Contents
About the Book
About the Author
Also by Glenice Crossland
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Copyright
About the Book
Lucy Gabbitas has just left school and is excited about joining her sisters at the local umbrella factory. But then her beloved father dies of lung disease leaving Lucy and her brothers and sisters broken-hearted. With barely enough to make ends meet, the family receive no sympathy from their tyrannical mother, Annie, and their first Christmas without him holds little comfort and joy.
Things seem to be looking brighter for Lucy when she meets John Grey and falls in love. That is until Annie becomes seriously ill and dies, and Lucy is forced to put her family first. But despite their continued hardship and despair, Lucy resolves to turn their home into a happy one for her brothers and sisters, and for the family of her own she dearly hopes for. And she is determined to make Christmas a joyous occasion for them all once more…
About the Author
Glenice Crossland lives in Sheffield. She has loved writing from an early age, only taking it seriously after early retirement from her job in a leisure centre. She has read one of her poems on BBC2, had several read on Radio Sheffield and more published in various anthologies. She is well known locally for her watercolours of churches and local traditions. Married with one son and grandchildren she still lives a few hundred yards from the house in which she was born. She is also the author of The Stanford Lasses, Christmas Past and The Ever Open Door.
Also by Glenice Crossland
The Stanford Lasses
Christmas Past
The Ever Open Door
For my husband and family,
with love, as always.
Acknowledgements
With thanks once again to Georgina Hawtrey-Woore and everyone at Arrow for all their hard work on my behalf. Also to Magna Books. Thanks also to the creators of the beautiful book cover designs which I am sure go a long way towards selling my books. Also to my late mother and her sister for sharing with me their memories of the days they worked as umbrella girls. Thanks to my husband and family for their encouragement and to the staff of Stocksbridge Library for their support. Most of all, thanks to all the readers who continue to buy my books. Your enjoyment is my pleasure.
Prologue
Lucy opened her eyes and peered into the darkness. She could just make out the stockings hanging over the brass knobs on the iron bed. She slid out onto the cold lino and ran to open the curtains. Jack Frost had been in the night and left pretty patterns on the window pane but she hadn’t time to stay and admire them this morning. ‘Wake up, Jane. Father Christmas has been.’ Lucy lifted down the bulky stocking and hurried on bare feet across the landing to her parents’ room. She climbed up onto the bed and scrambled over her dad until she could snuggle down between them.
‘He’s been.’
‘Well I never. I wonder what he’s brought.’ Annie helped the five-year-old to empty her stocking. She loved the excitement of Christmas almost as much as her children.
‘Just a minute, little lass. Let’s have some light.’ Bill Gabbitas reached for the matches and lit a bedside candle, sending shadows dancing on the wall, and setting himself off in a fit of coughing. Jane was the next to crawl up the bed. Annie pulled her down between the blankets and warmed her cold feet between her hands.
The toys didn’t amount to much: a couple of skipping ropes and yoyos, knitted teddy bears which Annie had stuffed with bits cut from an old vest. Annie noticed that one ear had been stuffed more than the others but neither Lucy nor Jane seemed to notice. There were brightly coloured scarves and caps, too. Both little girls decided to wear them. In the toes of the stockings were shiny new pennies and a sugar mouse.
‘Can we come in, Mam?’ Nine-year-old Nellie and Mary, the eldest, perched on the bottom of the bed and opened their stockings, keeping up the pretence of Santa Claus for the benefit of their little sisters.
Ben came clattering down the attic stairs. ‘Thanks, Mam. Thanks, Dad.’ He shoved in between his sisters until he was up on the bed. Ben had a cricket bat – lovingly made by Bill – in his hand and Annie protected her heavily pregnant belly from her boisterous son. Laughing, she reached over and took hold of her husband’s hand.
‘Looks like we shall need a bigger bed next year, Bill love.’
‘Aye lass. It’ll be grand with a new bairn in the house, and perhaps it’ll be a little lad.’
