It Happened At Christmas (Anthology)

by Penny Jordan

  ‘No,’ Tilly assured her as she sat up in bed. ‘As you can see, I’ve plenty of life left in me.’

  Cessie ran out and returned with Molly. They were carrying a pitcher of water and a tumbler.

  ‘I ain’t half glad you’re better,’ Molly said as they filled the glass and handed it to Tilly.

  ‘So am I.’ Cessie nodded.

  ‘You was really ill.’

  ‘So the doctor said,’ Tilly agreed as she drank.

  ‘He come every morning and night to look after you. He was worried you might have caught the dip.’

  ‘’Cos you had all the simpsons,’ Cessie added knowledgeably.

  ‘Symptoms,’ Molly corrected. ‘But it wasn’t the dip. Just the flu—like what they had after the war.’

  ‘And the flu was bad enough, ’cos it killed a lot of people too.’

  Tilly raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re both very well informed on the subject.’

  The two girls nodded. ‘Frank told us what the doctor told him.’

  Tilly looked puzzled. ‘Dr Fleet told Frank?’

  ‘Frank’s been helping the doctor upstairs,’ Molly explained proudly. ‘Dr Fleet bought him a new pair of trousers and a white shirt and said he’s done a very good job an’ all.’

  Tilly smiled as the two young girls, sitting on her bed, began to tell her about all the things that had happened in her absence.

  That evening Tilly put on her warm dressing gown and sat by the fire. Her legs felt very weak, as if they were filled with feathers. She didn’t tell the girls that, though, as they would insist she went back to bed. Reluctantly she consented to a little more fuss, but warned them that soon she intended to resume normal duties. Molly assured her, however, that Frank had made such a good job of supervising them and helping the doctor that he was becoming quite a dictator. Tilly smiled. She knew they were very proud of their brother.

  When Frank came in from the surgery he looked very smart in his new white shirt and trousers. He smelt highly of carbolic and had smoothed his curly red hair back with some kind of oil, making himself look much older. Tilly was impressed at the transformation.

  ‘I see to everyone as they come in, just like you do, Miss Tilly,’ he explained as he sat down beside her. ‘Make sure they wash their hands and don’t breathe heavy over each other.’

  This brought giggles from the girls. ‘You gotta let them breathe, Frank, or they’ll die!’

  ‘You soppy dates,’ Frank teased his sisters.

  ‘We ain’t soppy,’ Cessie protested indignantly.

  ‘You’d better go and see to the supper.’ Frank laughed, pulling their plaits. ‘Dr Fleet’ll be along soon for his.’

  The girls ran off and Tilly frowned. ‘Did you say Dr Fleet was coming here?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Tilly. Since you been ill he ain’t missed a night. As soon as he closes them doors upstairs he’s down here to tend to you. Sits by yer bed till he dozes off, so the girls cook him supper. Makes a handsome pie now, does our Molly.’

  Tilly went red. ‘Well, that’s very good of him.’ She pulled back her shoulders. ‘But I’m better now, and I won’t need to trouble him any more.’

  Frank scratched his head. ‘I don’t fink he thought it was trouble.’

  Tilly changed the subject. ‘I hear from the girls you’ve been a very good help?’

  Frank nodded eagerly. ‘I’ve kept everything clean as a new pin. Washes all the floors, and I’ll even mop a boot or two if they don’t lift up their feet.’ He laughed. ‘They moan every day ’cos you ain’t there.’

  Tilly looked at this fourteen-year-old boy who had suddenly grown up overnight. He even looked taller now, in his new clothes and tamed hair. ‘You’ve done very well, Frank.’

  He blushed. ‘Thank you, miss.’

  ‘Is there any news of Grace and Emily?’

  ‘The doc said he’s heard they ain’t got no worse.’

  Tilly knew this was indeed a good sign, as the first weeks were the most dangerous. ‘How is Rosalind—I mean—Nurse Darraway?’

  ‘She don’t do much nursing, if you don’t mind me saying. Spends most of her time upstairs doin’ writin’, and waiting for her old man. And he ain’t too keen on hanging round either. Last week one of the kids in the street frew a stone at his vehicle.’

  ‘Oh, dear!’

