A Christmas Candle

by Katie Flynn

  So now Johnny was a permanent member of the Drake’s Farm team. The only disadvantage to this scheme was that Johnny, like Connie, could sleep the clock round, so Eve had the more or less permanent job of descending the attic stairs and making sure Johnny was awake in the morning before she began to wash and dress herself.

  Miranda was nice but, in Eve’s eyes at least, no substitute for Lily. The most you could say was that she tried hard and was always jolly, even when everyone was cross with her because she had made some foolish mistake. Fortunately, she was a light sleeper, and even before the alarm clock got into its stride Miranda awoke, sat up with a reluctant sigh and then stretched and yawned.

  ‘Morning, young Eve,’ she said amiably. ‘Why’re you awake? I’m on earlies this week, aren’t I?’

  She did not attempt to keep her voice down and Eve looked anxiously over to where Connie and Chrissie were cocooned in their blankets. Neither stirred, and she breathed a sigh of relief as Miranda swung her legs out of bed, padded over to the washstand and dipped a flannel into the pitcher. When the older girl had gone she meant to enjoy the luxury of a strip-down wash before the others woke up, and then go downstairs and give a hand with anything Auntie Bess required. After that she was sure she could employ herself usefully, though the rain made outdoor work difficult.

  Descending to the kitchen, she wondered whether the longed-for letters from her parents had arrived at last. Lily, now working at Parker’s Place and living at home, had invited Eve to stay with her for a week or two when Auntie Bess and Uncle Reg could spare her. Eve had been thrilled and delighted at the invitation and had written at once to both her parents asking permission to visit the Kendal family, but so far neither Bill nor Eleanor had replied. To be sure, Eleanor had said she would visit Drake’s Farm at the very next opportunity since she wanted to have a chat with her eldest child. But she had not even mentioned the Kendals’ invitation so Eve, with a resigned sigh, had written again, and now every morning when she entered the kitchen her first action was to see if there was a letter for her.

  For once, Johnny was down before her, and when she had checked whether there was any post for her – there wasn’t – she asked him how he intended to spend the afternoon once his chores were done.

  ‘Taking a bus into town and meeting Robbo for tea,’ he informed her. ‘Want to come along?’ He sighed. ‘Life’s not fair, is it? Robbo’s the same age as me but he looks a lot older, so when he told the recruiting officer that he was seventeen he said the chap didn’t even look surprised.’ He peered into Eve’s face. ‘How old do you reckon I look?’

  Eve pretended to consider. ‘I should think nine or ten?’ She grinned as he tried to punch her but deftly avoided the blow. ‘Well, you did ask,’ she said reproachfully. ‘Are you really going to meet Robbo? Can I come? I can whizz through my chores and be ready as soon as you are.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Johnny said with pretended reluctance. ‘But have you any money? I’m meeting Robbo at Jackson’s. You can’t go into a café without any and I can’t afford to treat you.’

  ‘Auntie Bess keeps my pocket money, but I think at the last count I had two or three bob,’ Eve said. ‘Is it a date, then? We’ll go to meet Robbo together?’

  But a disappointment awaited them. Just as they started down the lane to catch the bus they saw the telegram boy cycling towards them, and both felt a stab of apprehension. Telegrams could bring good news or bad, but this time the telegram boy was grinning quite cheerfully, which would not be the case if he was the bringer of bad news.

  ‘Afternoon, Freddie,’ Johnny said, indicating the envelope the boy was holding. ‘Who’s it for? Shall we save you a journey and take it to the farm?’

  Freddie grinned. ‘It’s for you and it’s from your mate Robbo,’ he said shamelessly. ‘He’s been sent off on some course or other – he can’t say more ’cos walls have ears – so that’s your meeting knocked on the head.’

  Johnny gave an exclamation of dismay and snatched the telegram from Freddie’s hand. ‘Don’t come, stop, off on course stop see you next week, stop, Robbo,’ he read aloud, his brow clearing. ‘It’s not a put off, just a delay. Thanks very much, Freddie. There’s no need to reply.’