Chapter One
MRS RAWLINGS TOLD the two girls to sit at the table and she cut two wedges of chocolate sponge. Then she poured two glasses of lemonade. Whilst they were partaking of the refreshment she counted out the money for the bread and popped it in the basket.
‘Our William’ll be coming after today,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m starting work on Monday.’
‘Never. Don’t tell me you’re thirteen already.’
‘I am, on April the nineteenth my birthday was.’
‘Well! Why ever didn’t yer mention it? Here, let me find you a few coppers then.’ The woman searched in a huge leather purse and gave Lucy a sixpence.
‘It’s all right,’ Lucy blushed, ‘I didn’t tell you so you’d give me something.’
‘Course yer didn’t, love, but yer a good lass, so take it. And I hope yer enjoy yer work. If your William’s as reliable as you he’ll do me fine.’
‘Oh he is, Mrs Rawlings, you can depend on that.’ Bill Gabbitas had brought all his six children up to be reliable and dependable.
On Monday morning Jane and Lucy set off to work with Kitty nervously following in their wake. Mary had been gone a good half hour ago. Mary was saving up for her wedding and working all the hours she was offered. The girls hurried up three flights of steps and then Lucy began to panic when Jane instructed them to wait here for Mr Blackmore to set them on, before hurrying away and leaving them there. What if she and Kitty were separated too and she didn’t know anybody?
Kitty’s face was as white as the cloth in which her bread and cheese were wrapped. ‘Look at all them machines,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll never know what to do wi’ ’em.’
‘I expect they’ll show us what to do,’ Lucy murmured.
‘So there you are.’ Mr Blackmore looked at Kitty. ‘By gum, you’re a little ’un, aren’t yer? We’ll ’ave to find a box or summat for yer to stand on. Come on then, let’s get on.’ Twenty pairs of eyes followed the girls along the shop floor. Lucy recognised one or two of them from their school days and began to feel a bit better. Mr Blackmore called to one of them and
told her to fix the two girls up with aprons, then Kitty was taken further along the bench and Lucy was shown what to do.
‘Put on the apron and then this pad on top,’ the girl told Lucy. ‘Your job is to straighten these ribs by knocking ’em on this pad, like this. Sometimes if the metal’s too soft they bend and you ’ave to straighten ’em with yer hands, so you ’ave to wear these little leather caps to protect yer finger and thumb.’ The girl showed Lucy how to do it. ‘When we finish at end of shift yer’ve got to sort ’em out into two bundles, twenty-one-inch and twenty-four. Yer’ll ’ave to do it yerself now or I shan’t earn any bonus.’ The girl left Lucy to get on with it and then came back. ‘Oh I forgot, because yer a new lass yer’ve got to keep that bucket filled so we can wash our ’ands.’
‘Where’s the tap?’
‘In’t hardening shop.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘On’t next floor, and don’t slop it all over’t floor when yer fetch it, else somebody might slip and break their neck.’
Lucy started on the umbrella ribs, thinking she would never remember everything she had been told and wondering what Kitty was doing. The girl next to her was working so fast Lucy could hardly see her hands moving. She would never be able to do that. Perhaps Mr Blackmore wouldn’t keep them on if they couldn’t keep up with the others. Then what would happen? She’d be in for a beating from her mam, that’s what.
‘How’s it going, Lucy?’
Lewis Marshall came up to her carrying a huge bundle of ribs. She was relieved to hear a friendly voice but she hoped he wouldn’t become too friendly and want to kiss her like he usually did. She daren’t take her eyes off what she was doing. ‘I’ll never keep up with the others,’ Lucy told him.
Lewis laughed. ‘Of course yer will. Everybody’s slow on’t first day. I’ll tell yer what, I’ll keep bucket full, just for today and then you can concentrate on yer job.’
‘Oh lor, I’d forgotten all about water,’ Lucy moaned.
‘I know, I’ve done it for yer, don’t let on to old Blackmore, though,’ Lewis laughed. ‘I’ll expect a kiss in return.’
