Christmas is for Children

by Rosie Clarke

  In the weeks after Christmas the shop would see only a handful of customers and they would spend only pennies on a few buns or the delicious soft rolls Honour baked and sometimes filled with cheese or ham. She went through to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich just as the door opened and a gentleman in an overcoat with an astrakhan collar entered.

  ‘Ah, Miss Hawkins,’ he said. ‘I wanted to buy some of your marzipan fancies, a box of six sugar mice and perhaps I could try a few of those peppermint creams for myself. They are fresh made, are they not?’

  ‘Yes; it’s a new venture for us. I’m only just beginning to make them and they’re not quite all the same shape, but do try one first, Mr Rolf…’ She offered a little dish and he took one, popping it into his mouth. His eyes rolled and his mouth curved with pleasure.

  ‘Delicious. I’ve never tasted anything like that. My grandmother used to make her own sweets when I was a boy – strawberry, violet and peppermint creams – the mint ones were always my favourite. I will take a box of those please. After all, it is Christmas…’

  ‘Yes, or it will be soon enough,’ Flo said and smiled at him. He was softly-spoken, in his forties and a frequent visitor to her shop. ‘Would you like some of the almond macaroons for your wife?’

  ‘Yes, please. How well you know me,’ he said and looked pleased. ‘It is a privilege to shop here, Miss Hawkins. I don’t know anywhere in the West End that I like half as well… and to think I might never have found you if I hadn’t come here on business for my factory…’

  Flo nodded, because he’d told her the same thing many times. He was one of her regulars, one of the few that would continue to buy in the weeks after Christmas when others could not afford it.

  ‘Are you on business today, sir?’

  ‘In a way, though not my own. I sit on the board for the Church Commissioners and I’m on my way to the mission in Oldfield Street – do you know it?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Flo said. ‘I help out there sometimes in the evening.’

  ‘Well, well, what a small world,’ he said and took out a pound note, placing it on the counter.

  Flo picked it up and took his change from the till.

  ‘No, no, you keep it. Give it to the mission next time if you wish.’

  ‘Yes, I shall – because they need money for the Christmas lunch,’ Flo said. ‘Unfortunately some money was stolen and they will need all the help they can get this year…’

  ‘Indeed, well, we must see what we can do,’ he said, tipped his smart beaver hat to her and walked from the shop.

  14

  Robbie swallowed a dose of the cough medicine and went straight to work on the broken window, fitting the new catch he’d bought when he began the work. It seemed to have been damaged further since he was here and he wondered if it had been used by someone intent on robbing the mission more than once. When he arrived, Nurse Mary had handed him a tool bag and smiled, saying she hoped it would help. Robbie hadn’t been able to believe it when he saw the amount of tools inside and the quality of them; they were equally as good as those he’d lost, though most had clearly been used for many years. All were still useable and the worn handles felt smooth in his hands.

  John was busy in the dining room, overlooking the distribution of food and serving the mugs of tea himself, when Robbie walked in. He noticed that Mick had just been given a bowl of soup and some bread and nodded to the young lad. At least he wouldn’t starve today.

  He’d been working for a few minutes when Mick came up to him, watching him work. Smiling, Robbie asked him how he was. The lad said he was all right, but Robbie saw a little bruise on his wrist as he picked up one of the tools.

  ‘How did you do this, lad?’

  ‘I knocked meself,’ Mick said, but his gaze veered away.

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ Robbie said sternly. ‘Was it yer father?’

  ‘Nah, not ’im – the other bugger…’ Mick said and jerked his head towards the hall. ‘He comes here some days… that’s why I came through to you. He grabs me and I ’ate ’im… I daren’t go home if he’s there…’

  ‘Sit over there and wait fer me,’ Robbie said. ‘Yer can come back wiv me when I’ve finished and wait fer yer dad to come home.’

  Mick thanked him and sat on the floor watching as he got on with his work. Robbie soon had his small task in hand and was just finishing the last screw when John entered.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ he said and looked relieved as he saw the window had been skilfully repaired. ‘I hope we can be friends again?’

