Christmas is for Children

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘I didn’t think anyone knew about those yet.’

  ‘They don’t,’ Flo said, ‘but I was given an order that I want to make special.’

  ‘You’re talkin’ about those kids that hang around outside…’ Honour teased. ‘I think you care more about them than any of your wealthy customers.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps. Ben has two shillings to spend on his sister’s Christmas present and I want to make it special for him.’

  Honour hesitated, then, ‘Roy popped in the shop while you were out,’ she said and disappointment was in her eyes. ‘He says he can’t take me to that dance at the weekend – and he isn’t sure when he’ll be able to see me again. It’s something to do with his job; they’re sending him on a course, but he doesn’t know where yet or for how long…’

  ‘Oh… I’m sorry,’ Flo said. ‘That’s a shame for you, love. I know you were lookin’ forward to that dance…’

  ‘It was a special one for Christmas,’ Honour said and her face showed how she felt. ‘There was going to be wine and a buffet and prizes… all sorts of stuff especially for Christmas.’

  ‘Roy can’t help it,’ Flo said, because Honour was clearly upset. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t let you down on purpose – not after all he’s said to you about gettin’ married next summer…’

  ‘No…’ Honour said and sighed. ‘He promised that he would come round before Christmas and bring me a present…’

  ‘Well, there you are then,’ Flo said. ‘I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’ll be glad of your help and your company…’

  ‘You know I like bein’ with you,’ Honour said, ‘but it was fun goin’ out with Roy all the time… and I should have loved that dance…’

  Flo hoped that Roy didn’t intend to dump her daughter, but there was nothing she could do to help. In one way she was glad that Honour would be at home more to help her in the busy run up to Christmas, but in another she felt sorry that Honour had been let down. It must be important if Roy couldn’t tell her when he would be back or free to take her out again…

  *

  A day or so later, Robbie left the pub where he’d lost his tools the night he’d been accused of theft. The landlord had denied all knowledge of them but promised to ask his customers if anyone had seen them.

  ‘Times are ’ard, mate,’ he’d said to Robbie and given him a half on the house. ‘I’ll put a notice up, but I doubt you’ll see them again, they’ll probably be down the pawnbroker’s by now.’

  Robbie agreed gloomily. How could he have been such a damned fool as to lose the very means by which he’d hoped to earn his living? Christmas was creeping closer and he had no money to give his children what they deserved; it was the first Christmas without their mother and he wanted to make it as happy as possible for them, though inevitably they would miss the mother who had loved them.

  He sighed as he saw a man selling Christmas trees at the side of the road and wished he could buy one for Ben. He knew his son had promised to fetch a small tree for Millie so at least he and Ruthie would have the pleasure of seeing it dressed, but they ought to have their own.

  Robbie set his jaw hard. Somehow he had to find work, even if it was sweeping the roads!

  Walking with his head down lost in thoughts, Robbie nearly bumped into a woman. He glanced up swiftly to apologise and became tongue-tied as he saw Flo.

  ‘Sorry, I was in a dream,’ he said and saw she was carrying a heavy shopping basket. ‘You’ve got quite a load there – can I carry it home for you?’

  She hesitated and then smiled. ‘Yes, if you have the time, Mr Graham…it is heavier than I realised and I’ve walked all the way from the market. I left Honour managing the shop because we needed some extra supplies…’

  Robbie took the basket from her. It was heavy but easy enough for him. It felt good to be walking by her side and he asked her about her father and her sister.

  ‘Father seems a little better, but he gets tired and irritable,’ she said. ‘Honour is lovely. A beautiful, loving girl and I’m blessed to have her.’

  There was something in her eyes then that made Robbie feel she was trying to pass a message but he did not know what.

  The walk to her home was all too short. As he lingered outside he hoped she might invite him in but she heard the church clock strike and it seemed to stir her.

  ‘Oh, I must go. Honour will be thinkin’ me lost and I’ve got lots to do…thank you for helping me, Mr Graham.’