Lucy blushed, hoping nobody had heard him, but the girl next to her was giggling. Lucy was relieved when the buzzer went, signalling dinner time. At least half a shift was over and it hadn’t been too bad, even if Lewis Marshall did come pestering whilst she was eating her bread and cheese. ‘I’ll tell our Ben if yer don’t go away,’ she told him when yet again he leaned over trying to kiss her. He had fancied her for months.
‘I’m not scared of ’im,’ Lewis said, but she noticed he moved away. Everyone was in awe of nineteen-year-old Ben Gabbitas. At six foot two Ben only had to scowl at someone for them to make themselves scarce. If they had known Ben as well as Lucy did they’d have known he was one of the gentlest people in Millington and no troublemaker.
When Lewis had left, Kitty moved over to where Lucy was finishing her lunch. ‘Don’t take any notice of ’im,’ Kitty said. ‘Ee’s a pest.’
‘Well I wish he’d behave ’imself, embarrassing me like that.’
‘Nobody would think owt; everybody knows what ee’s like, they’re all used to ’im.’
Even so, word had reached the ears of Jane Gabbitas by the end of the working day.
‘What was Lewis Marshall saying to you at dinner time?’ Jane enquired when they set off up the hill.
‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t let him touch you, or you might have a baby.’ Jane was fourteen and knew lots of things that Lucy didn’t.
‘He did touch me, on my arm,’ Lucy panicked.
‘Well, that doesn’t count, but don’t let him touch you anywhere else.’ Jane decided to ask their Mary to have a talk with Lucy and explain to her about boys and babies and things. Jane had learned everything she knew from chats in the playground with her friends but Lucy seemed rather ignorant about such matters. However, she was far too embarrassed to talk to her sister herself. Besides, she wasn’t sure if some of the things she’d heard were true or not.
Lucy was wondering why their Mary didn’t have a baby; Jacob touched her on her knee when they were sitting together in the front room on Sunday afternoons. She and Kitty had seen him once when they had peeped through the window to see what they were up to. And Jacob always put his arm round her waist when they walked home from church. If their mam saw him their Mary wouldn’t half cop it. Annie Gabbitas would think nothing of lashing out with the carpet beater, even if her young man was there. Lucy had had a walloping only yesterday for leaving the kitchen door open when the bread dough was rising on the hearth. Thinking of bread, she wondered what was for tea; the bread and cheese hadn’t been enough to feed a bird. ‘I’m hungry,’ she told Jane.
‘I am too. I could eat the coalman’s horse. I expect it’ll be stew again.’ Stew was the usual meal in the Gabbitas household. Mr Brown the greengrocer always made Top Row the last call and dropped off any greens that were turning yellow, half-rotten root vegetables and bruised fruit at their house. Annie repaid the man by sending young William to run errands for Mrs Brown on Saturday mornings. The old vegetables made a decent stew when simmered with a few neck of mutton bones. An oxtail would be added after a few days, providing dinners for at least a week.
‘I’m fed up of stew,’ Lucy moaned.
‘Aren’t we all?’ Jane rolled her eyes, then she blushed as she noticed one of the lads from Next Row walking towards them. Jane thought he was one of the most handsome lads in Millington, but he was sixteen and didn’t even glance at her. If any of the Gabbitas girls had attracted the attention of Josh Smith it was Nellie. At sixteen, Nellie’s curves showed through her frock – which she had long since outgrown. Nellie, like her sisters, would have to wait until Whitsuntide, when Mary, being the eldest, would have a new dress made by Annie, so that her old one could be handed down.
Poor Lucy, being the youngest, always had to make do with a faded fourth-hand dress. Not that she dared complain. So Lucy Gabbitas fixed a smile on her pretty, animated face and said her prayers every night that one day something nice would happen. Up to now nothing had, but Annie’s family had long since learned that if nothing good was expected, then nobody would ever be disappointed.
