A Family Christmas

by Glenice Crossland

  Nellie was careful to claim back her son after the hours allotted to Mrs Cooper, afraid that her baby might become fonder of the helper than he was of Nellie. She was also careful not to tire her or take advantage of the older woman’s kindness. She needn’t have worried; Mrs Cooper seemed to have more energy than she had had for years. She was delighted now to take bookings over the phone, keeping tabs of which rooms were reserved and which were vacant. Nellie was astounded to find the big blue account book balanced week by week, and she seemed to keep the cleaners in order. Tom laughed one day when he came home early to find one of the women applying brasso to the letter box and house number. ‘I’ve never seen the cleaner do that before,’ he told Nellie.

  ‘No, but Mrs Cooper told them she thought it was time it was done. Said it would have been done every week in her day.’

  ‘Well, it certainly looks better. I just hope she doesn’t upset our staff, or they may decide to leave.’

  ‘Oh she won’t, she’s started making them tea and biscuits halfway through the morning. They seem to work all the harder after that.’

  Nellie frowned. ‘Do you think I should have given them a tea break?’

  ‘I don’t know. My staff at the garage just brew up when they like. Anyway, Mrs Cooper seems to have everything sorted.’

  ‘And she’s so good with Henry. Oh, Tom, he’s such a contented baby.’

  ‘He’s loved, that’s why. Lily adores him too. He’s going to get spoiled with all you women fussing round him.’

  ‘Oh he’s not short of male adoration either; Cyril and Sydney demand a cuddle every morning.’

  ‘If you can call them male company,’ Tom grinned.

  ‘Well, not only them. There’s the sergeant major. Surely he’s man enough; he’ll have him running round playing at soldiers as soon as he can toddle. He tells Mrs Cooper to let the boy exercise his lungs and that all her mollycoddling’ll never make a man of him. She usually takes notice of him and puts Henry back in his pram.’

  ‘He must like it here to decide he’ll stay permanently. A few more like him would be a good thing if there’s going to be a war.’

  ‘Well, I think it was Mrs Cooper’s persuasion that did it. All her talk about it being the finest air on the planet and me being the best cook in Blackpool. Although in my opinion it’s just that they’ve taken a fancy to each other. Anyway, there won’t be a war, will there?’

  ‘I’m afraid there will, Nellie,’ Tom sighed, ‘but we shall worry about that when it happens.’

  Nellie was quiet as she wondered what would happen in the event of a war starting. It was all very well Tom telling her not to worry, but they had a son to consider, and a guest house with so many overheads. She picked up her son and cuddled him close. He and his father were so precious to her, and they might neither of them be safe if a war began. ‘Oh, well, it’s time you were fed, big boy, so let’s get that bottle made, shall we?’

  ‘Can I feed him?’ Lily had finished setting the tables in the dining room and there was nothing more to be done until high tea.

  ‘If you like.’ It would give Nellie a chance to finish the trifle and she knew Lily enjoyed giving Henry his bottle. She didn’t indulge Lily very often, so feeding Henry would be a treat. The girl’s face blossomed as she settled the baby in the crook of her arm and gave him his milk. Henry’s large blue eyes fixed on Lily and as of old, emotion brought tears to her eyes. ‘Ooh, Nellie I wish ee was mine. Ee’s the sweetest baby in the whole wide world.’

  ‘I agree, Lily, he is. But you’ll have one of your own soon enough. Don’t be in a hurry, love. Enjoy yourself whilst you’re young.’

  ‘Ooh, I am. I never thought I’d enjoy meself as much. It’s being ’ere with you, and now Mrs Cooper’s ’ere too. It’s like I’ve a new family of me own.’

  ‘Don’t you miss your own family?’

  ‘I miss me dad but not me mam, and I miss our Molly and the others, but I’ve grown to love being ’ere. Besides I’ve got Jim and I’ve grown to love ’im too.’

  ‘Oh! And does Jim love you?’

  ‘Well ee says ee does. But don’t worry, we’re not thinking of getting married or owt daft like that. Jim wants to save up for a café of ’is own and somewhere to live. So it’ll take years for that to ’appen. So we’re just enjoying our lives. I shall ’ave a baby like Henry one day though. That’s if war doesn’t start. It wouldn’t be fair would it, ’aving a baby with Jim going to war?’