  ‘Yes, I don’t see why not,’ Robbie said. ‘I was angry when I left last week but I’d almost finished my work here anyway. Thank you for putting the money through my door. I couldn’t afford to refuse it.’

  ‘It was yours, well earned,’ John said. ‘We do have more work here, Robbie – but I need permission from the Board, because it is a big job. I think most of the rafters in the roof are rotten…’

  ‘That will be a huge job,’ Robbie said. ‘I think it would need two men and take them the best part of a month – it’s liftin’ the heavy beams see.’

  ‘You could find someone to help, I’m sure.’ John smiled at him. ‘If I can get the money and permission…’

  ‘There are plenty of skilled men lookin’ for a job,’ Robbie said. ‘Why me? You don’t owe me anything, Mr Hansen. Nurse Mary explained – and it was only natural you should ask. If someone stole from you, you needed to discover who and how. I shouldn’t have been so ready to take offence.’

  ‘We think we know how it happened. I left my jacket with the keys to the office hanging over a chair back. Someone could have sneaked in after both you and Nurse Mary left that afternoon, gone into the office and taken the cash box. I didn’t check it was there before I locked the office door. It never occurred to me that anyone would touch the mission’s money. Everyone who comes here is always so grateful for what we do…’

  ‘When a man is desperate, he might do anythin’,’ Robbie said but frowned. ‘Yet I think it’s mostly those who don’t care about anythin’ or anyone who steal – especially from a place like this. Anyone could have got in this window and I noticed that the catch had been worked looser than I remembered it bein’.’

  ‘We’ve lost other things since you stopped comin’,’ John said. He looked at Mick, but the lad was fiddling with Robbie’s tools and did not appear to be listening. ‘I did think about the window and I wedged it shut, but in the morning it was open again – and we had some clothes taken. There was no money, because I decided to bank it every day after the cash box was stolen – but I’d been given a donation of good clothing. I left it in Nurse Mary’s office, because she sorts it out and we try to sell some of it, because we need every penny.’

  ‘Yes, I understand that, that’s why it angered me when you thought I might have taken your money. I know what it’s like to go without, Mr Hansen. I wouldn’t take another man’s bread…’

  ‘Excuse me…’ A voice from behind them made them both turn to look at the tall well-dressed gentleman who had entered. His eyes went from one to the other and he extended his hand to John. ‘Reverend Hansen, I imagine. I’ve come to look at the work you’ve had done – and to discuss the possibility of having the roof repaired…’

  John went forward with his hand extended. ‘Mr Rolf? I’m John Hansen and this is Robert Graham. He is the gentleman who has been seeing to our repairs. He finished the last window this morning and I told him about the state of the rafters…’

  ‘Ah yes, Mr Graham.’ The newcomer shook hands with Robbie. ‘Yes, I’m pleased to meet you – have you had a chance to look at the extent of the damage to the rafters?’

  ‘Not personally, but it is a large roof. I told Mr Hansen that it would probably take two men the best part of a month to repair – and would need quite a bit of timber. However, my advice is that you should pay your workman for his labour and buy in the timber yourselves; that way you’ll get a good job done cheaper.’
>
  ‘Yes, I imagine so.’ Mr Rolf looked thoughtful. He turned to John. ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to show me what has already been repaired and tell me what you feel is the minimum that needs to be done to ensure that the mission is safe for a few years…’

  ‘I’ll go and leave you to it.’ Robbie beckoned to Mick. ‘Come along, lad. Thank you for the work, Mr Hansen…’

  ‘Nice to meet you. I’ll leave Mr Hansen to give you my conclusions on the project…’ Mr Rolf said and nodded, his expression giving nothing away.

