Christmas is for Children

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘We lost Madge some months ago.’

  ‘Yes, I know. You must miss her – and I’m sure the children do.’ She turned away and smiled at Ruthie. ‘Shall we all sit at the table? I’m hungry and that strawberry jam looks delicious…’

  ‘The bread was fresh yesterday,’ Bert Winters said as he took his usual chair. ‘My Millie always made fresh every day, but we have it delivered now, because she can’t manage to bake bread these days.’

  ‘No, of course not, making bread is hard work’ Flo said. ‘We make our own bread and my sister makes lots of lovely soft rolls. I will bring you some next time I come, sir.’

  ‘Thank you but you must call me Bert – or Granda like the children…’ Bert’s watery grey eyes were kind as he looked at Robbie’s children. ‘They’re good kids – good to me and Millie…’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Flo agreed and for a moment her gaze met Robbie’s. His heart felt as if it was being twisted, because by rights, they might have been her children…

  Memories swept back as he thought about the night she’d slipped out of her father’s house all those years ago and told him she feared she might be having a child. Robbie had panicked and instead of telling her he would marry her, he’d run off without answering her. Some months later, when he’d been ready to accept his responsibility and tell her they would get married her father had driven him away.

  ‘My daughter isn’t at home to you or your kind,’ he’d growled and shown Robbie his fist. ‘Come near her and I’ll thrash the life out of you – I’ll kill you, you filthy little worm…’

  Robbie had tried to argue, to explain that he’d been foolish and was sorry; he’d told Mr Hawkins that he truly loved Flo, but her father had knocked him down and then kicked him in the head and face. He’d run then, feeling ashamed and sorry for himself. It was that night he’d joined the army and been swept into a terrible war. Only after ten years had he come back to this town and then he was married and had a one-year-old son.

  He’d caught sight of Flo in the market and in her shop more than once over the years, but he’d never been into the cake shop and shame had kept him from speaking to her until they’d met in the grocer’s by chance – and now he felt the bitterness of regret rush through him as he looked into her clear eyes and saw there was no anger or accusation. He deserved that she should be angry, but she smiled and gave her head a little shake.

  Robbie felt the food stick in his throat but managed to swallow it, though he felt as if it were being forced down. He spoke very little, but it hardly mattered, because the children chattered away happily, clearly enjoying not just the food but the company. They liked their Miss Flo and, as he watched and listened, Robbie realised how much he’d lost by his cowardice. This pleasant, smiling and gentle woman could have been his wife, if he’d only been braver at the start. He should have stood up to Flo’s father and insisted that they be allowed to marry.

  Robbie was awkward, on the back foot, wanting to apologise but not knowing how. Flo was taking it all in her stride, but then she had nothing to be ashamed of – it was he who had let her down, though she’d obviously been mistaken about being pregnant that night, because there had been no scandal and no rushed marriage to a respectable older man. She was so serene and confident that he knew she’d put the past out of her mind. He would be a fool if he thought he could ask a woman like her for a second chance. What could she want of him that she didn’t already have – and what could he give her when all he had was a few weeks’ work ahead of him? He’d missed his chance of happiness with Flo – and besides, he didn’t deserve her.

  After they’d all finished eating, and the table was cleared, the dishes washed, Robbie asked his host if there was anything he could do to help before he left the house and took his children home. He was told that, between them, his children and Miss Hawkins had done everything.

  However, on the way home, Ben told him that the catch on the back scullery window was broken. ‘Anyone could get in,’ Ben said. ‘You could fix it fer him, couldn’t yer?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Robbie agreed and ruffled his hair. He would be working up until Christmas, still nearly three weeks away, but he’d find time for the repair. ‘I’m starting work tomorrow – but I’ll fix that window for yer friend, son.’

  ‘Good.’ Ben grinned at him. ‘I’m glad yer stayed ter tea, Dad. Miss Flo makes a lovely cake – and that was ’er jam too. She made it in the summer and brought two pots round for Granny and Granda.’

