Joyce beamed. ‘I love that one.’
Annie smiled. ‘Right.’ She took another breath before singing out the first line. ‘Once in royal David’s city…’
The girls soon joined in and their singing bounced around the room as they dressed the tree.
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her Baby
In a manger for His bed…
‘What’s all the racket in here?’
The girls immediately stopped singing and looked anxiously at each other.
Arthur pushed open the door. He took in the scene and scowled. ‘Who said we could have a tree this year?’
Joyce stood rigid and Rose stepped forward. ‘It was my idea, Mr Bradshaw. I’m sorry I should have asked your permission first but, if I’m honest, I was afraid you would say no.’
Colour ran up Joyce’s neck. She couldn’t let Rose take the blame. She took a breath and stepped forward. ‘Uncle––’
‘Mr Bradshaw, Rose and I miss our families so much and we couldn’t get home for Christmas so we wanted to bring a little of our homes here so we could celebrate with you in some small way.’ She gave Joyce a sideways look and hoped she would stay quiet. ‘We’re sorry if we’ve offended you in some way, that was not what we set out to do.’
Arthur studied Annie for a moment. He didn’t know why but she reminded him so much of his wife; it was painful but wonderful all at the same time. He nodded. ‘I should have been told. It was a shock to see it and to hear the carols being sung, and we haven’t had a tree since…’ he looked over at Joyce, ‘… since I don’t know when.’
Rose stepped forward. ‘Mr Bradshaw, what do you think of the ribbons? We don’t have money to spend on baubles and things so we’ve each taken the ribbons we have from our rooms.’
Arthur stared at the tree for a few minutes. ‘Very nice.’ He turned and walked out of the room.
The girls each breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Thank you, I didn’t want both of you to take the blame, you should have let me own up to it.’ Joyce glanced across at her friends. ‘Although I must admit he seems to take things better from you two than me.’
Annie smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Joyce, it’s because you’re family. Everyone takes things out on the people they love the most.’ She paused. ‘I don’t know why but I suppose they feel safe in the knowledge that they are loved by that person.’
Joyce nodded. ‘Even if that love has been tested over the years.’
The girls laughed, before turning back to finish dressing the tree.
Rose stretched a length of ribbon through her fingers. ‘I don’t think it looks too bad.’
The three of them stood admiring the tree unaware that Arthur had come back into the room.
‘If you want some baubles and other Christmas decorations, there are some down in the basement somewhere.’ His gruff voice made them jump.
The three of them turned to face him not knowing what to say to him.
‘Of course you don’t have to use them, I’m just saying that’s all.’ Arthur turned to leave them to it.
‘Wait, sorry, Mr Bradshaw, you’ve caught us by surprise.’ Rose’s eyes widened and her mouth slackened for a moment. ‘Are you saying we can go down and look for them or will you do that for us?’
Arthur studied each girl in turn before letting his eyes settle on his niece. ‘Joyce, I can’t bring myself to do it.’ He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘So I shall trust you to not allow unnecessary rummaging down there.’
Joyce nodded.
Annie suddenly felt sorry for him. ‘We won’t, sir, we promise.’
Arthur nodded and left the room again. His heavy footsteps could be heard going up the stairs.
Rose turned to Joyce, her voice not much more than a whisper. ‘Shall we go down there or shall we just stick to the ribbons?’
Annie’s gaze ping-ponged between her two friends. ‘I don’t think he would have told us to do it if he didn’t want us to.’
Joyce nodded. ‘Annie’s right, but we do need to be careful because he was clearly getting upset.’
Rose nodded. ‘He must have really loved your aunt to keep everything buried away and still be carrying the hurt of it all.’
Joyce shrugged. ‘I can’t work it out. It feels like it’s more than that but I don’t know what it is.’ She placed her ribbons on the table and walked over to the dresser to pick up the beeswax candle and the box of matches that were sitting next to it.
They all walked out into the hall and used a pair of boots to prop open the basement door. Rose struck a match and lit the candle.
