by Annie Groves
Even that heart-stopping feeling she had had when Luke had grabbed the box she was holding and had inadvertently held her as well?
That had been only because she was still angry about the way he had carried her over that glass against her wishes, and besides, it was private and had nothing at all to do with Grace’s gift to her mother.
‘Well, I don’t know, all this newspaper …’ Jean was looking puzzled and uncertain. ‘Are you sure that Grace said this was for me, Katie?’
‘Yes,’ Katie confirmed. She’d tucked the letter Grace had also given her to give to her mother inside the flap of the second box.
‘Do you want us to help you, Mum?’ Lou offered, but Jean wasn’t listening. She had removed the layers of newspaper to reveal what was inside it and the look on her face brought a huge lump to Katie’s throat.
‘Grace said to tell you that she bought it from Miss Higgins,’ Katie told Jean quietly. ‘She’s giving up her house to go and live with her cousin.’
‘Yes. Yes, I know,’ Jean agreed.
Her voice shook slightly and Katie could see the tears sheening her eyes.
‘I’ve always wanted a proper tea set, ever since me and our Vi used to play with one when we were girls.’
‘Grace said that Miss Higgins said that this one was Minton and that it had been a wedding present to her parents. There’s a letter for you from Grace in the other box with the teapot and the rest,’ Katie told her gently.
Luke frowned as he watched the two women, aware that somehow a bond was being formed between them that excluded everyone else, and he was both confused by it and resentful of it because of his dislike of Katie.
And yet, watching her now, there was none of that snooty, stuck-up, nose-in-the-air manner he’d been so sharply aware of at the Grafton. She wasn’t acting any different than if she had been his sister Grace, except that she didn’t look like Grace. Grace was a very pretty girl, but she was his sister; Katie wasn’t his sister and she was very, very pretty. Too pretty in fact, Luke decided angrily.
This was just about the best Christmas she could remember, Emily decided happily. She and Tommy were kneeling on the carpet in the spare room next to Tommy’s bedroom, home now to the Hornby train set, delivered at eight o’clock in the morning by a very unlikely Father Christmas in the form of the coal man, who had been bribed beforehand to dismember the large iron bedstead that had supported the room’s ‘spare bed’ to provide adequate accommodation for the new arrival.
Emily and Tommy had gone to church, where Emily had proudly showed off her second cousin’s boy and now, to all intents and purposes, her adoptive son. Neighbours who had scarcely bothered to exchange the time of day with her before had come over to wish her a ‘Merry Christmas’ above the sound of the church bells ringing out so strongly across the smitten city, causing all those who heard them, including Emily, to add a special plea that the prayers they had just said in church might be granted. Before too long Emily had found herself included in a group of mothers and grandmothers, and treated very much as an equal as they all bemoaned the effects of rationing and war on their lives and those of their children.
Now Emily watched as the train chugged round the tracks. Together, she and Tommy had connected railway lines and sidings, with proper points and signals, and the most up-to-date of all the Hornby engines was now running happily along its tracks, pulling its smart LMS-liveried coaches behind it.
Con, who hadn’t arrived home until the very early hours of Christmas Day morning, had slept through Christmas morning and Christmas dinner before going back to the theatre. Not that Emily cared one jot. She and Tommy had had the jolliest of times, pulling crackers, wearing silly hats and then reading out the jokes, or at least she had read out the jokes and Tommy had listened, and now they were having the best of fun together with the Hornby train set.
A nice warm fire burned in the grate, hot milk, with a touch of brandy in it for her, had been drunk, and mince pies consumed, and very soon Emily suspected both of them would be ready for their beds. And still to be enjoyed in the days to come were the brightly coloured annuals, and the Meccano set. Emily heaved a happy sigh of contentment.
