by Susan Lewis
‘How are you feeling?’ Eddie says, as the kids trot off down the passage with their mince pies and big dollops of cream.
‘Not bad. Had a bit of a doze just now, but I got the turkey stuffed, and a few more presents wrapped up. Just the spuds to peel and vegetables to get ready.’
‘I’ll give you hand with all that,’ he says, slipping an arm round me waist. ‘Fancy giving us a kiss?’
‘I might.’
‘Come on then.’
‘All right, that’s enough,’ I say, before we start getting too carried away. ‘Anyone’d think it was Christmas the way you’re going on.’
He laughs and bites into me neck before picking up a mince pie. ‘How did I manage to get myself a wife who’s as gorgeous as a film star and a better cook than Fanny Cradock?’ he teases.
‘A wife who’s fat as a blooming house, more like,’ I grumble.
‘All the more of you to eat up,’ he tells me, chomping into a mince pie.
Someone knocks on the front door, which brings Susan and Gary racing out of the front room.
‘If it’s carol singers can I pay them?’ Susan cries.
‘Can I?’ Gary cries.
‘There’s two ha’pennies in my coat pocket, one each,’ I tell them.
‘I want them to sing “Away in a Manger”, Gary decides, after they’ve scrabbled about to find the money.
‘No! “Silent Night”’s better,’ Susan insists.
‘It is not.’
‘Yes it is. Or “Once in Royal David’s City”.’
‘Just answer the door,’ Eddie calls after them.
I go on getting the potatoes out of the pantry, and start running the water. Then instead of hearing carol singers, I hear adult voices out at the door. I look at Eddie, he looks at me, and we both look round as our Maurice comes down the passage, no coat and soaked right through to the skin.
‘Happy Christmas,’ he grins.
‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’ I say. ‘I thought you’d be out dancing. And what’s the matter with using the back door, or have we got too posh in our old age?’
‘Thought it was only polite to come the front way, seeing as we weren’t expected . . .’
‘We? Who’s we? Oh, Maurice, you haven’t brought your girlfriend round now, have you? You could have given us some warning. And where the bloody hell’s your coat?’
As I finish speaking a woman comes out of the shadows behind him.
‘All right Ed?’ she says. ‘Happy Christmas.’
It’s our Jacqueline, wet through too, hair all plastered to her face.
I’m a bit flummoxed, so I look at Eddie.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Eddie says.
‘Good idea,’ Maurice agrees. ‘I reckon we’re all going to need it.’
‘Why? What for?’ I say. ‘What’s going on?’ I’m starting to get a bad feeling about them dropping in like this. ‘Our mam’s all right, is she? Nothing’s happened to her?’
‘The old bird’s right as rain,’ Maurice answers. ‘Never changes, does she? Bloody clouted me one, she did, just like I was still in short trousers.’
‘Why, what did you do?’
‘I didn’t do anything. You know what she’s like.’
‘She wouldn’t have clouted you for nothing, so what’s going on?’ I’m eyeing our Jack now, who’s looking very sheepish behind him. ‘Just what the bloody hell have you two been up to?’ I demand.
‘You better tell her, Maurice,’ Jack says.
‘I’m going to.’
I’m waiting for him to go on when someone else knocks on the door. ‘Who the bloody hell’s that now?’ I cry. ‘This place is turning into Bristol bloody Zoo. If it’s carol singers, tell them to go away.’
Ten seconds later our Gord and Jean are coming down the passage. I can hardly believe me eyes. Here it is, Christmas Eve, and never mind they’ve got seven kids at home, they’re coming down our passage.
‘You’re here,’ Gord says to Maurice.
‘Looks like it,’ Maurice answers. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘We just left our mam’s.’
‘And thought you’d call in to tell Eddress the news?’ Maurice says sarcastically.
‘What bloody news?’ I shout.
‘Oh you haven’t told her yet,’ Gordon says.
‘I’m going to throw something at the bloody lot of you if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on.’
‘Florrie’s chucked us out,’ Maurice says. ‘Shoved us right out in the street and slammed the bloody door on us, she did. You should have heard her, carrying on like a bloody fishwife, had half the bloody neighbourhood out, and wouldn’t listen to a word we had to say, would she Jack?’
