A Family Christmas

by Glenice Crossland

  ‘What yer got in yer carrier bag?’ Edith enquired.

  ‘Me dance shoes.’

  Edith pulled a face. ‘Can’t see anybody asking us to dance.’

  ‘Come on.’ Mrs Cooper moved with growing excitement towards the kiosk, thinking it was a bit expensive. ‘Two please.’

  ‘’Ere, I’ll get me own ticket.’

  ‘No, Edith, it were me who wanted to come so I’ll pay.’

  ‘I don’t know how families manage a holiday at these prices,’ Edith said.

  ‘Aye, but as Joe used to say, there’s enough to keep you occupied all day once you’re in.’ The music wafted towards them. ‘Can yer feel the atmosphere? It’s like no other place I’ve ever been in.’ Then she stared in dismay at the mountain of steps. She couldn’t remember there being so many when she had come with Joe, but she’d been too much in love to notice anything on those occasions.

  ‘Well, are yer coming or aren’t yer?’ Edith set off. ‘Though what my legs’ll be like when I reach the top doesn’t bear thinking about.’ They stopped halfway up to tidy their hair in the mirrored wall. The wind and the salt air hadn’t been kind to either of them but Mrs Cooper’s was the worst. She got out a comb and did her best.

  ‘Don’t ever ’ave one of them perms, Edith; my hair’s never been the same since I had mine. I’d better not wear a green frock or they’ll think I’m a dandelion clock.’

  Edith laughed. ‘Nay, lass, it isn’t the perm – that’s all worn out long ago. It’s the sea air what dries it up. It looks all right now you’ve combed it.’ They scrutinised themselves as they regained their breath. Their faces were flushed, either from the wind or from the stair climb – they weren’t sure which. ‘I don’t reckon we look bad for our age.’

  ‘No, we’ll pass. Come on.’ After a few more steps Mrs Cooper knew she should never have attempted the climb and when she reached the top she leaned on the window ledge until she felt better. She gazed out at the wide expanse of stormy grey sea. Waves galloped like white horses onto the promenade then rolled back again to continue their never-ending journey. Edith stood beside her, as mesmerised as she was.

  ‘Once Joe hired a landau to take us from one end of the prom to the other. Tucked up in blankets just like royalty we were. Then ee took me to a wine bar and bought me a cocktail wi’ one of them fancy names. We went under’t pier after that for a cuddle.’

  ‘I’ll bet yer did more than cuddle.’ Edith nudged her friend and giggled.

  ‘No, we didn’t, but do yer know Edith, I’ve always regretted that we didn’t. It was a lovely moonlit night and all we did was talk about what we would do when we came back to Blackpool on our honeymoon. He promised me we would go dancing in the tower.’ She sighed. ‘Then he went and died, before we even had chance to be married.’

  ‘Aye, but you were fortunate all’t same. In all those years I was married, my owd man never did owt romantic, not once.’

  The music beckoned them on. Edith gazed in awe at the magnificence, her eyes taking in the red plush seats, the ornately gilded ceiling and balcony. ‘Eeh, lass, you weren’t exaggerating.’

  ‘Yer see that bit of balcony that curves out by the stage? That’s where ee first kissed me. He said I looked like a princess in the royal box.’

  ‘Do yer want to go up there for owd times’ sake?’

  ‘No, Edith. I couldn’t make it up any more stairs.’ She didn’t want Edith to know about the pain that had come on again during the last climb; it would be foolish to intensify it. ‘Come on, we’ll sit ’ere.’ They removed their coats and she changed her sturdy, laced-up shoes for the maroon ones, coaxing her bunions into them.

  ‘What are yer putting them on for if we aren’t going to be dancing?’

  ‘Because they match this frock, which was Joe’s favourite.’

  ‘Well I’m going to ’ave a lemonade. Shall I get you one?’

  ‘Aye, that’d be nice.’

  The young man looked round the ballroom for a partner; he doubted if the giggly young girls near the stage would know the steps and most of the others seemed to be couples. Then he saw the old lady. She looked lonely all on her own and rather odd in a dress that looked as if it had come out of the ark and was at least two sizes too small. Still, she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t like dancing.

