A Family Christmas

by Glenice Crossland

  ‘Because the people at the manor are all posh. Besides they are all businessmen and are at work all day.’

  ‘I wish we ’ad a kitchen like that.’

  ‘Did you go in?’ Lucy was curious what it was like.

  ‘Aye and she gave me some chocolate pudding with custard on. I didn’t believe our Nellie had made it, but Mrs Cooper said she had. She isn’t ’alf a good cook, our Nellie.’

  ‘Right then, do you want to come with me to our Mary’s?’

  ‘I’ll go meself if I can take our Ben’s bike.’ Will knew it was getting late and it would mean staying up longer.

  ‘Go on then. Just tell her to pop over tomorrow after tea. Tell her our Nellie’ll be here.’ There was no point in worrying her until after the operation and they knew what was going to happen. Will didn’t need telling twice.

  This time Lucy relaxed in the chair and closed her eyes, wondering what tomorrow would bring. She knew operations were sometimes dangerous, but surely nothing could happen to Annie Gabbitas. She had always been there for them and even if she had shouted and sometimes clouted them the house wouldn’t be the same without her presence. Lucy could remember a time when her mother hadn’t been miserable; she could even remember her mam and dad dancing round the table and kissing each other. In fact Annie always used to kiss her dad when he left for the pit and again when he came home. Lucy tried to think when it was that things had changed. It must have been after their Will was born. That was when her dad had become ill, yes, that was it, when her dad had began having time off work because of his cough. That was when Annie had changed. Before that she had made little treats for them, like apple dumplings and ginger parkin. Even though they had never had new clothes Annie used to buy them pretty ribbons for their hair and gather wild flowers from up the banking and arrange them in a pot on the dresser.

  Lucy wiped her eyes on her pinafore and told herself not to be daft: crying wouldn’t help. She vowed to look after her mam for as long as she needed her. She also promised herself that when she married and had children of her own, she would always try and be of good spirits and even if her husband became ill she would make sure it was a happy home.

  She suddenly saw a picture forming in her mind, a picture of John Grey, but she dismissed it before the tears started again. She wouldn’t be going to the dance on Saturday – probably not for weeks if she was looking after her mam. By then John Grey would have found himself another girl; he was far too handsome to bother waiting for the likes of her.

  The Grey brothers had settled in well at the vicarage. It was an old stone house next to the church – quite spooky – with three large square bedrooms and one smaller one. Louisa Goodman had arranged the smaller one for Robbie and placed two single beds in another for John and James. The food was plain but wholesome and the brothers endeavoured to repay their hosts by lending a hand with any tasks that needed attending to. The Sunday after their arrival a starling had flown down the chimney and flapped blindly around the kitchen. John had caught the poor thing, cleaned it up and released it into the garden. Then he had cleaned up the soot fall and given the walls a fresh coat of lime wash. It had all been done while the Sunday service was taking place. Louisa said Herbert always kept the commandments and on the Sabbath would never have agreed to the work being done. She did concede however that it had been a sort of emergency and since Herbert had been unaware of what had happened he couldn’t really complain. Another night James had volunteered to cut the grass in the graveyard, glad of the fresh air after the confines of the wire mill.

  Young Robbie was spending more and more time in the joiner’s shop. Mr Grundy had suggested the boy should keep to the hours originally agreed, but when Robbie told him he enjoyed staying over and wanted to learn as much as he could, Mrs Grundy had suggested the boy join them for their main meal and then return to work under the guidance of her husband. So now Robbie could look forward to a little extra in his pay packet every Friday. He had been taught how to mix glue and how to stain wood and he also knew what all the different tools were for and how to care for them. Evenings at the vicarage were usually spent with a book from Herbert’s small but well-stocked library. Sometimes they would partake of a game of dominoes and the elder brothers had been taught to play bridge.

  John had been devastated when Lucy Gabbitas hadn’t turned up with her sister on the night of the dance. Kitty explained about Mrs Gabbitas being in hospital and John wondered why Jane had decided to come along, leaving her younger sister with the responsibility of taking care of her brother. It made John admire Lucy more than ever and though he danced most of the dances with Kitty Marshall he never stopped thinking about Lucy. Actually John was relieved when the evening came to an end. He had been left with the impression that Jane was of a rather shallow nature, but as James seemed to be besotted with her he thought he was maybe being a little hard on the girl. John was cheered slightly with Kitty’s parting words: ‘I’ll tell Lucy you were concerned about her mother.’

