A Family Christmas

by Glenice Crossland

  ‘Thank you God,’ the doctor sighed with relief. He realised the situation could have turned out a lot worse; patients in her condition were sometimes driven to serious assault and if Joan had been alone in the house he dreaded to think what might have happened.

  Prudence fought like a wild cat, but between them the two ambulance men and the doctor managed to get her in the vehicle. She was still declaring her undying love for a man she had barely spoken half a dozen words to until tonight. Indeed, if he had met her out in the street the doctor doubted he would have recognised the assistant librarian. He only hoped Joan would believe him when he told her he had done nothing to encourage such behaviour.

  Joan was a compassionate woman, not given to jealousy. In fact she possessed all the qualities necessary in the wife of a doctor. All she could think of was the poor woman, knowing it would be a long haul back to sanity.

  By the time Prudence was carried, struggling into hospital she had already threatened to kill the fat woman, strangle someone called Dot Greenwood and invited the youngest of the ambulance men to make love to her, in language strong enough to make the young one blush and shock the older one.

  The next morning Reverend Goodman received a telegram from his sister which was short and to the point.

  Come at once STOP Edith.

  Within an hour, the verger had been put in charge of the church and Jane in charge of the house. The rector from Cragstone had promised to hold the Sunday services and Herbert and Louisa were on their way to the station. They realised they could ignore the situation no longer, but little did they know how ill their daughter was, or that she was in a secure room at the mental hospital. Louisa had been right: Prudence did need help, urgently.

  At the beginning of the year Nellie had wondered if the bookings would justify all the money Tom had spent on the guest house, but by Easter the rooms were already being booked for the summer season, and four family rooms and two singles already occupied for the Easter holiday. Lily had discovered a way of making a bit of extra money, by offering a childminding service so that the parents could take advantage of the entertainment Blackpool had to offer. The children would be put to bed by the parents and all Lily had to do was patrol the rooms at regular intervals and comfort any of the restless ones. Because Lily loved children she considered it to be the easiest way possible of making a little extra spending money. She still insisted on one night a week off however, so that she and Phoebe could get dressed up and go out, sometimes to the dances on the pier or the Winter Gardens, other times to the pictures. Once they went to the Pleasure Beach where they rode on the Flying Machine, but mostly they would simply wander along the Golden Mile with Jim and his mate Stan, who quite fancied Phoebe, though Phoebe couldn’t make up her mind whether she fancied him. Lily wished she would decide to have him for a boyfriend; it would be nice if they could be two courting couples. Anyway, she thought Jim was ever so romantic; they would stand by the railings looking down at the sea whilst the brass band played and Jim sang to the music. He made her blush sometimes when he gazed at her with his big brown eyes and sang romantic love songs. Lily thought he should be singing on the stage, so beautiful was his voice. Phoebe would giggle but Lily didn’t care – she thought Phoebe was a little bit jealous because Stan didn’t sing to her.

  Nellie was thrilled that the guest house was proving a success, forever commenting on how fortunate she was, not realising that it was nothing to do with luck and everything to do with her cooking. Tom said there wasn’t a restaurant in Blackpool that served better food, and he should know as he had dined in most of them. When Lily and Phoebe compared menus they found that Nellie provided almost as wide a selection as the larger, posher establishment said to be in the finest position in the resort. Nellie was surprised and delighted at Lily’s discovery. Still, Nellie wouldn’t have liked a larger place, preferring to offer a more homely atmosphere.

  It came as a shock at the end of June when Nellie discovered she was pregnant. Tom considered Nellie to be the cleverest woman in the world and wanted to rush around spreading the news to everyone. Margaret was in tears at the thought of a grandchild and Henry experienced such a rush of emotion he threw his arms round Nellie and almost smothered her with kisses.