Joyce held the candle, the flame dancing as the cold draft caught it. She put up her hand to shield it from being blown out. They went down the steps, each following the other. The damp, musty smell was not as strong this time. Joyce looked around her, searching for a clue of where to begin. ‘I don’t know where to start.’
Annie peered at the boxes stacked high. ‘If they haven’t been used for ages maybe they will be at the very bottom of one of these stacks.’
‘It’s as good a place to start as any.’ Rose walked over to the first pile of six boxes and started to move them to get to the bottom one. ‘What I would say is it should become obvious as soon as we open a box so we shouldn’t need to delve inside them.’
Joyce nodded. ‘That’s true.’ She followed Rose and put the candle down on a small side table and began moving the boxes to stack them next to her. As she picked up a box the bottom gave way and papers dropped out onto the floor. ‘Oh no, Uncle Arthur will think I’ve been going through his things.’
Rose quickly bent down to start picking up the papers that were on the floor.
Annie looked around her. ‘I’ll see if I can find something to hold it together, maybe some string or something.’
Rose turned the box upside down and began stacking the paperwork inside the box.
A photograph that had been caught between some papers fell on to the floor. Joyce picked it up and studied it. The young girl wasn’t smiling and yet she still looked full of happiness. She wondered what had happened to make her aunt lose that spirit.
Rose peered over Joyce’s hand. ‘Is that your aunt?’
Joyce quickly dropped it into the box but it was face up staring at Rose. Joyce dropped some papers on top of it. ‘We need to get everything back into the box just in case Uncle Arthur comes down.’
Rose nodded and carried on gathering and straightening papers, all the time wondering why the woman in the photograph looked so familiar to her.
‘I found some cord.’ Annie yelled out. ‘I don’t know whether it’s important but I just found it behind those other boxes over there.’
‘It doesn’t matter. We just need to get this box shut again, otherwise we will never be trusted again.’ Joyce held her hand out for the thin black cord.
Annie handed it over and the pair of them managed to wrap it round the box and tie a knot to keep it secure.
‘I think there’s a box that looks like it could contain Christmas decorations over in the corner.’ Annie stretched out her arm and pointed to where she meant. ‘I haven’t opened it but I thought I could see paper chains just inside it.’
Joyce breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Let’s hope so.’
They walked over to the boxes and opened a couple of them.
Rose reached in and took a bauble out of the box. The three of them stared at it. Rose was the first to break the silence. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it, it’s so beautiful. It’s sparkling in the candlelight.’
Joyce peered inside the box. ‘They look like they are all different.’ She pulled out a painted wooden Father Christmas, which was caught up with wooden reindeers and a sleigh.
Annie leant in to have a closer look. ‘These look like they could be quite expensive. Some even look Victorian.’
Rose smiled. ‘I didn’t know you knew about such things.’
Annie laughed
. ‘I don’t but my ma has got some of my grandma’s tree decorations and I think they go back quite a way. These look similar, though of course it doesn’t mean they’re the same.’
Rose cast her eye back to the treasure they had uncovered. ‘No, but they are beautiful nonetheless.’
*
Annie sat in her bed, her arms wrapped around her knees under the covers. The blankets were pulled up high. She gazed down at the two unopened letters that were sitting on the bed in front of her and wondered what Margaret was doing. ‘Merry Christmas, everyone, I miss you all so much.’ Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered how her sister always used to wake her up on Christmas morning, brimming over with excitement. They would have a few minutes opening their stockings together. A tear rolled down her cheek as she wondered where David was. Was he safe? How was he going to spend his Christmas Day? It was the first one the family had ever spent apart and she had the strong urge to get back home but knew that wasn’t possible, especially today of all days. She had written to David every day but had not received any letters from him. Annie prayed every night that God would keep her family safe.
There was a light knock on Annie’s bedroom door; she quickly rubbed her hands over her face. ‘Come in.’
