A Family Christmas

by Glenice Crossland

  Annie set Lucy to work cleaning the front room so that Bill would look nice laid out in his coffin. After that Lucy baked a batch of loaves. She thought she’d be better off at work, but didn’t dare say so, even though the broken carpet beater had been dumped in the midden behind the lavatories. The heartbroken girl sobbed all the time she was kneading the dough, grief-stricken that her kind, loving dad had gone for ever. Lucy hated her mother on that day, remembering how she had tried to prevent their Jane from fetching the doctor. She hoped her mother would cough herself to death, just like her father had from the consumption. It would serve her right if she did. Then she wondered who would look after them if their mother died as well. Perhaps Lucy shouldn’t wish her dead after all; she didn’t love her, though. Her mother had been mean to her father and Lucy would never forgive her for that.

  She wondered if the others were remembering all the times their dad had been too ill to go to work but had gone anyway, knowing his life wouldn’t have been worth living if he hadn’t made the effort. Lucy could remember when her mam had been different, affectionate and smiling a lot. She didn’t know why she had changed, but she vowed that if she ever had a husband and family she would never treat them the way her mother had treated her dad and her brothers and sisters.

  It was the first Christmas without Bill Gabbitas and even the younger ones would be glad when it was over. The older ones could remember a time when the house had been a wonderland of holly, ivy and even a mistletoe bough. Even in the latter years when their mother had moaned about the extra work Christmas caused – not that she had made much of an effort – there had been the excitement of Christmas morning. A sugar mouse, a penknife, a picture book or a pretty lace hankie, all supplied by their father. Even Annie complaining about the wasting of money hadn’t spoiled the fact that their father had given each of them something personal, and given it to them with love. There had been the carol singing, accompanied by Bill on the old melodeon brought down from the attic, with neighbours calling in to join in the jollity. Now it was just like any other day, except that the fact that it was Christmas meant that their hearts were heavier and the memories more poignant without the presence of their beloved father.

  When Ben tried to add a little cheer to the special day by handing each of them a few shiny new pennies and a small bag of sweets, his mother accused him of being uncaring, with his father not yet cold in his grave. Ben knew he would only cause a scene if he spoke his mind and, not wishing to make the day even more miserable for his sisters and brother, walked out of the house and along the row. He would go for a walk in the peace and quiet of the Donkey Wood until he had calmed down. He brushed the tears from his cheeks as memories of his dad invaded his thoughts.

  ‘A bloody right family Christmas this has turned out to be,’ he muttered. As he turned down Side Row Ben wondered if he would ever know a merry one again. Not in his mother’s house, that was for sure.

  Chapter Two

  IT WAS A lovely April day and Lucy’s sixteenth birthday, though no one except Kitty Marshall had remembered. Kitty now worked next to Lucy on the same bench and had grown tall enough to dispense with the box she used to stand on.

  ‘It’s your birthday, Lucy,’ she said as they walked to work.

  ‘How do you know?’ Lucy asked, surprised.

  ‘Me mam said. She said your birthday’s on Primrose Day, that’s how she remembers.’

  ‘Is it Primrose Day today then?’ Lucy wondered why Kitty’s mam had remembered and her own mam hadn’t.

  ‘Well me mam says it is.’ The girls hurried as the buzzer sounded. Their Jane would be late again; she was staying out too late talking to the lads on Next Row. Her mam’d go mad if she got the sack and she wouldn’t be given a second warning. Lucy had almost dragged her out of bed but she was still nowhere in sight. Mr Blackmore was standing in his usual place by the door, glancing at his watch as each employee entered the building.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Blackmore. It’s a lovely day.’ Lucy tried to engage the boss in conversation in order to distract his attention from the fact that her sister wasn’t with her.

  ‘And it’s Lucy’s birthday today, Mr Blackmore,’ Kitty added.

  ‘Is that so? How old are yer today then?’

  ‘Sixteen, sir.’ Lucy really missed her dad on special days like birthdays and Christmas. It never felt the same without her warm and loving dad.

  ‘And never been kissed, eh?’ The man chuckled at his own humour.

  ‘She’ll not tell you even if she has,’ Kitty laughed.