  Nellie thought she must be the only one who had considered the implications. Not that she didn’t want Tom’s children, but how would she cope with the cooking whilst being a good mother to her child? Fortunately it would be born out of season, so this year’s guests wouldn’t be affected, but what of next year? When she voiced her fears to Lily she was amazed when the girl said, ‘What a pity Mrs Cooper doesn’t live ’ere. It’d be right up her street being a kind of nanny. She could wheel the baby on the front and sit in one of them theer shelters with the pram. Ooh, it would be nice for ’er. Mrs Cooper loves Blackpool so much it meks tears come to ’er eyes.’ Lily almost had tears in her own eyes at the thought of the woman she had grown to love. ‘Do yer know what I think, Nellie? I think Mrs Cooper was in love when she came to Blackpool.’ Just like I love Jim, Lily thought.

  ‘Oh I don’t know about that,’ Nellie answered, but she was thinking about what Lily had said. The girl was right: Mrs Cooper would be ideal to take care of her baby, just for the few hours Nellie would need to cook the main meal and breakfast. She would be a kind of grandmother, a doting one no doubt. It would also solve Mrs Cooper’s problem of where she would go when a younger woman took over at the manor. Nellie realised she was becoming carried away with the idea. She couldn’t expect Tom to take the woman into their home. Besides, where would she sleep? It would mean taking up one of the bedrooms. No, she would have to come up with another solution; there was plenty of time before the baby was born.

  Lily might have been a mind reader, for she sighed and said, ‘Ooh it would be lovely if Mrs Cooper was ’ere, and theer’s plenty o’ room for another bed in my room.’

  For the first time in ages Nellie saw the tears filling Lily’s eyes and realised that it wasn’t just Lily who was missing the elderly housekeeper. Nellie was too.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ‘PRETTY BETTY, DON’T fail,

  ‘Let me carry your pail,

  ‘To the banks where the primroses grow.’

  Little Peter laughed and swayed to the rhythm as his uncle William sang tunelessly. It was a beautiful morning and Will had been up with the lark, intent upon enjoying every moment of his day off. He had placed Peter in the battered old pushchair that had been handed down by a woman on Side Row. The twins were too big now to sit end to end in the pram and were wheeled out in turns by an army of volunteers from Top Row. Rosie had gone with Mr Slater to the allotments, Violet to Mary’s and Bernard to play at Mrs Cadman’s. Will could hear the bell ringing for morning mass at St Catherine’s and though it sounded more like an old tin can, the familiarity of it comforted William and the memories of his childhood came rushing back. He could hear his dad now as he bade him get ready for a Sunday walk to Sheepdip Wood. It had been Lucy who had washed his face and combed his hair, always Lucy, the little mother. He wished there was some way of repaying her for all the loving care she had handed out to him over the years.

  Even though Will had had a hard childhood, he considered himself the most fortunate of all the family. Not for him the horror of the coal mine or the earsplitting sound and heat of the steelworks, but a job he loved. And now he had Betty with whom to share his happiness. He looked out from the rock he was resting on and could see the road winding up the valley between Millington and Cragstone. He had visions of the two towns being joined together in the not too distant future by red brick houses, which would rob both places of their harsh beauty and character. He could just see the chimneys of the little cottage in which he and Betty were about to begin married life together. Betty’s father had surprised them by handing over the deeds to the small stone property. ‘Not very big I admit,’ – he had apologised even though the couple considered it a grand place – ‘but there’s plenty
o’ room to build on with a garden that size.’ There was too, and Will could hardly believe they would never have to worry about paying the rent. Will didn’t know anyone else who owned their own house; well, Mr Brown probably did, and Smiler Grundy, but as for people of his class! It was almost unthinkable. When he had tried to express his gratitude Mr Hague had dismissed his thanks with a wave of the hand.

  ‘Eeh, lad,’ he had said, ‘if I can’t spend me hard-earned brass on me only daughter, it’s coming to summat. If yer want to repay me, just you concentrate on making our Betty happy. That’s all I ask.’

  Will let down the back of the pushchair as he noticed Peter had fallen asleep. He had just made the little lad comfy when a voice called out, ‘Is it Annie’s youngest lad?’

  ‘Aye, Mrs Greenwood. It is.’

  ‘Well, lad, it’s some time since I saw you to talk to.’