  ‘Won’t you call me Robbie, please.’ She nodded shyly and took the basket from him.

  ‘Thank you again…’

  Robbie watched as she went in and spoke to the lovely young woman behind the counter. He wondered how old Honour was – perhaps eighteen or nineteen…something tingled at the back of his neck but he ignored it and walked on.

  He had to think about finding some work…

  13

  ‘The commissioners are coming to look at what’s been done here this afternoon,’ John said to Nurse Mary as they prepared for the usual influx of visitors that morning. The increasingly bitter weather had ensured that they had a long line waiting outside their door. ‘I wish Robbie was still here… That window isn’t safe and I’m worried that someone might get in and rob us again.’

  ‘You’re not leaving money here now?’

  ‘No, I’ve opened a bank account. It seemed foolish to waste time putting such small amounts in – but the Post Office woman was very accommodating. She said if it’s only five shillings it’s better to be safe than sorry.’

  ‘Why don’t you go round and ask if Robbie will come back?’ Nurse Mary asked.

  ‘I put the money I owed him through the door in an envelope. He was there but he wouldn’t come to the door… I suppose he is still too angry.’

  ‘He didn’t throw the money in your face or put it back through our door though…’

  ‘I don’t suppose he could afford to,’ John said. ‘He’s unlikely to pick up any work on the docks. They’ve closed down a couple more bays because there’s no work…’

  ‘Just before Christmas?’ She looked at him in dismay. ‘No wonder that queue outside seems to grow every day. It’s a pity we can’t give them a Christmas dinner…’

  ‘That’s all in hand,’ John said and smiled. ‘I didn’t tell you – but I’ve managed to raise just under twenty pounds. All I have to do now is ask my little band of helpers to have their own dinner early and arrange for the chickens to be cooked.’

  ‘You’ve got the money?’ Mary was puzzled. ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘I sold some little pieces of silver that belonged to my grandfather. Apparently, a couple of them were quite rare and sought after… vesta cases in the shapes of animals: an elephant, mouse and armadillo – that one was so rare he gave me six pounds for it…’ John smiled in satisfaction, because the silver would help make Christmas joyful for those who needed his help. ‘That’s why I opened the account at once. I couldn’t risk losing so much…’

  ‘I should think not. You ought not to have to sell things that belonged to your family, John.’ She laid a hand on his arm and gave him a concerned look that revealed far more of her feelings than she intended. John patted her hand kindly but averted his gaze, for although he appreciated her work and her help, only one woman had ever made his heart quicken. He’d loved Flo Hawkins for years, looking forward to her weekly visits to the mission, and he knew that unless he could wed her he would wed no one. He would just go on dedicating his life to the poor and sick, as he always had.

  ‘The Church board can’t give me any more, Mary. They were debating whether it was viable to keep this place going if the repairs were too expensive… Robbie did so much for just a few pounds. I spent fifteen pounds and two shillings including materials and I’d had an estimate of thirty-five to do half what he did… He was doing such a good job…’

  ‘Then go and tell him so and ask him to come back – or do you want me to? I know I caused this…’

 
‘I don’t think he would answer the door to you,’ John said. ‘I will try though – as much for our sake as his…’

  ‘You’d better get that door open,’ Mary said. She watched him go through to open the double doors that let the hungry crowd swarm into the hall and then picked up her nursing cloak and put it on. She had caused this problem by urging John to speak to Robbie about the missing money. It was up to her to put it right – until she did, she had a feeling that the man she cared about most in the world was never going to forgive her.

  Mary looked at the grimy street in which Robbie Graham had his home. At the far end some properties had fallen into disrepair, the roof gone on at least one of them, and the windows boarded up. Colourful posters, now fading, advertised the Los Angeles Olympics earlier that year and sat side by side with posters of the new Austin A10 car and union propaganda telling the jobless to unite and march to bring down the government. Filth lay unswept in the gutters and a mangy dog was hunting amongst the rubbish in the hope of a free meal. Some small children were playing with a ball, kicking it relentlessly against the wall of one of the houses and a thin boy dressed in a jacket far too large for him, ragged trousers and boots tied up with string was kicking at an abandoned ginger beer bottle. He stared at Mary as she approached Robbie’s house but didn’t speak.

