A Family Christmas

by Glenice Crossland

‘Oh, it’s only a game,’ Will consoled him. Nothing could upset him today. He had done well on his new job, and that meant he would never again have to worry about going to work down the pit.

  Lucy was also brimming over with gladness after her first week of married life. Mary had prepared her for what would happen on her wedding night, but she hadn’t told her how exquisite lovemaking would be. There again, perhaps it wasn’t like that for everyone, only her and John. Lucy giggled at some of the things they had got up to in the privacy of their bed. And not only in bed. On the pegged rug in front of the wardrobe mirror where they could see themselves. She blushed as she remembered how their nudity had excited them. The only problem had been the lack of sleep. John, who had been on morning shift and had to be up at five, couldn’t possibly have had more than a couple of hours’ sleep. Oh well, he could make up for it this week on afternoon shift; he could stay in bed in the mornings. Lucy had officially finished work now, as all married women were expected to do.

  However, a large order had come in and Mr Blackmore had asked Lucy to stay on until the order was completed. She was happy to do so but John wouldn’t like it when he was on night shift and she was on days. They would hardly see each other, but would no doubt find time to make love, between John coming to bed and her getting up. Lucy wondered what her mother would have thought of her. She thought Annie would have considered it sinful to be thinking about making love all the time the way Lucy did. She smiled to herself as she imagined Annie calling her a brazen hussy. Lucy thought she might be, but she didn’t care; she loved John and he loved her and she considered herself the most fulfilled woman in Millington, or maybe the whole county of Yorkshire.

  The house was looking attractive. The atmosphere also seemed lighter now that Lucy had decided to throw out the old cracked crockery and use some of the new. She had replaced the faded tablecloths and frayed towels and placed a vase bought by the Goodmans in the centre of the dresser where it was reflected in the mirror. She had gathered a bunch of purple heather and arranged it in the vase, adding a few springs of lavender to scent the room. Upstairs their bed had been dressed with new linen and a lovely gold eiderdown, which reflected the morning sun. The carnations from her bridal bouquet were beginning to fade; when they died she would press them between the pages of her bible – her Sunday school prize when she was twelve. She would give the Gabbitas family bible to Ben on his next visit and her mother’s hymn and prayer book to Will.

  Lucy combed her hair in front of the wishing mirror, took off her apron and took a chair outside. She sat in the sun, watching her husband and brother kicking a ball about in the yard. Dustbins were being used for goal posts and by what she could make out the Holmes team were winning by ten goals to two. Kitty came and brought a stool to join Lucy, laughing as her brother aimed for the goal and missed. ‘They haven’t a chance against the Holmeses; young Harry’s scored all ten.’

  Lucy sighed. ‘I reckon Mrs Holmes’ll have trouble with that one. He’s too good-looking for his own good.’

  ‘Aye, and he’s after the lasses already. He is handsome though. He’ll be a right charmer in a few years’ time.’

  ‘So will his brother.’ Not as nice-looking as my John though, thought Lucy, already thinking about bedtime.

  Mary felt the familiar crampy pain and knew that once again she had failed to become pregnant. Jacob would be just as disappointed as she was, but would hide his feelings as usual and tell Mary it didn’t matter. They both knew it did, not only to them but to Jacob’s parents who were yearning for a grandchild. If Mary looked a bit tired they would take it as a sign that a baby was in the offing. If she put on a few pounds they would notice and become excited. Sometimes she thought it might happen if only everyone would forget about it. She knew Jacob was on the verge of telling his mother to back off and Mary would hate to fall out with her in-laws. She looked at the crowd of ragged children who lived down in the shadow of the steelworks. She knew the families down there had all on to make ends meet, yet God blessed them with one child after the other. Jacob, a hard worker, would feed his children well, dress them warmly and be the best father in the world, yet it seemed as though it wasn’t to be. She put on her coat ready for work. Like Lucy she was back working on the urgent order for parasols. The wealthy ladies wouldn’t like their delicate skins to be spoiled by this bout of hot weather. Mary couldn’t believe people still had time to bother with parasols in this day and age. When she had a daughter she would buy her the best Millington parasol she could afford. In the meantime, work would help distract from her inability to conceive. She had Jacob, the kindest, most caring husband she could wish for. What more did she need?