  ‘Oh, aye, you do that. Oh and Kitty! Will you tell her I’ll be waiting when her mother’s better?’

  Kitty grinned. ‘Aye, it’ll make her day if I tell her that. She really likes you.’

  ‘Really?’ John grinned.

  ‘Aye, really.’

  Kitty liked John too. If Lucy hadn’t been her best friend she might have tried to entice John Grey away from her, but like Lucy, Kitty Marshall was loyal to her friends and family.

  Chapter Six

  ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT the whole Gabbitas family went to visit Annie, with the exception of William who, at eleven, was considered to be too young, and Jane, who made the excuse that she would stay and see to her brother, even though they all knew the real reason was that she was squeamish about hospitals. They were met by the matron, who invited Ben into her office and explained that it had been necessary to amputate his mother’s leg below the knee. It was hoped that all the necrosis had been eliminated and Annie was as comfortable as could be expected. Ben and Mary were the first to be allowed into the ward. Annie looked so small and ill amongst the pillows that Mary promptly burst into tears. Now instead of fearing her mother, Mary just pitied her.

  ‘Nay, lass, crying’ll alter nowt,’ Annie told Mary. ‘Me leg’s gone now and glad I am to be rid of it.’

  ‘Oh, Mam, why didn’t you see the doctor sooner?’

  ‘I don’t know, lass. I just kept putting it off. I expected the Borax to heal it up and get it better. Anyway, it’s gone now.’ A tear slid down her pale cheek and Mary leaned over and placed her arms round Annie’s shoulders. ‘Anyway, I shall manage once I get used to a pair o’ crutches. How’re me bairns?’

  ‘Our Lucy and Nellie’re here. Our William isn’t allowed in.’

  ‘And our Jane’ll be too busy I expect.’

  ‘She’s keeping an eye on William.’

  ‘She didn’t need to. Mrs Slater’d ’ave seen to ’im.’ Mr and Mrs Slater had always been there through any crisis affecting the Gabbitas family; in return Annie and Bill had given any assistance required by their neighbours. Unlike others on Top Row they had never fallen out over any of their children’s quarrels and simply ordered them to go out and play nicely. The women had attended each other’s confinements and acted as godparents to each other’s children. Indeed William and young Ernest Slater had been baptised on the same day.

  ‘I think we’d better go and let our Nellie and Lucy come in.’ Ben wasn’t in the mood to begin making excuses for their Jane.

  ‘Aye, I want to talk to our Lucy.’

  The two sisters were so intent on cheering up their mother that Annie never got round to saying whatever she intended saying to her youngest daughter, before the bell sounded indicating the end of visiting. For the first time in years the girls received a kiss from their mother, which might have caused the tears to start, had they not hurried out to join the others. ‘What are we going to do about caring for her?’ Lucy worried. ‘Will I have to leave work?’

&nb
sp; ‘No!’ Ben was emphatic. ‘We’ll sort something out.’

  ‘Aye, but what?’ Nellie knew her mother would need full-time care.

  ‘We’ll get a bed downstairs for a start.’ Ben hadn’t thought beyond that. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to expect one of us to carry all the burden.’

  It was a dispirited and silent foursome who boarded the bus back to Millington, each of them dreading what the future was to bring.

  Whatever they had been dreading couldn’t possibly have been as bad as the reality. Annie had been in good spirits and recovering well until five days after the operation. She had told Ben to bring Lucy the next day and because Ben had never missed a visit Lucy told him to have a night off and she would visit her mother on her own. Annie was sweating and her face was flushed. She didn’t look as well as when Lucy had last seen her. ‘Are you all right, Mam?’ She held her hand on Annie’s forehead. ‘You’re ever so hot.’

