‘You do that. Still, at least she doesn’t give away half my stock on tick like you do,’ he added, shooting her a sour look. ‘You’re too soft-hearted, that’s your trouble.’
Peggy looked away guiltily. She couldn’t help it. She knew the customers who came into the shop, they were her friends and neighbours. She wasn’t going to let someone’s children go hungry just because they were short till their next pay day.
With everything going on at home, it was a relief to go to work. Pearl was still sunk in self-pity and slow to rouse herself from her bed each morning, to Eric’s seething irritation. Every day, Peggy prayed her sister would pull herself together and she wouldn’t have to come home to yet another argument.
The day of the next rehearsal, she arrived on the ward just before seven as usual, in time to help the night staff give the children their breakfasts. Then she did a quick bedpan round, and set about getting the children washed and brushed up. By the time Sister Parry arrived on the ward, they were all sitting up in their clean beds, their faces freshly scrubbed and hair combed.
Sister Parry smiled with approval. ‘You’ve done a good job as usual, Peggy.’ She looked around at the children. ‘And if you’re all good, I might have a nice surprise for you later,’ she announced.
‘And what could that be, Sister?’ Peggy asked, as if she couldn’t already guess. ‘Not a Christmas tree by any chance?’
Sister Parry winked at her. ‘You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?’
Peggy’s suspicions proved right later that morning, when Bill Brigham arrived, bringing a Christmas tree. It was enormous, taller than a man and heavy with it, but Bill carried it over his broad shoulder as if it weighed nothing.
‘Where do you want this?’ he asked with a grin.
Peggy directed him to the other end of the ward, where she had cleared a space for it.
She watched as Bill shifted the weighty tree easily into place.
‘What a beauty,’ she said admiringly. ‘Better than the sorry specimens we’ve had over the past few years.’
‘You’ll have fun decorating it, that’s for sure.’
Peggy smiled at Bill. ‘I don’t suppose you want to stay and help me? We’ll need someone tall to put the fairy on top!’
‘Sorry, I can’t oblige. I’m needed back down in outpatients. But I’m sure you’ll have plenty of helpers.’ He beamed round at the children, who were watching them eagerly.
‘You’re right there.’
He smiled shyly. ‘Will you be at the rehearsal tonight?’
She nodded. ‘If I can get away on time.’
‘That’s good.’ He looked relieved. ‘I thought you might decide to back out on me.’
‘Never! We’re a team, ain’t we?’
‘We are,’ he grinned.
He was leaving the ward just as Sister Parry returned.
‘Hello, Mr Brigham. You’ve brought our surprise, I see?’
‘Yes, Sister.’ He was about to leave when Sister said, ‘While I’ve got you here, I wondered if I could ask another favour.’
‘What’s that, Sister?’
‘I wondered if you’d dress up as Father Christmas and hand out presents to the kids on Christmas Day?’
Peggy took a deep breath and her gaze flew to Bill’s. Sister Parry couldn’t have known what she was asking, or she would never have said anything.
Bill stood stock-still, his face expressionless.
‘We used to do it every year before the war started,’ Sister Parry was still talking, oblivious. ‘Mr Hopkins, the head porter, used to do the honours, but he always ended up barking at the kids like a sergeant major and scaring them. I could just see you done up in a white beard and red coat.’
‘No. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.’
Peggy saw the dismay in his face and tried to step in. ‘I’m sure we could ask someone else,’ she said. ‘One of the other porters, or even Dr Granger—’
‘But Mr Brigham would be perfect! Honestly, you wouldn’t have to do much, just dress up and hand out the presents—’
‘I said no!’
His voice boomed down the ward, shocking Sister Parry into silence. One of the children burst into tears, while another started whimpering.
Bill turned on his heel and strode out, letting the double doors crash shut behind him.
‘Well!’ Sister Parry stared after him, confusion written all over her face. ‘What was that all about, I wonder? I thought he’d be happy to do it. He’s always such a jolly character.’
Peggy looked at her. ‘You don’t know, do you, Sister?’