  Thomas Johnson had been captivated by Nellie’s family and astounded at the number of wedding guests. He had been overwhelmed at first, but as first one then another relative had introduced themselves he had realised, as an only child, just what he had been missing all these years. Oh, he knew how fortunate he was to have been left a legacy by his maternal grandfather. Enough to start a garage just when motor vehicles were proving to be the transport of the future. Not only was the filling station thriving but he had orders for a number of cars and motorcycles. However Tom had realised during his time in Millington that he would forfeit all his wealth for a family like Nellie’s. He wondered what Nellie would make of his parents and the grand house in the most select area of Blackpool. It never entered his head to wonder what his parents would think of Nellie, a working girl from a mining family. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Thomas had already made up his mind that Nellie Gabbitas was the girl he was going to marry. The following week he invited Nellie to Blackpool to meet his parents. Tom offered to fetch her on Saturday and bring her back on Sunday, but Nellie told him she was quite capable of travelling by train. She knew Tom had a couple of men working for him, but as he had mentioned Saturdays could be quite busy she knew he would be more useful working than trailing all the way to Millington and back. ‘You don’t mind me taking a weekend off, do you?’ she asked Mrs Cooper.

  ‘Course I don’t mind. Not a day’s holiday ’ave yer taken in all the time you’ve been ’ere.’ Mrs Cooper had every intention of encouraging the friendship between Nellie and Mr Johnson. It wasn’t nice living the life of a spinster with neither child nor chicken to call her own, and besides Mr Johnson was nice, with no side to him despite his wealth. ‘Theer’s nowt special ’appening anyway. I expect it’s the time of year they all pop off on their ’olidays.’

  Nellie was apprehensive about meeting Tom’s parents; they sounded ever so posh. She hoped she didn’t embarrass him in any way. When she voiced her concerns to Mrs Cooper, the housekeeper said, ‘Embarrass ’im? They’d ’ave all on to find anybody better.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ Nellie wasn’t convinced. She packed her bag and decided to wear her new costume in a lovely fawn colour; she had bought a hat from Daniel Evans in Sheffield to match the brown velvet collar. Nellie had spent more in the last couple of months than in all her working life, but she really did want Tom to be proud of her. If he was she knew it would have been money well spent.

  He was waiting for her when she left the train. He held out his arms and gathered her to him, revelling in the scent of her. Nellie had never been to Blackpool before – or any other seaside resort. She didn’t see much of it as he drove through the back streets. She could however see the tower looming tall and straight in the opposite direction from where they were heading. ‘We’ll go to the tower later,’ Tom promised. When they drew up outside the large detached property set in the colourful, well-kept garden, Nellie blushed as she wondered what Tom’s parents would think of the house on Top Row.

  Tom felt the trembling of her hand as he helped her out of the car. ‘You’re trembling,’ he said, concerned for her. ‘There’s nothing to be nervous about. I daresay my mother’s even more anxious than you about making a good impression.’ Nellie doubted it. Then they were in the hall where Tom’s parents were waiting to greet th
em.

  ‘So you’re Nellie. We’ve heard so much about you.’ Margaret Johnson held out a pale, smooth hand, at the sight of which Nellie already felt at a disadvantage. Still, she supposed there were servants to do all the rough work in a house like this.

  ‘Lovely to meet you.’ Nellie smiled and the woman returned the smile, entranced by Nellie’s beauty. Mr Johnson placed a kiss on Nellie’s cheek. She thought she detected the smell of petrol on his clothing. He took her hand and led her into a large, well-furnished room. ‘Welcome to Oak House,’ he said.

  ‘It’s a lovely house,’ Nellie said. She could hardly resist staring round at the furnishings but managed to concentrate on the feel of the thick pile carpet and the warmth of the fire, which she suspected had been lit more for her pleasure than from the need of it on this August afternoon. ‘I’ll show you to your room, then we shall have tea.’ Mrs Johnson led her back into the hall and up the stairs. ‘You have a view of the park from this room.’

  ‘Oh, it’s lovely,’ Nellie answered truthfully, but thought she had a much better view from her room at the manor, of the moors and Cragstone. Nothing, in Nellie’s opinion, could compare with the stark beauty of the Pennine moors.

