A Christmas Candle

by Katie Flynn

  Chrissie, with his pyjamas buttoned wrongly and his num-num clutched to his chest, pointed an accusing finger at Connie.

  ‘You don’t want Johnny liking anyone but you,’ he said. And Eve watched with some pleasure as the colour rose up Connie’s neck and dyed her cheeks pink.

  ‘How dare you, you nasty little boy,’ Connie said furiously. She had just jumped into bed, but got out again with the clear intention of boxing Chrissie’s ears, though Miranda soon put a stop to that. Eve smiled to herself. As they grew to know Miranda better they had all realised that there was steel beneath the land girl’s easy-going air.

  ‘Get back into bed, Connie Hale,’ she ordered now. ‘Chrissie’s right and you know it, so don’t you go thinking that I’ll allow you to give him a slap for telling the truth! Now settle down, because we’ve a full day ahead of us tomorrow and making sure that everyone has a turn at visiting Johnny doesn’t make it any easier.’ She turned to Eve. ‘Don’t worry, love. Johnny’s had a hard time of it what with the crack on his noddle and a broken leg. When he gets back on his feet he’ll begin to see things the way they really are and the two of you’ll be pals again.’

  Christmas passed and Johnny’s health improved, although he still walked with a very noticeable limp. And it was his limp which was on his mind one day in June as he lay in his bed, gazing up at the ceiling through a blur of shameful tears. He had practised disguising it for the entire week and then, to prove how fit he was, he had walked all the way into town to the recruiting office. Once there, he had lied valiantly about his age and had admitted that he had suffered an accident from which he had now completely recovered.

  The sergeant behind the big desk had eyed him keenly. He was a large man, square-faced and long-nosed, and the eyes which fixed themselves on Johnny’s face were unfriendly. When he smiled, tauntingly, his mouth turned down at the corners showing yellow teeth and a good deal of unpleasant-looking fat tongue. Johnny had disliked him on sight, though he did his best to hide it, and soon realised that the feeling was mutual. ‘You’ve gorra limp, wack,’ the sergeant had said unkindly, in an accent not unlike Connie’s, Johnny thought. ‘And you don’t look as old as you claim. Come back in a year or two and mebbe I’ll change me mind, but as things stand at the moment the air force can manage without the services of a lad what’ll never be able to march one mile, lerralone twenty.’

  Deeply humiliated, Johnny had returned to Drake’s Farm and met Eve and the others in the yard, Eve all eager interest and Johnny still smarting from the sergeant’s words.

  ‘How did you get on?’ Eve had begun, and then looked up into his face and wished she had not spoken. She sighed. ‘Was it your limp? Oh, Johnny, I’m so sorry.’

  She had tried to take his hand but Johnny had jerked away from her. ‘So you should be,’ he had said furiously. ‘It’s all your fault, so you’ll probably be quite pleased to learn that they turned me down. Said it was useless to apply again for at least six months. I never even had a chance.’ He had gulped down the sob that was fighting to get out of his throat and brushed a hand across his freckled face. ‘I hate you, Eve Armstrong! I don’t believe I’ll ever get accepted for any of the forces, thanks to you.’

  Eve felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach; she actually bent forward as though she had received a blow. Even allowing for his disappointment his reaction had been cruel, and looking round the faces of the others – Connie, Chrissie and the farmhands – she saw shock written plainly on their features. And oddly enough it was Connie who spoke up in her defence.

  ‘I’ve been having a think, and I don’t believe it was Eve’s fault you fell. No one asked you to climb the chimney stack … indeed, as I recall it Eve told you not to do any such thing.’ She shook a reproving finger under Johnny’s snub nose. ‘And it’s certainly not her fault that you look young for your age. You wanna eat them words, Johnny Durrell, and say you’re sorry for putting the blame where it don’t belong.’

  She seized one of Johnny’s fists and tried to uncurl his fingers, then took Eve’s hand, now wet with tears, and tried to press it into Johnny’s.

  ‘Go on, you know I’m right,’ she said.