Bill Gabbitas was home when his two daughters arrived from work. Lucy’s heart seemed to miss a beat as she realised her father must be ill again to be home at this time. She ran to where he was lying on the old horsehair sofa. Lucy idolised her dad; he was a loving and generous man. Everyone loved Bill Gabbitas. It was only her mam who had changed and become miserable.
‘Hello, little lass.’ Bill held out his arms as Lucy fell into them. ‘How did yer day go?’ His daughter planted a kiss on her dad’s cheek, setting him off coughing. Lucy fetched a clean piece of linen from the cupboard by the fire and handed it to Bill. Her face turned pale as she saw the bright red streak of blood he coughed up onto the white rag.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Annie chastised Lucy. ‘Throwing yerself about. Get out to play.’
‘Leave her alone,’ Bill managed between the coughing. Just then Ben Gabbitas walked in and went towards his father. ‘Are yer bad again, Dad?’ He placed a cushion behind Bill’s head. ‘It’s time yer gave up that job. It’ll be the death of yer, if yer keep on much longer.’ Bill was a ripper in Millington Colliery, the same pit where Ben was employed.
‘He can’t. What are we to live on?’ Annie snapped.
‘We’ll manage; we’re all working now, except our Will. Isn’t me dad more important than money?’
‘The rent’ll ’ave to be paid if yer dad leaves work – have yer thought about that?’ The rent was deducted from Bill’s wages every week by the owners of the pit.
‘It’ll ’ave to be paid if owt happens to me dad anyway. Unless we get the house transferred into my name. We can do that.’
‘I don’t want owt to happen to me dad.’ Lucy began to cry.
‘What did I tell yer? Get outside and play.’ Annie grabbed the ca
rpet beater and whacked Lucy hard.
Ben grabbed the beater out of his mother’s hand. ‘Leave her alone. The child’s done a day’s work. She wants some food inside her. Not that we get much to say we’re all tipping up our wages; I’d like to know what yer do with it all.’ Ben snapped the handle of the beater in two and threw it out of the door. Lucy couldn’t help admiring him for standing up to her mother.
‘What did yer do that for? Yer like a mad man.’
‘Aye well, it’s time somebody opened their mouth around here. Our Lucy’s a good lass; yer always on at her. Besides, what do yer want with a carpet beater when we’ve no bloody carpets?’
Bill began coughing again, the rag turning scarlet when he couldn’t stop.
‘Fetch the doctor, Jane,’ Ben ordered.
‘We can’t afford no doctor,’ Annie snapped.
‘Fetch him, go on.’ Ben ignored his mother. He had had enough of her penny-pinching ways. Jane ran all the way down past the three other rows of houses, all identical to Top Row, and up the hill by the clock till she reached the doctor’s house. She might as well have saved herself the trouble. By the time Jane returned with the doctor, Bill Gabbitas had breathed his last breath.
All Top Row was in mourning. Neighbours came from every house offering help, a loaf of bread – though God knows they had hardly enough to feed their families – and most importantly they offered a shoulder to cry on. Annie did her fair share of weeping, never considering the sadness her children were experiencing, and regardless of the fact that she had given little thought to the suffering of her husband over the last few years. In fact Annie seemed incapable of caring for anyone.
Ben comforted William and Lucy as best he could, knowing they were the two closest to their father. Mary sent Nellie and Jane off to work, knowing not only that it would be good for them but that her mother would expect a full wage packet from them at the end of the week. She kept Lucy at home. The lass couldn’t be expected to master a new job in the state she was in.
Arrangements were made for the funeral at Cragstone Parish Church, even though Annie grumbled that the carting of the coffin all the way to Cragstone would cost more. Ben put his foot down and insisted that as his father’s birthplace had been Cragstone and as he had been baptised there, he would be buried and laid to rest close to his parents and grandparents. Ben considered his father would be at peace away from his nagging misery of a wife. Annie complained, but Ben told her she could argue till kingdom come; if he was arranging the funeral that was where his father would be interred. He sent William to the insurance agent’s house with a message and was relieved when the man came with the news that the premium was up to date and money for the funeral would be forthcoming.
A Family Christmas Page 1
