Christmas is for Children

by Rosie Clarke

  22

  Ben tore the wrappings off the large box and yelled with excitement. It was the big Meccano kit he’d set his heart on. He’d got a new pair of boots too from his father and they were nice, but it was the Meccano that had him jumping up and down on his bed with glee.

  ‘Thanks Dad…’ he yelled and then his father entered the room just in time to see Ruthie tear the paper from her pretty new dress. ‘That’s lovely, Ruthie – does it fit?’ Ben asked.

  Ruthie held it up against her. It might be a little on the long side, but she didn’t care; at least she wouldn’t have splits under her arms at school now.

  ‘It’s lovely, Dad,’ she said. ‘Thank you…’ She stroked the pretty pastel pink material with her hands, her face alight with pleasure before turning to her other parcels.

  Ruthie and Ben both had one of their dad’s long socks stuffed with little things. A few nuts in the bottom, a tangerine wrapped in silver paper, a long tin whistle, some humbugs and a comic in Ben’s, and a hair slide, ribbon, a red lollipop and a pretty mirror with flowers painted on the wooden back for Ruthie. She had her doll from Father Christmas, because although Ben no longer believed in him, his sister did, and there were still more parcels to explore.

  Flo had given Ben a set of drawing tools in a beautiful wooden box so that he could design the things he wanted to build, and she’d bought Ruthie a little papier-mâché jewellery box with a bead necklace inside. Bert had given Ben a train set in a box; it was clockwork, missing a little paintwork here and there, and had belonged to his sons when they were young, and Millie had given Ruthie a musical box with a fairy on top that rotated to the music when you wound it up; it looked new, but Robbie knew it belonged to a bygone age. The gifts were far beyond anything they’d ever expected and they were both thrilled.

  Ben had given Ruthie two sugar mice and some sweets and he proudly handed his father a packet of five tiny cigars which made Robbie smile and pop one under his nose to inhale the delicious aroma. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smoked one and it was a real treat.

  ‘Just like yer mum used to buy me,’ he said. ‘Thanks, son. Happy Christmas, both of you.’

  ‘It’s the best Christmas ever, Dad,’ Ben said. ‘I’ve wanted this Meccano set for ages – and Miss Flo’s present is great too, because I’m goin’ ter build things when I leave school.’

  ‘You like Miss Flo, don’t yer?’ Robbie asked.

  ‘She’s great,’ Ben said. ‘When we were hungry sometimes, we used to look in her window and if she saw us, she gave us a bun or something… There ain’t many do that… and that makes her special.’

  ‘Yes, I think so too,’ his father said. ‘Well, you’d best get dressed and come down and have yer breakfast – and then you must go round to Mille and Bert and thank them for their presents.’

  ‘Bert gave us half a crown each yesterday as well,’ Ben said. ‘I didn’t want ter take it, Dad, because it wasn’t earned – but he said it was fer Christmas…’

  ‘Well, the train set he gave you belonged to his sons,’ Robbie said. ‘He wanted you to have it, but you mustn’t get into the habit of takin’ stuff too often even if Bert wants to give it to you.’

  ‘I know, Mum wouldn’t have liked it,’ Ben agreed. ‘She would’ve said we don’t need charity – but I think they give us things because they haven’t got anyone else and it makes them happy.’

  ‘You see a lot more than most,’ Robbie said and ruffled his son’s hair. ‘I told Millie she could give Ruthie things and no doubt Bert will give you stuff sometimes, but just be careful you don’t let them give you too much, especially money. They don’t have much money, even if they have things stored away.’

  ‘I won’t and I’ll do their jobs for nothin’,’ Ben said. ‘I’ve got a few folk I do jobs fer now, Dad: cleanin’ winders mostly. I told Arnie I wouldn’t take his money to the bookie again and I thought he’d tell me to clear orf – but he says I’m an honest lad and he’s goin’ ter give me a newspaper round next month when I’m ten. I help him sort the papers now and he gives me a shillin’ fer doin’ his winders, sweeping outside the shop and clearin’ up what folk drop on the floor.’

  ‘You’re quite the entrepreneur,’ Robbie said and laughed. ‘I reckon you will build things one day if you want to – and I’m very proud of you.’