  Johnny took a deep, unsteady breath and uncurled his fingers, but the subsequent ‘I’m sorry’ was said with his eyes on the ground and Eve realised that though the other girl had meant it kindly Johnny resented being forced to make an apology which, had Connie left things alone, he would eventually have made of his own accord – and, she hoped, meant what he said.

  The farmhands had unobtrusively melted away and Auntie Bess, who had been a silent witness of the entire scene as she stood in the kitchen doorway, must have been holding her breath, for she gave a long, whistling sigh.

  ‘Eve, come in and lay the table. ’Twon’t take you a minute, for Miriam did most of the work before she went up to Pete’s Patch. Johnny, you’ll want to get out of them Sunday clothes and into something more comfortable. And let’s forget all about joining the forces for the time being. Come along in now and get on with some work.’

  At supper that evening conversation might have been difficult, but Uncle Reg, a wise man, had no intention of letting an atmosphere develop in his house and said so. He looked keenly round the table whilst his wife was serving the vegetable pie then tapped his mug briefly with his spoon, bowed his head and spoke out clearly.

  ‘For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful,’ he said, and looked round the table again. ‘Now let’s have a little less sulking over what can’t be helped, young Johnny. I refuse to have my supper spoiled by your temper. I gather you’re angry because the RAF turned you down. Have you never heard the story of Robert the Bruce and the spider? You’ve had one try and given up, and if that’s all you intend to do you’re not the lad I know. But you’re still living under my roof, so I want to know exactly what happened at the recruiting office.’ He smiled kindly at Johnny. ‘’Tis your pride which is hurt. We know your worth, so try, try and try again and before you know it you’ll be in uniform. And don’t you pull a long face at me, because I believe in telling the truth.’ Once more he looked round the table. ‘Why’s no one eating? There’s apple crumble for afters.’

  For some reason this made Connie start to giggle, and very soon Johnny was describing the sergeant in highly unflattering terms and saying what he would like to do to him if he ever met him in a dark alley, which made Chrissie choke over his mouthful of Woolton pie. He turned to Johnny.

  ‘Would you really pull his long nose until it reached his knees? Oh, I’d love to see a man with a trunk like an elephant.’ He turned to his sister. ‘You’d help Johnny by holding on to the sergeant’s arm so he couldn’t get away, wouldn’t you, Evie?’ he said. ‘Every time I go past the recruiting office now I shall peep in to see if he’s still got a trunk instead of a nose. You are funny, Johnny, and I must say I like it best when you’re here. Whilst you were in hospital we missed you ever so, didn’t we, Evie? I think I shall call that sergeant Jumbo and offer him a bun. Do you think he’ll take it in his trunk and shove it into his big old mouth?’

  There was no doubt about it, Chrissie’s contribution had broken the ice. Everyone was laughing, advising Chrissie to steer well clear of the sergeant if he really intended to make such an offer, and very soon talk became general.

  Eve, watching Johnny covertly, saw that he was smiling, and when he noticed that she was looking at him he winked, his expression so normal and friendly that she took heart. Everyone was chattering, and though Connie was sitting next to Johnny she was talking to Auntie Bess, so Eve risked a friendly overture.

  ‘Are you still keen to see the training film about the RAF, Johnny? It’s being shown on some of the newsreels and the lads who’ve seen it say it’s pretty good. I could find out where it’s showing and we could catch a bus into town …’

  She was watching Johnny’s face as she made the suggestion and saw his expression change to one which she could almost describe as
weary resignation.

  ‘Do you want to come with us?’ he asked. ‘Is that what you’re trying to say? Because Connie’s already got it in hand and we’re going into town on Wednesday. You can come if you like, but I thought you were more interested in the land than the air.’

  Eve pushed her plate of food away and stood up. ‘Oh, I don’t want to interfere with your arrangements,’ she said bitterly, and turned to Auntie Bess. ‘I didn’t tell you while we were all so worried about Johnny, but I’ve finally heard from Daddy that he and Mummy are quite happy for me to accept Lily’s invitation to stay with her in Norfolk. So if it’s okay with you, Auntie Bess, I’ll leave as soon as possible.’ She gave a watery sniff; tears filled her eyes and she wiped her hand across them, muttering that she thought she had a cold coming and ought to go upstairs to fetch a clean hanky. She made a rush for the attic but when she got there she turned angrily towards Connie, who had followed her. ‘What do you want?’ she said rudely.