  Mrs Cooper felt a little dizzy as the dancers whirled past her and things seemed a little hazy somehow. Then she saw him approaching her, immaculate as ever in white shirt and dark suit. She noticed he needed a haircut, not that she intended mentioning it tonight. Nothing was going to spoil tonight. Alan touched her arm. ‘Would you like to dance?’ he asked, taking her hand and whirling her away onto the dance floor.

  She forgot about the pain in her chest and squashed-up toes and matched her steps perfectly to his. Alan thought the old girl was certainly light on her feet and ever so pleasant – in fact he imagined she must have been quite a beauty in her younger days. The dance changed to a Viennese waltz and Mrs Cooper smiled radiantly as her partner gathered her to him. ‘Oh, listen Joe. They’re playing our tune.’ Then she sank, suddenly, peacefully into Alan’s arms.

  Edith had been watching Jessie, wishing it was her who was dancing with the handsome young man. Then she saw the commotion, watched her friend lowered to the floor and a first-aid man rush to her side. Edith hurried as fast as the slippery floor would allow. Someone held her back and in a daze she watched the uniformed man shake his head. By the time the doctor arrived it was too late. Somebody led Edith to a chair and gave her a sip of something that took her breath away, then they explained that the death had been instantaneous, not that it made the sadness any easier to bear.

  Alan was in shock; he was worried that if he hadn’t asked her to dance the poor lady might still be alive. ‘I never ought to have approached her, but I’ve no regrets,’ he told Edith. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed such joy as the lady displayed when the organist played what she said was our tune. Funny though how she had mistaken me for someone called Joe.’

  ‘You brought her happiness, dear,’ Edith told him between the sobs. ‘You paved the way for her to be reunited with the one she loved. You’ve nothing to reproach yourself for, nothing at all.’ Then Edith set off to Nellie Johnson’s, with the heartbreaking news about the woman she would miss so much. The only consolation was that her friend was now free from pain and hopefully once again with her beloved Joe.

  Nellie had just finished reading Three Little Pigs to her son when Edith arrived. Tom didn’t know the woman, but seeing how distressed she was he brought her inside and alerted his wife. The news devastated Nellie, but she was more concerned about Lily than herself. The girl couldn’t stop crying and had to be put to bed with a couple of Genasprins and a glass of hot milk. It wasn’t until the next day that the Johnsons got round to discussing funeral arrangements. Tom wondered if they should have Mrs Cooper taken back to Cragstone for her burial.

  ‘Ooh, yer mustn’t do that, Mr Johnson. She said she’s never been as happy as she has since coming to Blackpool. She said for the first time in her life she was part of a family, and besides she said Blackpool was where her happiest memories were.’ Lily was adamant.

  This set Nellie off weeping again and then when Lily started crying again little Henry joined in. Partly because he didn’t like it when his mother was upset and partly because he hadn’t seen his beloved Coopy all day.

  Tom arranged the funeral as he thought best and when the day arrived he was gratified when Mr Smith turned up with Molly and Larry. Mourners were few, apart from Nellie, Tom and his parents, Edith, Lily and her boyfriend and the three boarders; only the three from Cragstone and Lily followed the coffin. However the funeral of Jessica Jane Cooper was conducted with the dignity the lady deserved. Of course Lily was taking it badly and couldn’t stop crying; even the appearance of her sister hadn’t done much to console her, so after the refreshments had been devoured Tom suggested Lily take Molly and Larry on a tour of the reso
rt. ‘Go and show them the sights of Blackpool,’ he said. ‘Mrs Cooper wouldn’t like them to travel all this way and not see the place she loved so much.’

  ‘Ooh, Mr Johnson, would it be right on such a sad day?’

  ‘Oh, goo on, Lily, I’ve never seen the sea,’ Molly pleaded.

  ‘All right then.’ Lily didn’t need much persuading. She would show them the tower where Mrs Cooper had died and then they would go on the pier. Jim said that as they were special visitors he would serve them the special afternoon tea. Molly liked Lily’s young man, nearly as much as she liked Larry, but not in the same loving way. Whilst they were finishing off their cream buns Molly asked why Mrs Cooper always called herself Mrs when she had never been married.

  ‘Housekeepers always did. Nellie says it was a tradition from the old days when housekeepers were supposed to be married to the house they were looking after.’

  Molly began to giggle and then thought it would be inappropriate to be laughing on such a sad day. She couldn’t control her excitement however at being here in Blackpool, even if it had been Mrs Cooper’s death that had made the visit possible.