  ‘I’m glad you bought Ruthie a new dress,’ Ben told his father seriously as he helped set the kitchen table for their breakfast. ‘She got into trouble at school because she was always splittin’ it under the arms; she needs some more let out a bit…’

  ‘I’m glad you told me, Ben,’ Robbie looked thoughtful. ‘I could take yer mum’s old clothes and sell them to buy her some things – or I could get someone to cut a couple of the dresses up to make new ones for Ruthie, but I didn’t want to touch yer mum’s things without yer permission, son.’

  ‘I think Mum would want you to sell most of her things, but if you could make some of them into skirts or dresses for Ruthie that would please her too.’ Ben looked serious. ‘Mum’s gone and we have ter look after Ruthie, Dad.’

  ‘That’s what I’ll do then,’ Robbie said and felt his throat close, because his son was such a thoughtful lad. ‘Do you need any clothes for school, Ben?’

  ‘A couple of weeks ago, Bert offered me two pairs of good trousers that belonged to his son,’ Ben told him. ‘They were all right and fitted me so I wore them – Mum always said it wasn’t worth gettin’ me new because I grow out of them so fast and I don’t bother much what I wear. I was thinkin’ I’d give one of me old pairs to Mick; they’d fit him…’

  ‘I think that’s a good idea, son.’

  ‘Mick has it a lot worse than us, Dad. We never went without food all day, even if it was just bread and drippin’.’

  ‘I haven’t been much of a dad since yer mum died, have I?’

  ‘Yer the best dad ever,’ Ben said and gave him a quick hug round his waist.

  *

  At breakfast, Flo opened the parcel from Honour and smiled as she saw the pretty blue velvet slippers and the handkerchiefs with embroidery in the corners. She looked across the table at her and smiled.

  ‘Thank you – they are just what I wanted.’

  ‘You always say that,’ Honour said. ‘Thank you for the lovely bracelet, my new cardigan and the silk scarf and everything…’ She seemed a little subdued and Flo guessed it was because she hadn’t even had a card from Roy. He’d promised so much and now it looked as if he’d let her down. She leaned over to kiss her cheek and give her a little hug.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Flo said. ‘Don’t look so disappointed, love. Roy may turn up yet, but if he doesn’t – you’ll find someone else. You’re too pretty to cry over someone who let you down.’

  ‘I know – but it’s Christmas and he promised…’

  ‘We have so much to be thankful for, Honour. Perhaps Roy just couldn’t get in touch…’ Honour nodded and Flo knew she was making an effort to cheer up. ‘I’m looking forward to giving the kids their gifts later…’

  ‘Dad gave me another five pounds,’ Honour said. ‘I went in to wish him Happy Christmas and he just sort of thrust it at me and told me to buy myself a new dress or put it towards somethin’ I need…’

  ‘Well, that was generous of him, especially after he gave us those sixpences for the children,’ Flo smiled at her. ‘I dare say he’s making up for the past…’

  Honour went up to fetch down his tray and Flo started on their dinner. She peeled potatoes and stuffed the cockerel with a sage and onion mixture, putting it into the oven after she’d baked some fresh mince pies for their own use. She had the vegetables prepared and the rich fruit pudding steaming in a saucepan by the time Honour came down again.

  ‘You should have left some of it for me to do,’ Honour said. ‘Dad wanted to talk – he said he was sorry for not being kinder to me and asked me what I wanted to do with my life…’

  ‘What did you say?’


  ‘I said I wanted to get married one day but not yet…’

  Flo looked at her and her heart ached as she saw the dark shadows beneath her daughter’s eyes. ‘Are you upset over Roy?’

  ‘I loved him, Flo,’ Honour said. ‘Just because he has let me down that doesn’t go away. I can’t stop thinking about him even if I try…’

  ‘You’ll meet someone else in time…’ Flo said but knew that if her daughter was anything like her it would not happen. She felt angry with Roy; because surely he could have told her face to face that he was finished with her?

  ‘Perhaps,’ Honour agreed. ‘Maybe I’ll just stay here and grow old in the shop…’

  Don’t stay that! It’s nonsense and I won’t have it,’ Flo said sharply. ‘I may not be here forever either, so you can just put that nonsense out of your mind…’

  ‘I’m sorry – but you asked,’ Honour said and left the room.