  Connie raised her brows. ‘You needn’t bother to run away, Eve Armstrong. You’re welcome to go to the flicks with Johnny. He’s not my type, especially now when all he can talk about is the boring old RAF. So just you come downstairs and tell Auntie Bess you won’t desert her.’

  Eve’s back stiffened and she felt heat rise in her cheeks. ‘Don’t you try to tell me what to do or where to go,’ she said furiously. ‘And if Johnny’s foolish enough to prefer you to me then that’s his lookout.’

  ‘Oh, go to hell, Eve Armstrong,’ Connie said spitefully. ‘If that’s how you feel, the sooner you leave the better!’

  ‘Goodbye, be good, and come into the village to phone me at least once a week to tell me you’re well,’ Eve shrieked at the diminishing figures on the platform. She waited until she could see only the countryside whizzing past then leaned back in her seat and smiled at the only other passenger, a fat lady holding a large wicker basket containing vegetables. She had been accompanied on to the train by two small and quarrelsome children, but they had left the compartment as soon as the guard started closing the doors, so Eve hoped to have a peaceful journey at least until her first change.

  Auntie Bess, when appealed to, had heartily endorsed the plan. ‘You tell that Lily she’ll be welcome as the flowers in spring if she’ll visit us at Drake’s Farm,’ she had said. ‘But in the meantime, young lady, just you forget about work and enjoy yourself. I dare say Lily’s already planned a great many things for you to do, so don’t you go wasting your holiday. Visit the cathedral, do some sightseeing … oh, you know the kind of thing.’

  ‘I will, Auntie Bess,’ Eve had said humbly. ‘It’s awfully good of you to take charge of Chrissie while I’m away. Mummy said she’d come over to the farm whenever she could and take Chrissie off your hands, but of course she’s very busy …’

  Auntie Bess had laughed. ‘Amn’t we all?’ she said cheerfully. ‘But your little lad is growing up to be a real help around the place. I don’t mind telling you that a few months back I’d have palmed him off on someone else, but not now. Now, when he’s given a task he does it as well or better than some who shall be nameless.’ She smiled widely. ‘But don’t you go telling him, or he’ll get that swollen-headed there’ll be no bearing him.’

  Thus reassured, Eve leaned back to enjoy at least a part of her long journey, then checked her possessions to make sure she had everything. She had slung her haversack up on to the string rack above her head but, like her travelling companion, she clutched a wicker basket containing two packets of sandwiches – one ham and the other strawberry jam – a small flask of tea, and a great many somewhat withered apples, the sort Eve particularly liked. Peeping into the basket, mouth watering, she saw that Auntie Bess had included one of the large custard apples as well, and was tempted to take a bite but resisted. After all, before she had left Drake’s Farm everyone had assembled in the kitchen for a hearty breakfast and Auntie Bess, as she placed a loaded plate before Eve, had said briskly: ‘Get outside of that, young woman, and you won’t need feeding until you reach this here Close where our Lily lives. Rail journeys is dusty uncomfortable things at best; I dread to think what they’re like in wartime. If I’m to believe what I’ve heard there’ll be trolleys with tea urns at a good few stations, though of course you’ll need the conveniences if you drink too much and that might be difficult, and don’t forget to ring the village number just as soon as you arrive …’

  But at this point the door of the compartment burst open to admit a young man in naval uniform who slumped into the seat opposite Eve, grinned sleepily around and within half a minute was snoring even more loudly than Eve’s favourite sow.

  Eve, who had jumped and squeaked when the sailor entered, hoped devoutly that he would sleep all the way to the next station, and then reminded herself that Lily wanted her to ‘broaden her experience’ and gave a smothered giggle. It was certainly true that she had often sung ‘What shall we do with the drunken sailor?’ but she had never dreamed she would be accompanied by one on her long journey to Norwich!