  The boy turned his bicycle round and Eve and Johnny headed back towards the farmhouse. ‘I wonder what sort of course it is?’ Eve said idly as they crossed the farmyard. She looked hopefully up into the grey sky. ‘Oh, Johnny, if only it would stop raining! I don’t feel like staying indoors. I feel like … oh, playing cricket or football, or netball maybe. I’m just full of energy and I want to use some of it up. Let’s go back to the kitchen and ask Auntie Bess if there’s anything we can do for her. Or Petal’s due to calve any day now. As it’s her first, Mr Trevalyn says he wants to be around when she begins, so we could go and sit in the hayloft and warn him if she looks as though she’s starting.’

  Johnny looked at his watch, a new acquisition from his father to mark his sixteenth birthday. ‘Much energy that will use up,’ he said mockingly. ‘Tell you what, hang the weather. Let’s go down to the end of the orchard where the ruined greenhouses are and play French cricket. Why don’t you go and ask Auntie Bess if we can use the flat piece of grass where they’re going to plant new apple trees? We can’t do any harm down there; the greenhouses are ruined already, and it will do us good to play out for a change.’

  Eve looked doubtful. ‘But suppose she says we can’t? They prepared the ground for planting apple trees, not for playing French cricket.’

  Johnny frowned. ‘If we don’t get permish we might get into trouble,’ he pointed out. ‘Look, tell you what, I’ll round up anyone who wants a game and you go and make sure it’s all right to play by the greenhouses. I should think Auntie Bess would rather we played at the end of the orchard than in the farmyard, after what happened last week.’

  Eve giggled. Last week, despite the rain, they had been playing tag in the farmyard when someone had collided with the milk churn and sent it rolling round the yard and making the most awful din. Unfortunately, it had been that time in the afternoon when the Favershams were having their nap and the sudden clatter of the falling churn had apparently jerked Uncle Reg out of his sound sleep, convinced that they were being bombed, or at the very least shot at. It had taken Auntie Bess several minutes to convince him that it was only a milk churn that had been injured, if you could count a slight dent in its smooth side as an injury. Unfortunately, it was Johnny who had been the main perpetrator of the milk churn’s downfall, and now he scowled at Eve’s giggle and turned away to speak to Connie, who had just appeared in the farmyard.

  ‘It’s still bloody raining; Auntie Bess thought it had stopped,’ she was saying disgustedly. ‘I asked if there was anything she would like me to help her with and she bit my head off. She said Uncle Reg was still recovering from our last bout of helpfulness, thank you very much, and she’d be obliged if I’d get out of her hair.’

  ‘That’s not like Auntie Bess,’ Eve observed. She looked hopefully at Johnny. ‘Why don’t you do your own asking? I’m sure she’ll say yes.’

  Johnny shook his head. ‘She still hasn’t forgiven me for nearly giving Uncle Reg a heart attack,’ he pointed out. ‘You go, Eve. You’re her favourite, we all know that. Where’s Chrissie? You could take him with you, to melt Auntie Bess’s hard heart with his winning ways.’

  Eve opened her mouth to reply, but Connie cut across her. ‘Your wretched little brother is probably the reason Auntie Bess’s grumpy,’ she said nastily. ‘You Armstrongs are enough to annoy a saint. But if you really want him you’ll find him in the cowshed, watching Mr Trevalyn bringing Petal’s calf into the world. My mother would say it wasn’t fitting for a child to watch a cow giving birth, but at least it will keep him out of the way for a bit.’

  Eve gave Connie a baleful look but then changed it – she hoped – to a friendly smile. Everyone was edgy because of the constant rain, so it was no good getting at each other.

  ‘Al
l right, I’ll go,’ she said. ‘And I’ll ask if I can fetch the old tennis racket and ball from the sports chest whilst I’m at it, though usually Auntie Bess positively encourages us to play with them. They were her sons’ in years gone by and she likes to see them being used.’ She turned to Johnny. ‘You’d better round up everyone who isn’t busy, because I’m sure Auntie Bess will be downright glad to see us out of the farmyard and well away from the milk churns. I’ll meet you down at the ruined greenhouses in five minutes … no, better make it ten, though I don’t think Auntie Bess will take much persuasion.’

  She did not wait for Johnny’s and Connie’s reactions but set off at once for the kitchen, where Auntie Bess, normally the most easy-going of women, greeted her with something very like a scowl. She looked up as Eve came in but continued to wield her rolling pin on the ball of pastry on the table before her.