  ‘It’d be when I came tatie picking, Mrs Greenwood. That’s a few years since.’ Will could remember how back-breaking the work had been and he smiled as he remembered Little Arthur calling out to the pickers, ‘All reight lads, heads down and arses up.’ Apart from the money they had been given a bucket of potatoes for their efforts. Some of the lads had been too exhausted to carry them home and had refused them. Will had carried them home despite his aching limbs and his mother hadn’t even acknowledged them, let alone thanked him.

  ‘Where yer going, Mrs Greenwood?’ Boadacea was wearing a wrap-round pinafore covering her frock, wellington boots and one of Little Arthur’s flat caps. She was brandishing a stick in her hand.

  ‘Going ’ome, Will. Just been to tek cows onto’t long field. Are yer coming to ’ave a sup o’ tea with us?’

  ‘No, thanks all the same. Perhaps another day.’

  ‘Aye, Little Arthur’d be pleased to ’ave a bit of male company for a change. Our Dot prattles on a bit and gets on ’is nerves sometimes.’ The woman’s face clouded. ‘Though she’s not been ’er normal self since she and Robbie split up. It’s a right rum do is that.’

  ‘Aye, it is. Robbie’s not the same either. He really loves your Dot, Mrs Greenwood. And he’ll sort something out, don’t you worry. He’s in touch with a solicitor fellow all the time. Three letters he’s had in the last few weeks. Don’t know what’s in ’em of course – he doesn’t say – but summat’s happening.’

  ‘Well, if you say so.’ Boadacea perched herself on the rock next to Will. ‘And who’s this little love, then?’

  ‘One of our Lucy’s lot.’

  ‘Aye, he’s a Grey all right; no mistaking that dark hair and that skin.’ Until the split-up Boadacea had had visions of a grandson of her own looking like that. The pair sat in contemplation for a while.

  ‘My grandmother could remember when that road down there was just a dirt path wi’ foxgloves and honeysuckle growing on it. Oh aye, it was nowt but a path in her day. Blackberries, hazelnuts, eeh I bet it was a picture. Mind you, that was before the thick yeller smoke from the works killed ’em all and they widened it to mek the road.’

  ‘Aye, but you know what they say: “Where there’s muck there’s money.”’ Will looked out at the view. ‘It’s lovely up ’ere though, despite the works. I bet you’ve the best view in Millington.’

  ‘Aye, it’d take some beating. The works and reservoir might be a godsend now, but they could prove a danger in the not too distant future. Well that’s what my Little Arthur thinks.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘War, lad. He thinks there’ll be one before long.’

  ‘There’s already a war, Mrs Greenwood.’

  ‘Oh aye, the Spanish war, and that’s bad enough, but when that Hitler gets going we shall be in for it right. That’s what my little Arthur thinks, and ee’s not usually far wrong.’

  ‘I hope not, Mrs Greenwood.’

  ‘So do I, lad, so do I.’

  ‘I’d best be getting back.’

  ‘Aye, lad. Give my regards to yer family.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And tell Robbie we wish ’im well.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’ Will took the break off the pushchair and set off for home. It would be dinnertime when they got back. Then he was off to see Betty. They’d be going on about frocks and wedding cakes, her and her mam. It would all be worth it though when he and Betty were man and wife. He hoped Little Arthur was wrong, though. Once he’d got Betty he didn’t fancy having to leave her again, and that’s what would happen if there was a war.

  Robbie was feeling much happier now he had heard the Goodmans had gone to visit Prudence. Surely they would try and persuade their daughter to end her marriage, or at least discuss the situation with Paul Tomlinson, or a lawyer of their own. Robbie had been touched when Mr Grundy had offered to pay for a divorce for him. He had refused his offer, pointing out that nothing could be done at the moment and that by the time a divorce could go ahead Robbie would probably be able to afford the expense himself. Mr Grundy said the money was there anyway, should it be needed.

  He turned the corner of Top Row, where a young lad was throwing a ball at the wall and catching it. Two others were watching and willing him to drop it so they could have a turn. The lad was chanting to the rhythm of the ball-throwing.