  During tea, Tom sniffed at his father, ‘You’ve been at the garage again, haven’t you?’

  ‘Aye, how do you know?’ Henry Johnson looked puzzled.

  ‘Because you smell like a petrol tank,’ Tom laughed.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ His wife shook her head. ‘He’s supposed to have taken early retirement in order to relax a little in his old age and he’s gone and found himself another job, helping out at the garage.’

  ‘It isn’t a job, it’s a hobby.’

  ‘What did you find to do this afternoon then, whilst my back was turned?’ Tom laughed.

  ‘Served a few customers, polished that Morris in the showroom. Watched Fred fit a gasket on a bike. I’m learning all the time.’

  ‘Look, Dad, if you enjoy it so much I’ll put you on the payroll, part time.’ Tom watched his father’s eyes light up.

  ‘Oh I don’t want paying, son. But I would like to work regular hours. It would give me a purpose in life.’ He looked across the table at Nellie. ‘I’m not cut out for retirement, Nellie. Margaret doesn’t understand that a man needs to feel useful.’

  ‘Oh I do, I do understand. It’s just that I thought we could enjoy some time together before we’re too old to enjoy it. What do you think, Nellie?’

  Nellie blushed, thinking she was between the devil and the deep blue sea. ‘Well,’ she considered the question, ‘I think a few hours’ work won’t hurt. You can perhaps work in the mornings and relax in the afternoons. Of course that’s only my opinion.’

  ‘It’s a damn sensible idea.’ Mr Johnson was glad Tom had found himself a sensible girl instead of a lazy layabout.

  ‘Yes, but you could always give private tuition for a few hours to suit you,’ Mrs Johnson suggested.

  ‘Private tuition be damned. Sorry Nellie, but I never wanted to teach in the first place, only did it to suit my parents. I imagine I’d have been much happier in a job where I could wear dirty overalls.’

  Nellie felt sad as she wished her dad had lived to enjoy his retirement, but remembering her mother she didn’t think he would ever have been allowed to retire. ‘So you were a teacher then, Mr Johnson?’

  ‘Headmaster. Never got a chance to mucky my hands in my life.’

  Nellie smiled. ‘Unlike my father and my brother. I’m a miner’s daughter. My father died before he reached retirement.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. You can be proud, though. Where would we be without the miners?’

  ‘Where indeed?’ Tom squeezed Nellie’s hand under the tablecloth. Nellie wasn’t sure yet about Tom’s mother, but she had taken an instant liking to his father. All the same she was relieved when the meal was over and Tom suggested a walk along the promenade. ‘Put something warm on, Nellie. There’s always a cold wind on Blackpool front,’ Mrs Johnson advised.

  ‘Best air in England,’ her husband added. ‘Without exception.’

  The salty Blackpool air was certainly bracing. The sun was just going down, turning the wide expanse of sea to liquid gold. They stood leaning on the sea wall and watched it change to orange, then crimson. ‘That’s even more breathtaking than the sunsets over Cragstone.’ Nellie was whispering, as though words spoken out loud might make the colours disappear and turn the water black.

  ‘Wait until it’s stormy; you’ll really see something then. We wouldn’t be able to stand here or we’d be washed away. The waves cover the prom at this point and reach the road at the other side.’

  ‘Goodness. I never thought the sea would be so frightening. I imagined it to be still like the reservoirs.’ Tom didn’t answer. He couldn’t imagine anyone never seeing the sea. The sun seemed to be sinking more rapidly now and then disappeared altogether. Still they stood hand in hand, feeling the magic of the night and being together.

  ‘I love you, Nellie Gabbitas.’ Tom turned her towards him and kissed her, filling her with a passion frightening in its intensity. ‘Will you marry me? Nellie?’

  ‘What? But you hardly know me! I mean, what would your parents say?’

  ‘You wouldn’t be marrying my parents, you’d be marrying me. Besides, they like you.’

  ‘How do you know? I mean, they’d hardly be ill-mannered enough to show their feelings in front of me.’

  Tom laughed. ‘You don’t know my mother; she’d have found some way to make her feelings known. I know from past experience.’

