Christmas Past

by Glenice Crossland

  They had arranged to walk along the moor and back down towards the reservoir, calling in at the pub for a drink on the way. The heather was just at its best, and with the sun golden on the bracken, the moors were a delight to behold.

  ‘Grandma Roberts is right,’ Jacqueline said, as the four of them set off on their evening stroll. ‘This is one of the most beautiful places on earth.’ The distant crags were pale sunlit grey in contrast to the deep silhouettes of the pine trees, and a strange silence surrounded the young friends.

  Avril paused to pluck a spray of heather and Alan perched himself on a rock to wait. Jacqueline turned and shouted, ‘We’ll see you later at the pub,’ and Doug placed an arm round her waist, quickening his step as he envisaged getting her on her own for a while.

  ‘I think they’re trying to lose us,’ Alan said, catching Avril’s hand and pulling her down beside him on the flat surface of the rock.

  ‘Well, you don’t seem too upset about it.’ Avril smiled.

  Alan didn’t reply, but instead caught her to him with a kiss which filled them both with yearning. Avril knew she should resist before the feeling became uncontrollable, but it was already too late. The caresses they enjoyed in the living room when the household was asleep were becoming more than the lovers could bear, and they knew that this time they would only be satisfied by making love completely.

  The sun sank lower and the evening air turned cool, but Avril and Alan, in the way of all young lovers, were consumed with a burning desire for fulfilment.

  Mr Whitaker waited until he had cashed up for the night before divulging his plan to Jack. He hoped it wouldn’t cause Jack to have a setback just when he was doing so well. All day he had been rehearsing in his mind how to put it, and had decided to come straight out with it.

  ‘I’m selling the shop, Jack lad,’ he said. ‘I’ve no alternative considering my age. I don’t suppose you’d consider becoming the next owner?’

  Jack had been expecting it, but the news still came as a shock. What he hadn’t expected was the suggestion that he might buy the business himself.

  The idea whirled round in his head for some time, causing him to remain speechless. At last he replied, ‘I couldn’t afford it. I’ve sunk all my savings in next door.’

  ‘I expected you to say that, but it’s a good investment, and there’s such a thing as a bank loan, as you well know.’

  ‘Aye, I know, but to borrow that amount ... besides, I know nothing about the shoe trade. I’m just a working man at heart – the cobbling’s more in my line.’

  ‘I wouldn’t rob you, lad. I’d like you to have it, and as for not knowing the trade, I dare say you’d soon pick it up. I’d give you time to get the hang of it, show you the ropes before I left.’

  ‘But you’ve admitted it needs one to sell and one for the repairs.’

  ‘Then employ somebody. I’m telling you, lad, it’s a good business. I think you’ll be surprised at the turnover.’

  Jack jumped as he cut himself trimming off a leather sole. He sucked the blood from his thumb and decided to call it a day, unable to concentrate with the proposition whirring round in his mind.

  ‘I’ll need to discuss it with Mary, but I don’t know what her reaction will be.’

  ‘Of course. It isn’t a decision to be taken lightly. It’s your whole future at stake.’

  ‘Aye,’ Jack agreed, and wondered what the alternative would be. Another mind-destroying job like the last one? Oh, no, he couldn’t bear that.

  He took off his apron and placed it on the nail behind the door. ‘I’ll say goodnight to you, then,’ he said.

  Mr Whitaker opened the door to let him through. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Jack turned on the step. ‘Oh, and thanks for the offer,’ he said.

  ‘You’re welcome, lad. Goodnight.’

  ‘You’re early.’ Mary smiled. ‘It’s nice to have you home before the tea gets cold.’

  Jack glanced at the clock. ‘It’s half past five, the normal closing time, though I admit it’s usually nearer to six.’ He hesitated. ‘I’ve had a bit of a shock.’

  Mary looked alarmed. ‘Not a bad one, I hope.’

  ‘I don’t know. It depends on what we decide to do, I suppose.’

  ‘Why, what happened?’

  ‘Is our Alan at home?’

  ‘Not yet. Why?’

  ‘Sit down, then, love, and let’s talk.’