  Flo sighed as she looked around her large spotless kitchen. She’d thought they were happy here, but it had become obvious to her that Honour thought of the shop as a prison. After Christmas, Flo would have to make inquiries about taking on some help, because she didn’t want to keep Honour here against her will. If she would be happier elsewhere then she should be free to try…

  *

  ‘That was a good dinner, Flo. I do like a nice cockerel, so much more flavour,’ her father said as he pushed back his empty plate. ‘You should put the dishes to soak in the scullery and get ready. You have other things to do than washing up today.’

  ‘I’ll get some of it done before I get changed,’ Flo said. ‘But the pans can soak until later.’ She hesitated, then, ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right alone, Dad? Honour can take the gifts round and I could stay here…’

  ‘She’ll never carry that lot on her own, you daft girl,’ her father said. ‘You don’t get out much, Flo. Do as I say and leave that lot in the scullery. You’ve got tomorrow off, so it don’t matter if you don’t get finished today…’

  ‘We should go if we want enough time to carry it all,’ Honour said. ‘Let’s get changed, Flo – and then we can get goin’. I don’t want to miss all the fun…’

  ‘All right,’ Flo said. ‘That sweet jar of coins weighs a ton…’

  They ran upstairs to their separate rooms and changed quickly into their best skirts and jumpers before meeting on the landing. Honour looked really beautiful and Flo’s heart turned over; she was so proud of her daughter for thinking of others instead of sulking because of her own disappointment.

  ‘I can’t wait to see those children’s faces,’ Honour said. ‘Ben and Ruthie weren’t the only ones to press their noses against the window when we put the sugar mice out this year. They won’t be able to believe they’ve actually got two each…’

  ‘We’ve got enough for all the kids, haven’t we? I’d hate to leave any of them out.’

  ‘John gave us a list,’ Honour said. ‘We planned it down to the last sugar mouse…’

  ‘Yes, I know – I’m just nervous I suppose…’

  Honour laughed. ‘I’m not. I’m excited. We worked so hard – but seeing those children’s faces light up will make it all worthwhile…’

  *

  ‘Where are yer goin’?’ Mick asked, kicking a brown beer bottle in the gutter. Ben had stopped to speak to him as his father and Ruthie carried on walking.

  ‘We’re goin’ to the mission hall for a proper Christmas dinner,’ Ben told him and saw the way his friend’s eyes widened. Mick looked thin and dirtier than ever and Ben felt pity for him. ‘You should come too. I reckon there’s sure to be enough for one more – and if there ain’t I’ll share mine wiv yer… unless yer dad is gettin’ dinner at ’ome?’

  Mick gave a harsh laugh, but his eyes were miserable. ‘He’s bleedin’ drunk as usual. There ain’t nothin’ to eat in the ’ouse – he spent every penny he had on drink… but I’ve hid half a bottle so he sobers up later.’

  ‘Come on, Ben. We don’t want to be late,’ Robbie called.

  ‘I’ve got ter go,’ Ben said. ‘Follow on behind us, Mick – they’re sure to let yer in and it’s better than goin’ hungry on Christmas Day…’

  Mick nodded but hung his head, kicking at the bottle in the gutter. Ben ran on to catch up with his father and sister. He felt vaguely guilty because he didn’t have the right to invite the young half-Irish boy to lunch at the mission and yet Mick needed it as much as anyone.

  When they entered, the busy mission hall the smell of roast chicken dinner was mouth-watering and people were already finding places at the table and being served with plates filled with delicious food. Ben caught sight of Mick as he dodged in and ran straight to the tables, finding a place right at the end. He grinned, because first come first served and they would have to find a place for whoever else turned up.

  When Ben looked for a seat, he saw one next to Mick and took it, grinning at him as the lady brought them both a plate of chicken, mashed potatoes, veg and Yorkshire pudding with gravy and stuffing.

  ‘This is a bit of all right,’ Ben said, but Mick was too busy filling his mouth to answer.

  ‘Did yer know Mick was comin’?’ Ben’s father asked softly, and sat next to him when he’d finished helping John cut the chickens.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ben lowered his voice. ‘His dad’s drunk and there’s no food in his house.’