‘No,’ Jack confirms.
‘Haven’t got a bloody stitch to our names,’ Maurice goes on, ‘apart from what we’re standing up in, and she won’t let us back in to get anything. Christmas bloody Eve and she goes and throws us out on our ears. Now what kind of mother is that, I ask you?’
‘So what did you do?’ I ask, feeling like I don’t want to know the answer.
‘She caught him in bed with our Jack, that’s what he did,’ Gordon tells me.
‘You should be ashamed of yourselves, the pair of you,’ Jean chimes in.
I’m just staring at them.
‘Milk, everyone?’ Eddie says.
‘Our mam caught you in bed with her?’ I say, pointing at our Jack. ‘What the bloody hell’s the matter with you? She’s your bloody niece, for God’s sake!’
‘Not strictly speaking,’ he reminds me. ‘I mean, we’re not blood related, like me and you, and we was . . .’
‘I don’t care if you’re blood related or not,’ I say. ‘She’s still your niece, you’re over twenty years older than her and she’s married. For God’s sake, she’s got a baby. And where the hell’s Vanessa now, will someone tell me? What have you done with her?’
‘Andy’s got her,’ Jack answers. ‘I said he could have her over Christmas.’
‘So you could be with Maurice?’
She shrugs.
I look at Jean. ‘I know,’ Jean says. ‘Florrie’s in a dreadful state up there.’
‘Well what do you expect? How could you do this to her, Maurice? She hasn’t seen you in over fifteen years, and now you’re back in her house giving how’s-yer-bloody-father to your own bleeding niece.’
‘I’m not his niece,’ Jacqueline shouts. ‘Him and my mother had different parents.’
It’s true, they did, but I can see very well why our mam’s so upset.
‘Hey, come on, up to bed you two,’ Eddie suddenly barks.
‘Bloody hell,’ I groan, only just spotting Susan and Gary standing behind the crowd, boggle-eyed.
‘Take them up,’ I say to Eddie.
‘Tea’s brewed,’ he tells us. ‘Gord, can you carry the tray in the front room?’
‘We’ll have to go then,’ Jean says. ‘We’ve got our lot to sort out tonight. We only popped in Florrie’s to take her present. Phyllis is up there now.’
A few minutes later, with Gord and Jean gone, and Eddie upstairs with the kids, there’s only me, Jack and Maurice in the front room. What a bloody picture we make, sitting here lit up by coloured fairy lights, like a bunch of Santa’s bloody elves, presents all round our feet and faces longer than fiddles.
‘Turn the fire up a bit,’ I tell Maurice. ‘You must be perished the two of you.’
‘She wouldn’t even let us have our coats,’ Jack says.
‘Not a brass farthing to rub between us,’ Maurice adds. ‘We came here because we didn’t have anywhere else to go, what with it being Christmas Eve and all.’ He takes a sip of his tea. ‘It’d only be for a couple of nights, just till I can sort us something out.’
‘What are you talking about? You can’t stay here.’
‘We got nowhere else to go, Ed.’
I don’t know what to say. I can hardly sling them out when they’
ve got no coats and no money, but staying here . . . ? ‘I’ll have to talk to Eddie,’ I tell them.
‘Oh come on, we all know he’ll do whatever you want him to,’ Maurice jeers.
‘Don’t take that for granted,’ I warn. ‘He’ll have some strong views about this, if I know him. It’s not right, Maurice, and you know it’s not.’
‘It might not seem that way to you, but it does to us.’
‘But you’ve hardly known each other five minutes. What’s going to happen when you go back to New Zealand? What’s she going to do then?’
‘I’m going with him,’ Jack says.
‘What? Don’t talk stupid. You can’t go with him. You’ve got a child to bring up.’
‘We’ll take her with us,’ Maurice chips in.
My head’s starting to spin, and I wish Eddie would come back down. Or do I, because he’s not going to like this, not one bit.
‘We only need a couple of blankets, and if you’ve got any air beds we can sleep in the other room,’ Jack says. ‘We won’t be putting you out, at all. You can pretend we’re not there.’