  ‘I’m right enough. A bit of a headache, that’s all. Come and sit on the bed; I want to tell yer summat.’ Lucy checked to see if the stony-faced matron was anywhere in sight before perching on the bed and taking hold of her mother’s hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lucy.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Oh don’t pretend, lass, we both know I ’aven’t treated you right. I’m not making excuses, but I thought I was doing the right thing, saving every penny I got instead of spending it on summat nice for you all. Well, I still think I did the right thing, especially now. It’ll come in when I’ve gone.’

  ‘Mam!’

  ‘No, let me finish. When yer father died I was frightened – in fact before he died. I knew he hadn’t got long to live; I’d been told by the doctor. I began to wonder what’d become of yer all when we’d both gone. What with the worry and the pain in me leg, I turned into a wicked old woman instead of a caring mother.’

  ‘You were never wicked and you’re not that old either.’

  ‘Any road up, I decided that if owt ’appened to me I’d leave you all right, financially I mean.’ Annie wiped the sweat from her upper lip. She felt bad.

  ‘I’m going to call the nurse. You’re not well.’

  ‘No, let me finish. I want you to go to the top drawer in me tallboy. You’ll find one of yer dad’s socks. Inside it you’ll find me savings, and there’s the money yer Aunt Kate gave me when she went away; she said it was for any emergencies.’

  ‘But we had an emergency, Mam, when the miners were out on strike.’ Lucy cringed as she remembered having nothing in the house to spread on the bread. They had had the option of either a sprinkling of salt or a sprinkling of sugar. ‘Why didn’t you use the money to feed us?’

  ‘I objected to where it came from. The man she was keeping house for left it to Kate in his will. She was keeping ’im warm in his bed more like. But I was wrong, Lucy. Kate meant well when she gave it to us. Anyway it’s there for you all now.’ Annie could hardly get the words out. ‘It’ll tide you over until our William’s old enough to start work. Promise me you’ll look after him, love. I know you’re the youngest but I can trust you more than our Jane. She’s not a bad lass, just a bit flighty, that’s all. Promise me, Lucy.’

  ‘Of course I’ll look after him. What do you take me for?’

  ‘A good lass, that’s what I take yer for.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re saying all this; you’ll be home next week.’

  ‘No, Lucy. Summat’s gone wrong, I know it ’as. Listen, don’t give up yer job; you’re too young to be stuck at ’ome all day, and don’t let our Jane spend the money on daft things. It’s for the three of yer. The others are old enough to be independent. Our William’s well able to get ’imself off to school in a morning and Enid Slater’ll keep an eye on ’im until yer come ’ome at night. There’s a letter in the drawer I wrote to Enid in case owt like this ’appened to me. You can depend on Mrs Slater, remember that.’

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen, Mam.’

  ‘Ee’ll ’ave to go in’t pit, our William. I were ’oping for summat better for me youngest but he’ll need his name on the rent book when our Ben marries, and I expect he will soon.’

  ‘Oh Mam, let me fetch a nurse.’

  ‘Aye, yer can fetch ’er before yer go.’ The bell interrupted Annie and she clung tighter to Lucy’s hand. ‘Keep the money safe, Lucy, and keep a good table. God knows I never did. Tell all me bairns I love ’em.’

  ‘Mam, stop talking like this. You can tell them yourself when you see them.’ By now Lucy was trying to control the tears.

  ‘I love ’em all, Lucy, but you’re the most like yer dad so I’ve a special love for you. I didn’t want ’em to know that so I treated you more harshly to cover up. God bless, love.’

  Lucy escaped before her mother saw the tears. She went to the table in the centre of the ward where a nurse kept a constant watch over her patients. ‘Nurse, my mother isn’t right; she’s sweating and flushed but her hands are like ice.’

  ‘I’ll see to her.’ The nurse went towards Annie Gabbitas’s bed. She knew without a doctor’s examination that Annie had a fever. She also realised the patient was probably suffering from septicaemia. Poisoning of the blood was all too common in amputees, and unfortunately there was little to be done except pray. She applied a cold cloth to Annie’s forehead in an attempt to bring down her temperature. Annie was shivering and rapidly becoming delirious, but at least she had made her peace with her daughter. The nurse went off to find the doctor. She didn’t bother hurrying. There was little anyone could do for Annie Gabbitas; septicaemia was a killer and the nurse was experienced enough to know that.