  It wasn’t until a few days later when Nellie and Lily were sorting out Mrs Cooper’s belongings that Lily found the photograph. It had somehow worked its way underneath the lining of Mrs Cooper’s handbag.

  ‘Ooh, look, Nellie. It’s Mrs Cooper and her Joe. Doesn’t she look lovely and isn’t he handsome? Do yer think they’ll be together now?’

  ‘Yes, Lily. I’m sure they will. Love doesn’t end when someone dies; it lasts for ever.’

  ‘Can I keep it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The photo.’

  ‘Oh, yes of course.’ Nellie was relieved to see a smile light up Lily’s beautiful face for the first time in days.

  ‘We’ll chuck this owd handbag away though. Nobody’d be seen dead with an owd-fashioned thing like this over their arm.’

  Nellie smiled. Lily was certainly back to her normal self.

  In readiness for the blackout which would surely come, white lines were painted down the middle of the main roads and the day after the evacuation of over a million children began. Lucy said she would live down the cellar permanently before parting with her five. Mrs Slater said she didn’t think evacuation from Millington would be necessary.

  ‘We were safe enough in the last war,’ she pointed out.

  Mr Slater wasn’t so sure. ‘I don’t think we shall be safe anywhere wi’ all these modern aircraft.’

  Jane arrived at Lucy’s in a state, with the news that when the war came, James had decided he would be among the first to enlist. ‘He says women will be able to do his job and because we have no children he feels it is his duty to go.’ Jane began to sob. ‘He doesn’t care about me at all.’

  ‘Course he cares. I think you should be proud of him. Send him off with a smile, after you’ve told him how much you love him of course.’

  ‘It’s all right for you. John won’t be going, will he?’

  ‘No, but John’s a miner; he’ll be needed. I don’t suppose women could do John’s work.’ Lucy sighed. ‘Look, Jane, I think you should tell James how proud you are. After all, it won’t be easy for him either.’

  ‘Yes, Lucy. You’re right as usual. After all, our Will’s already prepared, with Betty running the market stalls almost as well as he does himself.’

  ‘Well not quite, but she’s got a school-leaver to help. Mr Brown says he’s a good lad and they’ll manage between them. After all, it won’t be for long.’

  ‘And our Ben and Robbie are ready for their call to duty, and it will be much worse for Emma with little Joyce.’

  ‘Oh our Mary’s offered to help out there. To tell you the truth I think it’ll be good for her, especially if Jacob enlists too.’

  Jane had stopped sulking now. ‘You’ve made me feel ashamed of myself. I should consider myself fortunate with a job I love and with you and John on hand if I need you. It’s just that I love James so much.’

  ‘I know. But I’m sure it won’t be for long.’ Lucy mashed a pot of tea. ‘Come on, let’s have a cuppa. And just think what it’ll be like when he comes home: just like a second honeymoon.’

  ‘Lucy Grey, is that all you think about?’

  ‘Not all, but a lot of the time.’ The sisters laughed. Once again Lucy had smoothed things over.

  It was the following Sunday when the news came and even though it was expected the shock was still as great. Reverend Goodman made the announcement during morning service. Lucy heard it on the wireless whilst mixing Yorkshire puddings for Sunday dinner. Bernard hurried up the banking to the allotments where John was gathering beans and mint for the potatoes.

  ‘Dad, the war’s started.’ He was so excited he fell head-first over the cucumber frame. Lewis Marshall left the garden fork sticking in the ground and came over to John.

  ‘So it’s started then?’

  ‘Sounds like it, Lewis.’

  ‘When will the soldiers be here, Dad?’

  ‘Here? Never I hope, son.’

  Bernard, disappointed, wandered off to the hens. It didn’t look as though the war would be as exciting as he had expected.

  That night the blackout began, with the gas lamps switched off and inside lights to be obscured. Places of entertainment were closed and British Summer Time extended for six weeks in order to reduce the number of accidents expected to be caused by the blackout.

  As Bernard had said, the war had started and it wasn’t exciting; it was scary.

  ‘The job’ll be waiting when tha comes back, Robbie.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Grundy. I shall look forward to coming back.’

  ‘I’ve been ’aving a natter wi’ my missis and when tha comes back we’ve decided it’ll be on a different footing.’

