Christmas Roses

by Pat Posner

  They’d played almost all the records when Rob checked the time. “Mum should be home soon, Babs,” he said. “We’ll just play one more record and then I’ll go and put the kettle on. She likes a cup of tea the second she gets in.”

  Their mum walked in before the record had ended. Laughing, she joined in the chorus of She’ll be Comin’ Round the Mountain.

  They were all “eye-eye, yippee, yippee eye-ing” when a tremendous rumbling from outside made the needle screech across the record as the prefab shuddered and shook.

  Babs dived under the bedclothes but Rob and Bernard dashed outside.

  “Cripes!” yelled Rob pointing at a huge aircraft silhouetted inside the low clouds. “What is it?”

  “Land Sakes,” yelled Arlene Whittaker running out of her prefab. World War Three hasn’t started has it?”

  “It’s a Convair B-36,” said her elderly dad who’d followed her out. “Reckon it’s on its way to Burtonwood, there’s still some of the United States Air Force based there.”

  “Is that the one they call Peacemaker?” Betty Jones asked as she and her husband, Tom, hurried up with a few more folk from the neighbouring prefabs. “’Tisn’t very peaceful, is it?”

  “It’s super,” shouted Bernard. “It must be circling to burn off fuel or something. Bit of luck it isn’t properly dark yet else we’d hardly have been able to see it at all.”

  “You don’t reckon it’s going to make an emergency landing in Broome Park,” do you?” asked Arlene, sounding nervous.

  “Don’t think so,” Rob said after a while. “I think it’s stopped circling. It seems to be moving away.”

  Everyone started to drift homewards when they could no longer see it. But they heard the noise from the six piston engines for some considerable time.

  “I bet there’ll be something about this in tomorrow’s Evening News,” Bernard said to Rob.

  “Yes, we’ll go and buy the early edition.”

  “Right. I’ll come round in the morning and we can listen to records for a bit then we can go and get a paper about half-one,” Bernard said. “I best get off home now.”

  *

  “Can’t you three play another record, Rob?” said his mum as she walked into Babs’ bedroom with drinks for him, Babs and Bernard. “I think I’ll go mad if I hear that Laughing Policeman song one more time.”

  “Bernard wasn’t here the first twice we played it,” Babs said. “So we put it on for him to listen to.”

  “Looks like Policeman Ken’s come to have a listen an’ all,” said Bernard who was sitting by the window. “He’s coming up the path.”

  Rob jumped up to turn the sound down as him mum hurried out of the room. She’d have his guts for garters if Policeman Ken was here to complain about the noise.

  A couple of minutes later his mum called him and Bernard into the kitchen. “Policeman Ken wants a word with you,” she said.

  “Sorry about the noise,” Rob said quickly.

  “He isn’t here about that, Rob.” His mum shook her head. “Though it wouldn’t have surprised me if he were.”

  “It’s about yesterday, lads, when the two of you went to Mrs Latham’s. Could you tell me about it? What you did, what you saw?”

  “We saw the most super model aeroplanes,” Bernard said.

  “And what was Mrs Latham doing while you were looking at them?”

  “She was sitting at her desk,” Rob replied. “Said she wanted to finish writing her Christmas cards.”

  Policeman Ken nodded. “Did you see her writing them?”

  “No, we were looking at the models.”

  “Her neighbour, Mr Spalding I think he were called, he saw her doing it,” Bernard said. “Remember, Rob, he asked her if she’d robbed a bank because she had some five pound notes. She said she were putting one in with every Christmas card.”

  “Cripes, is that what’s up?” demanded Rob. “Has she robbed a bank?”

  “Of course she hasn’t, Rob,” his mum said. “Mrs Latham is a good, honest person.”

  “I’m afraid it appears to be Mrs Latham herself who has been robbed,” Policeman Ken told them. “She said she left the cards on her desk when she went off to her W.I. meeting. She had intended to take them to the post office to send by registered mail this morning.”

  “Yes, I remember her saying that to Mr Spalding,” said Rob.

  “But when she returned from her meeting, the cards she had already addressed weren’t on her desk,” said the policeman. “Neither were the remaining five pound notes she’d left on it to put in with the cards she still had to write.”

