by Evie Grace
‘A goose,’ she shrieked. ‘Oh my goodness! It’s huge. What are we going to do with that? It won’t fit in the oven.’
‘We’ll have to force it in. How long do you think it will take to cook?’
‘Hours,’ Eleanor said.
‘William sent it.’
‘’E must have an enormous appetite if ’e thinks we’re going to eat all that,’ May said over her shoulder.
‘Is Tom alone for Christmas?’ Violet asked. ‘Perhaps you’d like to invite him over to help us get through the goose.’
‘Would you mind?’ May’s eyes lit up. ‘I thought you were none too keen on ‘im.’
‘Only because of him being our landlord. We haven’t really had the chance to get to know him.’
‘She wants to make sure he’s good enough for you, May,’ Eleanor said lightly.
‘Ask him,’ Violet repeated.
‘I’ll do that then,’ May said. ‘I’m glad I went out to buy some mistletoe.’
‘You didn’t!’
‘Oh, I did. I’ll put it up later. You don’t mind, do you, Violet?’ May gave her a sly smile, her eyes bright with humour.
Violet blushed. She looked down quickly to where Dickens was prowling around her ankles, twitching his whiskers and licking his lips.
‘Where are we going to put this bird, so the cat doesn’t get it?’ she said. ‘The range is already warm – it can’t go in there.’
‘You’ll have to leave it upstairs in the bedroom and make sure the door is closed.’ Eleanor gave her a meat plate to stand it on. ‘It’s freezing up there, so it’ll keep all right until tomorrow.’
Violet took it upstairs and left it on the dressing table before returning to the embroidery, working with May until dusk fell and they couldn’t see well enough to continue. Sometimes they worked by oil lamp into the night, but today Violet decided that they deserved a rest and time to prepare for the following day.
She lit the oil lamps and they cleared the workshop, packing everything away in boxes, and wrapping the pieces they were working on in clean sheets. Eleanor laid the table in advance while Violet arranged the chairs. May pinned the mistletoe above the kitchen door.
‘It can’t go there. It’s in the way,’ Eleanor said, looking up from where she’d started preparing the potatoes. ‘Really, May, I can’t have you and Tom all entangled with each other while I’m trying to get past with the gravy. I know that’s what you do – you think I don’t notice when you’re kissing him out in the yard.’
‘It don’t matter – we’ll soon be man and wife,’ May said. ‘We’re goin’ to see the vicar in the New Year. I want to do it properly.’
‘Congratulations,’ Violet said, hugging her. ‘We’ll have to make you a gown. Oh, but that means you’ll be leaving us?’
‘I’ll only be moving next door. Don’t worry – I’ll still ’ave to work because Tom can’t afford to keep me in the manner to which I’m becoming accustomed. I’ll be ’appy to mind Joe as well. One day, I’ll ’ave littl’uns of my own.’
‘I think May is going to be disappointed. Isn’t Tom too old to have children?’ Eleanor asked Violet later when they had retired to bed, all their gifts wrapped and ready for Christmas, and the goose still on the dressing table.
‘I don’t think so.’ Violet smiled. ‘He isn’t that ancient – forty, maybe.’
‘He’s at least fifty – May said so. It would be lovely for Joe to have company nearer his own age.’
‘Well, we’ll have to wait and see what happens. Now go to sleep. You’re keeping me awake with all your fidgeting.’ It was all very well, Violet thought, but she couldn’t sleep either for looking forward to Christmas Day.
On hearing a cry, Violet opened her eyes.
‘Hush, Joe. It’s still dark,’ she whispered, but he cried out again.
With a sigh of regret at having to leave the warmth of her bed, Violet got up, put on her slippers and a thick shawl over her gown, and went to pick him out of his crib.
‘Come on, my darling. I’ll take you downstairs.’ She carried him into the kitchen where Dickens was lying curled up beside the range, making the most of the vestiges of its heat from the day before. ‘The fire should be lit by now, or that goose will never be cooked. Eleanor,’ she called.
Her sister appeared with a candle, looking bleary-eyed, and with her hair like a rat’s nest.
