A Mother's Promise

by Dilly Court

  ‘I’ve thought of that,’ George said, putting his hand in the capacious pocket of his topcoat and pulling out a handful of small candles. ‘Here, we can fix these on the branches.’

  ‘And I’ve got some scraps of ribbon,’ Granny said, entering into the spirit of things with surprising enthusiasm. ‘You girls can make them into bows and tie them on the tree. We always had one just like this when my Harold was alive. We had some glass balls too, but they all broke.’

  ‘It’s a topping tree,’ Sammy cried enthusiastically. ‘It’s the best tree in the whole of London.’

  ‘It’s the best tree in the whole world,’ Eddie added, not to be outdone.

  Jane gave the contents of the basin a final stir. ‘There, I’ve had my wish. It’s your turn, boys, and then it’s bedtime for you two and Natalia, who should have been tucked up in her cot an hour ago.’

  Sammy and Eddie took it in turns to stir the pudding. Hetty smiled as she watched them surreptitiously lick the spoon while Jane was busy with Natalia, who objected to being prised off Tom’s lap.

  ‘I called in earlier, Hetty, but you weren’t home,’ George said in a low voice. ‘What kept you?’

  ‘It’s not important, George. I’ll tell you later.’ Hetty took the spoon from Eddie. ‘My turn now.’

  ‘Close your eyes and wish,’ Sammy said, running his finger round the rim of the bowl and licking it. ‘And you mustn’t tell anyone or the wish won’t come true.’

  Hetty closed her eyes and thought of Charles. She could see his loving expression and hear his voice telling her that he adored her. It was so clear that she raised her face ready to receive his kiss. Her eyes flew open as she felt the soft touch of someone’s lips on hers, but it was George’s smiling face hovering so close to her own. It was not her beloved Charles. She pushed him away angrily. ‘George, don’t be such a fool.’

  A dark shadow clouded his eyes. ‘It was just a little kiss, Hetty. A Christmas kiss.’

  She knew she had hurt him, and she regretted her abrupt tone, but he had caught her unawares and shattered her dream of Charles. She shook her head. ‘It’s not Christmas yet, George.’

  An irrepressible dimple deepened at the corner of his generous mouth. ‘Then can I have another kiss tomorrow?’

  ‘You should have brought some mistletoe, George,’ Jane said eagerly. ‘We must have some mistletoe.’

  Tom put his arm around Jane’s waist and planted a smacking kiss on her lips. ‘Who needs mistletoe?’ He released her and moved towards Hetty, pushing George out of the way. ‘What about you, Hetty? Have you got a kiss for your oldest friend?’

  She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Yes, why not?’

  Granny sniffed. ‘What a to-do. All this kissing isn’t seemly.’

  Nora raised herself from her chair. ‘Don’t be an old killjoy, Mattie. You can kiss me, boys. I ain’t too old to enjoy a little bit of a kiss and a cuddle, even if you are both young enough to be me sons.’

  Hetty bent down to kiss Sammy and Eddie, and they both wiped their cheeks on their sleeves, pulling faces which were obviously intended to demonstrate their disgust as they giggled self-consciously. Natalia held her arms out to Hetty and she took her from Jane, burying her face in Talia’s curls. This was what was important in life, being with her family and her dear friends. If only Charles were here too, then it would be the happiest Christmas of her entire life, but that would come. That was why she would go and see Miss Heathcote on Boxing Day and why she would accept her terms for their business partnership. Money was not important in itself, but financial success would enable her to go to Philadelphia and hold her head high amongst Charles’ wealthy friends and relations.

  ‘Hetty, you haven’t been listening to a word I’m saying,’ Jane said crossly. ‘You were miles away.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Hetty murmured, kissing Talia on the tip of her tiny nose and making her giggle. ‘What did you say then?’

  Jane reached for her bonnet and shawl. ‘I said, since I’ve done all the hard work, it’s only fair that you should put the nippers to bed so that I can go to the pub with Tom and Nora.’

  ‘I’m coming too,’ Granny said, taking off her apron. ‘Put the goose in the larder when you’ve done, Hetty.’