  ‘You know they’re not really yer grandparents, don’t yer?’ Robbie asked gently and Ben nodded. ‘Yer mother’s parents died soon after yer were born, and my mother and father both died of diphtheria when I was twelve. I was sent to live with me grandmother and she was a scold. I left home at sixteen and made me own way in the world after that…’

  ‘You were a soldier, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, I joined up before I was eighteen. Spent eight years learning me trade as a carpenter with the army and started out married life in yer Mum’s home town – and when I came back here to London you were just a year old…’

  ‘Miss Flo asked about you, what you did these days,’ Ben chattered on. ‘I told her you were a soldier once, but you worked wherever you could now. She said a lot of men had to do the same because so many factories and yards had closed down…’ He looked up at Robbie. ‘She’s lovely, ain’t she? Did you like her, Dad?’

  ‘Yes, I liked her,’ Robbie said. He felt the sting of shame over the way he’d ignored Flo all these years, knowing that he owed her an apology even though it wasn’t all his fault. Her kindness to his kids made him awkward and uneasy. ‘You mustn’t go round to her shop, son. I know she gave you a cake, but you mustn’t expect her to do it again – besides, I’ll have more money in my pocket soon. I’ll be able to buy some proper food for Christmas – and maybe a present for you and Ruthie…’

  ‘I ain’t bothered about a present,’ Ben said solemnly. ‘As long as yer all right, Dad…’

  His father put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I promise I won’t drink all me wages away down the pub, son. It was just… with me havin’ ter do all the dirty jobs and yer mother…’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Ben agreed and leaned into his father’s side.

  Ruthie saw Ben leaning into him and ran around the other side, reaching for his hand. She hadn’t been listening to their conversation, but now she looked up at him with her big innocent eyes. ‘Miss Flo promised me a sugar mouse,’ she confided. ‘Her sister – Miss Honour – makes them and she’s goin’ ter give me one at Christmas…’

  ‘You’re a lucky girl then,’ Robbie said and hadn’t the heart to tell his little girl that she mustn’t go round to Flo’s shop. ‘But wait until Christmas – you mustn’t keep askin’ fer things, love.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Ruthie protested indignantly. ‘She asked me what I liked in her winder so I told ’er…’

  Robbie sighed. He was hurting inside and pride would keep him from calling into the shop – pride and the knowledge that he’d let Flo down. Yet he couldn’t stop his kids visiting when Flo so clearly enjoyed their company…

  *

  Flo was singing softly to herself as she opened her kitchen door after visiting Millie and walked in. It was past seven in the evening and she hoped that Honour had taken some supper up to their father because if he had it too late he would be awake half the night and calling out to her to help him.

  ‘Honour…’ she called and then halted, staring in surprise as she saw who was sitting in the wooden rocking chair beside the kitchen fire. ‘Father – what are you doing down here?’

  ‘I suppose I can do as I like in my own house…’

  Flo bit back an angry retort, because he was still her father and, in some ways, entitled to think of this as his house – or at least his home.

  ‘Where is Honour?’

  Honour had promised she would be there to look after him while Flo went out. The girl had returned at four as she’d pro
mised, but Flo had only been gone a few hours – surely she hadn’t gone round to her friend’s?

  ‘You tell me…’ her father retorted. ‘I rang the bell for half an hour and no one answered, so I came down and got myself a glass of water…’

  Flo stared at him, because he’d been pretending he could hardly get to the commode without her half lifting him on, and now he was sitting down here and watching the clock.

  ‘So where have you been, miss? Out with some man, I suppose?’

  Flo looked at him but didn’t answer. She’d already told him she was visiting Mrs Millie Waters, but he was obviously in a bad mood.

  ‘I’m sorry no one brought you your cocoa, Father. I’ll make it now, if you like?’

  ‘You’ll have to help me upstairs,’ he grumbled. ‘I came down on my backside but I can’t get back on me feet now…’

  Flo knew he was lying. If he’d had the strength to come down in the first place, he couldn’t be too weak to stand up alone, but there wasn’t much point in arguing. She bent to give him her arm, heaving him to his feet and moving slowly towards the door leading into the hall. He leaned on her heavily, making her take his weight deliberately.