  “You mean someone broke in and burgled her while she were out and took Christmas cards and money along with other stuff?”

  “There was no sign of a break in.” Policeman Ken frowned. “Apparently, Mrs Latham always leaves a spare door key on a ledge above the front door and, unfortunately, quite a few people know about it.”

  “Times I’ve told her she didn’t ought to do that is nobody’s business,” said Rob’s mum.

  “If only she’d listened, Mrs Cole,” said the policeman. “But now, lads, I want you to think carefully. When you left Mrs Latham’s house, did you see anyone?”

  “Only Mr Spalding,” said Rob. “He left when we did. Said he were hurrying because he had a train to catch.”

  “Mrs Latham mentioned that,” said Policeman Ken. “He isn’t due home until later today. I’ll have a word with him then and asked if he noticed anyone hanging around. I’ll be off now, but if either of you remember anything else, let me know.”

  Rob and Bernard discussed it for ages after the policeman had left but they were both sure they hadn’t seen anyone else in the avenue. But Rob did recall something Mrs Latham had said.

  “When she let us in she said she was half-way through writing her cards and she’d another three dozen still to do. That makes seventy-two cards and if she were putting five pounds in every one of them…”

  “Crikey. The thief went in to steal other stuff and went off with three hundred and sixty pounds an’ all. He probably weren’t expecting that.”

  “I hope they catch whoever did it,” Rob said. “Shame we never saw anything suspicious.”

  “We saw something unusual yesterday, though, didn’t we? Oh, not when we left Mrs Latham’s but later on.” Bernard moved one hand around in the air and made a growling noise.

  “Right. The B-36. Let’s go and see if the early edition of the Evening News is in yet.”

  Mrs Latham and her Christmas cards were forgotten for a while as everyone Rob and Bernard met on their way through the prefab village to the newsagent’s on the main road talked about the huge aeroplane they’d watched the day before. When Rob said they were going for a newspaper to see if there was a write up, Betty Jones and a few of the others asked him to buy them a paper if there was something about the aeroplane in.

  There was a good write up and a photo as well. Rob and Bernard spent the rest of the day listening to records with Babs and drawing pictures of the B-36.

  “Don’t forget we’re taking the record player and records back in the morning,” Rob said as Bernard was leaving to go home.

  “Don’t either of you dare mention the burglary,” Rob’s mum warned. “It might upset Mrs Latham.”

  *

  Rob was really pleased when it was Douglas who answered the door when he and Bernard arrived at Mrs Latham’s next morning.

  “How’s the modelling going, Rob?” he asked as they walked down the hallway.

  “I’ve got a kit for a Spitfire, but haven’t got round to starting it yet,” Rob replied.

  “It’s a much smaller scale than your Spitfire,” Bernard said. “Yours is terrific.”

  “Mr Spalding is here taking a photo of that and one or two others,” Douglas said, leading them into the Snug.

  Rob and Bernie put the Dansette and the records on a table and went over to the showcase.

  “Hello again, lads,” Mr Spalding sai
d. “I was telling my brother about these models when I went to visit him on Thursday afternoon. He asked me to take some photos and send them to him.”

  “They’ll need to be good photos to do them justice,” Rob replied before looking at Douglas and asking if he’d built a model of the B-36.

  “Ah, you saw the Peacemaker the other day did you?” Mr Spalding asked. “It was so low when it flew over my house the whole building trembled. I really thought the monster was about to lift the chimneys off the roof.”

  Rob nodded. “We’d better go now, Douglas,” he said. “We’ve got to—”

  “Rob,” Bernard protested, “I wanted to ask Douglas about—”

  Rob nudged his friend in the ribs. “Ask him next time. We’ve got to go.”

  “I’ll see you out,” Douglas said. Rob heaved a silent sigh of relief. He’d been counting on Douglas saying that.

  When they reached the front door he said quietly to Douglas, “Mum said I wasn’t to mention the burglary but… Listen. On Thursday morning, Mr Spalding told your mum he was catching the one o’clock train to Llandudno to go and see his brother. He just said in there about being with his brother Thursday afternoon. So how could he have seen that B-36? It was half-past three when it was circling the area.”

