A Ration Book Christmas

by Jean Fullerton

  ‘What about me?’ said Mattie, strolling in to the kitchen.

  Francesca told Mattie about her family’s plans.

  ‘That would be nice, to have you as neighbours,’ said Mattie, taking the serving bowls from the dresser cupboard and setting them out ready for the vegetables.

  A sad look flitted across Ida’s face. ‘The house is going to feel very empty when you and Mattie go.’

  ‘I know,’ said Francesca. ‘And I can’t say enough how grateful I am to you for putting me up like this.’

  Ida waved her words away. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m sure your family would have done the same for our Mattie.’

  ‘And at least you and Mr Brogan can have your bedroom to yourselves once you move Billy back into his own room,’ Francesca added.

  Ida forced a smile. ‘I suppose it has been a bit of a squash.’

  ‘A bit!’ Jo rolled her eyes. ‘It’s been like musical beds with Mattie and Daniel taking over the front room, me and poor Francesca have been squashed like peas in a pod in the back room.’

  Mattie and Francesca laughed.

  There was room for her at Tommy’s flat but Jo knew it was more than her life’s worth to suggest she stay there. Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t but that was something best kept to herself.

  ‘Well, at least none of us have had to sleep on the sofa, like poor Charlie,’ said Francesca, with a notable trace of tenderness in her voice as she spoke his name.

  ‘If I’d known he was going to kip the night at Stella’s, I wouldn’t have bothered making him up a bed,’ said Ida.

  ‘Oh,’ said Francesca. ‘I thought he was just home late.’

  ‘So did I,’ said Ida, ‘until I opened the door to get the milk in this morning and saw him strolling down the road.’

  Pain flitted across Francesca’s face and Mattie gave her love-lorn friend a sympathetic look.

  The back door opened again and Queenie entered carrying two loaves wrapped in paper.

  ‘About time too,’ said Ida, her face red from the steam.

  ‘You’d have been nagging at me if I bought stale bread so I waited for the second batch,’ said Queenie, placing them in the stoneware bin on the dresser. ‘Aren’t the men back yet?’

  ‘No,’ snapped Ida, ‘and if they don’t get their skates on I’ll—’

  ‘Hello, where are all me sweet darlings,’ boomed Jerimiah’s voice through the house from the front door.

  Ida’s lips pulled together. ‘I’ll give ’im “sweet darling”.’

  Turning the gas off under the carrots, she marched through to the parlour with the rest of the women just behind her.

  Jerimiah, dressed in his best suit with a colourful striped waistcoat beneath and a neckerchief tied in a flamboyant knot around his throat, stood in the middle of the room with Charlie in his khaki battle jacket to his right and Daniel in a suit and tie on the other side, but it was Tommy, smartly dressed in a navy suit with a Windsor knot at his throat, standing to the right of the group that Jo’s eyes fixed on.

  Her heart sang at the sight of him and when his dark eyes, full of love, rested on her, it was all Jo could do not to throw herself in his arms.

  Of course, she’d have trouble getting to him because apart from the artificial Christmas tree tucked into one chimney alcove and Alicia’s Silver Cross pram in the other, the rest of the room was taken over by the table, laid ready for Christmas lunch. To ensure everyone in the family could sit down for dinner at the same time, Jo’s father had brought a door from the yard. One end of the door rested on their drop-leaf table while the other end was supported by trestle legs. Covered with two white sheets, which would serve as a tablecloth, it filled the room, which is why two of the armchairs had been moved into Queenie’s room and covered with newspapers to prevent Prince Albert decorating them.

  ‘There she is, lads,’ said Jerimiah, giving his wife an exaggeratedly adoring look. ‘Sure, isn’t she a sight to warm any man’s heart?’

  Jo and Mattie exchanged amused looks but their mother’s stony expression remained as Billy sneaked in behind the men, carrying an Airfix box under his arm.

  ‘Don’t you try that old blarney on me, Jerimiah Brogan,’ Ida said, glaring at him. ‘Didn’t I tell you I wanted you home by twelve?’

  ‘I don’t recall you saying such a thing, my dear,’ he replied, swaying slightly and looking innocently at her.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Ida, crossing her arms tightly across her substantial bosom. ‘You can barely remember your own name after a couple of Guinness.’

