Christmas Roses

by Pat Posner

  “I’ll leave you two to it then. I’ll be back in time for…” She’d been about to say Blackpool Night – Reginald Dixon was on it more often than not and both she and Ted enjoyed listening to the organist. Perhaps it was best not to mention Blackpool again though. “For our wireless programme,” she said, nudging Ted away from the gate so she could open it.

  *

  “Here’s my excuse for coming round, Connie.” Jessie opened her handbag and took out the knitting pattern she’d promised to lend her friend.

  “Jiminy Cricket, Jessie. You don’t need an excuse. You’re welcome any time. I’d of thought you knew that.”

  “I mean the excuse I gave Ted for coming round this evening when I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at the Knit and Natter meeting. Told him you’d got the wool and if you had the pattern an’ all you might want to start knitting your bolero for Blackpool tonight.”

  “Wouldn’t most fellas have been chuffed at a bit of time to themselves?”

  “Ted would usually but, bless him, he’s got a bit of a cob on. Hopefully, trying to get to the bottom of what’s made your Rob down in the dumps will make him forget his grumbles for a while.”

  “I thought there were something bothering Rob,” said Connie. “Do you think it’s something to do with the weather making the men folk act out of sorts, Jessie? It’s really close and stormy again.”

  “It’s not the weather with Ted. It’s his new teeth. He’s got them for the top and the bottom and he can’t break them in. Says the top plate is the wrong size and won’t stay put. But he’s had it checked twice. I’m right worried he won’t want to come to Blackpool if he thinks his teeth might click and slip in front of folk. He hinted as much earlier.”

  “There’s something he can get to help,” said Connie. “I saw it advertised in one of my magazines. I’ll go and make us a cuppa and then I’ll see if I can find it.”

  While she waited for Connie, Jessie wandered over to the sideboard to glance at the framed photographs across the top of it. She picked up one of Connie’s youngest grandson to get a better look.

  “I like this photo of your Jimmy,” said Jessie, showing it Connie through the serving hatch.

  Connie smiled as she looked at it. “’E’s as made-up as Larry there,” Connie said. “Not that I’m sure who Larry is,” she added laughing.

  Jessie was more interested in what Jimmy was holding than in who Larry might be.

  “That’s an I-Spy book he’s got there. Does he like them? Only I bought two to give Douglas for his birthday. One was for things to spy at the seaside. I reckoned that’d be good for him to bring on the trip to see the ’luminations.”

  “Good idea, that is. We’ll be getting there mid-afternoon so there’ll be plenty of time for spying things before the lights come on.”

  “Ted didn’t seem too sure Douglas would like the books with them not being storybooks. Mind, he didn’t seem too sure about anything today.”

  “Jimmy thinks that getting an I-Spy book is the best thing to ’appen since sweets came off ration three year back,” Connie said as she came back into the living room carrying a tray. “That’s why he’s looking so happy.”

  “So, seeing how he and Douglas are friends, Douglas will probably be chuffed to get a couple,” said Jessie.

  “That’s one thing off your mind then, queen. Let’s see if we can solve the problem of Ted’s teeth while the tea brews.”

  *

  When Jessie woke the next morning she turned over to gaze thoughtfully at Ted who was still asleep.

  What excuse, she wondered, can I give him for going shopping? It wasn’t her day for making the twenty minute bus journey to the nearest big shops. Especially when Reg’s mobile grocery van was due in the prefab village today. But it wasn’t likely Reg would have what she needed.

  Jessie didn’t want to tell Ted about the advertisement Connie had shown her last night for Dr. Wernet’s Powder in case she couldn’t get any. She was hoping to buy a tin so Ted could sprinkle a little of the powder on the plate of his false teeth to help them grip.

  Ted was fidgeting now and Jessie guessed he was about to wake. Even after more than fifty years of marriage she still loved the moment he opened his eyes and looked towards her with a smile and a “’Morning, love”.

  This morning he added quickly to his usual greeting.