  “You seem very sure of the time, Rob.”

  “I’d checked a few minutes earlier. Mum was due home and I was going to put the kettle on ready for a cup of tea.”

  “That’s right,” Bernard agreed. “You said we’d time to play one more record first and your mum walked in just before it ended. And a couple of minutes later we heard the noise and dashed outside and saw the plane. When it moved away from the prefab village it would have passed over the houses here. We could hear it for quite a while.”

  “Rob,” demanded Douglas. “Are you suggesting our neighbour had something to do with—?”

  “He saw your mum with the money she was putting in with her Christmas cards. He made a joke and asked her if she’d robbed a bank.”

  “And a bit after that,” Bernard said, thoughtfully, “Mr Spalding said how he’d forgotten to mention he was going to Llandudno to see his brother. I bet he hadn’t mentioned it because when he saw all the money he made up a lie about how he wouldn’t be here.”

  “So he could come in and get the money while your mum was at her meeting and nobody would think it was him who’d stolen it because they thought he weren’t here,” added Rob. “And after he had done it, he just hid inside his house ’til the next afternoon.”

  “Right,” Douglas said, frowning. “You two get off home now and I’ll telephone the police, tell them what you’ve told me and keep Mr Spalding talking until they arrive. I’m sure a constable will be round to see you later to get a statement from you.”

  *

  “It all happened just the way you two worked it out,” said Constable Boyce the following evening.

  “Did Mr Spalding confess easily, Policeman Ken?” Rob asked.

  “Or did you have to put pressure on him?” added Bernard.

  “Once we pointed out how he’d given himself away by mentioning the B-36 flying low over his house, he admitted to the crime,” said Policeman Ken. “He’ll be dealt with accordingly.”

  “That B-36 will be remembered for more reasons than one,” Rob said. “Dunno about Peacemaker, it should be called Crimesolver because if it hadn’t flown over on that day at that time…”

  “Mr Spalding couldn’t have given himself away like he did,” said Bernard grinning.

  “And you know what?” said Rob. “We’ve got the measles epidemic to thank an’ all. If I hadn’t been given a couple of days off work and if your school hadn’t been closed, Bernard, we wouldn’t have gone to Mrs Latham’s house on Thursday morning.”

  “What you might call a lucky break,” Policeman Ken said, smiling.

  “Cripes, it really was a lucky break just like Policeman Ken said,” Rob commented to Bernard when they received an early Christmas present from Douglas and Mrs Latham: A model kit to build their own B-36 aeroplane.

  Flo and Sam’s First Christmas Together

  Flo woke to the sound of Sam’s gentle snores. Oh, how she loved to wake and know he was there beside her. Come Christmas Day, they’d have been married for six months. She still couldn’t believe they’d found each other at their time of life. Not that they were really old, she told herself. Sam would be seventy-five soon and she were only seventy-three. But, until she’d met Sam, she’d thought she’d be an old maid for life. Sam had been married before though. Lost his wife in the war, he had, and lived on his own until he’d come to live in the prefab village with his son and family some sixteen months back.

  Thinking of Sam’s late wife, brought a little niggle to Flo’s mind. I bet she knew how to cook a flipping capon without it either drying up or bein’ half-raw. Poultry, which was only a twice yearly treat – Easter and Christmas – was about the only thing Flo couldn’t cook. When she’d lived with her sister, Connie had always been the one to do that. Of course, if Connie had been here then she’d have likely come round to keep an eye on Flo’s capon. But Connie had gone to visit her eldest daughter and son-in-law in America. Ruby and Walt had paid for her ticket and, after much argy-bargy-ing, Connie had agreed to go for Christmas.

  Flo smiled to herself as she recalled what Ruby had written in the letter she’d sent her: I’m sure you’ll be able to persuade Mam to spend Christmas over here with me and Walt, Auntie Flo. I know you’re a bit younger than her so she thinks she’s the boss of you two but I fancy she’d listen to you this time. She’d never admit it but even though she’d still be going to our Pearl’s for part of Christmas Day like you and she have done up ‘til now, she’d be sure to feel a bit lonesome this year what with you and Sam being wed and no doubt wanting to spend all of Christmas alone together. I know Pearl agrees with this, we’ve been writing back and two about it for weeks and she’ll help you talk Mam into agreeing.