  Just then there was a knock on the door. Frank and the two girls rushed to open it, and there was much giggling and ordering by Frank to keep quiet.

  The doctor entered. ‘Tilly, how wonderful to see you sitting up!’ He strode forward, a delighted smile on his face.

  Tilly felt light-headed as she stood up to greet him. It must be the last of the flu that made her feel so dizzy, she told herself as he took hold of her hands and pressed her down into her chair again.

  The meal was over. A very tasty one, Tilly decided, even though Frank had asked his sisters when they were going to cook a proper dinner. The vegetable and mince pie had been delicious, if a little repetitive, added to generous helpings of the soft, succulent bread that Tilly had taught Molly to make.

  ‘We’ll wash up,’ Frank ordered. ‘You and the doctor sit by the fire, Miss Tilly.’

  ‘I’m really quite well enough now,’ Tilly protested, but the doctor caught her arm and led her to the chair.

  ‘It’ll please them to spoil you.’ He bent to tip some coal on the fire. ‘It will be a few days before you recover your sea legs.’

  Tilly smiled. ‘I’ll be happy enough if my land ones come back.’

  He laughed. ‘They will, I promise you.’ He sat beside her and frowned. ‘You know, I’m very worried that you caught the chill whilst out on our walk. You were cold, if you remember. I feel responsible for having made you walk out, and now I intend to make sure your health is recovered before you return to work.’

  ‘I’m sure it wasn’t the walk,’ she insisted. ‘I was quite wrapped up.’

  ‘Well, in any case, I insist you stay at home for the next few days. We’ll see how you are on Monday. And don’t forget I have Frank to help me. He’s a very capable young man. Actually, I wondered if he could continue to help out with the heavier work on your return? That is, if you’re agreeable?’

  Tilly knew Frank was very proud of himself, and it would build his confidence. ‘I’m sure Frank will be very pleased to,’ she replied.

  ‘Has he told you about Emily and Grace?’

  ‘Yes. I hope their progress continues.’

  He nodded as he sat back and folded his arms. ‘Let’s hope they are over the worst.’

  They sat in companionable silence, listening to the noise coming from the kitchen. Frank’s authoritative tone punctuated by laughter from the girls. Tilly smiled as she gazed into the fire. She liked to hear them around the house. A feeling of contentment spread over her as her companion stretched out his long legs and crossed one ankle over another.

  When Cessie and Molly came in they sat in front of the fire, and Frank drew up one of the dining chairs. He straightened his back and crossed one leg over another in much the same way as the doctor.

  ‘Can we sing some carols?’ Molly asked.

  Cessie jumped up. ‘Yes—yes!’

  ‘We mustn’t tire our patient,’ Dr Fleet reminded them.

  Tilly nodded happily. It was a wonderful time of the year, and she wanted to join in the fun. For the next half an hour they sang all the carols they knew. ‘Silent Night’ and ‘Away in a Manger’ and ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’. The doctor’s voice was a very clear baritone, and Tilly sang a descant in her light, sweet tone. The girls clapped hard when they’d finished, and Frank went out to make the tea.

  Tilly thought it had been the perfect seasonal evening.

  Before the doctor left he warned Tilly again to rest. But, as much as she tried, she couldn’t sleep that night. Instead she lay awake, thinking of the happy evening that had passed. She had felt part of a real family—but of course it was all just wishful thinking. If Dr Tapper di
dn’t return and Dr Fleet left, who would come then?

  It was on the first Monday of December that Tilly returned to work. A letter from Dr Tapper had arrived on the mat.

  My dear Tilly,

  Harry tells me you have had a bout of the flu. I do hope you’re recovered now, but I must impress on you to take care. I myself have had to heed this advice! As you know by now, my health hasn’t been at its best, but my sister Mary has looked after me very well, and my waistline has expanded!

  I apologise for not writing before, but I wanted to give you good news. And, dear Tilly, I think I can safely say that I am beginning to feel my old self again. You must be wondering what’s in store for the future. Although I can’t say at the moment, I’m sure providence is looking after us all.

  I promise to write again soon. Get well, and take care of your very good self.

  My very best wishes as always, Dr Tapper.