  ‘Go along with you,’ Hetty said, smiling. ‘I’m tired anyway and I’ll be glad of an early night.’

  Jane linked her hand through Tom’s arm. ‘Come on. What are we waiting for?’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come, Hetty?’ Tom cast an anxious glance in her direction. ‘I’m sure that good old George would stay and mind the nippers.’

  ‘I haven’t seen the kids all day,’ Hetty replied, shifting Natalia’s weight to her hip. ‘I’ll stay and see them to bed. You go and enjoy yourselves.’

  George moved to her side. ‘And good old George will be happy to stay and keep Hetty company.’

  Nora put on her feathered hat and secured it with a hatpin. She wrapped a thick woollen shawl round her shoulders and headed for the door. ‘Come on. I’m so parched I’m spitting feathers.’

  ‘You’re so vulgar, Nora,’ Granny muttered. ‘If you start singing, I’m coming straight home.’

  Jane seized Tom’s cap and placed it at an angle on his head, smiling up into his face. ‘Let’s go, Tom.’

  When the kitchen door closed on them, Hetty turned to the boys. ‘Are your hands and faces clean?’ They nodded, holding up their hands. ‘All right, Sammy, lead on.’

  ‘If they don’t do as they’re told, just give me a call,’ George said cheerfully. ‘I’ll sort them out.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Sammy said, dancing about on his toes and playfully fisting his hands. ‘You and whose army, George?’

  Before Sammy could run away, George had swooped on him, hefting him over his shoulder. ‘Cheeky little blighter,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I’m bigger than you, young Samuel, and don’t you forget it.’

  With Natalia’s sleepy head resting on her shoulder, Hetty stopped in the doorway, and she couldn’t help smiling as Eddie threw himself at George, who clamped him securely under his free arm, lifting him off his feet. ‘Lead on, Hetty. I’ve got these two under control.’

  ‘And Father Christmas doesn’t come to bad boys,’ Hetty said, tapping the side of her nose. ‘Just remember that, you two.’

  They stopped struggling immediately and there were no more protests about going to bed. Having settled the children for the night, Hetty smiled happily. This really would be a Christmas to remember. Even though she had been busy with work, she had found time in the past few weeks to search the market stalls in Petticoat Lane for toys to put in their stockings. It would be the first Christmas when they had had more than just an apple and a few boiled sweets. George had provided some oranges and a bag of walnuts, almonds and Kentish cobnuts, and Nora had been generous with slabs of toffee, liquorice and even some bars of chocolate. Hetty left a nightlight burning on the mantelshelf in their room, and then she followed George downstairs to the kitchen.

  ‘Come and sit down, love,’ he said, taking a seat by the fire. ‘You’ll wear yourself to a shadow.’

  She picked up the goose on its platter and carried it into the larder, setting it down on a marble slab. ‘I’m nearly done.’

  He caught her by the hand as she went to pass him. ‘Sit down and tell me what kept you so late. I know you wasn’t at the coffee shop because I went by that way intending to walk you home and found it closed.’

  She gave his fingers a squeeze and subsided onto the chair beside him. She began, a little haltingly at first, to tell him what had happened earlier that evening. George listened without interruption until she had finished. ‘So you’re going to let this woman talk you into some wild business venture.’ He rose to his feet and began to pace the floor.

  ‘I’m thinking about it. Yes.’

  ‘And have you told the others about this crazy scheme?’

  ‘Not yet. I wanted to talk it over with you first.’

  ‘That
’s noble of you. I thought the old woman didn’t approve of men.’

  ‘What’s the matter, George? Why are you so cross?’

  He stopped to stare down at her with a frown creasing his brow. ‘You don’t know anything about this person, Hetty. She might be completely nuts for all you know.’

  Hetty leapt to her feet. She was tired and now she was angry. ‘She’s not mad. She’s an educated woman but she hasn’t been allowed to have control over her own affairs.’

  George curled his lip. ‘I wonder why that is? Could it be because the lady is completely off her chump? Why else would she pick a girl from the stews of Spitalfields as a business partner?’