‘Know what?’
‘Bill – Mr Brigham – lost his wife and daughter two years ago. They were caught up in that accident at Bethnal Green tube.’
‘How awful.’ Sister Parry looked pained. ‘I’m sorry to hear it. But I don’t understand what that’s got to do with—’
‘Maisie’s birthday was Christmas Day. Bill always used to dress up as Father Christmas to give her her presents.’
She remembered Alice Brigham telling her about it in the shop. How her Bill would don his red coat and cotton-wool beard every year without fail.
‘One day she’ll be old enough to know it’s him, and then where will he be?’ she had laughed.
But that day had never come for little Maisie Brigham. She had gone to her grave believing that it truly was Father Christmas who brought her birthday presents.
‘Poor man,’ Sister said. ‘I feel awful now. I wish I hadn’t said anything.’
‘You weren’t to know, were you?’
‘All the same, I should speak to him, to apologise—’
‘I’ll have a word with him tonight. I’m seeing him at the rehearsal.’
‘You will tell him I’m sorry, won’t you? Make sure he knows I didn’t mean any offence?’
‘I’m sure he knows that, Sister. It was probably just the shock that upset him, that’s all.’
It was Bill who sought her out to apologise at the rehearsal.
‘I feel such a fool,’ he said. ‘I should never have flown off the handle like that. And to upset those kids, too. Heaven knows what Sister must think of me.’
‘She understands,’ Peggy assured him. ‘She was more worried that she’d upset you.’
‘I daresay she thinks I’m soft.’ He sighed. ‘I know I should be getting over it by now, but it still catches me out sometimes. Especially at this time of year.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Peggy said. ‘Anyway, time has nothing to do with it. I lost my little boy ten years ago, and not a day goes by when I don’t think about him.’
He looked at her sharply. ‘You lost a son?’
Peggy nodded. ‘John. He died of diphtheria when he was four years old.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘I try not to talk about it. My Eric doesn’t like it.’
‘I expect he finds it too hard, like me?’
Peggy was silent. The truth was, she didn’t know how her husband felt about their son’s death. From the day John died, he had retreated into silence. He wouldn’t even talk about his son, or visit his grave. She remembered his impatience with her on the days when she would sit and cry. She told herself he was grieving in his own way, but sometimes she wondered if he hadn’t forgotten his son completely.
But then, Eric had never really been a family man. For all he was a good provider, he had little warmth for any of his children. If anything, he seemed to resent them for taking Peggy’s attention away from him.
‘Anyway, will you tell Sister how sorry I am?’ Bill’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘I don’t like to let anyone down, especially kids. But I can’t—’
‘You haven’t let anyone down,’ Peggy said. ‘Don’t even think that.’
The shop was closed by the time Peggy got home, but she was surprised to see a light on in the window. As she approached, she was even more surprised to see the lanky silhouette of her husband up a ladder. He was pinning paper
chains up in the shop window.
She let herself in the side entrance and through the connecting door to the shop.
‘What’s all this?’ she asked.
Eric looked down at her from the top of the ladder, a paper chain draped across his hands. Pearl was holding on to the foot of the ladder. She had curled her hair and put on some lipstick, Peggy was glad to see.
‘It was Pearl’s idea. She thought we might get more customers in if we decorated the place, made it look a bit more festive.’ Eric climbed down the ladder and stepped back to survey his handiwork. ‘What do you think?’
‘It looks lovely.’ Just as I knew it would when I suggested it last Christmas, Peggy added silently. But Eric looked so pleased with himself, she didn’t want to spoil the moment. ‘Good idea, Pearl.’
‘Thank you.’ Pearl looked pleased with herself.
‘I’ll go and take off my coat then I’ll give you a hand,’ she offered.
‘No need, we’ve nearly finished,’ Pearl beamed at her. ‘Why don’t you go and make a start on the tea? Nellie’s been grumbling for the past hour that she’s famished. As usual!’ She pulled a face.
Peggy went upstairs, where Nellie met her on the landing.