  Queenie rolled her eyes. ‘For the love of God, isn’t a man entitled to have the odd drink from time to time?’

  ‘And Dad’s only had a couple, Ma,’ said Charlie, with a barely suppressed smile.

  Daniel laughed.

  ‘See, Ida, he’s only had a couple,’ said Queenie. ‘Isn’t that right, Tommy?’

  ‘It is, Mrs B,’ said Tommy, placing his hand on his heart earnestly. ‘Just a couple of pints and,’ he winked, ‘maybe the same again of whisky chasers.’

  Queenie’s mouth dropped open for a second and then she grinned. ‘Mercy to Heaven, if I didn’t have to fetch the ladder, I’d be boxing your ears for such cheek, Tommy Sweete.’

  Everyone laughed and Jo knew God was in his Heaven.

  ‘Well, now you are home you’d better sit yourself down while we dish up,’ said Ida.

  Jo turned to follow her mother into the kitchen but Tommy caught her hand. ‘I think I’ve lost something.’

  Ida gave them a fond look. ‘Go on then, I dare say we can manage.’

  Leaving Mattie and Francesca to help her mother, Jo let Tommy lead her into the dark hall where the coat rack stood.

  ‘So what have you lost?’

  ‘This,’ he said, drawing her into his arms and closing his mouth over hers.

  Moulding herself into him, Jo wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. His splayed hand spread up her back and held the back of her head while the other grasped her bottom and anchored her into him. Excitement shot through Jo as images of them entwined together flashed in her mind. After several pulse-racing moments he lifted his head.

  ‘I love you,’ he said, his eyes dark in the dim light.

  She smiled. ‘I know.’

  Stretching up, she hugged him around the neck and pressed her lips on his. Backing her into the coats hanging on the wall, his mouth opened and worked hungrily on hers.

  The door handle rattled and a beam of light cut between them.

  Blinking, they looked around to see Mattie standing in the doorway.

  ‘It’s all right, Mum, they’ve found it,’ she said, with an amused look on her face.

  With her cheeks on fire, Jo walked back into the parlour with Tommy half a pace behind.

  Everyone was already sitting around the table with plates in front of them and grins on their faces. Her father was in his usual place at the head of the table, ready to carve the cooked ox heart set before him.

  ‘We’ve left you a space,’ he said, pointing to the two chairs at the corner of the table with the ten-inch bladed knife. ‘You’re a bit squashed but I’m sure you won’t mind.’

  ‘No, we’ll be fine,’ said Tommy, holding the chair out for Jo to sit down before taking his seat beside her.

  The family bowed their heads as Jerimiah thanked the Almighty for food and family before slicing up the meat.

  ‘So, lad,’ said Queenie, her black eyes twinkling with devilment as they fixed on Tommy, ‘what was of such importance that you were needing Jo’s assistance to seek it out?’

  ‘Now, Gran,’ laughed Mattie, as her mother placed a loaded plate of meat and veg in front of her, ‘don’t make Jo blush again.’

  ‘Well,’ said Tommy, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, ‘seeing as how you ask, it was this.’

  He held up two letters. ‘I found them on the mat when I got home yesterday morning. This one,’ he held up an official-l
ooking manila one, ‘is from the army telling me to report to a Depot in Buckingham instead of Colchester but this letter . . .’ He paused while he removed the single sheet of typed paper and shook it out. ‘This one says, “Dear Mr Sweete, I am happy to inform you that your recent entry for the Telegraph word and number competition has come third and therefore we are delighted to enclose a postal order to the value of fifty pounds—”’

  ‘Fifty pounds!’ gasped Ida.

  ‘Yes, Mrs B,’ Tommy replied, as Jo’s heart raced ten to the dozen in her chest. ‘Fifty pounds, which I took straight around to the Mutual and Friendship Savings Bank. I’m hoping it will be enough to buy me and Jo a house.’ He took Jo’s hand and smiled at her. ‘Of course, I’m going to take a small amount out first to buy a ring.’

  ‘Fifty pounds for doing some puzzles,’ said Ida, looking a little baffled at the thought.