  ‘Let’s not talk about war, Lily. It might never happen.’

  ‘Sergeant major says it will. Ee was telling Cyril and Sydney they’ll be entertaining the troops before next year’s out.’

  Nellie stuck a few sprigs of fresh mint in the pan of new potatoes and carried on slicing the ham. She hoped all this talk of war turned out to be nothing but talk. ‘I should get his wind up now, Lily.’

  Lily removed the bottle and held Henry over her shoulder, gently patting his back. Henry gave a huge burp, causing Lily and Nellie to burst into laughter. The subject of war was put on one side for the time being.

  This was the quietest Christmas for a long time, if ever. Ben and Emma were recovering from influenza and wouldn’t risk Lucy’s family becoming infected. Will and Betty were spending the day with her parents and Nellie and Tom couldn’t make the journey this year. So it was Mary, Jacob, Jane and James who were the guests at Lucy’s. Nevertheless it was a joyous occasion as the children played with their toys from Father Christmas and the adults drank and ate too much. After lunch the men played Crib and the ladies caught up with the gossip.

  ‘It’s quiet without our Will and Ben.’ Mary had Andrew on her knee, showing him a book about animals and revelling in the scent of his newly washed hair. Mary had at last resigned herself to the fact that she would probably remain childless. She had told Jacob’s mother in no uncertain terms never to mention the subject again and both Mary and Jacob felt much better without the fact being constantly referred to.

  It had just turned eight when Mr and Mrs Marshall, Kitty and Frank walked in. ‘We came for a bit of a sing song, lass. But it doesn’t look as though the musician’s turned up,’ Mr Marshall said.

  ‘No, but we can sing without him,’ John said. And they did. All the old favourites and new ones besides.

  When Jacob put on his trilby and reached for his coat to go home, Kitty said, ‘Well actually I came to tell you Frank and I are to be married.’

  ‘Oh, Kitty, that’s marvellous news! When is it to be?’ Lucy hugged her.

  ‘We thought as soon as possible, what with the threat of the war hanging over us.’

  ‘This calls for another drink.’ John went for some clean glasses.

  So Jacob took off his hat and coat and the party continued well into the night.

  ‘Can I be a bridesmaid and wear a white dress?’ Rosie shyly asked Kitty.

  ‘You surely can, and Violet too. You’ll be the prettiest bridesmaids ever to walk into Millington Church.’

  Rosie and Violet giggled and forced their heavy eyes to stay open so as not to miss a moment of this exciting day.

  When the visitors did finally decide to leave, James said, ‘It’s been another right grand day, John. Not many of the family here this year but a grand day all the same.’

  Lucy looked round at the children – at Rosie and Violet, at Andrew asleep on the sofa and Bernard and Peter playing with Baby on the rug in front of the fire.

  ‘These are my family, James. So long as they are content, then so am I.’

  Everything seemed to be going smoothly since the old year had drawn to a close. Lucy was pleased to think John had finally got the hang of being careful and no more babies were on the horizon. Mrs Slater wondered if Lucy’s last difficult confinement was the more likely reason. All the children were thriving and once Rosie realised that temper tantrums wouldn’t help in her endeavour to attend school with Bernard, she turned out to be a great help to her mother. Rosie would help dress the younger ones and kee
p an eye on the twins, who now delighted in playing outside. Rosie’s favourite task was to be given a bucket of water on washday and a yard brush with which to scrub the step and the outside flags. The fact that she usually ended up saturated didn’t bother Rosie, and Lucy simply hung the wet garments to dry on the fire guard.

  The twins didn’t seem to need much attention from anyone except each other. They were content to play the same games, go to bed at the same time and learn at the same rate. When Peter had begun to walk, Violet followed, and when Violet started to talk, her brother copied. When Bernard contracted measles the twins fell ill on the same day. Fortunately Andrew and Rosie escaped the illness. It was difficult enough keeping the twins in a darkened room, without the baby becoming infected. All three patients recovered without any long-lasting effects, much to Lucy’s relief. Little Andrew looked as if he would never suffer a day’s illness in his life and seemed to grow heavier and taller by the day.

