughed Maddy. ‘He’s magic, he knows everything, doesn’t he? We put our letters up the chimney at the hostel. He’ll take them there or to your cottage, won’t he, Aunt Plum?’ Maddy turned round but their escort was not listening, walking behind them, lost in another world.
She’d been very quiet all day and Maddy had seen her dabbing her eyes when they were singing carols. She must be missing Uncle Gerald, who had come to visit them for a few days last month. He didn’t look like Daddy at all. He’d ignored the children in favour of chatting to Ilse and Maria in the kitchen, but then popped half a crown in her hand when he left, so he wasn’t that bad.
Aunt Plum was behaving very oddly, not looking a bit Christmassy at all in her black coat and hat. Every time she’d asked when Mummy and Daddy were coming she just shrugged her shoulders and turned away. ‘It’s this wretched weather spoiling everyone’s plans and we can’t change the weather, Madeleine. It’s in the Lord’s hands.’ What a funny thing to say? Was Plum cross with her? No one called her Madeleine except Grandma.
They’d sung their hearts out in church although she loved the quiet ones best, like ‘Away in a Manger’. The donkey pooed in the yard and made a stink, and Gloria sang her solo without forgetting her words.
The gang from the Old Vic had a great snowball fight outside church on the way home and Gloria got hit and had a hissy fit when her costume got soaked.
‘Gloria in Excelsis!’ they teased her.
‘Shurrup! I’m not Gloria Chelsey,’ she screamed back.
Maddy thought she looked silly in the long white gown made out of a tablecloth, and the halo, but now the two Conleys were so excited and Sid was racing ahead.
‘Jungle bells!’ he shouted. ‘I’m listening for the Jungle bells.’
‘It’s bed and no nonsense, the both of you,’ Aunt Plum said, shoving them through the gate of Huntsman’s Cottage. ‘The quicker you go to sleep, the earlier the day will come, won’t it, Mrs Batty? There’s church in the morning and dinner at the hostel. Tomorrow I want everyone to have a lovely day. Now shoo! Remember, we’re last on Father Christmas’s round so no disturbing Mrs Batty at all hours of the morning or you’ll be disappointed.’
‘Yes, miss.’ Gloria waved, much too full of herself to listen to a word she was saying.
‘Is there really a Father Christmas in the sky?’ asked Maddy. ‘Greg says it’s all fairy tales. He’s never had a proper Christmas and all his presents came wrapped up in the same paper from the Council. “It was the matron what done it,” he said.’ Maddy took hold of Aunt Plum’s hand for the last lap home.
‘Well, if Gregory doesn’t believe, he’ll just have to go without presents, won’t he? He’s jolly lucky to be staying here,’ she snapped, and Maddy was surprised by her outburst.
‘But he has no mummy and daddy, not ever,’ she defended her friend.
‘Lots of children have no mummies and daddies because of this damn war,’ Aunt Plum answered in a cold voice, looking ahead. ‘Come on, up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire, it’s been a long day. We don’t want to spoil the surprises, do we?’
‘I just wish the telephone would ring for me,’ Maddy sighed. ‘Good night and God bless. See you in the morning.’
‘Not too early,’ came a tired reply. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll have a lovely day, I promise.’
How can I say such a thing? How can Christmas Day ever be lovely again for the child? How can I spoil Christmas with such terrible news? Plum paced her bedroom floor, hugging herself to keep from shivering.
She should have taken Maddy for a walk in the snow and told her the truth when she had the chance but she’d flunked it. Why? What did it change? Why cast a gloom over the whole day, put the house into mourning for people they’d never even met?
The news would dampen all the joy of the surprises in store for the children, just for the sake of another twenty-four hours or more. Why not just let her open her presents and have their big party on Boxing Day as promised? Time enough then to break the terrible news.
She’d sworn Madge Batty to secrecy and not told her mother-in-law yet, but held the secret to herself. It hung heavily in the pit of her stomach like a cannon-ball, making her feel sick. She sat in the candlelight wishing she could take the pain away from the child herself. It was making her shake just thinking of ways to break the news gently–but there was no easy way to tell this news. Perhaps the vicar could do it? Perhaps Pleasance would see it as her duty, or they could do it together?
