A Perfect Christmas

by Lynda Page

  It was twenty minutes later when he finally looked across at her and said softly, ‘Lucy was so close, Jan, but she might as well have been a million miles away. I had the golden opportunity to try and catch a glimpse of her snatched away from me . . .’ He proceeded to tell her what had happened. ‘I prayed another chance would come along but it hasn’t. I had no jobs outstanding and nothing came in so I spent the rest of the day tidying the shelves in the maintenance room and checking if I needed to order anything, in an effort to occupy my mind.’

  ‘It must have been purgatory for you,’ Jan responded understandingly. ‘But, you know, there was an excuse you could have used to get you in that office.’

  He looked quizzically at her. ‘There was? I racked my brains for one and came up with nothing, so I’d like to hear what it is?’

  Jan smiled. ‘You men aren’t as devious as us women, that’s why it didn’t occur to you. You could have just made out that you’d heard on the grapevine a radiator was leaking. Or maybe that a window was cracked and you needed to measure the glass to replace it, something like that, then when you were told that there wasn’t anything amiss, you could just put it down to receiving the wrong information from whoever it was that passed it on.’

  ‘Well, I have to stay, that simple idea never crossed my mind.’ Then Glen heaved a forlorn sigh. ‘Trouble is, Jan, I’m having a struggle with my conscience. You know how much I want to see my daughter. To have the opportunity to try and make up for all the years we’ve lost, just hold her in my arms for a second, would mean more than anything to me. But to my mind the workplace isn’t the right place to break the news to her of who I am or explain to her that the woman who’s raised her isn’t the wonderful mother she thinks she is. Getting her to believe my story when I have no proof of what Nerys did to me is another problem. And, of course, I have no idea what Nerys has told her about me. But when all’s said and done, what she’s about to learn is going to devastate her, isn’t it? I’m not sure I can do that to her, Jan.’

  ‘Listen, Glen, when my son was alive, I wanted to protect him from everything that might cause him hurt or heartache. But you can’t . . . it’s impossible. Life has its ups and downs, its good times and its bad, and as we’re growing up we have to learn to deal with them and the things that happen to us.’ She leaned forward, eyeing him earnestly, and spoke with conviction. ‘Your daughter needs . . . deserves . . . to know that her father is alive and well and that he loves her. She needs to know the truth about why you disappeared from her life, Glen, no matter what pain it causes her.’

  He looked at Jan for several long moments before he said, ‘But what if . . .’

  She cut in, ‘Life’s full of what ifs, Glen. Mine certainly is. What if it had been pelting with rain that night and my son had not gone out at all? What if I’d dished the dinner up earlier and we’d been eating when his friends called? What if Bernie hadn’t been my window cleaner? What if Harry hadn’t come home when he had and caught us . . . I could go on.

  ‘Stop thinking about the what ifs, Glen, they might never happen. Let’s just deal with things as they come, eh? I agree that the workplace isn’t the right one to divulge the type of news you have to give your daughter, but as things stand it’s the only option open to you. Or, just an idea, you could always wait for her to come out of work and waylay her then – tell her you have some very important family news and ask her to go somewhere you can discuss it. A nearby pub perhaps. But, look, first things first. Why don’t you decide just what you’re going to say to her first, before when and where you’re going to do it?’

  It was good advice Jan was giving him and he smiled at her. ‘Yes, I will.’ He took several sips of his tea, which was now cold, before he looked across at her again and tentatively asked, ‘Did . . . er . . . you happen to see Lucy when you were taking the tea trolley around today? If you did, what’s she like?’