  ‘He needs a wash,’ Robbie murmured. ‘Bring him home afterwards, lad, and we’ll sort him out…’

  *

  As Flo and Honour carried their heavy baskets into the mission hall, every child’s head turned towards them, and Flo guessed that somehow word had got out. Perhaps from the children who had already had their gift that morning or perhaps from some of John’s band of devoted helpers, but there was a buzz of excitement as John Hansen greeted the two women with a smile and a wave. They took their places behind the serving counter, which had now been cleared of the luncheon dishes. In the mission kitchens the volunteers would be busy washing up.

  John held up a hand for silence, then, ‘Now, children, this is what you have all been waiting for – Miss Flo and Miss Honour have brought a present for all of you. Will you please form a line at the counter and you will each receive your gift.’

  Ben nudged Mick in the ribs. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Miss Flo has got something for all of us.’

  John Hansen was speaking again. ‘As well as a Christmas box, there is a silver sixpence for each child.’ He gestured towards the sweet jar filled with sixpences.

  ‘Don’t wanna go,’ Mick said, holding back. ‘I ain’t supposed to be here.’

  ‘That don’t matter…’ Ben said and pulled at his arm.

  Mick rose reluctantly to his feet and was so slow that by the time they got to the counter they were the last in the line, Ben just in front of Mick.

  They patiently waited their turn and then something happened. It was so quick that most people didn’t realise what was going on. A large, rough-looking man had thrust his way through the children to reach the counter and snatched the jar of sixpences. He barged back through the crowd of bewildered and frightened children and was on his way to the door when Ben realised what he’d done and yelled.

  ‘He’s pinchin’ our money!’

  At almost the same moment, Robbie sprang to his feet and sprinted towards the door, reaching it seconds before the thief. He opened his arms wide and stared at the unkempt figure in front of him.

  ‘No you don’t,’ he said in a loud voice that caught the attention of all. ‘That money belongs to Miss Flo and she intends it for the children. Just give it back and I’ll let you go…’

  ‘Get out of my way or it will be the worse fer yer…’ the man muttered fiercely.

  ‘You don’t leave here with money intended for our children,’ Robbie said, standing firm as the man tried to barge his way past him. He grabbed the sweet jar and the two men tussled over it, but Robbie wrenched it clear. The other man threw a punch at him, but he ducked and it
swung his attacker off balance. John Hansen had realised what was happening and arrived with two other men. As the thief tried to snatch the jar back, they grabbed hold of his arms and hustled him through the door.

  He struggled violently and then spat in John’s face. ‘I’ll bleedin get the lot of yer…’

  ‘This is Christmas Day, so I shan’t call the police,’ John told him calmly. ‘But if I ever see you hanging round here again I will – and you are not welcome at the mission. You will never be served here again.’

  The thief lifted his hand as if he would strike John, but Robbie moved forward. His hands were free of the heavy jar now and he put them up in a challenging manner.

  ‘If you want ter fight pick on someone yer own size,’ he growled.

  The thief rushed at him, but Robbie was ready and punched him in the face. He staggered back, his mouth cut and bleeding, shaking his head from the blow. For a moment he looked as if he might try to come back at Robbie, but several of the men had clustered at his back and the thief turned away, spitting on the ground.

  ‘I’ll remember yer…’ he muttered and slouched off.

  ‘Well done, Robbie mate,’ some of the men clapped him on the back. ‘Yer saved the day…’

  Robbie shook his head and looked at John. ‘I reckon we know that thief and this isn’t the first time he’s robbed the mission…’

  ‘Well, thanks to you, he didn’t get away with it this time.’

  Someone had restored the jar to its rightful place on the counter. A few of the children had run to their parents in fright, but now the line formed again. Ben and then Mick were still at the end.

  Robbie glanced at Flo and she gave him a smile that seemed to speak of love and pride, making him feel that he was his own man again. He grinned at her and went back to his place.

  Miss Flo handed out a box of sweets to each child and Miss Honour gave them all a bright shiny silver sixpence. Small faces lit up with delight. For some of them this was the only pocket money they had ever received. Cries of excitement and pleasure filled the hall. When it was Ben’s turn, he saw that there was just one box left on the counter. Miss Flo offered it to him, but he shook his head.