A Mother's Choice

by Val Wood

  ‘I’m not proficient enough to be a solo artist,’ he explained. ‘I know my limitations, but I think that Miss Delamour’s voice brings out the best in my playing.’

  ‘And your playing in my voice,’ Delia said, surprising herself at her boldness; and rising from the table, she added, ‘I would be delighted if you would consider accompanying me once more?’

  He rose to his feet and put his hand to his chest, declaring, ‘My pleasure.’

  There was spontaneous applause as they took their places by the piano. The candle had been replaced by a fresh one and another candlestick had been brought to stand at the other side of the piano. The lamps in the room were turned down and Giles began playing the old folk tune “Scarborough Fair”. Delia was warmed by the sight of the guests mouthing the words and moving their heads in time to the music.

  She began to sing, and the loneliness and sadness of being apart from her son dissolved as she lost herself in the music.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Robin gazed at the kitchen table in astonishment as he took his place between Louisa and Molly. He was dressed in new dark blue cord trousers that came down to his ankles and a pale blue shirt with a collar that showed above the navy blue jumper, all presents that he had opened that Christmas Day morning. He had also received two volumes of Sixpenny Dickens that Jenny had found in a Hull bookshop and posted to him in a parcel bearing the message Not to be opened until Christmas Day. He couldn’t wait to begin reading them.

  All the children had played with their new toys in the parlour whilst their grandmother prepared the Christmas feast, and Robin too had received additional presents as well as his new clothes: bonbons, puzzles and games. But it was what lay on the table that enraptured him now, for he had never seen anything like it in his life. An enormous roast goose resting on a large plate in the centre of the groaning white-clad table was decorated with holly, and clustered around it were chestnut stuffing balls and golden brown sausages that Molly said were made from their own pork, by which he supposed she meant pigs. Two large jugs of home-made wine and another of lemonade sat on a side dresser.

  ‘Oh, Granny Peg,’ he said, as she came to the table bearing a tray on which dishes of crisp roasted potatoes and more stuffing jostled with bowls of redcurrant and gooseberry jelly. ‘I want to stay here for ever!’

  She set down the dishes and wiped her warm forehead. ‘Just for the food?’

  ‘No!’ he said. ‘Because I love you all.’

  ‘Robin loves me best,’ Molly declared. ‘Because I’m special!’

  Robin turned to glance at Louisa, who shyly lowered her eyes but smiled as if she knew that he loved her best, for he had told her so.

  ‘Oh, well that’s a relief then.’ Peggy smiled. ‘I thought it was only because of my cooking.’

  Aaron was sharpening a carving knife with a steel. He looked up and said, ‘But what would your ma say about you staying for ever, Robin? Would she mind?’

  Robin emitted a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know. I wish she could have been here for Christmas Day.’

  ‘Mebbe we’ll ask her next year, eh?’ Peggy said, and then lifted her voice to where Jack could be heard bringing in another basket of logs for the parlour fire. ‘Come on, Jack. We’re ready to dish up. Where’s Susan?’ Her lips turned down as she spoke her daughter-in-law’s name.

  ‘I’m here.’ Susan came through the door into the kitchen. ‘Sorry, can I do anything?’

  ‘Yes, sprouts and turnip in ’bottom oven,’ Peggy said briskly. ‘Set them on ’table whilst I whisk ’gravy. Aaron better start carving ’goose. We don’t want everything getting cold. Emma, Rosie, sit down now please.’

  There was a contented silence as everyone tucked in. Then Jack raised his glass of elderberry wine to his mother and said, ‘Thanks, Ma. You’ve worked wonders as usual.’ All the adults raised a glass, and the children waved their lemonade tumblers.

  ‘Thank you, Granny Peg,’ Robin said in a trembling voice. He suddenly felt sad and his eyes were moist. This was the first time in his life that he had been away from his mother at Christmas, and he was now more aware of her absence than he had been in ages because of seeing her so recently. He held aloft his lemonade and in a quavering voice said, ‘Happy Christmas, everyone.’

  ‘Happy Christmas to you too, Robin,’ Peggy said quietly, lifting her glass to him. ‘And here’s to your mother too.’

  ‘Whoever she is and wherever she is,’ Susan sniffed, and took a large gulp of wine that emptied half her glass.