  ‘So how many other girls have you invited home?’

  ‘Not many. Three, or maybe four if you count the spotty girl when I was fourteen.’

  ‘What about the others? Didn’t your parents find them suitable?’

  ‘No! And they were right, none of them were, until I met you. I dread to think what life would have been like if I’d married one of them instead of you. Fancy some chips?’

  ‘Yes please, they smell delicious.’

  ‘Best fish and chips in England.’ They ran across the promenade and then across the tracks, dodging the open-topped tram. ‘We’ll take a trip on that on your next visit.’

  ‘So I’m invited again, then?’

  ‘Well, you have to come again to give me your answer, haven’t you? Just one little word, yes, or no.’

  ‘Yes …’

  ‘You’ve decided already. Oh Nellie.’

  ‘No. I meant yes I have to come and give you my answer. Oh now I’m all confused.’ She began to laugh. ‘All right, yes, I will marry you Thomas Johnson, not in a rush though. We need somewhere to live.’

  Tom bought two lots of fish and chips, oozing vinegar which dripped through the newspaper onto their shoes. ‘We’ll take a look on our way home. There are bound to be properties for sale.’

  It was a long walk up the main street and after a while Tom turned off up a road where large houses stood in their own grounds. Nellie was relieved that none of them seemed to be vacant; she much preferred the ones near the shops and the sea front. Besides, it all seemed to be happening in too much of a rush. ‘Tom,’ she said. ‘Let’s not tell your parents just yet.’

  ‘All right.’ Tom pulled her closer, his arm circling her waist. ‘So long as you don’t change your mind.’

  ‘I won’t. I certainly won’t.’ Nellie only hoped his mother would approve, but even if she didn’t it wouldn’t make any difference. Like Tom said, she wasn’t marrying his parents.

  Lucy saw Evelyn hanging out the washing. ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ Evelyn nodded and finished pegging out the snowy sheets. She supposed Lucy wanted to cancel her washing now she wasn’t working regularly.

  ‘Come and have five minutes.’ Lucy poured tea into two pretty, rose-patterned cups. Evelyn was gratified to see her gift of a biscuit barrel had been put in use – it had been all she could afford.

  ‘First of all, thanks for your lovely wedding present,’ Lucy said.<
br />
  ‘Oh, it isn’t much.’ Evelyn blushed.

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you what, it’ll be used, and not stuck up in the cupboard like our Polly’s toast rack.’ The girls giggled and sipped their tea. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’ It was Lucy’s turn to blush now. ‘It should have been my monthly a week ago and it hasn’t come yet. Does that mean I’m expecting?’

  Evelyn grinned. ‘By gum, that’s quick work. Well, to answer your question, probably. Do you feel sick in the mornings?’

  ‘Not that I’ve noticed.’

  ‘Well it’s a bit early for morning sickness. Do yer feel sore round ’ere?’ Evelyn touched her breasts.

  Lucy blushed. She did, but had put it down to John’s lovemaking. She nodded.

  ‘And are yer weeing a lot?’ Lucy nodded again. ‘Well then, I should imagine you are. Oh Lucy, I’ll bet you’re thrilled.’

  Lucy was too shocked to be thrilled. Then she looked at little Bernard munching away at a biscuit on his mam’s knee and decided that if she could bear a child like Evelyn’s son she would indeed be thrilled and she guessed John would too.

  ‘Oh I am. It’s just a bit quick, that’s all.’

  ‘Like me, the first time I suppose. Only in my case it was the only time.’

  ‘I don’t know. To tell you the truth we’ve been at it like rabbits.’ Lucy wouldn’t have spoken of that to anyone else but Evelyn. They giggled and Bernard laughed with them as though he understood what they were talking about, which made them laugh all the more.

  ‘You enjoy it, Lucy. At least you’ve a man who loves you and will be there for you.’ Lucy detected sadness in Evelyn’s voice. She looked at the little boy.

  ‘What happened to his dad?’ The subject had never been discussed before to Lucy’s knowledge.

  ‘Took off, didn’t he? As soon as he found out I was up the club. Never heard a word from him since. Not that I care. He promised me the earth. A child’s better off without a father like him.’

  ‘Well, Bernard’s certainly happy enough without him.’