  Lucy sighed with relief as Jane came rushing up the steps.

  ‘Oh well, many more happy ones to follow, Lucy.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ The girls hurried to their bench and began work.

  Lucy sang as she worked. She would be getting a rise in wages now she was sixteen. She wasn’t sure how much, but it would be better than the nine shillings she was taking home now. Not that she would see any of it. Her mother was waiting at the door every Friday for the wage packets to be handed over. She would give them back a measly one and sixpence for spending money. Kitty’s mam gave her half a crown, but then Kitty had a dad, and her mam wasn’t a tyrant like Annie.

  When they got home that night Ben gave Lucy two shillings as a birthday treat. He gave it to her on the quiet, telling her not to let her mother know or she wouldn’t rest until she got her hands on it. Lucy hid it in the brass knob on the black iron bed she shared with Jane. Unlike Ben, who still lived at home, Mary had left home now and married Jacob, who had been her young man since school days. Of course she had been forced to leave work on her wedding day, but Mr Blackmore would often send for her back if they had a rush order, then Mary would be given the sack again when the work was done. Mary didn’t mind; she loved Jacob and was quite content cleaning for one or two Millington ladies such as Mrs Rawlings and Mrs James, the wife of the schoolmaster. Jacob had found them a little house on the opposite hillside. Like Mary told her sisters, the further away from her mother, the happier she would be.

  Annie Gabbitas’s temper was worse than ever, not helped by the pain in her leg, which sometimes became so swollen it felt near to bursting. Lucy was the only one who seemed to feel any sympathy for the woman, despite her mother’s foul moods. Ben scowled as the dinner was served out. ‘I thought we might have had summat a bit different than stew seeing as it’s our Lucy’s birthday,’ he said.

  Annie sniffed. ‘What’s so special about birthdays? All they do is make you a year older. Though now she’s sixteen I’ll look forward to a rise in her board.’

  ‘Oh aye, I didn’t think yer’d forget that.’ Ben took a mouthful of bread dipped in stew, swallowed it and then said, ‘Anyway, I’ve decided our Lucy’s to have a new frock. You can wait an extra week for the rise. Next week you can go to Sheffield, Lucy. I’ll take yer. You can buy some material and if me mother won’t make it up for yer we’ll ask our Mary.’

  Annie Gabbitas had a look on her face enough to turn the milk sour. ‘So you’re the boss in this house now are yer?’

  ‘No, but our Lucy’s sixteen and never once in all those years has she had owt new to call her own and it’s about time she had.’

  Lucy’s eyes were lit up like stars, but she was frightened by the look on her mother’s face. Annie was liable to throw something if she was that way out.

  ‘I’ll say when she can ’ave a new frock, nobody else. She’ll bring her wage packet to me next week the way she always does, and that’s the end of it.’

  Lucy felt her lip tremble. She mustn’t cry. She should never have listened to their Ben.

  ‘Right then, you do that, Lucy; you give her yer wage packet and I’ll buy the material for a dress out of my wages.’ Ben stood up and carried his empty plate to the sink in the corner. ‘And from now on she’ll get two thirds of me wages and I’ll ’ave the rest to do what I like with, like other men my age.’

  ‘Yer can’t do that. You’ll bring home yer wages to me, just
like you’ve always done.’

  ‘But that’s where you’re wrong, Mother. I should ’ave put me foot down years ago but I wanted to be a dutiful son. But do you appreciate anything anyone does for you? Do you hell as like. Well, perhaps you’ll realise what you’re missing when you aren’t getting it any more. Though I doubt it, because all you think about is yerself.’ He grabbed his jacket from the hook behind the door and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Just then young William came in carrying a bundle of firewood. He looked round at the pale faces. ‘What’s up? It looks like a funeral in ’ere.’

  ‘Get yer coat off and I’ll put yer dinner out,’ Lucy told her brother. Her mother had sat herself down in the rocking chair, her face like a thunder cloud; she didn’t say a word, knowing she had gone too far this time.

  Always one to keep his word, Ben came home from work on Saturday at dinner time, got washed and changed out of his pit clothes, polished his best boots with spit and flattened his hair down with water. ‘Well, Lucy, are yer ready?’