‘I’m sorry. I overslept. Leave this to me, Violet. I expect you couldn’t sleep for thinking about our guest.’
‘He hasn’t crossed my mind,’ Violet fibbed.
Later, when the kettle had boiled, she fed Joe on porridge and warm milk before dressing him in his best clothes.
She carried him down to the workshop and smiled as the aroma of oranges, cinnamon and hot grease filled her nostrils. May had laid holly with bright red berries across the mantelpiece above the fire which was alight in the grate, the cutlery was gleaming on the table and their gifts were piled up in the centre of the cloth.
‘Let’s go and see how Auntie Eleanor is getting on in the kitchen,’ she said.
‘Everything is under control – at least, I think so.’ Eleanor was boiling the giblets in a pan and steaming the plum pudding in its muslin cloth. Everything was bubbling so fiercely that there was water trickling down the walls.
‘Where’s May?’
‘Guess.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘Did I ’ear someone takin’ my name in vain?’
Violet turned to find May behind her, holding Tom Ward’s hand and dragging him towards the mistletoe. Tom, looking rather sheepish, pecked at his beloved’s cheek.
‘Oh Tom, that isn’t right. You ’ave to do it like this.’ May grabbed him and planted a kiss on his lips, then, triumphant, she reached up, plucked one fat white berry from the mistletoe and put it aside. ‘That’s one kiss down, but there are plenty of berries to go.’
Violet thought that they should take it down, but she kept this to herself, guessing that she’d be teased to death if she mentioned it.
She went to answer a knock at the door.
‘William, welcome!’ she exclaimed.
‘For you.’ He handed her a small bouquet of holly and ivy.
Blushing, she thanked him. ‘And thank you for the goose as well.’
‘I hope it’s big enough,’ he said anxiously. ‘The butcher deemed it would be.’
‘There’s enough there for two Christmases. Come in. I’ll introduce you to Tom.’ She took his coat and hat, and the two men shook hands before May offered them ale.
‘You’ll take us as you find us. I’m afraid it isn’t what you’re used to,’ Violet said.
‘It’s delightful.’ William smiled and her heart turned over. ‘It reminds me of home.’
‘I’m going to leave the goose to roast,’ Eleanor said, joining them from the kitchen. ‘Shall we play games or have a singsong while we wait?’
They sat around the fire. Joe sat on Violet’s lap, facing her and holding her hands for balance.
‘Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat,’ she began. ‘Please put a penny in the old man’s hat.’ Eleanor and May took up the rhyme, ‘If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do. If you haven’t got a ha’penny, God bless you.’
Joe grinned from ear to ear.
‘How about “I Saw Three Ships”? Would Joe like that one?’ William asked.
‘We’ll see,’ Violet said, and the two of them started to sing.
‘I saw three ships come sailing by on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day …’
The others joined in, Tom revealing a surprisingly fine baritone voice.
After a few more songs and a game of charades, Eleanor went to check on the food.
‘Oh dear,’ she called out. ‘The day’s going to be all topsy turvy – the meat is nowhere nearly ready, but the potatoes are crisp and the carrots soggy.’
‘Never mind,’ Violet called back. ‘We can have a vegetable course, then the goo
se.’
‘I fear that we’ll have to have pudding before the main.’
‘We can wait,’ William said. ‘It will taste all the better for it. I have brought a gift for Joe – can I give it to him before dinner?’
Everyone was in agreement, and they moved to the table for sherry and ginger beer, and Violet handed out the gifts she’d put out earlier, while William fetched his from where he’d left his shoes on the mat just inside the door. They exchanged oranges, crisp Kent apples which had been stored since the autumn harvest, and handfuls of nuts. Violet put the knitted sweater that she’d bought for Joe over his head and slipped his arms through the sleeves.
‘There, you look like a little sailor.’ She smiled.
Violet gave Eleanor a length of red ribbon which she’d had her eye on at the haberdasher’s, and May a strip of fancy buttons. She handed Tom a handkerchief on which she’d embroidered his initials the night before, not wanting him to feel left out. As for William, she hadn’t known what to get him. What did you give a man who appeared to have everything he needed? A pipe or a smoking cap? As far as she knew, he didn’t indulge in tobacco. If she gave him something expensive, it would seem vulgar, and anything cheap would appear insulting. She hoped she hadn’t offended him by deciding not to give him more than an apple and some walnuts.