  Tilly carried the letter with her all day. She decided to write back that evening, as the letter she had intended to post before she was ill was still in her pocket. Now she would have lots of news to tell him—including the fact that she had returned to work.

  Frank was a reliable worker, and insisted on doing all the fetching and carrying for her. The surgery was in very good order, every spot clean, and whilst she attended to the patients Frank was always close by.

  ‘The young doc called on me the end of last week,’ Tilly was surprised to learn from Charlie Atkins. ‘Said he was sorry he wasn’t familiarised with me treatment and that I was to call here so’s we could have another chat.’

  Tilly was curious as to what the chat would be about. She found out very quickly, when the doctor called both her and Mr Atkins into his room.

  ‘I seem to have been a little too hasty in refusing one of Dr Tapper’s—er—remedies.’ He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I understand the camomile and liquorice help your agues a great deal, Mr Atkins?’

  The older man nodded, looking as surprised as Tilly. ‘But I ain’t taking orf me clothes for one of yer so-called examinations,’ he protested swiftly.

  Dr Fleet smiled. ‘An examination won’t be necessary now, Mr Atkins. Tilly, would you kindly bring in the appropriate dosage from the scullery cupboard?’

  Tilly was shocked at this request, but hurried out to do as she was asked. ‘As I’m not an expert in these realms,’ the doctor said on her return, ‘Tilly will see to it.’

  ‘Just what the doctor ordered.’ Charlie Atkins rubbed his gnarled hands together as Tilly scooped out the required amount. The elderly man eagerly took the brown paper bags and produced a shilling. The price of a consultation.

  ‘Not this time,’ the doctor told him. ‘It was my mistake, not yours. But if you would like to try this—a very small dose of a painkilling substance…’ He drew a glass phial from his bag. ‘It won’t do any harm to try it as well.’

  After Charlie Atkins had gone, the doctor had a satisfied smile on his face.

  ‘It was a compromise, Tilly. And in view of this success perhaps we’ll reinstate the camomile to the top right shelf and the liquorice pills to the third drawer down?’ His dark eyes twinkled as he smiled at her. ‘I think we have enough space on the shelves for the best of both worlds, don’t you?

  Tilly had promised the girls she would take them to the market on Saturday afternoon. Frank was going too, to meet some of the friends he’d met whilst working on the barrow.

  Soon it would be Christmas. Although there was no money to spend, Tilly knew the girls wanted to look at all the decorations. The market was at its best at this time of year, with holly and mistletoe strung over the stalls.

  At the end of Saturday morning Frank looked excited. ‘The doctor says he ain’t visited the market yet.’

  Tilly looked suspicious. ‘Did you tell him we were going?’

  ‘Only mentioned it in passing.’

  ‘I doubt he would be interested.’

  ‘Indeed I am,’ the doctor broke in as he appeared from his room. ‘I have a few things to buy for Christmas. When Frank mentioned the market, I thought it was just the place to find them.’

  ‘Cox Street isn’t a very big market. Chrisp Street or Petticoat Lane have a larger variety.’

  ‘But there’s lots to choose from at Christmas!’ Frank exclaimed. ‘And you can buy a nice cup of tea and a plate of jellied eels.’

  ‘Can you, indeed?’ The doctor laughed. ‘Well, Frank, the tea takes my fancy, though I have yet to acquire a taste for eels.’ He turned to Tilly. ‘On a cold day like this, perhaps I could drive you there? After all, bearing in mind your recent illness—’

  ‘I’m quite recovered,’ Tilly broke in a little sharply, and Frank’s face fell. ‘A walk will do us good.’

  ‘Well, if you change your mind I shall be going out at two o’clock,’ the doctor answered hesitantly.

  Ignoring Frank’s dejected face, Tilly hurried off to the scullery. She had been almost rude to the doctor. But why did he make her feel so uncomfortable? Why was she so confused? She didn’t understand her feelings.

  Harry looked out of the window. It was a quarter to two. He was unsure whether to wait until he saw Tilly, Frank and the girls emerge, or go down and wait at the car. He felt like an adolescent again, excited and full of anticipation. Tilly and the children made him feel something that he hadn’t felt in years. Whilst he was in their company life took on a simplicity, a joy of just being alive, that had been missing for so long.