  Lucy had been ready all morning, hopping from one foot to the other until Kitty had told her to concentrate on her work or Mr Black would notice. Even though Lucy no longer helped her, Annie had craftily told Mrs Rawlings that Lucy would go round and see her after dinner, but Lucy had arranged for Will to go in her place. William didn’t mind; he enjoyed helping her and Mrs Rawlings always gave him a slice of bread and jam. Mrs Rawlings’s jam was delicious, even though he had once worried for weeks after swallowing a plum stone, when Albert Marshall had told him it might sprout inside him and grow into a tree.

  Lucy had only ever been to Sheffield once, when her dad had taken them all to the station to wave his sister Kate off on the first stage of her journey to America. It had been a lovely outing, even though her dad had had tears in his eyes at the thought of never seeing his sister again. Then her mam had gone and spoiled it all by saying Aunt Kate was no better than she should be – whatever that might mean – because she had the courage to go off and try to make something of herself. Lucy wished she could go off to America instead of living with her miserable mother.

  Lucy shook herself from her reverie. She had changed her mind half a dozen times at least about what colour her dress would be. First she thought she would like a brown dress which would be serviceable, then she thought if it was to be the only dress she would have in the next few years she would like a pretty one in pink or cream.

  As it turned out her mind was made up for her as they approached the market stall. The first roll of material she saw was blue muslin, sprigged with tiny white flowers. None of the others could make her change her mind, especially when Ben told her it was the exact colour of her eyes. The man told her how many yards she would need and Ben said, ‘Right, we’ll take it.’ Then he said, ‘Now, help me choose some for our Jane.’

  Lucy danced with excitement; she had worried about what Jane would think about her new dress. She chose a pale-green crepe de chine. ‘That’ll suit our Jane’s hair,’ Lucy said. Jane was as dark as Lucy was fair. Ben agreed the material was lovely. After he had paid the man he told Lucy he was going to splash out on dinner in a small restaurant in High Street. Apparently he had been there before with one of his many girlfriends. All the girls were after Ben Gabbitas but up to now he had not yet settled for one. Lucy hardly dared speak as they climbed the stairs to the cafe; she had never eaten out before. She sat primly on the edge of her chair until Ben told her to relax and enjoy herself. Lucy read the menu and chose fishcakes and fried potatoes with peas. The meal was the most delicious Lucy had ever eaten. Ben told her to pour the tea and her hand shook as she lifted the silver teapot. She thought she would die if she spilt it on the white damask cover. ‘Oh Ben, are yer sure you can afford this and the material as well?’

  Ben laughed. ‘Oh aye, me mother did me a favour when she refused to buy you a dress. Now I’m keeping a third of me wages I’ll be much better off and besides that, anything I make on piecework I’m going to keep from now on.’

  ‘And knowing how hard you work you’ll make quite a bit.’

  ‘Aye, and do yer know, Lucy? I don’t feel guilty at all. Me mother’s a greedy old bitch; she’s all take. Yer shouldn’t feel sorry for her. She’s doing well out of us all and on top of all we tip up she’s a pension of fifteen shillings for her and our Will. She should be rolling in it and could keep a good table, but all she does is stash it away. God knows what for.’

  ‘I expect it makes her feel secure.’ Lucy always tried to see the good in anyone, even her miserable mother. ‘Besides, she works hard and keeps the house clean.’

  ‘Oh aye, with the help of you lasses. And you’re like a little mother to our Will. Don’t think I ’aven’t noticed how she has you all running around after her. Have yer finished? If you have we’ll have a walk on the Moor and a look in Cole Brothers.’

  Lucy could have sauntered all day looking in the shop windows and planning what she would buy if she had the money. They walked back through the gardens and took a short cut down Chapel Walk towards Haymarket. She decided to go to Woolworths and spend the two shillings Ben had given her. She bought pearl buttons, a paper pattern and enough lace to trim the two dresses, then she remembered she would need sewing thread. Everything cost sixpence so her precious two shillings were gone, but it would be worth it when she and Jane walked out on Sunday evenings in their new dresses.