  Far more worrying than the measles was the time a few months later when Lucy was woken in the early hours by Rosie. ‘Mam, our Violet’s sick.’ Lucy was out of bed before the words were out. She could hear her daughter’s racking cough echoing through the house. She was used to dealing with croup and decided to take Violet down to the kitchen. Lucy filled the boiler by the fire to heat up the water. With another kettle on the fire it should provide enough steam to allow Violet to breathe freely again. Sometimes the walls and windows were running with steam by the time the bout of croup had passed. This time was different. Violet had vomited all over the pillow, a mixture of vomit and mucus. The little girl was hot and seemed to be fighting for breath.

  Lucy hurried back to her room and shook John awake. ‘John, I think we should have the doctor. Our Violet’s sick.’ John pulled on his trousers and hurried to where the child’s coughing resembled the sound of a barking dog.

  ‘You’re right. I’ll fetch Doctor Sellars.’

  Lucy attempted to wipe up the mess, then decided to strip off the covers and replace them with clean ones. ‘Go sleep in our bed, Rosie. There’s a good girl.’ Rosie didn’t need telling twice. She loved the warmth and special scent of her mam’s bed. In fact it was a treat for any of the children to be allowed to snuggle down in the warm place their mother or father had vacated.

  By the time John arrived with the doctor Violet’s head was being held over a basin of steaming water, but still the coughing continued. ‘It’s croup again, doctor.’

  ‘No, Mrs Grey, not this time. I’m afraid it’s Whooping Cough.’

  ‘Oh no.’ A child on Second Row had died of the complaint only a few days ago. ‘What can we do for her?’

  ‘There isn’t a lot we can do except keep her warm and dry. I can prescribe a mixture, but I’m afraid only time will heal; normally it takes about six weeks. Unfortunately it is highly contagious, so your other children will probably have already been infected. You could of course isolate Violet and hope the others escape this distressing illness. Though it may already be too late. Please keep the boy away from school. If we can avoid an epidemic it will be for the best. If you can send someone for the medicine it will be ready in the morning.’ By this time Violet seemed to have got over the coughing bout.

  ‘Now, I suggest you try and get some sleep whilst you can.’

  ‘I’ll fetch the medicine in the morning then. Thanks for coming, doctor.’ John went to see the doctor out.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Violet was asleep when John went upstairs. The little girl was flushed and exhausted. ‘I’ll stay with her.’ John lay down on the bed by his daughter’s side. ‘You go back to bed, Lucy. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow what with Bernard off school and trying to keep them apart. Get some sleep.’

  ‘Thanks, John.’ Lucy was dreading the next coughing fit and the thought of the others already being infected. There was also the dirty bedding to be laundered. Oh well, she had never expected having children to be all a bed of roses. So long as Violet recovered, nothing else mattered. Lucy slipped into bed next to Rosie and felt her daughter’s arms encircle her. The children might bring her worry on occasions, but on the whole they gave her more joy than pain. Lucy made herself comfortable and was on the verge of dozing off when Rosie began to cough, a nasty whooping sound. Lucy said her prayers for her daughters to recover, and for her boys not to have already caught the frightening illness.

  Miraculously, the boys remained healthy and Rosie didn’t seem as badly affected as her sister. However Violet sometimes seemed on the verge of suffocating and on one occasion the poor child had turned blue in the face. Mrs Greenwood sent up an infusion of red clover, which she swore would relieve the symptoms and it certainly seemed to help. The neighbours ralied round as usual; Mr Marshall remembered taking Lewis up to a spring on the common and believed it had helped the boy get better in record time.

  As soon as the girls were well enough to walk so far, Lewis volunteered to take them and let them drink the pure spring water. For the next month he continued to take them whenever he had the opportunity, by which time they were not only looking and feeling better but Lewis had also built up a close friendship with the little girls. He pointed out the wild flowers and insects they encountered on the way and once when a red admiral settled on Violet’s cheek, Lewis told her it was giving her a butterfly kiss. After that, Rosie would ask for a butterfly kiss each time they passed that particular spot. Lewis would bend and flutter his eyelashes on each girl’s cheek. ‘There,’ he said. ‘We don’t need a butterfly to give you a kiss; my eyelashes work just as well.’ The girls would squeal with delight and Lewis would wish the girls were his daughters and Lucy his wife. He realised he had the next best thing when suddenly they began to address him as Uncle Lew. Soon the boys were following their example.