  ‘Flo – wait, I’ll give you a hand,’ Honour offered as she suddenly entered the kitchen door and saw them struggling. ‘I’m sorry. I just went next door. Sarah Jones wanted to borrow some sugar and she asked me to show her how to make coconut ice…’

  Honour’s cheeks were pink and Flo knew she was lying but shook her head at her. ‘We’ll manage,’ she said. ‘You can make cocoa for us all please…’

  Her father made it as difficult for her to help him up the stairs as he could, but in the end he tired of the struggle and they reached his bedroom. Flo balanced him on the edge of the bed and took his slippers off, raising his legs to settle him in the bed. She plumped up his pillows and straightened the bedspread.

  ‘Do you want to read for a while?’

  ‘I think I’ll sleep once that wretched girl brings my cocoa,’ he said and suddenly looked weary. Flo realised that he’d got himself downstairs out of sheer stubbornness, but it had taken more out of him than she’d thought.

  ‘Here she comes,’ Flo told him and took the little tray from Honour.

  ‘Goodnight, Dad,’ Honour said and turned away.

  ‘If you bring shame on us, girl, I’ll not have you in the house…’ he called after her sharply.

  Honour gave a little sob and rushed out of the room. Flo could hear her running downstairs.

  ‘There was no need for that, Father. She’s a good girl…’

  ‘Like her mother, I suppose?’ he asked and gave Flo such a look that she felt hot all over.

  ‘Can I get anything else for you?’ Flo asked.

  ‘I’ll ring if I need the toilet,’ he said. ‘Get downstairs and ask that girl what she’s been up to – or she’ll land herself in trouble…’

  Flo walked away without answering.

  Honour was by the stove and she picked up the little saucepan as Flo entered the kitchen, pouring the warmed milk into two mugs and stirring the thick cocoa. She didn’t look at Flo until she sat down opposite her.

  ‘You promised to stay here until I returned. You’ve been out all day.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Honour apologised. ‘Roy came to the window and waved at me. He wanted to tell me something he’d forgotten. I just popped out for a few minutes.’

  ‘It was more than a few minutes – and you’d had most of the day with Roy,’ Flo scolded. ‘Dad kept ringing because he was thirsty. It must have taken quite an effort for him to get downstairs.’

  Honour looked ashamed. ‘I’m sorry for lettin’ you down, Flo. I don’t care about Dad. For all I care he can ring until kingdom come and I wouldn’t bother to answer – I only do it for you…’

  ‘Oh, Honour…’ Flo shook her head sadly. Honour didn’t love the man she believed to be her father. In truth, he was her grandfather but it was sad that she felt nothing but anger against him. ‘I know he’s bad-tempered and sometimes cruel – but he is our family. He’s ill and it can’t be much fun lying up there all day alone.’

  ‘He isn’t on his own. We’re up and down all day making sure he has what he needs.’

  ‘It isn’t like being able to go out – and he never gets any visitors.’

  ‘Because he doesn’t have any friends. He drove all his workmates away. One or two came to see him after he had the stroke and he swore at them – told them to clear off…’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Flo sighed. ‘I get fed up with his demands too, Honour – but what else can I do?’

  ‘You could put him in the infirmary…’

  ‘No! I would never do that to anyone,’ Flo declared firmly. ‘It used to be the workhouse and all the old people are afraid of it. Bert Waters told me Millie is terrified of being sent there. She is convinced she wouldn’t come out alive and I think she might be right. It is an awful place.’

  ‘Oh, I know, I didn’t mean it,’ Honour said and looked down. ‘But I’m not goin’ to spend all my life lookin’ after him, Flo – and you can’t manage him and the baking and the shop all by yourself when I get married. You’ll have to get help with him – or send him somewhere…’

  ‘The only place is the infirmary. The hospital wouldn’t keep him once he was over the worst of the stroke and a nursing home is too expensive. I’ll get help when I need it, but I’ve already told you, it’s too soon for you to think about gettin' married, love. I know Roy is nice and he’s good-lookin’ – but you don’t really know him yet.’