All the presents had been unwrapped, they had eaten their dinner, listened to the King’s speech, all to one degree or another fighting back tears, the washing-up had been done, and although he had been watching her, waiting for her to show her true colours the whole way through, Luke had to admit that Katie hadn’t put a foot wrong. She had helped his mother discreetly without in any way claiming for herself a role in the household she did not have, she had kept the twins entertained and amused when they had started to get bored, she had even listened to their elderly neighbours’ rambling tales of their own youth with every evidence of genuine enjoyment, whilst somehow still managing to keep herself in the background. But despite all of that, far from being pleased that he had been unable to find fault with her, Luke was growing more antagonistic towards her by the minute.
Not just his mother but both his parents had sung her praises to him, the twins were hanging on her every word, yet none of that could shift the lump of angry dislike Luke could feel burning inside him.
She was a fraudster who was deceiving his whole family, and he was sorely tempted to drop into the conversation, sort of accidentally, the kind of comment that would alert them to her real nature and expose her for what she was.
Small wonder that she had kept her distance from him all day, even preferring to pull crackers with old Mr Gilchrist from five doors down, rather than with him, and leaving him to pull his with his mother.
Oh, yes, she had been as tireless about keeping away from him as she had been in helping his mother. Not that he could blame his family for being taken in by her. Luke had to admit that, having watched the tactful way she went about ensuring that his mother was given the chance to enjoy Christmas Day herself by taking over many of the dull chores of the day. She was certainly very good at portraying herself as a ‘good sort’.
Luke looked moodily down at his beer. A knocking at the front door signalled the arrival of the neighbours his mother had invited round for a Christmas drink and a bit of a singsong. Like her sister Francine, his mother had a good singing voice and musical ear, which all her children had inherited, and it was a bit of a family tradition that on Christmas Night everyone got up and did a bit of something, either a song or, in the twins’ case, both a song and a dance. Everyone that was except for their dad, Luke acknowledged, since Sam claimed that he couldn’t sing a note.
* * *
Luke was just pouring a beer for one of their neighbours when Lou came up to him and announced importantly, ‘Me and Sasha have learned a new routine specially for tonight.’
Luke grunted. He was used to his younger sisters’ dedication to their dancing and singing, and shared his parents’ feelings about the girls’ desire to make a career for themselves on stage.
‘Just wait until you see it. Katie says it’s the best, and she should know, what with her dad being a band leader and her mother having been on the stage. Imagine having parents like that!’ Lou exclaimed enviously.
‘No, thank you. I’m perfectly happy with the parents we’ve got, and so you should be and all,’ Luke rebuked her sharply.
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Lou defended herself, ‘did I, Sasha?’
‘No,’ Sasha immediately supported her twin.
‘I’ll bet, though, that if Katie had wanted to go on the stage her parents wouldn’t have said she’d be better off working in Lewis’s.’
Luke wasn’t really listening to the twins’ grievances. He was looking at Katie, who was listening to something his mother was saying. Of course it would be easy for her to pretend to be something she wasn’t, with her background. No wonder she was after a well-to-do chap; that sort – her sort – always were.
‘Well, you don’t have to do a turn if you don’t want to, Katie, love,’ Jean assured Katie as the two of them organised the c
hairs the neighbours had brought with them, all the way round the outside of the carpet to leave plenty of space free in the middle for the ‘turns’. ‘The twins will be disappointed, though. I think they were hoping you’d sing with them.’
‘I’d love to,’ Katie told her, ‘but the truth is that I can’t sing a note.’
Jean looked unconvinced.
‘It’s true,’ Katie assured her. ‘My father banned me from even trying, I’m so bad.’
‘You’ve got ever such a good sense of rhythm, though; I’ve watched you dancing with the twins.’
‘Oh, that. Well, yes, I can dance,’ Katie agreed, ‘but that’s not a real talent like singing or playing an instrument.’