  ‘Every day old Smiler Grundy

  ‘Hammers nails, except on Sunday.

  ‘How many nails does Smiler knock?

  ‘How many times does he play with his—’

  ‘Hey.’ Robbie stopped the lad just in time. ‘Have a bit of respect for Mr Grundy and the people who can hear yer.’ He wondered why Mr Grundy was made a figure of fun when he was one of the nicest people you could wish to meet.

  ‘Aw, Robbie, we were only ’aving a bit o’ fun. I only meant an owd crowing cock, not his …’ The lad realised he was making things worse and ran off round the corner with the others following. Robbie could hear them laughing and grinned to himself, wondering which of the three was the budding poet. On entering the house his eyes went straight to the mantelpiece, but there was no letter waiting for him. He glanced at the mirror and as always made a wish that he could be rid of Prudence and free to marry Dot. He must be going soft in the head to be wishing in a mirror, but Lucy believed it was a wishing mirror and who was he to deny it?

  If John was on night shift and Will out courting, Robbie would take Baby out for her last walk. Tonight he found himself – as usual – taking the lane towards Greenwood’s. He could see a light shining in the window of the old derelict cottage. Dot had had such plans for the place. Perhaps she was in there now, thinking of him just as he was thinking of her. At times like this he was tempted to seek her out and tell her how much he loved her and longed to be with her, and most of all seek reassurance that she still felt the same about him. Would it be so wrong to meet her occasionally? Yet he knew he never would. He had her reputation to consider. He was still a married man, albeit not a normal one, but he would wait, only go to her when he was free to marry her.

  Baby began to jump about with excitement as they neared the farm and old Bob ran barking towards them. Baby had taken a fancy to the old dog on their late-night walks. Robbie never failed to hope that one of these nights Dot might come out to the yard; just a glimpse of her would be something to be going on with, but she never did. They had to be satisfied with a few words on Sundays at church, which he supposed was better than nothing. Besides, Dot was there in his thoughts from waking in the morning to retiring at night. Every detail of her face was vivid in his mind. The light in the cottage had been extinguished. He wished he could extinguish Prudence as easily.

  ‘Come on, Baby. Let’s go home.’ The little dog ran slipping and sliding down the steep path, pulling Robbie behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  IT WAS WHEN Will went to collect his wages that he heard the news from Mr Brown. ‘I ’ear they’re selling your ’ouse, Will.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your ’ouse and t’other one.’

  ‘Which other one?’

&nb
sp; ‘I don’t know which one. I only know they’re the only ones the pit still own and they want rid.’

  ‘But I thought they owned the whole row.’

  ‘Eeh, no lad. Most of ’em ’ave been sold on to a private landlord over the years. Been ’anging on to the last two, hoping prices’d go up I expect. I suppose it’s all the talk of a war that’s persuaded ’em.’

  ‘But what’ll happen to us? We won’t be thrown out, will we?’

  ‘Eeh no lad. I’ll tell yer summat though, yer can bet the rents’ll go up. Whoever buys ’em’ll want to mek their money back.’

  Will began to sweat at the thought of John having to fork out more, and just when Will was about to leave. His board had been a help towards household expenses, and then there was the new baby expected any day. He realised Mr Brown was still talking to him. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘I was just saying, they’re good ’ouses. Eighteen-inch-thick walls they ’ave. Be a good investment for’t future, especially wi’ ’aving sitting tenants. They’ll not fetch as much as if they were vacant.’

  ‘When are they to be sold? I don’t think our Lucy knows.’

  ‘On the fourteenth, by auction. Saw it in’t Cragstone Express.’

  ‘How much do you think they’ll go for?’

  ‘Eeh, I don’t know, lad. Like I say, without vacant possession they won’t fetch as much. Depends who turns up on the night.’

  Will was quiet as he collected his wages and set off for home. Being quiet was highly unusual for someone like Will. He didn’t say anything about the sale to Lucy or John. He didn’t want to worry them about who was likely to be their future landlord. Instead he went to see Jane; he would ask her advice before he did anything, but if she was agreeable he had a plan forming in his mind.