  Mary sat down, perplexed by Jack’s sense of urgency.

  ‘How do you feel about owning a shoe shop?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mr Whitaker’s selling, and he’s giving us first option.’

  ‘But we don’t know anything about the shoe trade. And I wouldn’t be able to help much – I’ve all on to cope with my own shop.’

  ‘That’s what I told him, but he seems to think I could manage if I employed an assistant. After all, he and his wife ran the place for years. In fact he was managing on his own before I took over the repairing side of it, though I don’t know how.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How much is he asking?’

  ‘I don’t know – I never thought to ask. That just goes to show I’m no businessman. We’d better forget it.’

  ‘No, we’ll consider it. I was no businesswoman either but I’ve made a go of it, and so can you. We’ll wait and see what he’s asking before we decide.’ She glanced at her husband, worrying she was bossing him into something he didn’t want, afraid of sending him back into his state of anxiety. ‘Of course, it’s up to you. You must have some idea by now.’

  ‘But that’s not the point, Mary. Of course I’d like it. I feel at home amongst the shoes and boots and I get on well with the customers, but you know how I feel about getting into debt. I can never rest if I’m owing. It would be different if we had a decent deposit to put down.’

  ‘How do you know we haven’t?’

  ‘Well, I know my savings aren’t all that rosy at the moment.’

  ‘You don’t know, you’re just surmising. How long is it since you last went to the bank, or had anything to do with the accounts?’

  ‘Well, I suppose I have neglected the financial side of things since my illness. Come to think of it, I never had much to do with it before.’ He grinned shyly. ‘I always did prefer to bring home the money, pay the bills and keep straight. The shop I always left to you, I want none of that. You’ve worked hard for what you’ve got, and it’s yours.’

  ‘Ours.’ Mary got up from the table and went to the bureau in the corner. She unlocked the bottom cupboard and took out a green hard-backed book. She brought it to the table and opened it at the last page. Jack started to read and the figures suddenly began to make sense. Income, expenditure, the columns neatly laid out. He blinked and wondered if the amounts were registering correctly. He looked up at Mary, who was waiting expectantly for his reaction.

  ‘Well?’ she asked. ‘What do you think? Will we have enough for a decent deposit or not?’

  ‘More than enough, but, as I said, it’s all yours. I’m having none of it.’

  ‘Jack Holmes, if you say that one more time I’ll crown you with this accounts book and knock some sense into that head of yours. Who do you think has kept me and the kids all these years? You have, working down that goddamned pit, and then in a job which almost put you six feet under, and now the first time you’ve the chance to do something you would enjoy you’re talking about turning it down. Well, I won’t stand by and let you do it. Of course, if you don’t think you’re up to the challenge that’s a different matter entirely.’

  ‘Of course I’m up to it,’ he retaliated. ‘Well, I think I am. I won’t know until I try.’

  Mary grinned. ‘So what do you say? Shall we give it a go?’

  Jack was still wary, but Mary knew she was winning. ‘Well, it all depends on what he’s asking, and we’d have to think about who to set on in the shop.’

  ‘We’ll cross th
at bridge when we come to it, but I already have someone in mind. Of course, you’re the manager. It would be up to you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘How about Sally? I know Harry’s new job isn’t bringing in as much as the pit, and she’s on the list for a job back in the Co-op.’

  Jack grinned. ‘And she’d be experienced, too. In fact I’ll bet she’d be able to teach me a thing or two about shop work. Oh, Mary, do you think we should take the plunge? I’d pay you back every penny once we were established.’

  Mary lifted up the green book, high above Jack’s head. ‘I warned you,’ she said, then they burst into laughter as he took his wife in his arms. ‘Our Alan’s working over,’ she said, and led Jack from the room and up the stairs. ‘That means we’ve a full hour in which to celebrate.’

  By the time they reached the bed, they were half undressed and the celebrations were about to begin.

  A white swan sidled out of the water, pausing a couple of feet in front of Gladys. He stretched his neck gracefully and gazed into her eyes. She wanted to take his picture, but dare not move in case he became aggressive.