‘Pretend you’re not there? Have you gone a bit simple in the head or something? The kids are hanging their stockings in there tonight, and we’re having our Christmas dinner at the table tomorrow, so how are we going to pretend you two great lummoxes just aren’t there?’
‘It’s only for the night,’ Maurice reminds me. ‘We’ll get up before you in the morning and make you some breakfast. We’ll even go out for Christmas dinner if you like, provided you can lend us a few bob. You know, just till Florrie lets me back in to get what’s mine.’
‘I reckon it’ll have to be me who goes in to get your stuff,’ I tell him, ‘because if she’s as mad as I expect she is, you won’t be going back over her threshold again for another fifteen years.’ I start shaking me head, as it sinks in all over again. ‘What the bloody hell got into the two of you? You’re not animals, for God’s sake. Couldn’t you have had some control? Or at least gone somewhere else to do it?’
‘It’s called passion, Ed,’ Maurice answers. ‘It just took us over. You know how it is, you can’t help yourself when you feel like that.’
I sigh wearily and shake me head again. ‘Well, I suppose you better go and get some more coal and stoke up the fire next door,’ I tell him. ‘And while you’re out there, have a look in the shed to see if there’s any air beds. They’re either there, or up in the attic, but I’m not asking Eddie to go up there tonight.’
‘I’ll come and give you a hand,’ Jack says, getting up.
‘No you won’t, young lady,’ I snap. ‘You’re going to sit right there where I can have a word with you.’
‘Oh Ed, don’t start getting on at me now,’ she grumbles. ‘I feel bad enough already, but it’s not going to change anything.’
I decide to let her go so I can have a couple of minutes on me own, to think how I’m going to break this to Eddie.
‘No, I’m not having it,’ he says, when I tell him. ‘They’re not staying here committing their sins. She’s married, Eddress, and what they’re doing is bloody incest. I’m not having that going on in my house.’
‘It’s not incest. Our dad already had Maurice by another woman when he married our mam, so he’s no blood of our mam’s. And our Ivy is our mam’s by her first husband.’
‘It’s still not right.’
‘I know, but it’s happened now, and we can’t just chuck ’em out.’
‘You might not be able to, but I can. You’re not well, for heaven’s sake, so I’m not having this putting any more strain on you.’
‘I’m all right. I can cope.’
‘That’s what you think, but you’re already worn out, look at you. Hardly a drop of blood left in your face.’
‘Look, Maurice already knows you don’t like him, he can sense it, so don’t go and make it worse . . .’
‘I don’t give a damn what Maurice thinks, you’re what I care about and I don’t want him bringing his bad ways into our house . . .’
‘Ssh, he’ll hear you.’
‘Let him. He’s a grown man, he should know better than to think he can come here, when you’re ill and we’ve got two young children waiting for Christmas . . . And what about our Bob’s two? Flo’s coming tomorrow, you don’t think I want all those kids sitting round the table with sinners, on Christmas Day, do you? No, Ed, I’m not having it.’
‘Listen. Let them stay tonight, while it’s raining, then we can lend them a few bob tomorrow to go out round the pub for some dinner. That way, they won’t be at the table with us, will they? And we’ll have done the charitable thing by giving them a roof over their heads when they’ve got nowhere else to go. I mean, if you think about it, it’s what Christmas is all about really, innit? Making some room at the inn. All right, I know our Jack and Maurice don’t exactly qualify as Mary and Joseph, but we’ve got a living room they can sleep in – and don’t you go saying we’ve got a shed, because I’m not telling them to sleep out there. Just do this for me, eh? One night, that’s all. It’s not going to hurt, is it?’
‘There’s always the Sally Army. They can go down there.’
‘Eddie.’
He’s not looking very happy, in fact I can see it’s upsetting him quite a bit, but I know he’ll do it, because he hasn’t really got it in him to throw anyone out on the street, no matter what he says.
‘We found a couple of air beds,’ Maurice announces, coming into the room and rubbing his hair with a towel. ‘Looks like they belong to the kids, but they’ll do fine. Just need a bit of a cleaning up. Jack’s out in the kitchen doing it. Don’t want to be any trouble, Eddie. Good of you, man, to let us stay.’