  Jan had been waiting for this question. It wasn’t until dinnertime when she had been wiping down tables near a group of women from the offices upstairs that she had overheard them discussing the fact that it wasn’t the actual owner who had come in to run the business but her daughter. That was when she had realised that the young woman she’d had a run-in with yesterday morning in the boss’s office had had every right to be in there, and every right also to dismiss Jan for speaking as she had about her mother. Jan just hoped that she didn’t come face to face with her again until sufficient time had passed for her to have forgotten the incident. But then, how could she tell Glen that what she’d thought had been her first impression of his daughter hadn’t been at all favourable? When she’d seen her in the church, Jan had thought her far too full of her own importance and her manner certainly left a lot to be desired. She just couldn’t tell the truth, though. Hopefully, she had caught the young woman at a bad time.

  She lied to Glen. ‘I’ve not been out of the kitchen. Hilda’s decided it’s best I learn the ropes in the canteen first.’ She wanted to ask him how his day had gone but Glen was staring into the glowing coals in the fireplace again. It was obvious his thoughts were fixed on his daughter and how best to handle the delicate situation with her.

  Jan sat back in her own chair and rested her head, stretching out her feet to prop them on the hearth. She found herself thinking about her husband and for a moment was transported back to a time when they had all been happy. After dinner had been cleared away, the three of them would sit together in the living room, she with her knitting or the latest book she was reading, Harry with his newspaper, Keith with a comic or toy, the radio playing in the background, all relaxed and content in each other’s company. She’d believed this state of affairs would go on until Keith grew up and left home, and then it would be just herself and Harry, happy in each other’s company. Never for a moment had she any idea that fate would play its hand and rip their lives apart.

  She wondered what Harry was doing now. Then she realised she didn’t need to. After eating a meal cooked for him by the do-gooding women of the congregation he would be at the evening service or attending a meeting on church matters, maybe planning for Christmas which would be on them shortly. At the thought of the festive season her eyes strayed to Glen, still lost in his own thoughts, staring into the fire, and she wondered what Christmas last year had been like for him. The same as all the other Christmases for the five years since leaving prison, she suspected, spent scavenging for something to eat, then searching for somewhere to keep warm. No festive cheer for him.

  For the last few years her own Christmases hadn’t been the joyous occasions they were meant to be. The family get togethers, joining her mother and sisters at one of their houses or at her own in yearly rotation, she had put a stop to, not feeling it right to inflict on them the tension between herself and Harry at a time when families should be enjoying themselves. After breakfast Harry would go to church then afterwards join members of the congregation in visiting the needy and elderly members of the parish, delivering the boxes of food that had been collected over the weeks leading up to the holiday via kind donations from the general public. Then there were the fund-raising events which Harry was always in the thick of. She was never sure what time he would get back for his dinner but she cooked it anyway and would then sit staring at the Christmas tree and paper trimmings gathering dust – those being her own efforts to inject some Christmas cheer into her home – waiting for him to return and doing her best to ensure their meal wasn’t ruined meantime. They would then sit opposite each other at the dining table, both fighting to make conversation but failing since neither had anything to say to the other. They had stopped buying gifts for one another, even token gestures, as Harry was resolutely of the opinion that any spare money they had should be put towards benefiting those less fortunate than themselves.

  Well, this year, unless something happened to see them parting company by then, she was determined to make sure Glen and she had some Christmas cheer. A good meal and a little present to open at least. An
d perhaps, if all went well, Glen might have a special visitor to entertain.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Agnes Dalby sighed with relief to hear footsteps descending the stairs at long last. She scurried out of the kitchen to greet Cait. ‘Good morning, Miss Thomas. I was getting really worried about you. It’s well past your normal time for leaving the house to go to work and you haven’t even had any breakfast yet.’

  At the bottom of the stairs Cait looked over at the woman, feeling perplexed. Agnes had been in every day since her employers had left, continuing with her duties despite the fact that she wasn’t being paid. Cait couldn’t at all understand why she was acting this way and not off enjoying her leisure.

  ‘You did understand my mother’s instructions to you when she left?’ Cait asked her now.

  She nodded. ‘Perfectly. Mrs Thomas laid me off until she comes back.’

  ‘Then why are you still working here when you’re not being paid?’