  Robbie picked up his tools and went through to Nurse Mary’s room, Mick one step behind him. She was putting away some rolls of bandages and he could smell the strong odour of disinfectant.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for the loan of your tools,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where they came from but they’ve been loved and looked after…’

  ‘I don’t want them back,’ she said. ‘I asked someone I knew if you could borrow them and he said that he would never use them again – and told me that you could keep them…’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly accept.’ Robbie frowned. ‘These are worth money. Quite a bit of money…’

  ‘Miss Hawkins said her father was quite clear that you were to keep them – something about it was owed, but neither she nor I understood that. I dare say he just wanted them to go to a good home…’

  ‘You mean Miss Flo Hawkins’ father owned these tools?’ Robbie hesitated. A part of him wanted to throw them back at the man who had so casually given away such a precious gift, but another part of him held back. His pride and temper had led him to make one mistake, and if he was to work as a carpenter he needed tools like these. Robbie’s own had been lost the day he got drunk and no one would hand them in; they would be sold to buy someone drink or cigarettes or perhaps food for a family.

  ‘You should think before you give them back to him,’ Nurse Mary was saying. ‘You’re a skilled man, Robert Graham, but you can’t work without tools.’

  ‘Thank you for gettin’ them for me,’ Robbie said, surprised that a man who had always hated him should give him such a gift but feeling he should repay it. ‘I must find a way to repay him…’

  ‘Perhaps you might think of visiting the poor man,’ Nurse Mary said. ‘From what I hear, he hasn’t had a visitor other than the doctor or his daughters for years…’

  ‘Yes… I mean, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Robbie picked up the bag of tools and left.

  Mick walked quickly to keep up with him. Robbie had almost forgotten that he’d told the lad he would take him home, then noticed Mick was having trouble keeping up and slowed his steps.

  ‘I’ve got somewhere to go first, lad, but you can keep me company.’

  Mick grinned but didn’t say much, then, ‘I reckon you’re a skilled man, Mr Graham. I should like to do what you do.’

  ‘It takes a long time to learn. I learned my trade in the Army…’

  Mick nodded, drinking it all in. Robbie relaxed a little. He knew that he would need to find a way of repaying Flo’s father for his gift. His pride told him to take them right back this minute and let that be the finish of it, but if he was offered the work at the mission he would need all these tools… and even if he wasn’t given the job, he was never going back to standing in line on the docks. He was a skilled man and he’d proved that he’d lost none of the flair and artistry he brought to his work.

  He walked past the labour exchange, seeing the queue of men outside hoping for the chance of a job. Robbie could go and sign on, as he had many times in the past, or he could try round all the small businesses that abounded in the busy streets. Most of them were just about managing to eke a living in these troubled times and couldn’t afford much in the way of modernising or refitting their old premises, but repairs could save a place from falling into dereliction. If he took his time, just carried his tools with him and asked if there were any small repairs that needed to be done, he might earn enough to get by. A lot of people put up with a window that didn’t shut or a door that stuck but a man at the door ready to work for the price of his labour and do the job here and now might be lucky.

  It was a risk, because he had only a few pennies in his pocket, but it would buy the kids some pie and mash for their supper. If everyone turned him down he would earn nothing… and yet if he didn’t try he would always feel a failure. If he wanted to repay Flo’s father for the tools he had to earn some money, and more than the odd couple of bob he got for doing a bit of cleaning or lifting on the docks.

  He saw a baker’s shop just in front of him and noticed that the sign above it was hanging off and in danger of slipping. It would take him perhaps half an hour to fix and he would charge two bob for his labour. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he thought as he went round to the back of the bakery and saw the door was open at the back. It was a split door and he saw the top half hung drunkenly from its hinges. He could fix that for another couple of bob.

  Lifting his head, he walked to the door and poked his head over it. A ruddy-cheeked man turned to look at him, his arms floured right up past his elbows.

  ‘What can I do fer yer, mate?’ he asked cheerfully.

  ‘It’s what I might be able to do fer you,’ Robbie said and nodded at the door. ‘I could fix this and the sign above yer window – two bob each. What do yer say?’

  ‘What’s that lad hanging around fer?’

  ‘He runs my errands,’ Robbie said and Mick grinned for all he was worth.

  ‘Get on with it,’ the baker said. ‘I’ve been meanin’ ter ’ave that bloody sign fixed fer months, but the builder charges an arm and a leg. If yer charge the same rates as yer’ve quoted, I’ve got a few more jobs inside an all… but any fancy bills and yer out the door; understand? I’ll give yer what yer asked but no more.’