No, she was going to break it to Maddy and try to explain why she had not come straight out with it.
Oh, how she wanted to put off the moment when the child’s face crumpled in disbelief, the moment Maddy realised she too was an orphan of war, that her future was now in the hands of others and that she must face life alone.
No, that wasn’t strictly true. Maddy wasn’t alone. They must take her on here. She was a Belfield child and no one would turn her away from Brooklyn Hall.
Plum shivered in the darkness as she shoved the little trinkets into the girl’s red knitted stocking with trembling hands: ribbons, nuts, a mouth organ, a book, a little sweet shop, a cut-out theatre, a comic and some home-made toffee. The dress and the second-hand bike were waiting under the tree in the hall as her special presents.
Am I doing the right thing to hold back? What would Arthur and Dolly want me to do but love and comfort her like the daughter I never had? I must give her one happy day after all she’s been through. Surely it’s not wrong, Lord, to let the day pass uncluttered with gloom, but how do I tell her?
It was the one special day in the year when all the evacuees could forget this wretched war, stuff themselves with treats and have a big party. She had to think of the other children: Gloria, Sid, Greg and the rest. She must pin a smile on her cheeks and make sure the celebrations went ahead as planned. She thought of all the sad children in London, Coventry and Birmingham, children with no homes or toys, living as best they could. Her children were the lucky ones. It was so safe here. It was if there was no war going on at all.
As for Pleasance and Uncle Algie and the oldies, they would doze by the fireside waiting for their blow-out dinner, loosen their belts, dress up in their jewellery, drink sherry and pass pleasantries.
She would wait for a suitable moment after Boxing Day. It was not as if there were bodies to claim, nothing but the hush-hush phone call, perhaps further discreet communications to follow. It would not be announced on the wireless for days, if ever. No one wanted to hear such news around Christmas.
‘The first victim of war was always truth,’ she’d once read. Nothing was done to disturb public morale. Who wanted to know that a troopship was caught by submarines only a hundred miles off the Irish coast?
All over the country there would be other sad hearts receiving this call or telegrams around Christmas Eve. ‘I regret to inform you that…’ Her first thought had been that it was Gerald and then she was flooded with relief that it wasn’t him. But now she was sickened by guilt at what she was withholding from the child.
Plum stroked her red setter Blaze for comfort. He nuzzled in for more. What have I done? I just want to give Maddy a few more hours before I destroy her world. Every Christmas for the rest of her life will be spoiled by this news. It’ll be a time of dread and sorrow. I just want her hope to last a while longer. What harm can that possibly do?
Gloria could hear Mr and Mrs Batty whispering in the kitchen, after lunch on Boxing Day. It was something to do with terrible news at the Hall but when she popped her head round the door they drew back and changed the subject.
She was good at earwigging, hovering behind doors at Elijah Street, listening to stuff she shouldn’t. That’s how she’d learned from her aunties about the birds and bees and how babies got made, how rubber johnnies stopped them and how Old Ma Phipps could get rid of them if you was caught. Manchester seemed a long way away, and she wondered
if Mam was thinking about them. Would she send them a present?
She’d never had a Christmas like this one. Elijah Street was just pop and sweets, singing and fighting and waiting outside the public in the dark. There was always a toy but it was broken by teatime. There was nothing about Baby Jesus in the manger and candles in the church, singing carols in the snow and making presents for each other. Everyone went to church in Sowerthwaite; only Freda and her mam went to the Kingdom Hall and they didn’t believe in Christmas Day.
At Elijah Street they were sent to Sunday school to get out of the house of an afternoon but it was just a tin shack hall with no candles and decorations. She’d never seen such a big Christmas tree as the one in Brooklyn Hall. It smelled of disinfectant and melting wax. They spent ages decorating the one in the hostel with tinsel and paper chains. It was lovely.
Did Mam ever think about the two of them? How could she just shove them on a train with no word that they were safe? Sid had already forgotten their old home. He looked blank at her when she asked him about Mam. Gloria got hot and cold just thinking where she might be. One minute she was sad, the next spitting flames. What Mam had done wasn’t right but coming here was great. She didn’t want to worry about someone who didn’t care about them, not now.