  So it had all worked out well. Sam’s son, daughter-in-law and grand-kiddies had gone to live in Australia just after she and Sam got married and, although she and Sam would go next-door-but one to see Pearl and Alf and the three kiddies on Boxing Day, they’d be celebrating their first Christmas Day and their six-month anniversary together, just the two of them. And the only fly in the ointment would be the capon she’d have to cook for their Christmas dinner. But that was three days away yet and maybe, now she was a married woman, she’d somehow be gifted the knack of cooking it to perfection.

  *

  In that dozy half-asleep, half-awake state of early morning, Sam reckoned he could hear his Flo’s mind working at ten to the dozen. No doubt planning things out for the next few days. It were Saturday today, shortest day of the year, he realised, not that Flo would be taking that into account. No, she was probably thinking of the Christmas cards they still had to write and deliver. They’d likely be doing that after breakfast.

  Oh, they’d already sent those cards that had needed posting but these ones were for friends and neighbours in the village. He knew from last year it was a sort of unspoken agreement everybody delivered by hand and went into each other’s prefabs for a mince pie or sausage roll – and, depending on what time it was, sometimes a glass of sherry or port or Guinness. Or maybe Flo was thinking of going collecting more holly from Broome Park. She’d said something about needing a couple of branches more for the living room. Looked perfect already to his mind and he’d enjoyed putting up the decorations and decorating the tree.

  The little wooden figures and such he’d carved for Flo and Connie’s tree last year looked a treat. They held a special place in his heart, too. Making them and taking them round to theirs one by one was when he’d first realised he had strong feelings for Flo. And now they’d be making memories of their first Christmas together. Actually, although they still did some things separate, like Flo going to her W.I. meetings and him going to The Woodman for a pint and a game of dominoes, they’d spent t
he last six months making memories of things they did together, hadn’t they! And everything looked better and brighter somehow when they shared looking at whatever it was. Yes, every occasion, even walking round Radlington market on market days, had given them something to remember, like choosing and buying a capon yesterday.

  He wished he’d had the guts to tell Flo he didn’t like capon, chicken or any other poultry come to that. But she’d talked so much about how this would be their first Christmas dinner together, so excited, bless her, when he’d told her there’d be a nice stalk of Brussels sprouts what had been kissed by the frost ready to pick from the garden and he’d already dug up parsnips after the first frost and stored them in the shed in a box layered with sand so they’d be good for Christmas Day. If only there wasn’t going to be that capon as well. Maybe he’d sighed because the next second he felt Flo wriggle and then she was looking down at him with a lovely smile on her pretty face.

  *

  An hour or so later, with breakfast eaten and cleared away, they sat writing out Christmas cards listening to Uncle Mac presenting Children’s Favourites on the wireless. “Oh, listen Sam,” Flo said, “he’s going to play Christmas Alphabet. I love it when it gets to M is for the mistletoe. First time you kissed me was under mistletoe here at your Keith and Ellen’s Christmas party.”

  “We don’t need mistletoe to kiss under these days, do we?” Sam smiled and turned his face to Flo’s to prove his words. “Strange to think, though,” he said after their loving kiss, “how this time last year, I was a rather crabby fella living here with Keith, Ellen and my grand-kiddies and, now, it’s you and me living here.”

  “You missing them, Sam?” Flo asked feeling a bit worried.

  “Only sometimes and only a little bit, love. But us being together more than makes up for that. How about you? You must be missing your Connie a bit.”

  “Although it’s lovely writing: With love from Sam and Flo on the cards, it feels right funny signing them from you and me instead of me and Connie. Afore she went off to Ruby and Walt’s I did tell her I’d put her name on our cards as well seeing how she wouldn’t be here to write and deliver any. But she gave me a little pile of cards she’d already written so we could hand them out with ours.”