  ‘Well, they weren’t easy, I can tell you,’ said Tommy. ‘But I’ve always had a bit of a head for numbers and a friend suggested I give it a try.’

  Alicia, who’d been sleeping happily, started to niggle. Standing up, Daniel went over and lifted her out of her pram.

  ‘Did it say whereabouts in Buckingham you are to report?’ he asked, giving Tommy a nonchalant look as he cradled his new daughter in his arm.

  Reaching out, Tommy took his plate from his future mother-in-law. ‘Some place called Bletchley. Do you know it?’

  Daniel shook his head.

  ‘Not really,’ he said, busying himself with Alicia’s blanket.

  ‘Well, son, congratulations,’ said Jerimiah, laying the knife aside and sitting down. ‘Now eat up and good health.’

  Everyone started tucking into their dinner.

  ‘Jo tells me you’ve both got a day off tomorrow,’ said Mattie, spearing a roast potato. ‘Are you planning to do anything?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought,’ Tommy replied. He turned to Jo. ‘Any ideas, sweetheart?’

  Jo smiled. Slipping her hand under the tablecloth, she gently squeezed the top of his thigh. ‘I’m sure we’ll think of something.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ALTHOUGH THE ICY January winds nipped at her ears and nose, enfolded in Tommy’s Crombie overcoat and with her head resting on his chest and his arms around her, Jo had never felt warmer.

  ‘What’s the time?’ she asked, breathing in the familiar smell of his aftershave.

  ‘Ten to,’ he replied, his voice reverberating in the cocoon of his embrace.

  Jo snuggled closer. ‘Ages yet.’

  His lips pressed onto her forehead and his arms tightened around her.

  It wasn’t, of course, as the third-class ticket he had in his pocket was for the eleven-five to Northampton. But then, whether it was fifteen minutes, fifteen days or fifteen years it would still be too soon to say goodbye.

  They were standing together on platform ten under the steel expanse of Euston Station while the engineers made their final preparations to the train Tommy would be departing on in just a few short moments. They weren’t alone as around them stood dozens of other couples, the men with small suitcases and the women in their Sunday best, many holding on to small children with one hand and clutching handkerchiefs to their noses with the other.

  It was the first Monday of the New Year, and the old Victorian station was awash with khaki as soldiers who, like Charlie, had wangled a Christmas pass were getting ready to return to their barracks. Mingled amongst the khaki was the odd dash of air-force blue as aircraft personnel and pilots who’d also been on leave headed back to their bases at Biggleswade, Cardington or High Wycombe.

  Unlike Tommy who was wearing civilian clothes, Jo was dressed in her AAS uniform. She was also wearing Mattie’s navy ARP overcoat, which her sister now no longer needed. To be honest, Jo was barely out of uniform these days as after the brief respite over the three days of Christmas, the Luftwaffe had returned with vengeance. St Katharine Dock had been pounded and Aldgate Art Gallery had suffered a direct hit, with another bomb narrowly missing old St Mary’s Church on Whitechapel High Street.

  A driver and a fireman, both wearing dungarees, loose-fitting jackets and caps with LMS badges on the front, strolled along the platform to the front of the burgundy-liveried London, Midlands and Scotland Railway locomotive and climbed up onto the foot plate.

  ‘The eleven-five to Northampton is departing in five minutes,’ the fireman called, swinging his lamp as he walked past Jo and Tommy. ‘Calling at Watford Junction, Hemel Hempstead, Leighton Buzzard, Bletchley and all stations to . . .’

  Around them, men gathered up their suitcases while women started quietly sobbing as they held babies up to be kissed.

  ‘It’s time, Jo,’ Tommy said softly, as the clatter of doors opening against the carriages echoed around the vast space.

  Although tears pinched the corners of her eyes, Jo looked up and forced a smile.

  His brown eyes grew soft as they moved slowly over her face. ‘I’ll write as soon as I can.’

  ‘I know,’ she replied, in a tight voice.

  A child further down the platform started shouting ‘Daddy, Daddy’ and a couple of others took up the cry.

  A sad smile lifted Tommy’s well-formed lips.

  ‘Two years isn’t so long, sweetheart, and then we can be married,’ he said softly, moving a stray curl from her forehead.