They were getting ready for the Boxing Day party at the Hall, and she was dressed in her new pinafore dress and shirt. It was navy-blue corduroy with rick-rack braid where the hem had been let down–not very partified at all but it was better than her other skirt and jumper.
Sid had on his new Fair Isle jumper that itched him, and his ginger curls were plastered down with Mr Batty’s Brylcreem. Father Christmas had got the right address and Sid was thrilled with his toy farm and tractor, and she was pleased with her crinoline doll in its own box until she saw Maddy wobbling on her new bike on Christmas Day. Why hadn’t he brought her one too?
Greg was helping her ride it on the path where the snow and ice were cleared away. Maddy was wearing a new velvet dress, all shiny and soft, the colour of peacock’s feathers, under her school mac. It wasn’t fair. She’d had two Christmasses–one at the Hall and the other at the hostel.
Greg was wearing long trousers and a new blazer, strutting around like the cock of the midden. Everyone was dressed up and on best behaviour. Maddy wanted her to see all the presents. There was a little toy sweetie shop with jars and scales and boxes of Dolly Mixtures given to her, and a book and presents from the staff. It wasn’t fair.
Gloria begged for a shot on the bike but Greg said her legs were too short to ride it and that got her mad, so she and Sid hid behind the sofa and scoffed all the jelly beans in the toy sweet shop. Aunt Plum was cross. She didn’t smile once but, Gloria realised now, that would be because of the terrible news.
Now as they stood in the porch to go off to their proper party, Mrs Batty patted her head and told her to play nicely with Maddy ‘Be a good girl and no fighting…’ They skated down the path and Gloria had forgotten her mittens. The snow was too cold to make balls without gloves so she darted back in through the open door to the basket where their hoods and scarves were put.
The Battys were still gabbing about the terrible news and she moved closer. What she heard had her running out into the chill. Wait till she told Maddy that she’d heard it first!
Maddy loved her new bike but it was too icy to ride on it properly. Father Christmas’d given her lots of nice surprises but not the one she really wanted, which was for Mummy and Daddy to arrive on time and sing carols at the piano and tell her all about their travels.
She’d begged to spend Christmas Day with the vaccies. It was fun at the hostel, with turkey and Christmas pudding with threepenny bits for everyone. They’d played silly games and charades and there was a singsong. Aunt Plum was very quiet, though, and looked a bit tired. Miss Blunt was away and the vicar and his wife came to help.
Now, on Boxing Day, Grandma was inspecting the buffet table for the bun fight this afternoon.
‘I don’t know why we have to do this?’ she snapped. ‘Children, let loose around the house like wild animals, are not my idea of fun. It’ll all end in tears. Oh, do shift that vase out of reach, Maddy. It’s priceless.’ Maddy duly obliged.
‘I’m not sure that sort of bright blue suits the child,’ Grandma added, eyeing her dress again. ‘You need red hair to carry off that colour. She’d be better off in a kilt and jumper, much more sensible.’
‘Oh, Mother…let it rest,’ Aunt Plum snapped as she dragged on her cigarette. ‘Let her enjoy the party dress. There won’t be many more in the shops if this blasted war goes on and on,’ she sighed. ‘If you can’t dress up on Boxing Day, it’s a poor show.’
‘Who rattled your cage this morning? You’ve been a crosspatch for days…This was all your idea. What time are the hordes descending?’ asked Grandma, lighting her own cigarette.
‘Soon. I just think it’s good for the youngsters to mix with all ages. It’ll do the old codgers good to have a bit of life about the place. All they do is snore and eat. Uncle Algie’s promised to do some conjuring tricks if I can peel him away from the wireless. Aunt Julia has promised to give a recitation…’
‘Oh God, must we?’
‘No, she said it was suitable for children.’
‘How would she know? She’s never had one of her own,’ snapped Grandma.