  ‘Go easy with that, Susan,’ Jack told her. ‘Ma’s elderberry packs a punch.’

  ‘I know! I’ve had it before.’ Susan took a slice of goose. ‘Nice goose,’ she commented. ‘I suppose we’ll have to fatten one up for next year.’

  Jack looked up. ‘Why? You’re not thinking o’ cooking Christmas dinner, are you?’ His gaze crossed to his mother, but her face was impassive and she lifted her shoulders slightly and went on eating as if she had no idea what anyone was talking about. ‘We always have Christmas here,’ he insisted. ‘It won’t be ’same if we don’t.’

  ‘Mebbe Susan wants to have it at your own house,’ Peggy said quietly, handing a dish of buttered carrots to Aaron. ‘Every woman likes to be in her own home at Christmas time, and you’ll be all set up by next year.’

  ‘Or we could go to my parents.’ Susan finished her wine and reached for the jug. ‘They’ve asked us plenty o’ times, but your Jack never wants to go.’

  Jack ran his tongue around his teeth in search of a stray piece of sausage. He found it and swallowed it. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t.’

  The following morning, relatives of Peggy’s and Aaron’s called. First came Peggy’s sisters and brothers with their husbands and wives, children and grandchildren, and they were served tea, coffee, beer and lemonade – of which Peggy had made gallons – and scones, hot out of the oven. No sooner had they left than Aaron’s unmarried sister, his three brothers and their wives and children, five granddaughters and three grandsons arrived, and they were served wine or beer, ginger ale and mince pies. Robin was in his element when he heard that some of the men were fishermen as Aaron used to be, and he told them that he would like to go out on the estuary as soon as he was old enough.

  ‘I go out fishing with my da,’ one of the grandsons boasted, ‘but I’m twelve, so I’ve finished school already. I don’t remember seeing you afore. Are you Uncle Jack’s lad?’

  ‘No.’ Robin shook his head. ‘I’m Robin Jackson. I’m just staying here for a bit.’

  He was bewildered that anyone could have so many relations. He knew some of the boys from school but only Ben had become a friend. He had no idea how any of the other children were related to Jack’s daughters and he whispered to Louisa asking her if she knew them all and she laughed and said, yes, she did. They were all cousins.

  After a while, he picked up his Dickens books, sidled out of the parlour where they were sitting and went into the kitchen to claim what he thought of as his sofa; there were some women talking to Peggy as she made tea and coffee, and as nobody seemed to notice him he eased off his shoes and tucked his legs beneath him and opened one of the books.

  ‘No, he’s staying wi’ us for ’time being,’ he heard Peggy say. ‘Just until his ma sorts herself out.’

  ‘So who is he?’ one of the women asked. ‘Susan said that his mother had left him on his own.’

  ‘She hardly did that when she left him wi’ us,’ Peggy said sharply. ‘She knows where we are.’

  ‘She’ll not be wed, I suppose?’ another one said.

  ‘That’s neither here nor there,’ Peggy answered. ‘I’m happy to have him stay here for as long as he wants. Tea?’ she said. ‘Or coffee? There are shortbread biscuits on ’table.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Peggy. You’re a marvel as always.’

  After they had eaten a late dinner of cold goose and ham and re-heated mashed potatoes, turnips and carrots, then leftover Christmas pudding, Aaron
took all the children for a walk to stretch their legs and get some fresh air.

  ‘Where to, then?’ he asked them as they headed down the track towards the estuary.

  ‘The river,’ Louisa and Molly said eagerly and Robin said, ‘Oh, yes please.’

  ‘It’s too far to walk,’ Emma complained. ‘I want to go home!’ Then Rosie said the same, adding, ‘Cos then we’ll have to walk back.’

  ‘No, we’re going out to give Gran a rest,’ Aaron told them. ‘She’s been very busy cooking and feeding everybody and she’s going to put her feet up for an hour while we’re out. You can have a piggy-back on ’way home, Rosie, but you’re big enough to walk, Emma. What shall we look for, Louisa?’

  ‘What will be flying in, Grandda?’ she asked. ‘Greylags? Or pink-footed geese? Plover?’

  ‘Greylags? Mebbe not; word is that they’ve been over-hunted and there’s not many about. Pink-feet, I reckon, and if we walk along ’bank we should see plover and shelduck, and we’ll listen for curlew, and a penny for who hears ’em first.’