  The train drew in to a large and busy station and Eve jumped to her feet. She had to change trains and was grateful when the sailor took her haversack from the rack and helped her shrug it on to her shoulders. It had turned out that he was not drunk at all but merely exhausted and was on his way home for precious leave, the first for over a year, he had told her. They got quite friendly before reaching the point where he went off to one train and she to another. She did not manage to find a seat on this particular train, but a polite little boy gave up his place to her in return for two apples, which made Eve smile. She remembered her last encounter with a boy on a train, when the boy had been Johnny. Amongst all that motley throng on the platform he had stood out because he had been loud and obnoxious. Eve smiled to herself at the comparison. Johnny might have been nicely brought up but his manners on that occasion had been anything but. This boy, on the other hand, having thanked her for the apples, perched on his suitcase and informed her that he was being met in Norwich by his uncle, an impatient man, and therefore hoped very much that the train would not be late.

  ‘I’m being met there, too,’ Eve informed him, thinking to herself that there are certain advantages in wartime travel. ‘In the peace’, as they were now calling it, folk did not speak to each other on trains.

  Presently, Eve fell into an uneasy sleep and woke with a start, remembering all too vividly the words which Johnny had flung at her, the words which had led to this journey, if she was honest. I hate you, Eve Armstrong! I don’t believe I’ll ever get accepted for any of the forces, thanks to you! Even his mumbled apology could not lessen the pain as his words had struck home. Was he right? Had it really been her fault that the recruiting sergeant had rejected him? She could not tell, but hoped his resentment, whilst real enough now, would begin to take some more logical form than a wholly undeserved allocation of blame once she was beyond reach.

  Eve settled back in her seat and soon she was in the land of dreams herself. The overcrowded railway compartment gave way to sunny skies, and the voices of the passengers surrounding her became birdsong and the splash of the stream as it made its way under the wooden bridge and down to the sea.

  She was happy, even in her dream, and somehow Johnny’s words were no longer a thorn in her flesh. In her heart she should have known he would never say such a cruel thing in order to hurt her. He had simply been hitting out at the fat old sergeant and was almost certainly regretting the spurt of temper which had caused him to accuse Eve of being to blame. Then, in her dream, the train was chugging into Norwich Thorpe and there on the platform was Daddy, smiling a welcome, helping her down to the platform. In the dream now, there was an anxiety which she could not quite explain, which was reflected in her father’s eyes. Why was Daddy here and not at sea? Why was he so anxious to tell her something? She must give him an opening or she would never know.

  ‘Daddy? What is it? Are you unhappy? Have I done something wrong?’

  ‘You’ve
done nothing,’ her father said reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry about Mummy and me. These things happen in wartime …’

  In the dream she was still standing on the platform and the train was making steam, clearly about to move off. Eve tried to remember something that she had meant to ask Daddy, but the scene was fading and even as she tried to catch her father’s hand a voice far too near her ear bellowed ‘Norwich Thorpe, all change here for …’ and then listed place names of which she had never heard. Someone shook her shoulder and Eve opened her eyes. For a moment confusion reigned. She had been talking to Daddy, wanting to reassure him that she was fine and everything was all right. But someone had lifted her haversack down from the rack and picked up her jacket, which she had cast off when the compartment became stuffy, and a man in service uniform was shepherding her into the queue of people slowly descending from the train. Eve looked up at her rescuer, if you could call him that, and rubbed her eyes.

  ‘I fell asleep,’ she said wonderingly. ‘I’ve travelled all the way from Devon, and then when we’ve nearly arrived I go and fall asleep.’ She peered ahead of her into the Stygian gloom, looking hopefully for a tall slender figure topped by flaxen hair.

  The man chuckled, and then as they reached the doorway he lifted her down on to the platform. Eve was beginning to thank him and to wonder what she should do if there was no sign of Lily when she heard her calling her name. ‘Eve! You’re here at last! You poor little thing, what a journey you must have had! Do you know your train is nearly four hours late? I was beginning to think they’d cancelled the connection and you wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow, but I hung on when a kind porter told me the train was on its way.’

  ‘Oh, Lily,’ Eve said gratefully, falling into her friend’s welcoming embrace. ‘It was good of you to wait. I’m so glad you did.’