  ‘I know I love him,’ Honour said, suddenly stubborn. ‘He kissed me and it was wonderful, but I understand I have to be careful not to do anythin’ wrong… only, I’m not sure what that means…’

  ‘That’s my fault,’ Flo admitted ruefully. If Honour got into trouble it would be her fault for not warning her. ‘I should have told you about makin’ love.’ She hesitated uneasily. ‘I don’t know very much either – but I do know that kisses lead to touchin’ each other and then… if you let a man go all the way it can mean you have to get married quick…’ Flo’s cheeks were hot as she tried to explain, but she hardly remembered much about that sweet, muddled fumbling in the park that had led to Honour’s birth. However, she explained as best she could and Honour blushed scarlet.

  ‘Is it just for havin’ babies?’ she asked. ‘Only, when Roy kisses me, I feel as if I want him to touch me places and… that other thing…is that wrong?’

  ‘Oh no, it is for pleasure too,’ Flo explained. ‘I haven’t been married, but I think people in love do it all the time when they’re married – perhaps not so much later in life. Sometimes babies come and sometimes they don’t, but if you wait for all that until you have a husband you don’t need to worry.’

  ‘So kissing doesn’t make a baby?’ Honour looked relieved.

  ‘No, dearest – as long as that is all it is… but sometimes it might be hard not to do other things when you kiss. Men do want more and sometimes they get carried away and you do too… but you have to be careful that doesn’t happen before you’re wed.’

  ‘Thank you for tellin’ me.’ Honour kissed her cheek. ‘I think I’ll get an early night and read in bed for a while. We need to be up early for the baking.’

  ‘Goodnight, my darling,’ Flo said and took the used cocoa mugs to the sink to wash them. She wasn’t in the least tired, but she knew they had to be up early. Her shop had a reputation for freshness and that meant most cakes had to be baked each day.

  As she went up to her room, the thoughts were going round and round in Flo’s head. Honour had been a woman for a while now, but Flo had wanted to keep her safe from the world. The time when she could protect her was over now though, Flo realised; Honour wanted to spread her wings and go out into the wider world. She had discovered love and Flo could only hope that things would turn out better for her…

  Meeting Robbie that afternoon at the Waters’ house had turned back the y
ears, making Flo so aware of all that she had lost. Her mother had claimed she was protecting her from the censure of the world, but instead Flo had been a prisoner in her own home, denied a husband, children and a life that consisted of more than work. It was too late for her. She must forget her own hurt and loss and make sure that her daughter was safe and happy…

  9

  Robbie mended two broken window sashes first, and then started work stripping out some worm-eaten wood from skirting boards, and window frames, replacing them with weathered wood from the reclamation yard. He’d used it often in the past and enjoyed the feel of old wood in his fingers; he loved to see a good walnut or mahogany begin to shine after he’d stripped it back, rubbed it down and oiled it before bringing the wood to a soft smooth shine.

  Here, it was just a case of stripping out wood that had wormholes or was splintered and damaged beyond repair. However, he liked to see things looking proper and there was a right way and a wrong way of doing restoration work.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ John asked, standing a mug of hot tea on a little table. ‘I imagine there’s a lot more needs doing than we spoke about on Sunday?’

  ‘I believe there are a lot of small repairs needed,’ Robbie agreed and ran his hand down one of the thick wooden beams, which had turned almost black with age. ‘But these supports are basically sound. I think you’ve been very sensible having this damaged wood stripped out. It’s poor-quality stuff and not original to the building. I imagine it was used for repairs some years ago and they didn’t bother what they used… they probably imported the worm into the building at that time.’

  ‘I’m afraid the woodworm has got into the roof structures and these beams,’ John said, looking up at the structures that were a basic part of the centuries-old ceiling. ‘If that is the case my bosses might decide to pull the place down. That’s why I thought that if we got these repairs done for a fair price, they may let me have the roof done before it goes too far.’