  Yet he was sensible enough to know this state of affairs couldn’t last. He had far greater responsibilities. Sir Joshua, for a start, and the country house that would make his future practice, and of course Rosalind.

  Rosalind…how did he feel about her now? he asked himself as he stared down at the street. Since admitting his feelings about Tilly he hadn’t given Rosalind any thought! And yet as young people before the war they had got on very well. She was seven years younger than he was, and he had always teased her, laughed with her, played the older brother. But the question was, was this enough to commit himself to her for the rest of his life? And yet what was the alternative? To return to his wanderings and take up his old existence again?

  Perhaps he should stay at home this afternoon and consider the matter. Sir Joshua had been patient, but he wanted the best for his daughter. Harry was aware that he was expected to propose to Rosalind soon, and just thinking about it now dampened his spirits.

  Yes, this afternoon he would sit down and give serious thought to his future. If he was to do his duty by Rosalind he must keep her waiting no longer.

  He was about to take off his coat when he caught sight of Frank. Following closely were the two girls and Tilly. Forgetting entirely his resolution to sit down and consider his future, he straightened his tie in the mirror and hurried downstairs.

  The stalls were decorated with holly and mistletoe and pretty glass balls. They glistened in the pale afternoon sun, and the excitement of Christmas was everywhere. As Tilly and the doctor strolled along the busy market street their breath curled into the frosty December air. Frank had disappeared with his friends, and the girls had gone off to explore the toys, sweets and games that were piled high on the stalls. Both had a sixpence in their pockets, courtesy of Dr Fleet, and were eager to spend some of it.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked as they passed the pie and mash stall. ‘The smell of onions is delicious! Let my buy you and the girls some hot food.’

  ‘No, we’ve already eaten, thank you.’

  He pointed to the jellied eels, whelks and winkles set out on little enamel trays. ‘Or maybe those would interest you?’

  Tilly smiled. ‘We have winkles for Sunday tea sometimes. The girls like to pick off the eyes with a pin.’

  ‘I’ll have to try some.’ He grinned. ‘But perhaps not now.’

  A man sitting in a Bath chair was selling ribbons and laces. The doctor frowned as he read the notice pinned to the chair. ‘A war veteran,’ he said quietly. ‘Poor chap.
He’s lost both his legs.’

  Tilly nodded sadly. ‘It’s very hard for them. Selling from their chairs is the only way to support their families.’

  ‘I think I’ll give him some trade.’ The doctor dug in his pockets. ‘Perhaps you’d help me to choose some gifts, Tilly?’

  They approached the man, who was flexing his fingers as they turned blue with cold.

  ‘What colour ribbons shall I buy?’ the doctor mused as he stopped by the chair and smiled.

  ‘The red and green would be suitable for an older lady; the pink for a younger one,’ Tilly pointed out, wondering if these were intended for Rosalind.

  Dr Fleet nodded, frowning for a moment. ‘I’ll have all you’ve got, good man.’ He placed three silver coins in the small box.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘No, my thanks to you,’ the doctor said quietly, and Tilly watched him bend to read more of the handwritten notice on the tray. ‘I see you were at the Somme?’

  The man nodded.

  ‘Is that where you lost your legs?’

  ‘It was—though it wasn’t the mortar that did it. It was the cold and wet in the trenches.’

  ‘Trench Foot.’ The doctor nodded. ‘A despicable thing.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I’m a doctor, and I treated such cases.’

  ‘Was you at the Somme?’

  ‘No,’ the doctor said quietly. ‘Verdun.’

  A look of respect filled the man’s face. ‘Then take your money back, sir. To my mind all those that was in that hell came out an ’ero.’

  ‘I assure you there is nothing heroic about what I tried to do,’ the doctor replied. ‘Most of the time I had little or nothing to help the poor devils with—only a few words of comfort, a miserable offering for a dying man.’

  The man’s face darkened and his whiskers seemed to stick out on his chin. ‘It was a man like yourself that took off me legs and got me back to me wife and kids. I’m grateful to him to this day, but sometimes I wonders if saving my country was worth the loss of half of me body.’ The man reached out. ‘I’d like to shake yer hand, sir.’