  “I don’t suppose you could make a little trip to Woolies to get me some of that special string I need for Douglas’s yoyo? I can’t go because I need to finish smoothing the wood so the lad won’t get splinters. And, although young Rob said he’d try and go hisself first thing on Saturday morning, he also said that would only give him a few hours before the Blackpool trip to see if Sylvia would make things up. So happen you could see if they’ve got that record that he thought would be a nice way of letting Sylvia know how he feels.”

  Ted had told Jessie last night that he’d suggested Rob bought a little something for Sylvia to show her he was missing her and hoped they could make up. Apparently, Rob had said that was a corking idea and thought a recording of a song he and Sylvia liked might be the thing.

  “Sweet Heartaches, it’s called Jessie,” Ted added. “Don’t go anywhere else for it though if Woolies haven’t got it. Their records are half the price of any others and Rob can’t afford to pay out nearly ten bob.”

  Although she’d wanted good reason for going shopping, naughtily, Jessie pulled a face and pretended to think. Then she said, “I suppose I might be able to. If we get breakfast over and done with quickly, I’ll get the ten o’clock bus.”

  *

  “So,” Jessie said to Connie on the morning of the Blackpool trip – she’d popped in to see her after buying some new laid eggs from her friend’s neighbour, “Douglas was right chuffed with his I-Spy books and the yoyo Ted made him. Ted’s really looking forward to the trip because, thanks to you and Doctor Wernet, his teeth feel safe and comfortable now when he’s talking or eating.”

  “And thanks to whatever Ted said to Rob three days back, Rob and Sylvia have made up and they’re definitely coming on the trip,” said Connie, smiling as she spread Echo margarine on the bread she’d sliced.

  “I’m right glad about that,” she added. “I know Rob will want to spend most of his time with Sylvia but it’ll be nice for me to have a while with them. Even though he’s a working man now, I like to make all his favourite picnic food when we go on an outing. ’Mongst other things, I’m making cold sausage and tomato ketchup butties.”

  “Ted reckons a picnic isn’t a picnic without Scotch eggs,” said Jessie. “And new-laid eggs are best for making them so it’s champion your neighbour keeping hens.”

  “Trouble with cooking sausages and Scotch eggs is the mess they can make of your frying pan if you’re not careful,” said Connie. “More often than not I end up having to clean mine with a Brillo pad and they hurt my hands something rotten.”

  “Haven’t you seen those rubber gloves that are new out, Connie? Marigold they’re called. I treated myself to a pair from the chemist’s when I bought the Dr. Wernet’s for Ted. They aren’t that easy to put on and they feel a bit strange once they are on but they stop you getting sore hands.”

  “That’s good to know. D’you reckon I could get the charabanc driver to stop at a chemist’s on our way to Blackpool?” she said, laughing.

  “Doubtful. And if I don’t get a move on now, I won’t be ready when the coach for Blackpool arrives and Ted will want to be one of the first to get on. He won’t want to miss a second of anything he really loves an outing with friends.”

  *

  Ted was feeling more than a little bit out of sorts as he sat on a bench in his garden shed. He’d decided he wouldn’t be able to go on the trip after all.

  He was pondering on how to break it to Jessie, when the shed door opened and Douglas from next door came in.

  “Our Sylvia said she’s just been round and you told her you’re not going to Blackpool,” he said. “I’m
not going, neither, so can I stop in here with you, Mr Ted?”

  “Why aren’t you going, lad?” Ted asked. “I thought you were right excited about it.”

  Douglas sniffed and held out his spectacles in two parts. “They’re broke and last time they got broke Mum said if happened again she wouldn’t mend them. I can’t see much without them so it won’t be any good going to Blackpool, will it?

  “Anyway,” Douglas continued sitting down next to Ted on a wooden bench, “when Mum mends them she uses Elastoplast and they look a right mess. Everyone notices them more than ever and they start calling me Specky-four-eyes. So even if she didn’t mean it about not mending them I’m not going and I’ll stay in the shed with you.”

  “That you won’t,” Ted told him. “I’ll mend your specs and they’ll look as good as new. Then you can go and have a good time in Blackpool.”