The door opened slowly and Rose poked her head round the door. ‘Merry Christmas, I wasn’t sure if you would be awake yet.’
Annie quickly moved the letters to one side and forced a smile.
Rose came in, wearing her pink dressing gown with her matching slippers. She sat on the side of Annie’s bed. Her dressing gown parted slightly revealing her long white nightdress. ‘It’s cold, isn’t it?’ She tugged her dressing gown over her knees as a shiver ran through her.
‘Merry Christmas to you too, I’ve been awake for ages. I was just sitting here thinking about my family and whether David was safe.’
Sorrow passed quickly over Rose’s face. She reached out and took Annie’s hand in hers. ‘That doesn’t surprise me because I’ve had similar thoughts.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘About my own family, that is.’
‘The show ends at the Aldwych tomorrow; it moves on to the Lyric Theatre, wherever that is.’ Annie peered at Rose. ‘I was wondering whether to take a few days off and go home.’
‘Have you got the money to?’ Rose frowned. ‘And what about Kitty?’
Annie smiled. ‘I’m sure Kitty could manage for a few days without me and because we were lucky to get work straight away I’ve still got most of the money my mother gave me.’
‘You have to do what’s right for you, Annie, but I can’t afford to travel home. Give it a few weeks and I might be able to.’ Rose squeezed Annie’s hand. ‘I know you’re worrying about everyone, as I am but, I’ve decided we don’t know and can’t find out anything, other than through our letters, so we just have to keep going. I know our families wouldn’t want us to be miserable.’ She paused for a moment. ‘That’s why I’m here, I thought we could help each other along today.’
Annie gave a watery smile before biting down on her lip for a second. ‘You’re a good friend, Rose.’
‘We’re in it together so we have to look after each other.’ Rose pushed her hands inside her dressing gown pockets. ‘Didn’t the tree look lovely by the time we’d put our presents under it last night?’
Annie smiled. ‘It did. We were lucky Mr Bradshaw had a change of heart. I must admit I was afraid of dropping the glass baubles, they looked expensive.’
Rose nodded. ‘They are beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like them before.’ She giggled. ‘Our tree back home was always decorated with homemade paper chains and decorations made out of gingerbread and pastry. Sometimes we had chocolate but they were often eaten before the day was over.’
Annie giggled. ‘Yes, ours was pretty similar.’ She sighed. ‘I used to love the smell of baking around the house at Christmas.’
Rose nodded. ‘Perhaps we should have offered to have baked a cake or something.’
Annie raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t think so, my baking is nowhere near as good as Joyce’s.’
Rose looked thoughtfully at Annie. ‘I didn’t sleep very well last night.’
‘Is that because of Christmas and not being with your family?’
Rose shook her head. ‘It should have been but no it wasn’t. Yesterday, when the bottom fell out of that box, a photograph of a young woman was amongst all the papers scattered all over the floor.’ She sighed. ‘I didn’t know who she was, I can only assume it was Joyce’s aunt, but Joyce never answered when I asked who it was.’
Annie shrugged. ‘So why did that keep you awake last night?’
‘I don’t know. There was something about the woman that looked familiar and yet I’ve never met Joyce’s aunt. I’d certainly remember if I’d met her uncle before.’
Annie smiled. ‘They say everyone’s got a twin somewhere.’
Rose frowned. ‘Do they, or are you just making it up?’
‘Cheek! I think I read it somewhere, but don’t ask me where because I couldn’t tell you.’
Rose playfully slapped her friend’s leg. ‘So, you are making it up.’
‘No, why would I do that?’
Rose giggled. ‘Do you think we should go downstairs? It might be warmer, especially if the range has been lit. We could offer to light the fire in the dining room and to help with some cooking, even if it’s only peeling potatoes?’
Annie smiled. ‘It can’t be any colder, there must be ice on the inside of these windows today.’
Rose nodded in the direction of Annie’s post. ‘Do you want to read your letters first?’