  Robbie’s cottage was right at the end of a row of terraced houses, all of which looked as if they too might be ready for demolition. After the Great War, the clearance of the slums had begun with several ambitious schemes, mostly planned and run by well-meaning do-gooders, often churchmen, who knew little of what they were doing. Families had been turned from their homes, pulling apart whole communities and scattering the inhabitants far and wide. Some people had begun to realise this was not the right way to go about it and to discuss how they might keep neighbours living together but in modern, more habitable dwellings. They had to be affordable and back-to-back terraced houses seemed to be falling out of favour; the popular idea was for high-rise buildings with tier after tier of flats that could accommodate whole neighbourhoods if need be. Only the shortage of money had stopped the plans going ahead full steam.

  Nurse Mary wondered what would happen to the sense of community if that happened. These people might live in poor housing and they might be deprived in some senses of the word, but they helped each other. Many of them went in and out of each other’s houses without a by-your-leave and nobody cared, because your neighbour was your friend and often your family. Some of these people would prefer to keep their neighbours and sacrifice the gleaming white bathroom and efficient range found in the new flats; most of them would struggle to afford the rent even if one was allocated to them.

  Standing outside Robbie’s house, Mary realised that this was probably one of the few privately owned houses in the area. At some time an attempt to update it had been made, and the wood surrounding its windows looked newer and less rotten than most of its neighbours. It had a small garden, just enough to plant a few rose bushes along the front path, and a bright blue door. Someone had once cared about this place, because the door was only a few years old and the paint was still good.

  Mary knocked and waited. She heard something inside and guessed that Robbie was in, but he didn’t want to answer the door so she opened the letter box and called through it.

  ‘Please answer me, Mr Graham – this is important…’

  She heard another sound and then the door was reluctantly opened and Robbie stood there. His hair hadn’t seen a brush for days, he needed a shave and his clothes looked as if he’d slept in them. He coughed and she heard the wheezing sound, realising that he was unwell.

  ‘I’ve got some medicine for that,’ she said. ‘If I could come in, Mr Graham…’

  ‘Why? Do yer think you’ll find yer money here?’ Robbie growled.

  ‘No, I’m sure it isn’t,’ she said. ‘I should apologise for that, Mr Graham. John Hansen said it couldn’t be you – but I insisted he asked because you saw me put the tin away. I was wrong to doubt you and I’m very sorry.’

  ‘You shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Just because I’m out of work doesn’t make me a thief…’ Robbie said, but he was no longer angry. His anger had worn itself out standing in line on the docks and knowing that he had no hope of being picked even if a ship came in.

  ‘I know that and I have regretted it – especially as we still need your services,’ Mary said. ‘The Church people are coming this afternoon to inspect the work – and there’s a window that needs doin’. The latch is broken and anyone could get in…’

  ‘I was goin’ to finish it after I’d done that floorboard…’

  ‘Could I ask you to do it as a favour to John? He’ll be in trouble if they see it like that… and it wasn’t him who thought you might have taken that money.’

  Robbie hesitated, then, ‘I would help yer – but I lost me tools on the way home that night…’

  ‘Oh…’ Mary was taken by surprise. ‘What do you need?’

  ‘At the least, a hammer, screwdriver, nails… that’s probably all for that window.’

  ‘Right, well, I think I can find those for you,’ she said. ‘I’ll meet you at the mission in an hour. I have what you need at home… and I’ll give you something for that cough when you arrive.’

  ‘OK,’ Robbie said. ‘I was grateful for the money Mr Hansen put through the door. I haven’t earned a penny since…’

  ‘Well, I know he’ll be grateful to have you back… and perhaps we can ask round, see if anyone found your tools.’