  ‘Pink-feet?’ Robin queried. ‘What are they?’

  ‘Geese,’ Louisa giggled. ‘They’ve got pink legs and feet.’

  ‘Pink legs and feet!’ Robin exclaimed. ‘You’ll have to show me.’

  ‘We’ll hear them afore we see them,’ Molly said, anxious to impart her knowledge too. ‘Won’t we, Grandda?’

  ‘We certainly will; now come on, best feet forward.’ They soon reached the Humber bank and turned left to walk away from the village. ‘No playing about; Rosie and Molly, tek my hands, and ’rest of you come in front where I can see you.’

  They walked past the lighthouse and the coastguard cottages, where Aaron acknowledged someone in one of the cottage windows; they climbed a few rough steps on to the river bank and walked along a well-trodden path. The wind was sharp here and everyone drew their scarves closer to their necks and the girls pulled their bonnets over their ears. Aaron was already wearing a tweed cap, and seeing that Robin hadn’t brought his he released one of his hands from Molly’s grasp, dug deep into his coat pocket and brought out a woolly hat.

  ‘Here you are, lad,’ he said, looking down at him. ‘You’ll find you’re much warmer with a hat on, even though you’ve got a thick head of hair.’

  Robin took it gratefully. ‘I won’t forget another time,’ he said. ‘Not now that I’m living in the country.’

  ‘Aye, there’s generally a chill wind near an estuary, and we’re not that far from ’sea here at Paull,’ Aaron told him. ‘Not as ’crow flies, any road. Now then.’ He had spotted a horse and rider coming towards them. ‘Come inland a bit to let him pass. And keep still and quiet so that you don’t spook ’hoss.’

  They all stood still as instructed, and as the rider drew abreast of him he lifted his crop. ‘Many thanks,’ he said. ‘Much obliged.’ Then he tightened the reins. ‘Mr Robinson, isn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, it is.’ Aaron looked up at the horseman. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, but have we met?’

  ‘Ralph Pearce,’ the man said. ‘Your Jack and I were friends when we were young. Not seen him lately. I suppose we’re both busy with business and families. How are they, he and his wife … Susan, isn’t it?’

  It sounded as though mentioning Jack’s wife by name was almost an afterthought.

  ‘Aye, they’re all right. We’ve all enjoyed Christmas together.’

  ‘Ah! Jack and I got married about the same time.’ His gaze ran over the children. ‘I hadn’t realized he had a son.’

  Aaron glanced at Robin and then up at the rider. ‘He hasn’t,’ he said. ‘This is a friend’s son come to stay wi’ us.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said again. ‘I’ve four sons. I imagine daughters are easier to manage.’ He gathered up the reins and prepared to move off. ‘Give my regards to Jack and his wife, and the season’s greetings to you, sir, and your family. Jenny,’ he added swiftly, ‘your daughter. Does she still live in Paull?’

  ‘No,’ Aaron answered brusquely. ‘She doesn’t. Good day to you.’

  Aaron doesn’t like him, Robin thought perceptively as they walked on. He was being rather nosy, I think, asking questions. And that’s twice today that someone thought I was Jack’s son. Hah! Jack’s son. Jackson, that’s my new name, and he grinned to himself.

  They walked on, and soon turned their backs on the Humber. ‘This will interest you, Robin,’ Aaron told him. ‘We’ll go and have a quick look at a site of history while we’re here. The girls have been many times but I’m sure they won’t mind showing it to you, and then we’ll head home, cos it’s getting much colder.’

  And indeed it was; an icy wind was blowing off the estuary, and tossing the shining silver-steel wavecrests crashing against the river wall. ‘You’ve seen the lighthouse back there,’ Aaron went on, ‘except it’s in use as a telegraph office now since ’new lights were built further along ’river. There’s allus been a beacon here. Some were washed away, but what I wanted to show you was ’Paull Battery, built hundreds of years ago to protect Hull from its enemies.’

  ‘Oh, a sort of fort, do you mean?’ Robin asked eagerly.

  ‘Exactly that.’ Aaron warmed to his theme now that he sensed a willing listener. ‘When I was a lad we used to play there, climbing on ’walls and pretending we were sodgers on ’lookout for enemy ships coming up ’river.’