‘I s’pose you’ve seen what’s going on downstairs?’ were her first sharp words.
‘Yes, I think it looks lovely.’
‘Waste of time if you ask me,’ Nellie snorted. ‘You don’t need fancy paper chains. We never had them when my husband was alive, and that didn’t stop us doing a decent trade.’
She followed Peggy into the kitchen. ‘And what time do you call this?’ she demanded.
‘I told you I’d be late tonight. There was a rehearsal.’
‘Rehearsal! You’ve no business gadding about and leaving your home and your family.’
‘Eric didn’t seem to mind. And I left food out for you, all you needed to do was put it in the oven—’
‘That ain’t the point!’ Nellie snapped. ‘The point is you should be here, looking after your family. This is where you belong, my girl.’ Her eyes bulged.
‘It’s only for another couple of weeks and then I’ll be back home,’ Peggy reminded her.
‘And not a moment too soon, if you ask me,’ Nellie muttered.
The last rehearsal had been so much fun with Miss Tanner in charge, Peggy was looking forward to the next one. Her heart sank when she saw the Assistant Matron back in her usual place behind the table.
‘Happy days are here again,’ Bill whispered to her. ‘Bit different from last week, ain’t it?’
‘Miss Tanner doesn’t look much happier herself,’ Peggy said. The ward sister usually had a smile for everyone, but this time she sat straight-backed at the piano, staring into space.
They weren’t the only ones to feel the tension. Everyone seemed to be nervous, and no one seemed to be able to get anything right. Lines were fluffed, songs were off-key, and words were forgotten. Meanwhile, Miss Davis was like an angry dog, snapping at them all.
By the time it was their turn to take to the stage, Peggy was a trembling wreck.
‘Calm down, girl.’ Bill smiled at her, but even his gentle encouragement didn’t help. Suddenly Peggy couldn’t seem to remember a single thing. She missed cues, ruined several of Bill’s best tricks and ended up scattering a whole pack of cards across the stage.
‘I’m sorry, Bill, I really am. I dunno what’s come over me,’ she whispered as she bent to gather them up.
‘It’s all right, Peg. No harm done.’ Bill dropped to his knees at her side to help her.
‘Good Lord, can’t you do anything right?’ Miss Davis barked at them from the front row.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Bill spoke up, looking the Assistant Matron in the eye.
‘Of course it matters! It needs to be perfect. If you can’t understand that then you shouldn’t be here!’
A stunned silence followed her words. Peggy held her breath.
Bill took Peggy’s arm and slowly straightened up, pulling her to her feet with him. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We don’t have to stand here just to be shouted at by the likes of her. This is supposed to be a daft show, not a Royal Command Performance!’
Outside, Bill gave vent to his anger. ‘Did you hear the way she spoke to us? I’m not having that. Who does she think she is?’
‘It was my fault. I shouldn’t have dropped those cards—’
‘It was an accident. Nothing to worry about,’ Bill said firmly.
‘But what if she throws you out of the show because of me?’
‘Let her. I ain’t even sure I want to be in her rotten show, if that’s the way she treats people.’
A moment later the doors flew open and Miss Tanner stalked out, clutching her sheet music.
‘Blimey, what’s happened now?’ Peggy said.
Bill opened the door a fraction and peered through. ‘Looks like everyone’s packing up to walk out. I reckon Miss Davis has got her comeuppance good and proper.’
He turned to her. ‘Don’t look so down in the dumps about it, girl. Tell you what, why don’t we go down to the café and have a cup of tea, cheer ourselves up?’
Peggy hesitated. ‘I should be getting home …’
‘They won’t be expecting you back yet, will they?’
‘I suppose not.’ She smiled at him. ‘All right, I could do with a cuppa to steady my nerves after all that!’
They went to the café on the corner. They each had a cup of tea and Bill treated her to a bun.
‘I’m not sure I deserve it, after my performance,’ Peggy said ruefully.