Annie lifted her chin slightly. ‘They came yesterday and I purposely left them for today but now I don’t know if I can read them without getting upset.’ She picked them up and turned them over and looked at the same small neat handwriting on both of the envelopes. ‘They’re from home, that’s Margaret’s writing.’ Annie smiled. ‘Me ma writes her letter but gets Margaret to address the envelope because she’s frightened she’ll do it wrong and I won’t receive it.’
Rose smiled. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to decide about your letters and brave the cold to have a wash in this room, and because it’s Christmas I’ll be kind and bring you up a jug of hot water.’
Annie smiled. ‘Ah, thank you, you’re spoiling me.’ A thud came from downstairs. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you whether you hear noises in the night?’
Rose eyed her friend. ‘What sort of noises? I sometimes wake up but I don’t know why or I hear a man’s voice but I assume that’s Mr Bradshaw.’
‘Yes, I hear his voice, it sometimes wakes me up, but who is he talking to?’
Rose looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Maybe his wife is still here, locked in a room, or maybe he’s killed her.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘We hadn’t thought of that, had we?’
Annie shook her head. ‘No, but that’s because it’s highly unlikely. I think Joyce would have noticed by now. Something isn’t right, he clearly loved her.’
‘Or he drinks through guilt.’
The pair of them sat in silence for a moment.
Annie looked at Rose. ‘Perhaps we should explore some of the rooms we haven’t been in yet?’
Rose frowned. ‘How will we do that without getting caught? Why are you suddenly so worried about it?’
‘I’m not worried, but if she was being held against her will and we found out wouldn’t you feel bad?’
Rose laughed. ‘I think for some people that’s called marriage.’
Annie smiled as she shook her head. ‘You’re terrible.’
‘I don’t know, I know our parents are happy but imagine being married to Mr Blake or Butterworth.’ Rose jumped up. ‘I shall leave you with that happy thought.’
‘Thanks for that.’
Rose giggled. ‘I have no idea what the time is but it must be getting on so I’ll go and get ready and give you another knock.’
*
The house was filled with
the aroma of food cooking. The small chicken was sitting on a plate in the middle of the kitchen table ready for the traditional carving at the table. There was an abundance of vegetables bubbling in pots on top of the stove.
A bicycle bell rang continually outside, while a man shouted trying to be heard over the ringing. ‘The Germans are coming! Take cover, the Germans are coming!’
Joyce quickly swung round on her heels and took the pans off the range. She grabbed the plate of chicken and a tea towel. ‘Annie, grab a jug of water and four cups, we need to get everyone down into the basement.’
Rose came running into the kitchen. ‘Where’s your uncle? He’s not in his usual chair.’
Panic ran over her face. She put the chicken back down on the table. ‘Take all this down into the basement and I’ll find him.’
Rose shook her head. ‘We don’t have time. Take it all downstairs and I’ll have a look upstairs and keep my fingers crossed I don’t see anything that will burn out my eyes.’ She quickly turned and ran out of the kitchen. Her footsteps could be heard thudding up the stairs.
‘Come on, Joyce. Rose is right, we don’t have time to be waiting around.’ Annie turned and led the way to the basement with Joyce following up behind her.
They put the food and drink onto a small table and Joyce immediately lit a candle. The basement had a small amount of light threading through the small window. The damp musty smell had not left the basement but the aroma of the chicken was trying to compete with it.
Rose’s muffled voice filtered through. ‘Come on, you may wish to end your life but I certainly have no desire to end mine.’
There was silence.
Annie and Joyce immediately ran up the stairs.
Rose yelled. ‘Get up! You need to start getting a grip, Mr Bradshaw. I don’t know what’s happened in your life but to sit in an empty room with a bottle of whiskey and crying is not helping you.’
Joyce suddenly screamed out in agony as she slipped down near the top of the stairs.
Annie ran back down a couple of steps. ‘Joyce, are you all right? If I help you, can you get back down the stairs?’
a heartwarming WW1 saga about love and friendship (The West End Girls Book 1) Page 26