  It didn’t take Ted long to do a small, neat repair on the plastic nose bridge of the lad’s spectacles.

  “They should last long enough for going to Blackpool and coming home.” He ruffled Douglas’s hair before handing him the glasses.

  “Thank you, Mr Ted. But why aren’t you coming? You were excited about it, too. You said so at my birthday party yesterday.”

  “I hadn’t lost my Dr. Wernet’s then. But now I have and if I can’t be sure of certain things staying put, I’ll have to stay put instead.”

  Somebody calling Douglas’s name put a stop to further explanations. Ted watched the lad hurry out of the shed and up the path towards the front gate.

  *

  Jessie was opening her garden gate when Sylvia hurried over.

  “Why isn’t Ted coming to Blackpool?” she asked. “Everyone will be right upset. We all love your Ted.”

  “Of course Ted’s coming on the trip,” said Jessie.

  “He isn’t,” said Douglas, arriving at the gate. “It’s because he’s lost Doctor Wernet, whoever he is. And something to do with things not staying put.”

  Jessie felt her face turn hot. She’d borrowed Ted’s fixing powder last night to sprinkle in her Marigolds so they’d go on easier and she’d forgotten to put it back in the bathroom cabinet.

  “Don’t worry,” she told her young neighbours, “I’ll sort it out. My Ted will be coming to Blackpool.”

  Sylvia and Douglas cheered loudly.

  And now, Jessie thought a few minutes later as she hurried down to the shed with the Dr. Wernet’s, thanks to good neighbourliness all round, I reckon it really is safe to say that everyone really is looking forward to the trip to Blackpool and seeing the ’luminations.

  With Every Christmas Card…

  “Mum.” Rob looked up from eating his bowl of Shreddies, “Would it be all right if I ask Bernard Turner to come round to help me make my Spitfire model? He’s already had measles, so Babs being infectious doesn’t matter.”

  “Sorry Rob,” his mum replied. “The smell of the glue and stuff might make her cough.”

  Rob sighed. He was sorry for his sister being so poorly. He’d had measles last year – he’d woken up on his fifteenth birthday covered in spots. He could still remember how fed up he’d felt having to lie in bed with the curtains closed and not being allowed to read. But this time it was an epidemic and he was fed up now an’ all what with most of his friends being badly with measles right when he’d got a few days off work. That meant there wasn’t much to do except make his model. Now he couldn’t do that. Unless…

  “Well, would it be all right if I took my model kit round to Bernard’s then? We could work on it in his garden shed.”

  “I’ve got a better idea, Rob.” His mum got up and went over to push the living room door shut. “I don’t want Babs to hear,” she said. “Mrs Latham said we could borrow her Dansette record player and a few records to cheer Babs up. Just ’til Saturday. The youth club need it then. Why don’t you see if Bernard wants to go with you to fetch it?”

  Mrs Latham was one of the ladies his mum cleaned for. She lived on The Avenue – a fifteen minute walk away. Rob had been to her house before and… “That would be good, Mum. I reckon this afternoon would be the best time to go. Mrs Latham might offer a slice of her special chocolate cake then.”

  “It’ll have to be this morning, Rob. She goes to her W.I. meetings Thursday afternoons. Never misses. One of their main organisers, she is.”

  “Right. I’ll go round for Bernard now. He’ll owe me big time for taking him there when he sees what there is to see. But I think I’ll tease him a bit first.”

  Rob dashed off down Blakeley Road to the Turners’ prefab on Knott Lane. “I’ve got to go to an old lady’s house to fetch a record player we’re borrowing for our Babs. D’you want to come with me, Bernard?”

  “Can’t see that’d be much fun. Must be something better to do with our time when I’ve only got two days left of an unexpected week off school because of the measles epidemic.”

  “Like getting under my feet and asking for something to eat every five minutes, you mean?” said Mrs Turner. “Sick of the sight of you, I am.”

  Rob grinned at her. He knew Bernard’s mum didn’t really mean it. “He’d be much better off coming with me,” he said. “’Specially to somewhere there’s loads of model aeroplanes to look at,” he added.