  ‘What do you want?’ she said disagreeably. ‘I hope you don’t think you can disturb me when I’m cooking because I won’t have you children perpetually under my feet, and if you imagine you can help me you’re wrong. This here rationing is making even the simplest job difficult, so if you don’t want to be outside you can clear off up to the attic. Where’s that young devil of a brother of yours? He was in here earlier driving me mad with questions as to why I wanted Petal to have a heifer and not what he termed a “boy calf”. And when I told him, he burst into tears. So now what do you want?’

  Eve glanced at the clock above the mantel. At this hour in the afternoon both Auntie Bess and Uncle Reg should have been comfortably ensconced in the small dining room, Uncle Reg with a handkerchief over his face and Auntie Bess with her head cuddled into the red velvet cushion. She opened her mouth to ask Auntie Bess what had happened to change her routine, then thought better of it.

  ‘Please, Auntie Bess, will it be all right if we all go down to the ruined greenhouses and play French cricket with the tennis racket and ball from the oak chest?’ she said instead. ‘We’d be out from under your feet until at least six o’clock, or even later.’

  Auntie Bess gestured with her rolling pin at the door which led into the hall. ‘Do as you like,’ she said impatiently. ‘But keep that plaguey brother of yours under control. Mr Trevalyn don’t want him in the cowshed so you tell him from me he’s to play with the rest of you and not to come bothering.’

  ‘Thanks, Auntie Bess,’ Eve said humbly and shot into the hall, heaved at the heavy lid of the chest where Auntie Bess kept what she called her sports equipment and shot out again, shouting over her shoulder ‘Thanks again, Auntie Bess’ as she left the kitchen and closed the door carefully behind her.

  Outside in the yard, faces were turned hopefully towards her. No one had made it down to the orchard, because Petal’s calf had been safely delivered and Chrissie was telling everyone that it was a girl cow – a heifer – and the prettiest little creature Mr Trevalyn had ever seen. Eve saw that Johnny had managed to winkle out Bunny, a Spindlebush boy who rarely left his studies even for French cricket; then there was Connie, of course, and Miriam and Miranda – the terrible twins, Uncle Reg had dubbed them – had very sportingly agreed to play too, which would make it much more fun.

  ‘Did she say yes?’ Connie said eagerly, just as Johnny demanded: ‘Did she bite your head off?’ which made Chrissie frown.

  ‘People don’t bite heads off unless they’re nasty Nazis,’ he said. He looked accusingly at Johnny. ‘If anyone’s cross and biting heads off it ought to be Uncle Reg. He was the one who thought the milk churn was a bomb.’ He looked slyly at his sister. ‘Silly old fool,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Bombs don’t sound like milk churns.’

  Eve was shocked. She gave his arm a smart smack. ‘Don’t you dare say such a thing when Uncle Reg and Auntie Bess have been so good to us,’ she snapped. ‘Now come along. It’s time to start this game if we’re going to get it over by teatime.’

  The small group headed doggedly down to the orchard, with Chrissie in his over-large raincoat and hat leading the procession, until they reached the flat plain where very soon now the new apple trees would be planted.

  ‘We won’t pick sides because there still aren’t enough of us,’ Johnny said authoritatively. ‘It’s every man for himself.’ He produced a coin from his pocket. ‘We’ll toss for who goes first, but I think it should be Chrissie. If we all remember our own scores then we should end up with a winner.’ He grinned round at them. ‘In you go, Chrissie, and may the best man win.’

  Eve had felt sure that if the rain carried on the game would soon be abandoned, but this did not prove to be the case. Everyone carefully kept their scores except for Chrissie, who said he was so far ahead of everyone else on points that Eve said grumpily an inability with figures must be a family failing. Actually she was not doing too badly, having caught Miranda out with a flying leap which caused everyone to give a round of applause. Emboldened by this, when she took the racket she smote the ball with such fury that it soared into the air like a rocket and came to earth somewhere in one of the ruined greenhouses, though no one could say with any certainty which one.

  After ten minutes of diligent searching Chrissie had had enough. ‘There’s only one place it could have gone and that’s down the big chimney which Mr Trevalyn told me was what they used to keep the greenhouses warm in the olden days,’ he said, ‘when old Mr Drake what built the farm tried to grow peaches and nectarines for his market stall.’

  Everyone stared up at the chimney which, Eve thought, had suddenly begun to look incredibly tall. Miranda put into words what they were all thinking.