  As soon as Lucy arrived home she went upstairs to her mother’s room. She hadn’t been in here since the day she had bought the material for the new dresses. It seemed months away and Lucy couldn’t believe what a happy day that had been; even their Nellie leaving home hadn’t quite spoiled the excitement. Now it was as though the family would never be happy again. How could they be with a mam with only one leg? She wished Annie hadn’t told her about the money. It was as though she thought she was going to die. She opened the top drawer and shifted her mother’s few possessions; a bible handed down from Bill Gabbitas’s family; Annie’s hymn and prayer book; her Sunday gloves, soft kid with a tiny button at the wrist and a fur cuff; a flower, pressed in tissue paper, given to her by Bill on her coming of age. She found the sock, heavy with coins and even some notes, obviously accumulated over a number of years. She found a letter addressed to My Good and Loyal Friend, Enid Slater. Another envelope, To Annie and Bill from Kate. She didn’t count the money, but put it back where she had found it. It would be there when her mam came home. Lucy felt a chill run down her spine – if her mam came home.

  When Annie Gabbitas did come home it was to be prepared for her funeral. Once again the family was grateful that the insurance had been kept up to date, especially as there was an added cost of fifteen shillings this time for the conveying of the body home from Sheffield. The full cost of twenty pounds and five shillings could have been reduced by ten shillings if Ben had not insisted on a wreath. ‘It’ll be in memory of me father as well as me mother,’ he explained to the family. ‘And we’ll be ’aving tea for the mourners this time at the Co-op.’ Lucy wondered if this was the time to tell the family about the money in the drawer, but decided to wait until her mam was buried and resting in peace.

  Almost everyone on Top Row turned out to attend the funeral. Ben arranged for a carriage and two cars to follow the hearse. The Slaters, the Marshalls and Mr Brown joined the family mourners on the journey to Cragstone Church, where Reverend Goodman was to conduct the ceremony. Ben, who had kept his emotions under control as an example to the younger ones, finally gave in to his feelings at the sight of the packed church. The thought of all these friends, neighbours and relatives making a journey of several miles and probably losing a few hours’ work in order to do so brought a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes. Even people Ben hadn’t seen since hi
s father died had turned up like a flurry of rooks in their black coats and hats.

  After the last of the mourners had left for home Lucy asked Mary and Jacob to stay. ‘You too, Nellie. I’ve got something to tell you.’ She mashed a pot of tea and asked them all to sit down.

  ‘You all know I was the last one to see me mam whilst she was still rational.’ Lucy couldn’t help showing off a bit with the new word she’d learned from the hospital doctor.

  She poured the tea and sat down at the table. ‘Well, she asked me to tell you how much she loved you all and apologised for being mean with the money and explained that she’d done it for a reason.’ Lucy paused to take a breath, then continued. ‘The reason being that she was worried about what would become of us after she’d gone. She said her leg had been worrying her even before me dad died.’

  ‘Why didn’t she tell us?’ Jane was in tears. ‘If I’d known how bad it was I’d ’ave gone to visit her.’

  ‘None of us knew, Jane and anyway, me mam understood why you didn’t go. She loved you, she told me she did, and she proved it by saving all the money she could have spent on herself. Every penny, so that we should have security when she had gone. She did it for our William and you and me.’ Lucy stood up and ran upstairs. When she returned she emptied the sock on the table. ‘She said it was for us three, but I don’t think that’s fair. You’ve all gone short, especially our Ben who’s tipped up the most. I shall put my share back for when our Will needs new clothes, which he will because he’s growing so fast. But you must share the rest. Me mam said I had to stop you spending your share on daft things.’ Lucy smiled at Jane. ‘She said you were a good lass but a bit flighty.’

  Jane blushed but the tears had ceased by now and she was grateful for the chance to make amends for her neglect of her mother. ‘You must have my share for our Will, and we’ll come to some agreement about how much we shall be able to manage on for running the house.’

  ‘No, Jane. If me mother said it was for you three then we must respect her wishes.’ Ben looked questioningly at Mary and Nellie.