  ‘Honk,’ he murmured and arced his wings, posing beautifully.

  She’d always thought swans were mute creatures, but still, in a magical place like Bled, she supposed anything was possible. She remained motionless, swallowing nervously.

  He arced his wings again so that she could no longer resist reaching out, opening the brown leather case and carefully composing the picture in her viewfinder.

  The camera clicked, causing the swan to spread his wings and fly majestically over the edge and into the lake. Gladys slid down the grassy bank and dangled her toes in the water. A fat orange snail sailed by on a broken lily-pad boat, and a fragile butterfly settled beside her amongst daisies and clover. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with pure alpine air, and looked out across the lake. ‘I got a picture of the swan, Rowland,’ she called, but Rowland was snoring gently beneath his old panama hat.

  On the island the white church nestled amongst lush greenery, mystical in a haze of heat. Sometimes its tall spire glistened in the sun; now it was hidden by a descended cloud. Behind it the magnificent Mount Triglav changed colour continuously, from lilac to greyish gold and back again.

  She gathered her belongings: camera, sun cream, towel, insect repellent and the romantic novel of the year she had bought at the airport. Romance, that’s what a place like this was made for, and romance she had got. Lovemaking didn’t happen very often nowadays – they could hardly expect it at their age – but Bled seemed to be acting like an aphrodisiac, for Rowland had wakened each morning with the desire to make love, not the hot torrid act of passion they had known in younger days, but a warm, tender, more fulfilling experience.

  The holiday had indeed been like a second honeymoon. They had walked through green meadows, abloom with wild primroses, scarlet poppies and buttercups. Other unfamiliar flowers and herbs she had identified with the help of a handbook. They had waved to smiling farmers’ wives as they gathered plump peas and beans, and fruit from orchards. They had watched brown swarthy men replenishing wood stocks in readiness for the harsh winter, which would freeze the lake and prepare the ski slopes for winter visitors.

  Another day they had followed the road to the wooded valley and the gushing river of Vingtar Gorge, where the towering rocks shut out the sunlight, and icy droplets fell to the shimmering water below.

  They had taken a boat to the island in the centre of the lake where a concert in the chapel had delighted Rowland, the local choir being just as enthusiastic as his own back home.

  They had ridden in a horse-drawn dray to the centuries-old castle and watched the celebration of a local wedding. Now it was almost time to leave, and it was more than Gladys could bear to leave this magical place.

  She clambered back up the bank and shook Rowland gently. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘it’s time we were changing for dinner.’

  Rowland grunted and roused himself from the seat. ‘I must have dozed off,’ he said, unaware that he had slept solidly for at least an hour.

  Gladys smiled, gratified by the sight of her husband’s suntanned arms and face. ‘You look so much better, dear,’ she said. ‘I hope you feel as well as you look.’

  ‘Haven’t I proved it?’ he asked with a proud grin. Gladys chuckled.

  ‘We must go on holiday more often,’ she said.

  They set off in the direction of the hotel, past the flower beds and fountains, wondering what delicacies would be on the menu this evening.

  ‘Oh well, I expect we shall have to begin packing after dinner.’ Gladys sighed.

  ‘I suppose so.’ Rowland sounded miserable at the prospect. ‘What time do we leave for Ljubljana?’

  ‘Straight after breakfast.’

  ‘So we won’t really have time to do much in the morning.’

  ‘Well, we could take a last walk round the village if we rise early.’

  ‘I think I prefer to visit the church again, just for five minutes. I think it is the most peaceful place I have ever had the good fortune to visit.’

  ‘Oh, I agree,’ Gladys said. ‘And so beautiful.’ She turned and looked back along the lakeside, to where the white church nestled at the foot of the castle. Reluctantly she tore her eyes away, and they walked back to the hotel hand in hand like a couple of teenagers.

  ‘Jacqueline certainly had the right idea, persuading us to take a holiday,’ Gladys said. ‘But then, she always was one for coming up with bright ideas.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Rowland agreed, ‘except that this time it was my bright idea, Jacqueline just supplied the brochures.’