  ‘I shan’t ask more than I’ve told yer,’ Robbie said. ‘I’ll take this door down and fix it and then I’ll borrow yer ladder and do the sign…’ He looked at Mick. ‘Stand on the bottom rung, lad, and hold it steady for me.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Mr Graham,’ Mick said his grin even wider.

  *

  Robbie was whistling as he walked home that evening, Mick still tagging at his heels. He’d earned four half a crowns that afternoon, doing five separate small jobs for the baker, whose name was Ted Green. Robbie had been glad of the work, because it was more than half what he could get on the dole for a week and he’d earned it in a few hours. The baker had been delighted with the price and asked him if he wanted more work. Robbie assured him he did and Ted told him he would be in touch in the New Year – and he’d given Mick a bread roll and winked at him.

  ‘I know a few people round here with small jobs that need doin’ fer a fair price. Most of the builders don’t want ter know unless it’s a big job – and if they come out fer small repairs they charge a day’s work. Yer a fair man, Robbie, and I’m glad we’ve met. I’ll spread the word.’

  Robbie had thanked him, pocketed the money, which was more than he’d earned in a day for months, apart from the few pounds he’d earned at the mission. He’d charged John ten shillings a day for his work, but he’d given good value and he’d done all the work needed in less than two weeks. A builder would probably have been there for a month, if Ted Green were to be believed. Ted had been grateful. Robbie wasn’t sure whether he could find enough work to keep him going by asking round at the doors, but it was worth a try – and he felt better about himself than he had in a long time.

  Passing the cake shop, Robbie stopped to look in the window. He could afford to buy a couple of those sticky buns with the pink icing, and Mick had helped out, handing tools and standing on the ladder, and Robbie would buy him a bun and give him threepence for himself – and, while in the shop, he would take the opportunity to thank Flo Hawkins and her father for the tools.

  He opened the shop door and entered. Flo was serving a lady with a box of her rum truffles. She tied the ribbon on a white box and took the money, giving change and sm
iling at the lady as she left before turning to Robbie. He saw the way her eyes changed, became uncertain and nervous, and his heart ached with regret. If only he hadn’t been such a cowardly fool all those years ago…

  ‘I wanted to thank your father for the tools,’ Robbie spoke first because Flo seemed to be struggling to find the right words. ‘I finished the work at the mission, but Nurse Mary said I could keep them – is that right?’

  ‘Yes, my father said he no longer needed or wanted them…’

  ‘I’m very grateful,’ Robbie said. ‘I earned some money doing repairs for a baker this afternoon. If I can pay for the tools a little at a time I should like to…’

  ‘They were only going to rust away in the cupboard under the stairs,’ Flo said and she was smiling. ‘We don’t want anythin’, Robbie, truly. When I heard yours were lost, I asked Dad and he agreed…’

  ‘Thank him for me. Tell him I’m very grateful.’

  ‘You could go through to the kitchen and tell him yourself if you wish,’ Flo said. ‘I’ll be closing soon and I’ll come through when I’ve tidied up…’

  ‘I wanted to buy those two sticky buns in the window first – and what would you like, Mick?’ Robbie asked. Mick indicated a coconut pyramid. ‘That one for Mick please.’

  Flo was looking at Mick and handed him his coconut pyramid in a bag, then winked and slipped in a rock bun. Mick grinned but didn’t speak. ‘Those buns are popular with all the kids, and the sugar mice. We’re sellin’ so many of those, Honour can hardly keep up… but your Ben has bought two for his sister.’

  ‘Ben earns a bit of pocket money runnin’ errands,’ Robbie said, hesitated, then: ‘If you’re sure yer father won’t be upset I’ll go through and thank him.’

  Flo put the buns in a little bag for him and took the sixpence he offered, ringing it into the till. ‘He will be pleased to have a visitor, I think…’ She turned as Honour entered. ‘Here is my sister come to help me clear up for the evening.’ She turned the closed sign on the shop door. ‘I’ll let you out of the side door when you’ve spoken to Dad…’ She gave Mick a little look as he paused. ‘You too, Mick…’