  “What? In this old lady’s house, you mean?” Bernard demanded.

  “Her grandson builds them. He lives with her. He was a Spitfire pilot in the war.”

  Bernard grabbed his duffle coat from off the back of a chair. “Come on then,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  *

  “I reckon Douglas, Mrs Latham’s grandson, will be at work today,” Rob said when he knocked on the front door of the large detached house. “But he might be here on Saturday when I bring the Dansette back. You could come with me then as well if you want to see him. Don’t forget to wipe your feet when we go in and talk polite,” he added quickly as they heard the door being opened.

  “Good morning, Robert,” Mrs Latham said. “Come for the record player and records, have you?”

  “Good morning, Mrs Latham. This is my friend, Bernard. He’s come to help me carry them home.”

  “And to have a look at Douglas’s models no doubt.”

  “We would like to do that, please, if you’ve got time,” Rob said.

  “Come along inside then. Mr Spalding from next door will be bringing the records round in a few minutes. He borrowed them last week for some event or other. You can look at the models until he arrives and I’ll get on with writing my Christmas cards. I’m only about half-way through. I’ve another three dozen or so to do yet.”

  She led them into a room she called the Snug and waved a hand towards a large showcase before sitting at a large desk.

  “Cripes.” Bernard gasped as he gazed at the models. “Much bigger than the ones we make. I wish we could build ours to this scale.”

  “Don’t think we’d have room for more than one or two this size. They’d be harder to make as well. Just look at all the detail on them. Bet you’re right glad you came now, Bernard,” he added in a whisper.

  “You bet I am.”

  They were so busy admiring the models they didn’t realise Mrs Latham’s neighbour had arrived until they heard him speak.

  “I’ve brought the records, Mrs Latham. Heavens above. What are you doing with all those five pound notes? Not robbed a bank, have you!”

  Rob turned to see what the man was talking about. He’d only been interested in looking at the models; he hadn’t noticed what Mrs Latham was working on at her desk. Bernard obviously hadn’t either, else he’d of mentioned something

  “I made a lucky investment in some shares, Mr Spalding, so I decided to treat my family and friends. They’ll have a white Christmas because I’m putting a five pound in with every Christmas card I write.”

  Clever that was, thought Rob. Fivers are white.

  “I’ve got company this evening,” Mrs Latham continued, “so I want to get the cards writ
ten before I go to my W.I. meeting this afternoon. Then first thing tomorrow, I’ll take them to the post office and send them off by registered mail.”

  “Very sensible,” said Mr Spalding. He glanced at Rob and Bernard. “Are you the ones who’ve come to fetch the records?”

  “They are.” Mrs Latham answered before either Rob or Bernard had time to. “The Dansette is ready and waiting for you on the hall table, Robert.”

  “Right.” Rob walked over and took the records from Mr Spalding. “We’ll go now. Thank you very much for letting us borrow them, Mrs Latham. We’ll bring everything back on Saturday morning.”

  “And thank you for letting us look at the models,” Bernard said. “They’re really super.”

  “I must go now, too,” Mr Spalding said. “I forgot to mention, Mrs Latham, I’m going to visit my brother in Llandudno today and I must hurry because I’m getting the one o’clock train. I’m staying overnight and I won’t be home until late tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Enjoy your visit,” Mrs Latham said. Then she looked at Rob. “And, Robert, I hope listening to records might keep your little sister happily occupied for a while.”

  *

  Babs was asleep when Rob and Bernard got back so they had something to eat and waited for her to wake up. And at half-past one, they heard her calling.

  She was thrilled when they took the records and record player into her.

  “Bernard’s staying for a while,” Rob told her. “Mum checked with his mum and it’s all right. We’re going to look after you while Mum goes to do Mr Hargreaves’s cleaning. She’ll only be a couple of hours and one of us can go round and fetch Auntie Arlene if you feel poorly.”

  “There’s a Max Bygraves record here,” Bernard said. “Gilly Gilly Ossenfeffer. Shall we have that one first?”

  “All right,” Rob agreed. “But you hadn’t better sing along too much, in case it makes you cough, Babs.”