He handed her a box to give to Joe, but Joe didn’t know what to do with it, seeming just as delighted with the box as whatever might be inside it.
‘Look,’ Violet said, lifting the corner of the lid. ‘This is what you do with it.’
He pulled the lid off and looked inside and Violet helped him extract a wooden boat, a simple version of a steam packet, painted red and blue with a black funnel, from the tissue paper inside the box.
Joe took it and put it in his mouth. Violet gently exchanged it for a crust of dry bread and put the boat on the table.
‘Chug, chug, chug.’ She slid it across the cloth, and Joe grinned and bounced up and down on her knee. ‘Thank you, William. That’s the best thing you could have chosen for him.’
‘I guessed he’d like it.’ He smiled. ‘I mean, he’s probably too young to recognise that it’s a boat, but my ma used to say that babies like bright colours.’
Joe looked on while the others played cards and draughts until half past four when the sun had set and the goose was finally ready. Eleanor carried the bird to the table, Tom carved and William handed out the plates.
‘That’s the best meat I’ve ever tasted,’ May said, sounding a littled soused. ‘It would make me very ’appy if I could have the parson’s nose.’
‘Of course you can,’ Violet said, and Tom carved it off for her.
Eventually, they had had their fill, and Tom suggested that it was time he went home.
‘It’s been a monsterful day,’ he said, ‘but my back’s beginning to give me gyp. I need a little lie-down.’
‘I have one more surprise before the day is out.’ William fetched a handful of Christmas crackers from his coat pocket, each one a twist of red paper tied at each end with gold thread. ‘I’d heard that these were the latest fashion.’ He handed them out – one each. ‘I’ve put your names on them. I’m sorry, I didn’t bring one for you, Tom. If I’d known in advance …’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Tom grinned. ‘I’ll ’elp May with ’ers.’ He and May pulled the first one – it popped, spilling sweets across the table.
‘Oh, sugared almonds,’ May said. ‘My favourite.’
‘I filled Joe’s with raisins,’ William said aside to Violet. ‘I reckoned the nuts would be too hard for him to chew on.’ Joe, sitting propped up in a box at the table, waved his cracker. William made a great show of puffing and heaving at it, but it wouldn’t snap, and in the end he pulled it for him.
Joe started picking up the raisins and shoving them into his mouth.
‘Your turn, Violet,’ William said.
‘You pull it with me.’ The cracker snapped and the sugared almonds flew out, along with a piece of folded paper. ‘For me?’ She picked it up. ‘This isn’t some kind of game?’
‘You’ll have to read it to find out.’ William’s cheeks were pink and his eyes alight with expectation mixed with … she wasn’t sure. Was it fear?
She unfolded the paper and began to read the tiny handwriting.
Dear Violet,
When we spoke the other day, you gave me reason to hope. I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?
There is no way of letting me down gently, so a simple yes or no will do.
Your affectionate friend,
William
‘Oh!’ She touched her throat as hot tears sprang to her eyes.
‘Well?’ he said softly.
‘My answer is yes …’ She got up and he leaned across the table in an awkward embrace.
‘You’ve made me the happiest man alive. Oh, let me come to you – I want to hold you in my arms, my darling.’ He walked round to her and she flung her hands around his neck.
‘You’re getting married!’ Eleanor squealed. ‘Let me be the first to congratulate you.’ She jumped up and hugged them, followed by May, who was determined to be the second to give them her best wishes.
Tom leapt like a mountain goat on to the table, making Violet wonder if he really had anything wrong with his back.
‘A toast,’ he shouted. ‘There must be a toast. Everyone raise a glass to the happy couple. To Violet and William.’
‘To you, my love,’ William whispered in her ear, as May and Eleanor moved away to refresh their glasses. She reached up and stroked his cheek.
‘The mistletoe’s over there,’ she heard May say. ‘It would be a shame to waste it.’