  ‘I doubt if they’ve been handed in. Those tools were worth a few quid,’ Robbie said regretfully. ‘I bought the best when I had money in my pocket… I’ll never be able to afford them again.’ In these hard times, it was unlikely that anyone would hand them in.

  ‘Well, we’ll ask and see,’ Mary said. ‘Some folk have a conscience… and I want to thank you for showing your forgiveness, Mr Graham.’

  ‘The name is Robbie.’ Robbie ran his fingers through his hair, conscious of what he looked like. ‘I was maybe a mite hasty… It hurt me pride…’

  ‘You’re an honest man, Robbie Graham, and to be accused of theft was an insult. I am the one who should apologise and I do…’

  Robbie shook his head. ‘You’re a good woman. I know what yer do fer others, Nurse Mary. I’ll shave and meet yer at the mission in an hour…’

  Mary left him, a little smile on her lips. She had a hammer and a screwdriver at home, but she had just thought of someone else who might have much more and surely didn’t need them any longer.

  *

  ‘It’s just a loan for a while,’ Flo said to her father. ‘Mr Graham lost his tools and he needs them to continue his work. He will give them back to you once his own have been found…’

  ‘Is that Robert Graham?’ Her father looked at her for several minutes and then inclined his head. ‘Nurse Mary waiting for yer answer, is she? You can tell her that I shan’t need them again. He might as well keep them…’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Flo was astounded because she’d thought her father would turn the request down. ‘That’s really good of you… thank you so much.’

  ‘Mebbe it was owed,’ he said. ‘You know where they are – go on, get them out and give them to her. It’s fer a good cause after all…’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Flo said and bent to kiss his cheek on impulse.

  She almost ran down the stairs in her excitement. Nurse Mary was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea and eating a fancy cake. She looked up as Flo carried the large, much-worn leather workbag into the kitchen and placed it on a chair.

  ‘Dad says Mr Graham can keep the tools,’ she said. ‘He will never need them again. I suppose they are worth something, but he says it’s owed – I don’t know what he means, but tell Mr Graham my father says it’s for a good cause, because he’s working for the mission.’

  ‘Yes, I shall,’ Nurse Mary said and picked up the bag. ‘This is very heavy. The tools in he
re must be worth quite a bit of money.’

  ‘My father collected them over a lifetime of work,’ Flo said. ‘Thank you for comin’ to me, Nurse Mary.’

  ‘I should be the one to thank you – and I will certainly call in to see Mrs Waters, as you suggest. I can take a look at Mr Waters at the same time. I doubt he’ll let me examine him, but I shall know if he’s unwell and hiding it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Flo said. ‘Can you manage that bag on your own?’

  ‘Yes, just about. I shall catch the bus from across the road,’ Nurse Mary replied and lifted the bag. ‘I usually walk, but this time I think the fare will be well worth a few pennies…’

  Flo saw her to the door and then washed her hands and changed her apron for a clean one, because the tools had been dusty. She went through into the shop and saw that a small queue had formed. People were beginning to buy their Christmas treats and the home-made cakes and sweets were selling well despite the general shortage of money. It was hard for some of the locals to pay their rent and put food on the table every day, but most of them saved a few pennies in a Christmas club and now they were spending them on what their loved ones liked most…

  Flo and Honour worked side by side until the shop was empty.

  ‘I thought we would never get through the queue,’ Honour said. ‘What did Nurse Mary want? Did she come to see Dad?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ Flo said. ‘She wanted to borrow Dad’s tools – he had a big bag filled with all kinds of hammers, chisels and other things. They were needed for the mission and Dad let her have them just like that…’

  ‘How odd,’ Honour said and laughed. ‘Shall we close for lunch today or shall we take it in turns?’

  ‘You go first,’ Flo said as she saw one of their better-off clients heading towards the shop. ‘I think we’ll keep open just in case. We must make the most of the trade now because no one will have any money for weeks afterwards…’