  ‘Because if I didn’t, who would look after you, Miss Thomas?’

  Cait felt shocked. Was this Agnes Dalby’s way of telling her she cared about her? If so, why was it that she could when Cait’s own parents couldn’t? She didn’t know quite how to respond to this so just said, ‘I would like some breakfast, Agnes. Tea and toast will be fine.’

  It wasn’t lost on Agnes that Cait had addressed her by her Christian name for the first time, and wondered if the girl had realised. She felt warmed by it. ‘I’ll have it ready in a jiffy.’

  As Agnes bustled back into the kitchen she fought down her desire to ask Cait just where she was getting the money from to buy the smart new suit she was wearing, different from yesterday’s, not to mention pay for the new hairstyle she was sporting, which was clearly from an expensive salon in town, the sort her mother frequented. Then there were the dozen or so boxes of new shoes and handbags that Agnes had helped the taxi driver bring in when they’d been delivered yesterday afternoon. Even if she landed herself a new job, it couldn’t pay on such a munificent scale, and besides she hadn’t been working there long enough to have been paid her first wage packet. And, more surprisingly, this new job didn’t seem to require her to work normal office hours either as she was home by four yesterday afternoon and had time to have her hair done first. It was after nine o’clock now and Cait seemed in no hurry to be at her new workplace. But it wasn’t Agnes’s place to query that, she decided.

  There was a question it was her place to broach. As she was putting Cait’s breakfast before her Agnes asked, ‘Miss Thomas, do you know what your plans are for Christmas yet? Have you had any word whether your parents will be back by then? Only there isn’t much time if I’m to make a Christmas cake and pudding, mince pies et cetera, and also what I’m needed to prepare in advance for Christmas Day. I can order all the provisions from the butcher and grocer, of course.’

  Cait looked back at her blankly. Christmas Day had never proved any fun for her in the past, her parents not at all the type to make merry, and she had been so much looking forward to a different sort of holiday this year, surrounded by Neil’s family and friends, which wasn’t going to be now. Still, there was time for her to meet someone else . . . maybe she could find a way to entice someone new to ask her to join them for the day. She told Agnes, ‘I’ve been invited out for Christmas Day so there’s no need for you to prepare anything special.’

  The motherly side of Agnes was relieved to learn that the young woman was not spending the day alone. No one should be left solitary on the Lord’s birthday, in particular a young girl who was not only getting over a broken engagement but also coping with the fact that her self-centred parents hadn’t showed any consideration or compassion for her when going off on holiday, knowing her emotional state at the time. Looking forward to taking one day off at least, Agnes went back to the kitchen to clear away.

  Cait finally arrived at the factory at just after ten. When she arrived she saw the young receptionist laughing with another girl. Both of them were in her own age group, fashionably dressed and looked the friendly sort. Here was an opportunity to make some new friends, a chance to ingratiate herself with them and hope one of them would invite her to join them on Christmas Day.

  But then Cait remembered her position in the company, and her mother’s belief that it wasn’t the done thing for the hierarchy to fraternise with their employees. In future the type of friends she needed to make for herself were the type who mixed in the same social circles as she did now. She hoped she’d be invited into those circles by the company’s customers and suppliers who would want to build good working relationships with her.

  As she had been yesterday, she was greeted in her office by the efficient, unflappable Jane Trucker.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Thomas,’ she greeted Cait in a businesslike manner.

  Cait flashed her a critical look as she took off her coat and hung it up on the coat stand behind the door. She considered Jane to be a plain woman who did herself no favours by wearing such matronly, old-fashioned tweed suits, high-necked blouses, thick stockings and sturdy shoes. But today she looked even more dour, dressed as she was all in black. Then it struck Cait that she was all dressed like that because she was attending a funeral. A funeral she herself was supposed to be attending, representing her mother! Inwardly she heaved a sigh. A funeral was the last thing she felt like attending, though it seemed she’d have to as her mother’s representative.