‘Well, never mind, although I must admit I like a bit of a singsong meself. Goes back to when me and our Vi were young. Our mother had a good voice – that’s where Fran gets it from, of course, and my lot too. The kids have always enjoyed putting on a bit of a show for the neighbours over Christmas. I remember one year Luke and Grace did a bit of a mime and a dance. The older ones like to get up and do a bit as well. There’s a couple of the men got good strong voices and can hold a note well, and Dan Simmonds from number twelve plays the accordion.’
It was going on for midnight, and everyone who wanted to had done a bit of a turn, with the twins receiving the most applause for their song-and-dance routine, and now, to Katie’s dismay, the twins, having had an illicit glass of sherry apiece, were insisting that Katie got up and sang with them.
‘No, honestly, I can’t,’ Katie protested, but they weren’t in any mood to listen, taking hold of her hand and trying to drag her up out of her seat. Everyone was laughing and joining the fun, egging them on, and she looked despairingly round the room for help, but Jean, who could have saved her, was out of the room, having taken an elderly neighbour who couldn’t walk very well to the bathroom.
Someone had seen her discomfort, though, and was coming to her rescue – and a very unlikely someone indeed, Katie acknowledged, as Luke, who had been sitting talking quietly with his father, got up and came over, telling his sisters firmly, ‘Leave her be, you two.’ Katie was just about to thank him when he continued coldly, ‘If she wants to be stuck up and too posh to join in then that’s up to her. Tell you what,’ he added, turning his back on Katie, ‘how about I sing with you?’
There was no one to see the hot tears burning Katie’s eyes as painfully as the embarrassed colour burned her face as she slipped out of the room and went into the kitchen, where she busied herself with some washing-up.
Or at least Katie had thought there was no one to see, until she felt a hand on her arm and heard Sam Campion saying quietly, ‘I’m sorry about that, lass. I’ll have a word with our Luke. His mum told me earlier that you can’t sing.’
To Katie’s embarrassment fresh tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to rub them away but her hands were wet and soapy from the washing-up water.
‘Don’t think too badly of the lad. The thing is that he was made a bit of a fool of a while back by a girl he was keen on, when she told him that he wasn’t good enough for her.’
Katie had to fight against an urge to point out that since she wasn’t that girl it was hardly fair of Luke to tar her with the same brush.
‘There’s no need to say anything, Mr Campion,’ she said. ‘I feel daft enough as it is, not being able to sing, without having to tell everyone about it.’
‘Aye, well, there’s more important things in life than singing, and if you ask me sometimes it can cause more trouble than it’s worth when folk go putting the wrong ideas in other folks’ heads.’
Katie knew that he was referring to the twins and their belief that they were destined to follow in their aunt’s footsteps.
‘We all have our dreams,’ she told him, ‘especially when we’re young, but as I’ve told the twins, working in entertainment is nowhere near as glamorous or exciting as it looks. Even my father says that if he had a son he would prefer him to have a trade rather than be a conductor. It can be such an unkind life, even for those who are very talented.’
She could hear Luke’s good baritone enriching the sweetness of the twins’ voices as they sang together, and she felt a small pang of envy, knowing how her father would have loved and praised her had she had one half of the talent of the Campion offspring.
‘Jean’s right, you’re a good lass. I admit that I wasn’t keen when she said that we’d have to take someone in, but I reckon we’ve dropped lucky in getting you.’
Praise indeed from the normally reticent head of the Campion household. But not even knowing that Sam had come to her rescue and liked her could take away the hurt Luke’s words had caused.
It was all very well for his father to explain that he was suffering from a broken heart on account of some girl who had made a fool of him, but that was no reason for him to be so antagonistic and unkind to her, was it?
The twins, accompanied by Katie, had gone up to bed, and if he hadn’t known better Luke admitted that it would have been easy for anyone to think that the gentle but determined way in which Katie had insisted that she was tired and ready for her bed but that she’d love to hear the twins’ new gramophone records first, was a kind and thoughtful way of giving him some time alone with his parents, but of course that was impossible, given what he knew about her.