Bill shook his head. ‘Will you be quiet about that? I told you, it weren’t anyone’s fault.’ He stirred three sugars into his tea. ‘Anyway, talking of performances, I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Oh yes? What’s that?’
He lowered his gaze. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘And I’ve decided, if Sister still needs someone to dress up as Father Christmas – I’ll do it.’
Peggy stared at him. ‘You will? What changed your mind?’
‘If you really want to know, it was you.’
‘Me?’
‘I thought about what you said. You lost your little lad, but that doesn’t stop you nursing those kids, even though it must be hard for you to do it.’
‘It was hard at first,’ Peggy admitted. ‘But knowing I’m doing something to help them … well, it sort of helps me, too.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Bill nodded. ‘I know my Alice wouldn’t want me to shut myself away on Christmas Day feeling sorry for myself, and neither would Maisie. Christmas used to be such a happy time for us, and that’s how I’d like it to be now. So, if you still want me to do it—’ He lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug.
‘That would be grand, Bill. And I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, too.’ Without thinking, she put her hand over his.
‘We’ll have to see, won’t we? I just hope I can be as big-hearted as you are.’
Peggy felt herself blushing. ‘I’m nothing special.’
‘Oh, you are. You’re a very special woman, Peggy Atkins.’
Suddenly his hand was covering hers and she was looking up into his face, with his flattened boxer’s nose and kind, warm eyes the colour of honey …
She pulled away from him sharply, and the moment was gone.
‘I’m sorry,’ Bill muttered, sliding his hand away.
‘No, it’s my fault.’ She stumbled to her feet, gathering up her bag. ‘I should be going.’
‘Peggy—’
‘My Eric will be wondering where I am … He likes his tea on the table …’ She was gabbling, and she knew it, but she was too flustered to do anything else.
‘Peggy, wait. Please—’
She rushed out of the café.
She hurried home in a state of shock. What was she thinking of, doing such a thing? She had been so lost in the moment, it was as if she was in a dream. What if one of the customers from the shop h
ad walked past and seen her there, sitting at a window table holding hands with another man?
Shame washed over her, even more because she could still feel the warmth of his fingers wrapped around hers.
You’ve no business gadding about and leaving your home and your family. Nellie’s harsh words resonated in her brain. Perhaps the old woman had seen something in her, recognised what was going on, even if she hadn’t seen it herself.
Eric was cashing up in the shop when Peggy got home. Nellie was with him, behind the counter.
‘Where’s Pearl?’ Peggy asked.
‘You might well ask,’ Nellie said darkly.
‘Gone off to the hairdresser. She’s been working so hard, I gave her the time off,’ Eric said.
Nellie snorted. ‘Working hard! Is that what you call it?’
Eric turned to his mother. ‘She worked late every night last week, and she helped out with the stocktaking on our half-day.’
Peggy stared at him. It wasn’t like her husband to stand up to his mother. Or to defend her sister, for that matter.
To her even greater surprise, Eric came round the counter and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘You feel like ice,’ he said.
‘It’s freezing out.’ Peggy shivered inside her coat. ‘I’ll soon warm up after a hot cup of tea.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on. You go up and get warm by the fire.’
Peggy’s mouth fell open. Was this really her husband speaking? She had never in their whole married life known Eric to do anything for her.
She glanced at her mother-in-law. Nellie stood behind them, her arms folded across her chest, a belligerent expression on her face. No wonder she looked so sour, Peggy thought. She had brought her son up to believe he was a little prince, used to women waiting on him hand and foot. She wouldn’t take kindly to the idea of him fetching and carrying for anyone else, let alone his wife.
‘Did you have a nice time?’ Eric asked, as he followed her up the stairs.
Peggy started guiltily. ‘What? Oh, you mean the rehearsal?’
He laughed. ‘What else did you think I meant? You haven’t been getting up to anything, have you? Carrying on with another man?’
‘Of course not!’ Peggy snapped.
Eric looked taken aback. ‘Steady on, Peg, I was only having a laugh. You’d never do anything like that. You’re not the type.’
The Nightingale Christmas Show Page 13