  ‘It’ll be here before we know it,’ said Jo, giving him her brightest smile and trying to sound convinced.

  ‘And at least we’re properly engaged now,’ he said.

  Jo twiddled her left hand so the solitary diamond on her third finger sparkled in the light. ‘We certainly are.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Tommy.

  ‘I don’t like it, Tommy, I love it,’ said Jo. ‘But you shouldn’t have spent so much.’

  ‘You’re worth every penny and besides,’ he grinned, ‘I only entered the competition so I could buy you diamonds.’

  The guard blew his whistle again, causing mothers to cling to their fresh-faced sons and wives and sweethearts to hang on to their lovers’ necks.

  Keeping his eyes on her face and his arm still around her, Tommy bent down and picked up his brown suitcase.

  They stood for a moment then he took her hand and they walked a few yards to one of the open carriage doors. While people jostled and chatted around them as they boarded the train, Jo and Tommy stood with their gaze locked, in a wordless bubble of love and longing, until the station master’s warning whistle broke the spell.

  Dropping his case on the damp concrete of the platform, Tommy’s arms shot around Jo, gathering her into his strong embrace. Jo’s arms wound around his body, feeling the hard muscles of his back under her fingertips.

  Lowering his head, his mouth closed over Jo’s in an achingly deep kiss which sent shivers of desire and loneliness through her.

  Jo matched his kiss, moulding herself into him as she clung to him. Then the station master’s final whistle cut between them.

  Tommy released her. Snatching up his case, he jumped onto the train just as the funnel belched smoke and soot into the air.

  Slamming the door behind him, he pulled down the window and leaned out.

  Jo raised her hand and Tommy caught it.

  ‘I love you,’ he said, as the wheels squeaked against the track and the carriage shuddered forward.

  ‘I love you too,’ said Jo, looking up at Tommy through shimmering tears.

  Jo walked and then trotted alongside the train as it picked up speed.

  Staring at each other, they held hands until Jo could run no faster and their fingers slipped apart.

  Slowing to a halt, Jo’s tear-filled eyes fixed on Tommy, hanging out of the window looking back at her, until the train turned at the end of the platform and disappeared in a billow of steam on its northerly journey.

  He was gone: Tommy was gone.

  Although she was surrounded by dozens of women and children an eerie stillness blanked them out as t
hey stood united in the void left by their men’s departure. The hissing steam and tinny megaphone announcement echoing in the cavernous space added to the dreamlike feeling of the moment, then suddenly the all-too-familiar sound of an air raid siren brought everyone back to the present.

  Women screamed and dragged their children behind them as they dashed back down the platform towards public shelters, while guards herded passengers to safety.

  In truth, two years seemed like an eternity but with the Luftwaffe raining death and destruction down on them nightly and Hitler’s army poised to cross the Channel, it wasn’t as if she didn’t have other things to think about while she waited for Tommy’s return.

  With a last look down the track, Jo adjusted her bag across her then turned and headed off to do her bit to win the war.

  Ida’s Christmas recipes

  Christmas 1940 was arguably the worst Christmas of the entire war. A great number of merchant ships bringing vital food across the Atlantic were lost all through 1940, and the American Lend-Lease scheme, which saw the arrival of spam, dried eggs and milk, was still a year away. The ration for fats had been cut in June 1940 and the meat ration was cut in December, although the tea and sugar rations were increased for a week at Christmas. Jo’s mother, Ida, would have had her work cut out trying to prepare a Christmas feast for the Brogan family.

  The Brogans had the advantage of being able to pool their rations but even so, Ida would have been saving as much as she could from the family’s sugar ration as early as August. She would also have been bottling and preserving any autumn fruit, such as blackberries and apples if she was lucky enough to get hold of them, plus buying anything tinned that might be edible.

  With everything in short supply and a large family sitting down to Christmas dinner, Ida was very fortunate to get an ox heart from her butcher as a substitute for turkey. Ox hearts fell under the offal grouping, which was never subject to rationing. As a child of parents who survived the war-time, I regularly had pigs’ hearts for my evening meal – called tea in those days – and I have adapted the method my mum used to prepare and cook them for Ida’s Christmas dinner. Enjoy.