Still, no matter what the reasoning behind her disappearance upstairs with the twins in tow, virtually the minute the last of the washing-up and the last of the guests had been dealt with, it was well timed from his point of view.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had had both his parents to himself.
‘You’ll have to be getting back to the barracks,’ Sam warned him. ‘You don’t want to be late and get put on a charge.’
‘I won’t be, Dad,’ Luke assured him, nodding his head in acceptance of his mother’s offer of a cup of cocoa before he left.
‘I just hope the Luftwaffe doesn’t decide to attack us again tonight,’ said Jean worriedly. ‘They’ve held off so far over Christmas.’
‘I don’t reckon we’ll be seeing them tonight,’ Sam reassured her, exchanging a rueful look with Luke behind Jean’s back as she headed for the kitchen.
‘The city can’t take much more,’ Sam told Luke in a low voice once Jean had disappeared. ‘We’ve had to call in reinforcements to deal with what we’ve already been dealt, and we’re a long way from getting everything back to normal. Half the services are running on a make-do-and-mend shoestring, and it wouldn’t take much to knock them out. The City Council’s done its best, but you can’t clean up after the kind of bombing raids we’ve suffered, on thin air. We’ve lost equipment we can’t replace, and the lads reckon that a lot of it can’t be repaired easily either.’
‘The Germans are bound to go for us, Dad, on account of the docks,’ Luke warned his father. ‘They know the country needs to keep the west coast ports open for the convoys.’
‘Aye, it really gets my goat to think of them brave lads risking their lives on them ships, and paid nothing for the days they aren’t at sea, just to have their cargo slipped sideways to some ruddy black marketeer who’s getting rich off their backs.’
‘There’s bin a lot of unofficial talk down at the barracks about putting the army in to sort out the docks to stop the black market,’ Luke told him, ‘but at the end of the day we’re soldiers, not dockers, and then there’s the unions.’
They broke off their conversation when Jean returned with three steaming hot cups of cocoa.
‘Katie, bless her, made some for herself and the girls and took it up with them.’
‘I’m surprised they’re daft enough to want to bother with her after the way she made out she was too good for them when she refused to sing with them,’ Luke announced curtly. He didn’t want to tell tales – that would be beneath him – but he certainly didn’t want to see his family taken in either.
‘Luke,’ Jean protested. ‘Whatever gave you that idea? Katie
’s not a bit like that.’
Luke could see that his mother was upset, and that made him dislike Katie even more.
‘Aye, I meant to have a word with you about what you said to her, Luke,’ Sam pitched in. ‘Proper upset, she was.’
Now his father was sticking up for her as well.
Luke stiffened.
‘Thing is,’ Sam continued as though he hadn’t noticed Luke’s angry withdrawal, ‘the lass can’t so much as sing a note. Proper self-conscious she is about it as well, what with her father being a professional musician, at least that’s what your mother says.’
‘Yes, that’s right, Luke,’ Jean agreed. ‘Katie came to me and told me earlier when I told her about our singsong. She’s not the sort to say too much, but I could tell that she’d been upset by what her dad had said to her when he’d banned her from trying to sing, though she made a bit of a joke about it, in that gentle way she has. Mind you, I reckon those parents of hers don’t deserve a good daughter like her, telling her not to come home for Christmas because they’re going to some friends. She’s been ever so good with the twins, telling them that going on the stage isn’t a bit like they think it is, and she’s a real homebody as well. She’s even asked me about joining the WVS so that she help out a bit. It’s hard for a young girl like her to come to live amongst strangers.’
‘Well, it was her choice and she isn’t the only one,’ Luke pointed out, unwilling to relinquish his animosity but at the same time suffering that defensiveness that always accompanies the discovery that one might be guilty of misjudging someone. He wasn’t going to vindicate himself, though, by telling his parents what he had overheard Katie saying at the Grafton. He wasn’t like that.