  ‘You’re insulting her and me. She could see that I got sense and I’m a hard worker. You’re just put out because she wouldn’t speak to you.’

  With uncharacteristic roughness, he seized her by the shoulders. His strong fingers cut into her soft flesh and his eyes darkened. ‘You mustn’t allow yourself to be taken in by a complete stranger, even if she does live in a mansion up West. She’s just amusing herself, Hetty. She’s playing games at your expense and when she gets bored with you she’ll drop you like a hot potato, and you’ll have lost everything.’

  Hetty wrenched herself free of his grasp. ‘It’s not like that. She’s going to put up the money. She’s not going to run the coffee shops.’

  ‘Shops!’ George rolled his eyes in disgust. ‘You’ve only just opened up one, girl. You’ve got to learn to walk afore you can run.’

  She clamped her hands over her ears. There might be a grain of truth in what George was saying, but there was no need for him to shout at her. She had wanted his help and advice, not a lecture. ‘Shut up! Shut up!’

  ‘Is that all you can say? What about me? What about Huggins and Cooper? We were supposed to be partners, Hetty. You can’t just go ahead without consulting me.’

  She was too angry now to be reasonable. ‘Can’t I? Well, let me tell you something, George Cooper. I don’t need you. If you don’t like what I’m doing then you can sling your hook, mister.’

  George’s expression hardened. ‘If that’s the way you want it, then I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Good!’ Hetty cried passionately. ‘Go away and leave me alone. That’s what you men always do.’

  Without saying another word, George slammed out of the kitchen. Hetty sank down onto the chair. The silence was deafening. She was alone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hetty climbed the stairs leading up to the attic room and she crawled into her bed beneath the roof window, huddling up under the coverlet in an effort to get warm. She tried to comfort herself by rereading the letters she had received from Charles. She had been vaguely aware that they did not arrive as frequently these days, but she had been so preoccupied with work that she had pushed the niggling worry to the back of her mind. His letters used to arrive promptly once a week, sometimes more often, but now two weeks could pass without hearing from him, and when she looked at the date on the last missive she realised that it had been written in the middle of November. As she read and reread it in the flickering light of a single candle, she smiled at the amusing references to his place of work and his clever, but sometimes cruel, caricatures of his colleagues in the bank. She skimmed through the rest of the closely written pages with a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. How could she have missed the undeniable fact that there were fewer terms of endearment now than there used to be? And there was no mention at all as to when he might send for her, or if he was planning to return to London.

  Hetty wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. She shivered as she peered into the shadows where Granny’s old furniture loomed out of the darkness, seeming to move as the candle flame flickered in the draughty room. The whole area was alive with the sound of tiny feet scampering under the floorboards and beneath the eaves. She was used to bats zooming through gaps in the roof tiles, but tonight they had taken on sinister and threatening shapes, and Hetty was suddenly afraid. She could still hear George’s angry voice railing at her, and the cold, hard look in his eyes was indelibly printed in her memory. In the distance, she could hear the peal of church bells calling people to midnight mass, and she realised that it was the beginning of Christmas Day. She felt beneath her nightgown for the gold ring that she wore around her neck at all times like a talisman against evil and a pledge of Charles’s undying affection. Tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘M-merry Christmas, H-Hetty,’ she whispered as she blew out the candle and lay down to sleep, still clutching his signet ring.

  What should have been the best Christmas morning of her life was overshadowed by her bitter parting with George. She made excuses for his absence, although they sounded feeble even to her own ears. He was missed, of course, but no one seemed to doubt Hetty’s word that he had gone to visit a sick relative in Shadwell. They all seemed to think it was just like George to put others first, and this made Hetty feel even worse. She had been tempted to walk to his lodgings in Cottage Green and offer him an apology, but it was not only pride that had prevented her: she was still angry with him for his unreasonable behaviour. If he had given her half a chance she would have reassured him that their partnership still stood, no matter what Miss Heathcote might offer in the way of terms and conditions. She had meant to ask him to accompany her to the mansion in Berkeley Square on Boxing Day, and she had intended to tell Miss Heathcote that there was no deal unless it included her friend and colleague. But George had ruined it all, and now she was not even sure if she wanted him to be her partner. He had acted like a spoilt child last night, and to make matters worse, Charles had not even bothered to send her a Christmas card or a token of his love and respect. Perhaps Miss Heathcote was right when she said that all men were unreliable and untrustworthy.