  The house where Lucy lived was identical to all the others in the four rows – known to everyone in Millington as Top Row, Next Row, Second Row and Bottom Row. Although they had proper names like Saunders Street, no one ever used them except on correspondence delivered by the Royal Mail. Each house had two downstairs rooms, two bedrooms, an attic and a cellar where the coal was kept. The top of the cellar was fitted with shelves where the food was stored, not that there was ever much on the shelves of the Gabbitas residence. Outside the houses on Top Row was a large yard overlooked by a pretty flower-strewn bank leading to the allotments. In the yard were two blocks of water closets, one to every two houses. The attic served as a bedroom for Ben and Will, with Nellie, Jane and Lucy in one room and Annie in the other. Mary’s marriage had given the girls a little more space.

  All the families were friendly and always ready to lend a hand or a bite to eat in times of need. Even Annie could not be faulted by the neighbours. They saw her as a good mother, spotlessly clean and a woman who had carried on regardless after the loss of her husband. No one outside the family would have believed how cold and unfeeling she could be.

  The only one who had ever got herself talked about on Top Row was Evelyn Smithson. Evelyn was rumoured to entertain men in the afternoons when the curtains were drawn; Lewis Marshall often commented that Evelyn was dropping her bloomers again. Mrs Slater said none of it was true and the only reason the curtains were ever drawn in the daytime was when Evelyn’s baby boy was napping on the couch and the sun was in his eyes. Mrs Slater said the only man ever to have visited the house had been little Bernard’s father, and she should know, living next door. Still the rumours persisted and the Gabbitas girls considered this unfair as they thought Evelyn was lovely, always good for a laugh and a cup of tea. Besides, she was a wonderful mother to her little boy, despite finding it hard to make ends meet.

  Another character on Top Row was Mrs Murphy, who seemed to have a new baby every year. Because Mrs Murphy was so fat nobody ever knew she was carrying until she actually gave birth. She would simply go to bed, bear the child and get up again, resuming her place in the chair in front of the fire where she would sit, day in and day out, leaving the kids to get on with life. Amazingly, they all seemed to thrive amongst the clutter and grime, unlike the babies Mrs Cadman had borne. Although Mrs Cadman’s house was well furnished and clean and although she attended the clinic regularly, two of her babies had died, one poor little mite at birth and another of a fever. Now her third child had been taken to a hospital on the other side of Sheffield suffering from typhoid. The little boy ha
d been seriously ill on admittance but was said to be recovering slowly. Lucy hoped the baby would pull through as Mrs Cadman would make a perfect mother. Lucy tried to compare her to her own, though it was difficult to imagine Annie travelling miles every day if any of them were ever ill and taken to hospital.

  All in all Top Row was a decent place in which to live, just a short walk from the main road where all the shops and the town hall were situated, then there was the market on Fridays, the church school at the bottom of the hill opposite the parish church and the Miners’ Club. Lower down were the steelworks, trailing the length of the valley with the river Don flowing alongside them. The opposite hill was sparsely populated and usually blanketed by smoke from the works and coke ovens. On the far side of the hill was the colliery where most families on Top Row had at least one member of the family working. The pit was hidden from view in the midst of Sheepdip Wood, a popular walk on Sundays for the people of Millington, especially courting couples. Lucy was glad they lived on this side of the valley, which was much more populated but greener and seemed untouched by the smoke or grime. Close to the rows were the Memorial Gardens and the clock tower.

  Then there was the Donkey Wood leading to the football field and the new council school. Council houses were already springing up in one area and Lucy was sad that the strawberry fields would be lost for ever to make way for the new developments. At least the Donkey Wood would remain intact; Mr Blackmore said it had been bequeathed by the owners of the works to the good people of Millington to be used for their enjoyment and pleasure in years to come. The Donkey Wood was used for walks, blackberrying and for picnics. It was a good place to play, with a stream to paddle in and trees to climb. Of course Lucy had been too old for playing for a few years now, but it would be good to walk in the Donkey Wood in her new dress. She wondered if their Nellie would lend her her new button-up boots just for once, so she could show off and look beautiful for a change.