As the hubbub went on around them, Violet took her fiancé’s hand and led him to the kitchen doorway where she turned to face him. He placed his hands on her waist and, oblivious to anyone else – forgetting the past and not thinking about the future – Violet leaned up to receive his kiss. She was aware of the warmth in his eyes, the heat of his body and the sweet scent of his breath as he pressed his mouth to her cheek, then her lips.
‘Ignore them,’ he murmured at the sound of applause. He raised his eyes briefly. ‘There are five berries left.’
‘I’m not counting,’ Violet giggled. ‘When shall we get married?’
‘As soon as we can,’ he said. ‘I feel as if I’ve waited for ever – I don’t want to waste another minute without you at my side.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Myrtle: A Symbol of Love
During the next few weeks, Violet, May and Eleanor were occupied with extra sewing, making new dresses for the weddings as well as keeping up with their orders. Eleanor wrote to Ottilie inviting her to Dover for the end of January when Violet would become Mrs William Noble on the same day as May wed Tom. Violet wrote separately to Miss Whiteway, asking her if she would consider acting as Joe’s sponsor at his christening as well as attending her wedding. She wasn’t sure if she would accept. She knew that she wouldn’t decline out of prejudice, but she wasn’t sure if her fiancé, Mr Fullagar, would be able to see past her reputation as a fallen woman with a child born out of wedlock.
William made the arrangements for the ceremonies to be held at St Paul’s on Minnis Lane, sensitive to Violet’s preference that she should marry anywhere but St Mary’s.
On the morning of the chosen day, there was a knock on the workshop door.
‘Can you go, Eleanor?’ Violet said. ‘I’m not quite ready.’
Eleanor was already hurrying down the stairs. She heard doors banging and the cat yowl – her sister must have tripped over him in her rush, Violet thought with a rueful smile. Poor Dickens.
‘Ottilie! John! They are here! Violet, come down quickly!’
Violet checked her appearance in the mirror on the dressing table, picked Joe up from the cot she’d bought for him, and went to greet their guests, her heart tripping with excitement.
Ottilie was in the middle of the
workshop, hugging Eleanor who was laughing and crying with joy. Violet joined them, throwing one arm around her sisters while Joe stared.
‘It’s wonderful to see you,’ she cried. ‘Be careful, Eleanor. She is with child.’
‘Don’t fuss – I’m fine,’ Ottlie said. ‘I have at least another month or two to go. Who is this darling little lad?’
‘It’s Joe, of course,’ Eleanor said.
‘Meet Auntie Ottilie,’ Violet said to him as Ottilie reached out and touched the dimple in his chin, making him grin.
‘Oh, he’s adorable,’ she said.
‘We’ll be looking after him today,’ Eleanor said. ‘You are still in your coat. Let me take it. Go through to the kitchen – there’s a fire lit in there. We have tea or chocolate to warm you up.’
Violet turned to John who was standing aside, waiting for their exclamations to die down before he greeted them.
‘Thank you for joining us,’ she said. He looked very well with his hair cut short and his beard neatly trimmed, and wearing a black dress coat, white shirt and black doeskin trousers.
‘It’s a pleasure, sister-in-law.’ He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. ‘You make a beautiful bride, almost as beautiful as your sister,’ he added with a wink at Ottilie. ‘We will take tea, but we shouldn’t dwell for too long. I believe I am giving you away in less than an hour.’
There was another knock at the door.
That can’t be William or Tom – they know it’s bad luck to see their brides before the wedding,’ Eleanor said, frowning.
‘I’ll get it,’ May said, bustling through the workshop and smoothing the lace on her gown at the same time. She pulled the door open. ‘Who is it callin’ at this time of day? Don’t you know we’re getting ready for not one but two weddin’s and a christenin’?’
‘Your carriages await, ma’am,’ said the caller, a short, elderly man in green livery.
‘We ’aven’t ordered no carriages.’ May frowned. ‘We’re walkin’ up to St Paul’s.’
‘They’ve been ’ired by Mr Noble to carry the brides and their families to the church. I was told to be here at nine o’clock sharp. The ’orses will fidget and fret if you ‘ang about for too long.’