  Gladys looked confused. ‘You mean it was you who planned it all the time?’

  ‘Well,’ Rowland’s eyes gleamed, ‘you never did take much notice of anything I suggested, so I called on the young ones for assistance.’

  ‘You old schemer.’ Gladys began to laugh, and then paused to plant a kiss on her husband’s cheek. ‘But a lovely old schemer all the same. Thank you, dear, for a perfect holiday, and for being a perfect husband.’

  They left the warmth of the afternoon for the cool of the hotel, the wide staircase highlighted by chandeliers glistening in the sun from the tall windows.

  ‘I shall never forget this place as long as I live,’ Gladys whispered.

  They entered the lift chuckling like a pair of mischievous children, causing the uniformed lift attendant to wonder if they were in their second childhood. He understood quite a bit of English and joined in their merriment, hoping they would come back to Bled. He liked the English, especially this lady and gentleman who were always so courteous and generous. Rowland gave the attendant a handful of dinars and doffed his hat, and then they made their way to their room where the balcony overlooked the lake and the island.

  ‘Oh, well, I suppose we’d better change for dinner, our last one. Oh, I am going to miss this view, and the dancing, I’ve so enjoyed the dancing.’

  ‘And I shall miss the Riesling,’ Rowland moaned. ‘And the fishing.’

  ‘Even so,’ Gladys gave a mischievous grin, ‘I still think Moorland House is the most beautiful place on earth.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Great Yarmouth was a far cry from Bled. Nevertheless, a week later a charabanc party left Millington for a weekend at the resort with no less enthusiasm. The party mostly consisted of the Holmeses and the Bacons, with any vacancies filled by friends and neighbours, all eager to be in the audience for Una Bacon’s theatrical performance.

  Una was appearing in a musical Monday to Friday in Scarborough, but had been singled out by her agent for a special Saturday night tour of all the major resorts, as a member of the backing trio to the top vocalist Billy Flame.

  The tour was a sell-out and Yarmouth was the only place Una had managed to secure advance bookings for a whole coachload. The success of the tour had been assured from the beginning with a host of famous celebrities appearing on the bill. Even Jack
was enthusiastic about the trip in order to see his favourite country and western group. Mary had left Yvonne in charge of the shop, and Madge had volunteered to look after the house, enabling her dearest friend to take a well-earned weekend break.

  Jacqueline was thrilled at the prospect of seeing her cousin for the first time in ages, but disappointed that Doug couldn’t possibly manage to get away. The pair were particularly disappointed as this was the last weekend before the girls were due to return to college, which meant they would have to part again after only a few more days. Avril consoled her friend by pointing out that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but was relieved that Alan had decided to take a weekend off so he could join the party.

  Bill had stocked up the bus with crates of beer, and soft drinks for the women and children, and the atmosphere was one of jollity from the moment they left Millington. Grandma Holmes was in her glory surrounded by her family, and was looking forward to seeing her oldest grandchild appearing on stage. Harry brought her a bottle of brown ale and she was soon leading the party in a good old-fashioned sing-song. The youngsters in the back seat, including Anthony and Barry, giggled uncontrollably as the men sang ‘Roll Me Over In The Clover’ and other such bawdy songs, and the journey was an altogether enjoyable one for all concerned.

  The hotel in Apsley Road was taken over completely by the guests from Millington, and immediately the luggage was unpacked everyone made for the beach. Una was waiting to greet them, having escaped from rehearsals earlier than usual. Bronzed by the sun, her long slim legs shown off to perfection by a pair of skimpy shorts, she was a vision of loveliness.

  Grandma Holmes was a little shocked by the sight of all the exposed flesh and wondered if Una would ever settle down and marry. She worried about her oldest granddaughter, not trusting show-business people at all, what with all the scandals she kept reading about in the Sunday newspapers, but nevertheless she couldn’t help feeling proud of her. Especially when Una said, ‘I hope you don’t mind, Gran, but I’ve decided to use your name for the stage.’

  ‘My name? Nay, lass, whatever sort of name is Lizzie Holmes? It might be all right back in Millington, but never on the stage.’