  Hetty hid her heartache beneath a bright smile and did her best to enter into the Christmas spirit; after all, it was the children’s day when all was said and done, and she must not spoil it for them. The boys were bubbling over with excitement and delight on finding their stockings filled with small gifts. Natalia did not seem entirely sure what was going on, but she loved the rag doll that Hetty had found in the market and refused to be parted from it, even when tempted by her breakfast bread and milk. Nora had hung the tree with sugar candy canes and boiled sweets wrapped in coloured paper. There was an exciting-looking pile of presents wrapped in brown paper and tied with string lying beneath its pine-scented branches.

  Tom arrived in the middle of the morning and from the deep pockets of his overcoat he produced two bottles of claret as his contribution to their feast. The kitchen was redolent with the aroma of goose roasting in the oven, apple sauce, cinnamon, cloves and the zest of orange and lemon peel as Tom mulled the wine with a hot poker. There was bustle and not a little confusion as they set chairs and stools around the table and the boys squabbled about where they would sit. Nora lifted the goose from the oven and began to carve while Granny served the potatoes and Jane was left stirring the gravy. Having sorted out the boys’ seating, Hetty took the saucepan of cabbage into the scullery where she drained the water into the stone sink. The room was filling with steam when the back door opened and a gust of cold air preceded George, who came in holding a huge bunch of mistletoe. Closing the door with his foot, he took the saucepan from Hetty’s hand and put it down on the wooden draining board. Holding the mistletoe over her head, he drew her to him and kissed her soundly on the lips. ‘Merry Christmas, Hetty.’

  It was all the apology she needed and she sighed with relief. ‘Merry Christmas to you too, George.’

  Sammy burst into the scullery and threw his arms around George’s waist. ‘I knew you’d come. Is your grandpa better?’

  ‘I told them about your sick relative,’ Hetty said hastily. ‘He must have made a miraculous recovery.’

  George met her eyes and he grinned. ‘Us Coopers are hard to put down, Hetty. We come bouncing back, no matter what.’

  She caressed his cheek wi
th the tips of her fingers. ‘I’m glad, George. I wouldn’t want to lose a good friend like you.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Sammy demanded, grabbing George by the hand. ‘Come on, George, dinner’s on the table and I’m starving.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m invited,’ George said, holding Hetty’s gaze with a question in his eyes.

  ‘Don’t talk soft. You know you’re always welcome.’ Picking up the saucepan she hurried into the kitchen. ‘Look who’s come, everyone. George managed to get here in time for Christmas dinner. Isn’t that splendid?’

  It was a noisy meal and the pitch of their voices rose as a result of generous libations of mulled wine. Sammy and Eddie ate so much that Hetty was afraid they would make themselves sick, but they were having a good time, and after everything they had suffered in the past it was wonderful to see them having fun. The long days spent making matchboxes seemed to have been in another lifetime, and seeing everyone so relaxed, happy and well fed only hardened Hetty’s resolve to make a secure future for her family.

  Jane’s Christmas pudding was a triumph and when the last scrap had been eaten and the dishes cleared away, Granny announced that it was time to open their presents. They were only small gifts but each one was opened and shown round with exclamations of delight. Afterwards, while Granny and Nora dozed by the fire, Sammy and Eddie sat on the floor with Tom showing them how to line up their lead soldiers in battle formation. Jane had taken Natalia upstairs for her afternoon nap, and George sat at the table smoking the cigar that was Hetty’s Christmas present to him. She smiled as she went to sit beside him. ‘I like the smell of cigars.’

  He took another puff and blew a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling. ‘It’s a fine cigar, Hetty.’