  ‘Oh! Am I not giving satisfaction?’

  ‘Don’t talk so daft, Robbie. It’s because I’m so satisfied that we’ve decided to mek yer a partner.’

  Robbie almost hit his thumb with the hammer. ‘A partner? No, hold on, Mr Grundy. I won’t have enough savings to buy a partnership, not with just furnishing the cottage.’

  ‘Who said owt about payment? I didn’t buy this business. My old father started it and ee worked bloody hard and ee made a lot of money, and when I started working for ’im I worked bloody ’ard as well. And me father, God rest ’is soul, wasn’t one to part wi’ owt, so I ’ad to wait till he’d gone before I got what was due to me. But by heck, I got a shock when I knew what ee was worth. I’m a rich man, Robbie, but I worked bloody ’ard for it, and you’re a hard worker an’ all. Now I ’aven’t a son to pass it on to, so we’ve decided that you’re the next best thing. So we’ve made a will and left the bulk of it to you. Wi’ a few exceptions, charities mainly. Now I don’t want thee to wait until I’ve gone before tha gets it. I want to see thee and Dot enjoy some of it. So I’m making thee a partner until the time when I finally hang up me hammer.’

  Robbie felt so emotional he wanted to cry. ‘I don’t know what to say. Only that I shall carry on working just as hard if I come back.’

  ‘What do yer mean, if? When, lad, not if. Just one thing, though.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Will yer ask Dot if she’ll pay a visit occasionally whilst you’re away? Only it’s the missis. She’s going to miss thee, and it’d be a bit of company for her.’

  ‘Course she will. She’ll enjoy coming to see you both.’

  ‘Right then, we’d better get this ’ere coffin finished or poor owd Fred’ll ’ave to be buried up to’t neck in muck.’

  They carried on, one working on the coffin and one on the lid, both wrapped up in their own thoughts of what the future might bring.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  WITH THE TWINS now at school and only Andrew at home Lucy could have been taking things easy. Instead she began looking after a few of the children from the rows – children whose fathers were fighting for their country and whose mothers were fi
nding it difficult to make ends meet. One of the mothers went into the steelworks as a crane driver and another into the wire department. James had been right: women were doing his job and doing it just as well.

  For the first time since her marriage Lucy was thankful that John was a collier. Though the news of an accident at Hatfield Colliery – when a cage fell a hundred feet to the bottom of a shaft, injuring sixty miners – had filled her with panic. Another six men had been killed at a pit in Nottingham just before Christmas. Lucy realised that being a miner wasn’t much safer than being a soldier, but at least John could come home to her and the children at the end of a shift.

  At the end of January Lewis came to see Lucy. ‘I’ve just come to tell you I’ve enlisted, Lucy. I’m off tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, why? You’re a key worker. You don’t need to go.’

  ‘I do. There’s nowt for me here. It’d be different if I were married, but that’ll never happen. The lass I loved went and married somebody else.’

  ‘Oh, Lewis. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, you mustn’t be sorry; you’re happy with John and that’s all I care about. He’s a good man. But it hasn’t stopped me loving you. So I’m off.’

  ‘Lewis, I do love you in a way. If I hadn’t met John things might have been different.’

  ‘Maybe, but you did meet him. So like I said, I’m off.’

  ‘Well, take care.’

  ‘Aye. You too.’ Lewis came towards her and gently kissed her, and for the first time Lucy didn’t pull away.

  Lewis grinned. ‘It’s worth going, if only for that. A kiss at last. Yippee!’

  ‘Lewis Marshall, you get dafter.’ Lucy knew that if she didn’t laugh she would cry. They stood quietly looking at each other, then Lewis walked away, leaving behind the girl he had loved since she was ten years old. It was the last time Lucy was to see Lewis; he was killed somewhere on the French coast four months later.

  Before long Lucy had six little ones as well as her own in her care. Sometimes the mothers gave Lucy a shilling or two to pay for their midday meal; sometimes they didn’t. She never complained and everyone on the rows agreed that Lucy Grey was an angel. All the children called her Auntie Lucy and would have preferred to stay there in her warm loving care rather than go home. Only very rarely did John complain and that was when he thought his wife looked tired and needed a rest. ‘People don’t rest when there’s a war on,’ Lucy said, and carried on. John knew better than to argue with Lucy Grey.