  ‘Well, it was a pretty ragged ball anyway.’ She turned to Eve. ‘Were there any others in the chest?’ She grinned at the younger girl. ‘Since you were the one who whacked it up there I think it should be you who tells Auntie Bess what happened and fetches a replacement. It’s a shame to abandon the game when everyone’s doing so well. In fact, if we say the first one to reach a hundred wins, the game should be over just in time for tea.’

  ‘Oh, but it’ll take ages to go all the way back to the farm and start rooting around in the chest,’ Eve said, dismayed. ‘I know it was my fault for hitting the ball so hard, but I don’t fancy facing up to Auntie Bess again. I don’t know what’s happened to make her so cross but something must have, because she was really fed up. She more or less made me promise not to keep popping in and out of the kitchen whilst she was trying to cook. Can’t someone else beard the dragon in her den? One of you grown-up land girls?’

  Miriam had been sitting on the tumbledown wall of what had once been a greenhouse, but now she gave a resigned sigh and stood up. ‘I suppose if someone has to go it might as well be me,’ she said. ‘I could take a look at the new calf whilst I’m up there, but don’t any of you try climbing that chimney because it doesn’t look very safe to me.’ She shook an admonitory finger at Chrissie. ‘I know the moment I’m out of sight you’ll start boasting that you can fetch the ball, no bother, but it really isn’t safe, Chrissie. Will you promise me you won’t try to find it whilst I’m gone?’

  Chrissie shook his head. ‘Course I won’t, because I’m coming with you,’ he said firmly. ‘Evie should go really, because it was her wallop what sent the ball up so high, but Auntie Bess likes me more’n she likes Evie, so she’s sure to let me hunt in the chest for another one.’

  ‘That’s right, old chap, there’s bound to be at least one more lurking under all the old rubbish in the sports chest,’ said Johnny cheerfully. ‘Off you go, you two, and try to be tactful if Auntie Bess grumbles at being disturbed.’

  ‘Right,’ Chrissie said, gambolling ahead as the two of them set out. ‘But I don’t think I’ll go into the house at all. You can find a tennis ball without any help from me, can’t you?’ He turned to smile winningly at Miriam. ‘Auntie Bess is never cross but she did seem to get annoyed when I asked about boy calves.’

  Eve watched her brother and Miriam out of sight, then turned to Johnny. ‘I don’t want to depress you, but I had
to rummage really hard to find even one ball in the sports chest, and I doubt if Miriam and Chrissie will have better luck. I think we’ll have to give up on French cricket for today.’

  The five remaining players mooched around, gazing hopefully back towards the farmhouse, but Miriam and Chrissie didn’t reappear and Johnny, with a resigned sigh, announced that as far as he could see Eve was right and they might as well admit that the game was over for the day.

  ‘Can everyone remember their scores?’ he asked. ‘We can continue playing tomorrow, if everyone’s agreeable.’

  Eve had begun to say that she had completely forgotten hers when she stopped abruptly with a little squeak and pointed upwards. ‘Look!’ she said. ‘It’s been there all along but we were so sure it’d gone higher that we didn’t really look at the stack itself. The reason we didn’t see it was because it’s wedged in the gap where a brick once was and a fern’s growing over the top.’ She stood on tiptoe but could not quite reach the ball. ‘Oh damn, I’m nearly tall enough, but not quite. If I stood on a couple of bricks I would be able to get it, I’m sure.’

  Johnny began to collect the fallen bricks that were lying around and pile them into a rough sort of ladder. ‘What idiots we were not to look lower. Stand back, you lot – I’ll soon get it out of there, and then when Miriam and Chrissie come back we can finish the game.’

  Eve looked at the rather shaky pile of bricks resting against the wall and tugged Miranda’s arm. ‘That chimney stack looks as though it might keel over at any minute,’ she said. ‘Tell him it’s too dangerous, Miranda. He won’t take any notice of me, but you’re a grown-up; he might listen to you.’

  Miranda agreed. ‘Don’t do it, Johnny,’ she said urgently. ‘It isn’t worth getting hurt just to finish a game …’

  Johnny was almost level with the tennis ball now and half turned as Eve added her own plea to Miranda’s. ‘I’m there now,’ he said as he reached for the ball and began to pull it from its hiding place. ‘You see? Easy, once we …’ And then there was a sort of rumbling and both Johnny and the chimney stack disappeared in a cloud of dust.