‘I’m doing it for Eddress,’ Eddie tells him bluntly. ‘And I’ll lend you ten bob tomorrow to go round the pub. I can’t have you here with my sister-in-law and the kids, it wouldn’t be right.’
‘No, no, I understand. We’ll do whatever you want.’
Susan and Gary start shouting out, asking if they can come down now.
‘I’ll go,’ I say, grabbing Eddie’s hand so he can pull me up. ‘Maurice, don’t you put anything in that living room until they’ve hung up their stockings, do you hear me? I don’t want them thinking Father Christmas is going to be scared off by you couple of sinners in the middle of the night. And while we’re at it, I don’t want any bloody hanky-panky going on in there either, or you’ll be out that door a lot faster than you came in it.’
‘We’ll be pure as the driven,’ he promises, giving Eddie a wink.
‘Come on,’ I say to Eddie before he changes his mind, ‘let’s both go up, then we’ll have to see about where to put all their presents.’ I just hope Christmas in’t going to be bloody ruined now, though I can’t see how it won’t be – I almost wish our Maurice hadn’t bothered to come back.
Chapter Fifteen
Susan
Christmas is all over now, and I don’t really want to tell anyone about it, because it wasn’t a very nice time. Well, it was when we opened our presents on Christmas morning, and found everything we wanted, like a new record player for me and a bike with stabilisers for Gary. I had a Beatles LP too, and some other records by Herman’s Hermits and Lulu . . . Well, we had lots of things, and it was lovely when Julie and Karen came down with Auntie Flo for dinner, which I helped cook. But then, on Christmas night Mum and Dad had a terrible row about Jack and Uncle Maurice staying, and after that it wasn’t a very nice time. Even Dad’s birthday, on Boxing Day, was horrible, because him and Mum weren’t speaking (I don’t think she even gave him a present, so we wrapped up one of our selection boxes from Christmas Day to give him with the bar of nougat we already had), and when we got back from Grampy and Aunty Beat’s on the night, Jack and Uncle Maurice were there again.
They’re still here, and I wish they’d go away, because they’re making everyone unhappy, but Mum says they can stay as long as they like. I don’t think it’s really up to Mum though, bec
ause dads are the boss, and now that Mum’s not very well again, Dad says she has to do as he tells her.
‘But Eddie, he’s my brother and she’s my niece,’ Mum keeps saying. ‘I can’t just chuck ’em out on the street.’
‘Your mother did, and he’s got enough money that he can go to a bed and breakfast.’
‘That’s not the way you treat family. You wouldn’t do it to yours.’
‘If they were making you ill, I would.’
‘They’re not making me ill, you silly bugger, I’m already ill, and you carrying on like this is making me worse. Now, just shut up about it will you? They’ll be gone soon, back to New Zealand, then God knows how long it’ll be before I see them again. So I’m not throwing them out and having it on my conscience for the next twenty years.’
I slept with Mum last night, while Dad slept in my bed with Gary. I like it when it’s just me and Mum and we have a chat about when she was growing up, or when I was a baby. She told me how I popped out of her tummy and screamed so much blue murder that she tried to pop me back in again. It’s funny the way she says pop, it always makes me laugh. Then she told me how Dad cried when he picked me up for the first time, the soppy old thing.
We were just falling off to sleep when Jack and Uncle Maurice came creeping up the stairs and into Gary’s bedroom. I lay there listening to their noises, whispering, going to the bathroom, opening and closing the wardrobe door. Then the bed creaked as they got in, and went on creaking for a bit until they settled down. I can hear them much better in my room, because it’s right next door. I was just wondering if Dad had heard them when the bedroom light goes on and he comes in.
‘Susan, go to your room,’ he says, sounding really cross.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Mum grumbles, sitting up.
‘Susan! Do as you’re told.’
I look at Mum.
‘Do as your father says,’ she tells me.
I’m really cross as I throw back the bedclothes and stomp across the room. When I get out on the landing Dad closes the door.