The bickering went on but Maddy was too excited to get upset. Those two were always sniping at each other, like Uncle George and Ivy, up and down the bar of The Feathers. It didn’t mean anything. Then she thought of last Christmas and how so much had changed and how sad it was not to be back where she truly belonged.
Then Gloria and Sid arrived early and she thought she ought to let them have a try out of her bike.
Holding the saddle, she let Gloria sit up but her legs wouldn’t reach the pedals and they kept slipping sideways. Two falls and she’d had enough.
‘We mustn’t get dirty,’ Maddy whispered. ‘I mustn’t spoil this hem.’
‘I’ll have it when it’s too short…It looks silly on you,’ said Gloria, rubbing her fingers on the velvet pile.
‘No it doesn’t,’ Maddy snapped back, pulling the skirt away from her. Why was she being so mean? Then she spied a crocodile of vaccies from the hostel coming up the drive, carrying their best shoes in baskets. She led them through the back entrance and the cloakroom to change their shoes and take off their coats.
The parcel from America had been full of shirts and trousers, and everyone was dressed up. Enid and Peggy were sporting earrings and painted lips–now they really looked silly–but Greg and the boys were looking smart and grown up. Maddy wondered if he still didn’t believe in Father Christmas now.
Everyone collected chairs for the game in the hall, marching round the tiled floor to the music from a wind-up gramophone and rushing for the seats when the music stopped. The dining-room table was extended with a huge white cloth on which were plates of sandwiches, mock sausage rolls, mince pies and wodges of Ilse’s crumb cake. They had to stand for grace, and then it was every hand for itself as the boys leaped to get platefuls of grub.
After tea and pop–Sid spilled his on the rug–Sukie and Blaze rushed round trying to mop up all the crumbs and then it was time for the children to sing for their supper to the assembly in the drawing room. Gloria did her usual show-off routine, singing ‘Bless This House’, which the vicar’s wife had taught her on the quiet.
Then Great-uncle Algie appeared in a black evening cloak and top hat and tried to do a few card tricks, making them laugh. He conjured up eggs out of nowhere.
He asked for a volunteer and Bryan stood up as his assistant. The eggs came and went, and for his last trick he placed a magic egg on Bryan’s head, said some magic words and cracked it with his conjuring stick. It broke all over his hair and dribbled down his face and onto his jumper. Everyone roared, but Aunt Plum was furious.
‘That’s his new jumper…How could you waste an egg like that!’
‘What’s got into you? He’s done his best to keep the natives calm. Thank you, Algie. We’ll take the children back into the hall for pass the parcel. Really, Prunella, there was no call for that!’
Everyone pushed and shoved back out of the room, leaving Aunt Plum almost in tears. ‘I’m sorry, Algie, I’ve a lot on my mind,’ she sighed.
Gloria pinched Maddy’s arm. ‘I know what it’s all about. She’s had bad news,’ she whispered.
‘She never said,’ Maddy replied curious now. ‘Is it Uncle Gerald?’
‘’Spec so. I heard Uncle and Auntie in the kitchen talking about his ship going down, but don’t say nowt. I was earwigging behind the door. She’s a widow woman now, that’s why she’s been wearing black.’
‘But why hasn’t she told Grandma? She’s got a red suit on. Uncle Gerry’s her son. How strange? Come on, we’ll be especially nice to her.’
Maddy kept looking at her aunt sideways. Plum must have kept her sadness all to herself to give them a good Christmas. How kind she was. Poor Uncle Gerry, never to see him again. How brave she was to bear such bad news.
The party seemed to drag after that and Maddy was glad when the last ones had gone home and she could put her hand in Aunt Plum’s and squeeze it gently.
‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘It must be awful for you.’
‘Know what, Maddy?’
‘About your bad news. Gloria heard the Battys talking. She didn’t mean to but they were talking loud about Uncle Gerald’s ship going down…’
Aunt Plum was staring at her hard. ‘Is that what Gloria told you?’
Maddy nodded. ‘Is that why you’ve been wearing black clothes?’ Poor Aunt Plum was looking very strange and grasping her chest. Then she took her arm and guided Maddy towards the little morning room with French doors that opened out onto the side garden where the bird table was.