  She said to Jane, ‘I could do with a cup of tea, if you’d order it for me.’

  That wasn’t what the secretary had been waiting for Cait to speak to her about, but regardless she said, ‘I’ll see to it, Miss Thomas.’

  Cait shivered and said, ‘It’s chilly in here.’

  Jane did not fail to notice the couple of magazines Cait took out of her handbag and put on the desk, and wondered whether this meant she was going to sit and read them all day or if she was actually going to make some contribution towards keeping the company profitable. She told Cait, ‘The radiators in the whole place have a mind of their own, I’m afraid. One day they’re boiling hot and the next stone cold. The boiler is really long overdue for replacement. In fact, the whole system needs renewing as it must be over fifty years old. Half the maintenance man’s week is taken up with plastering over its cracks, so to speak. I know Mr Swinton had spoken to Mrs Thomas about it a few times over the last few years, and we’re waiting for her decision.’

  Cait knew better than to go over her mother’s head. ‘I expect there are a couple of electric heaters around somewhere. Will you find me one and bring it in? Oh, and you won’t forget about the tea, will you?’

  Jane inwardly sighed. This young woman seemed to think that a secretary’s job was purely to run about seeing to her every whim, when in truth she had a mountain of important work to do – much of it work that Cait herself should be attending to. Jane did have some important information she needed to tell the young woman, but supposed she ought to see to her requests first then hopefully she would be more receptive.

  Five minutes later Jane returned armed with a plug-in heater which she then spent several minutes moving around the room until Cait was satisfied she was receiving the full benefit of it. The tray of tea was delivered meantime and as Cait poured herself a cup Jane said, ‘I need to warn you, Miss Thomas, to expect all the foremen to visit you at eleven.’

  Cait looked up, a blank expression on her face. ‘What for?’

  ‘I passed on the instructions you gave me yesterday and they aren’t happy.’ Flabbergasted at first then fuming was the truth of the matter, once Jane had informed them of their extra responsibilities.

  Cait fought to hide her alarm. She didn’t like the thought of several burly men descending on her, obviously aiming to intimidate her into backtracking on her instructions. If she allowed them to force her to countermand her orders, where would her credibility as a boss be?

  And, of course, there was the problem that she had delegated the work to them in the first place
because she herself wasn’t capable of tackling it. Should that come to light she’d become a laughing stock around the factory. She had to make a stand here, show these men that she may be young but she was the boss and what she said went. It was very important that her mother returned to find the company prospering in her daughter’s capable hands. Then she would see Cait in a new light . . . and that wouldn’t be the case if she found the workers running rings around her.

  She said to Jane, ‘Inform the men that I have given them my instructions and have nothing more to say on the matter. Did you need me for anything else?’

  Jane did. The same as the foremen, her workload had already been more than enough for her to cope with, without the extra burden that Cait should have been dealing with heaped on her as well. Like the foremen, she was neither qualified nor remunerated enough to make such critical business decisions, and was worried just who would be held accountable if errors were made. But if Cait didn’t see fit to listen to the foremen’s legitimate reasons for refusing to take on the extra responsibilities, then she was unlikely to pay attention to Jane either.

  She excused herself and left the office.

  A while later Cait had finished reading the magazines from cover to cover, the articles not as interesting or informative as she had expected, and was leaning back in her chair, wondering what to do with herself now. She heaved a deep sigh. Being a boss had not proved as exciting as she had thought it would. According to the girls she had worked with in her previous job, the owner would sit in his inner sanctum on his fat arse telephoning around his business colleagues, arranging social events . . . lunches, games of golf and the like. As matters stood she had no business colleagues. That would surely change, though, once word spread that a new female boss was in place at Rose’s who needed wining and dining in order to secure business deals. In the meantime she needed to fill her day, which seemed to be passing too slowly. It really was no fun having nothing to do. Cait was surprised to notice that she was missing being kept busy.