  Both John and Lucy were pleased their children were giving Lewis the affection he so deserved. When the weather was good John and Lewis would relax up at the allotments, competing good-naturedly as to whose vegetables thrived the best, and sharing everything they grew. Lewis’s lettuces heartened in their frame and his beans grew long and straight enough to win a prize at the local show. John produced the finest crop of peas anyone had seen for years; unfortunately the kids got to them and ate the lot. The only things to fail – and the one thing Lucy requested, to add colour to her salads – were the radishes. Lewis tended them with care and John even sent Bernard after the ragman’s horse with a bucket and spade, but even the horse droppings couldn’t improve the thin, puny-looking radishes.

  ‘A waste of good growing ground,’ Mr Marshall admonished.

  Still, for Lucy’s sake the men persevered, and failed. The friendship between John and Lewis, however, grew from strength to strength, and John and Lucy’s children grew as dear to Lewis as if they were his own.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  IT WAS ALMOST the end of 1938 when the telegram came for Robbie and it was short and to the point.

  ‘MEET MY OFFICE TEN AM THURSDAY URGENT STOP P TOMLINSON STOP.’

  Robbie immediately arranged time off work, rang Nellie to arrange lodgings and caught the first available train to Blackpool.

  When Louisa paid her weekly visit to Lucy she told her friend she was optimistic that Robbie would return home a free man. Lucy wasn’t convinced. From what she had heard of divorces they were long drawn-out affairs and could take years. However, Louisa proved to be right. Paul had greeted Robbie warmly and with an air of optimism.

  ‘Well, Mr Grey, I think you may soon have cause for celebration.’

  ‘You mean I can have a divorce?’

  ‘No, Mr Grey. I mean I doubt very much that you will need one.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘With the cooperation of Prudence’s father, I sought an annulment of your marriage. For two reasons. The first being that Prudence Goodman was of unsound mind and had been for some time. The second reason being that the marriage had never been consummated. A certain Doctor Sellars has provided evidence of that. I am fai
rly confident that at eleven thirty this morning the Probate, Divorce and Admiralty Division of the High Court will declare your marriage to Prudence Goodman null and void. So, Mr Grey, shall we be on our way?’

  Paul picked up his briefcase and bustled out to his car with Robbie hurrying behind, trembling so much he could hardly open the car door. He was still trembling when they arrived back at the lawyer’s office two and a half hours later. ‘Well, I don’t know what to say except thank you.’

  ‘Oh I think it’s Reverend Goodman you should be thanking. Without his help, a divorce would certainly have been necessary.’

  Robbie couldn’t help thinking it had been Herbert’s fault in the first place. He only realised how shocked he must have been afterwards, when he remembered running his hands over the solid oak desk in Paul Tomlinson’s office and casually remarking on what a magnificent piece of furniture it was, and how much work had gone into the making of it. It was then that the lawyer insisted on Robbie taking a tot of brandy. It was after he had almost choked on the potent spirit that it suddenly dawned on Robbie that he was a free man, no longer shackled to Prudence and free to marry Dot. He seemed to shed the weight that had lain so heavily on his shoulders. His spirits lifted and Robbie grinned at the man who had been worried about his mental state just moments before.

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ Robbie took the lawyer’s hand and shook it warmly. ‘Does this mean I am free to marry again? Immediately?’

  ‘Well, yes it does, but damn it man, I should think twice before doing so for a second time.’

  ‘Think twice? I’ve thought about nothing else for twenty-four hours of the day, every day.’ Robbie took out his wallet. ‘Now, how much am I in your debt?’

  ‘Nothing. Let us put it down to experience. It’s certainly been a new one for me. The first null and void marriage I’ve come across. It just proves the old saying that we’re never too old to learn. No, Robert, you don’t owe me a penny; I’m more than happy to know that right has prevailed.’