  Sodgers, Robin thought. I must remember that. ‘I’d like to do that,’ he said. ‘Maybe in the spring when it’s a bit warmer.’

  So he intends to stay, Aaron thought. He’s not considering leaving us.

  ‘So who built it?’ Robin asked as they walked up the track towards the fort.

  ‘Ah, well. Who built it, girls?’

  ‘King Henry!’ Louisa said promptly, as if she’d been waiting for the question. ‘We learned about it in school. He thought there was going to be a war with … erm, France or Spain I think, and he was building forts all around ’coast.’

  ‘That’s it! He did, and he built a battery here for twelve cannons to warn off any of his enemies and let the town of Hull know of ’danger.’

  ‘So Paull was really important?’ Robin asked.

  ‘Oh, aye, it was, and over a lot of years ’battery was rebuilt so it’s still standing today.’

  The weather was worsening; sleet was beginning to fall, sharp as needles on their faces. The girls were starting to shiver and Rosie to cry and Aaron decided to cut their journey short.

  ‘I’ll bring you another day, Robin,’ he told him, ‘and give you a proper look round, but right now we’d better mek tracks for home. Come on, Rosie, I’ll give you a piggy-back.’ He bent low and Robin helped her on to his back. ‘Come on then, all hold hands, two-be-two, and off we trot.’

  Robin smiled and pensively wished that Aaron was his grandfather, and wondered if he had ever had one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Delia had thoroughly enjoyed Christmas at the Maritime, yet apart from when she was immersed in the music she was constantly aware of a deep loneliness within her. Her precious son was with another family and she wondered if he was missing her as much as she was missing him.

  After Boxing Day luncheon she asked Jenny if she thought he would have been all right and not unhappy. Jenny assured her that he would have been.

  ‘It seems to me,’ she said, ‘that Robin is a very sensible boy, and although yes of course he’ll miss you – he’s bound to when he’s had your constant company for all of his young life – he’s also level-headed and I think he’ll see the advantages of being with a family. I know children, even though I haven’t any of my own. It will be good for him, Delia,’ she was quick to point out when she saw Delia’s expression of pain. ‘I know it was an impetuous decision on your part to leave him in the first place, but it’s worked out to the advantage of both of you.’

  ‘But it was wrong of me to land him in your parents’ laps without even thinking about it. It’s true, it was impulsive. When I saw him sitting with the little gi
rls and chatting as if he’d known them all his life, I knew just what he was missing and I couldn’t give it to him.’ She restrained a sob.

  ‘And my mother loves him already,’ Jenny said gently, ‘and if I know my father at all, then he will too.’

  At Boxing Day luncheon she had sung unaccompanied, as Giles had taken his leave after supper on Christmas Day to attend, he said, to other matters. At supper there were fewer guests, mainly local; others with a longer distance to travel had already left.

  Jenny and her friends drifted off the following morning and Delia packed up her theatre gowns, carefully folding them so that they wouldn’t crease. She had buttoned up her boots, put on her hat and tied a warm cloak over her woollen dress when a chambermaid knocked on her door.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am; Mr Giles Dawson is downstairs enquiring if you were still here and I said I’d check.’

  Delia thanked her. ‘Would you tell him I’ll be down in five minutes, and would you ask a porter if he would bring my luggage down, please?’

  ‘Oh, I can do that, ma’am,’ the girl offered. ‘I’m used to carrying things.’ She picked up Delia’s already fastened valise. ‘Not heavy at all,’ she said.

  When Delia arrived downstairs, Giles was sitting comfortably in an armchair drinking coffee and reading a copy of the Illustrated London News. He rose when he saw her.

  ‘Good morning, Delia,’ he said. They had agreed over Christmas that they could stop being quite so formal and use their first names.

  ‘So how was your Boxing Day?’ Delia asked. ‘Did Mrs Benson feed you leftovers?’

  ‘She did, as a matter of fact. There were just two other guests, and for supper we had chicken broth followed by chicken and sausagemeat rissoles. And then, as she had joined us at the table, she brought out a bottle of port which we had with a very ripe Stilton and Christmas cake. I went up to my room to get a bottle of whisky, one of the other men had been given a box of chocolates and cigars, and we had quite a merry time over a game of crib.’