‘Nellie?’
‘Yes?’ Nellie snuggled closer.
‘Would you like to go for a drive tomorrow?’
Nellie sat up in bed. ‘A drive? On Christmas Day?’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, for one thing we’re expected at your parents’, and another thing, nobody goes for a drive on Christmas Day.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well!’ Nellie couldn’t think of a reason. ‘They just don’t.’
‘Not even to Yorkshire?’
Nellie stared at Tom. ‘Are you serious? You’d actually take me home?’
Tom grinned. ‘No, this is your home. I mean to Millington.’
Nellie’s eyes filled with tears, then she sank back onto the pillow. ‘We can’t, we can’t let your mother and father down. They’re expecting us.’
Nellie had grown to love her parents-in-law and they had shown in many small gestures that they were proud of Nellie and that they loved her dearly. Nellie knew they would understand her need to be with her family at this time of the year. Even so she didn’t like the thought of neglecting Tom’s parents on such a special day.
‘I’m sure they won’t mind. In fact I bet they’ll be happier with us out of the way. Nellie, they’re all of a different generation. Do you really want to spend Christmas Day playing bridge, or charades, or whatever it is people of their age do?’
Nellie giggled. ‘Not really, but they’ll be upset. I mean, everyone spends Christmas Day with their parents.’
‘So let’s be different.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, we’ll take their presents early in the morning and then go.’
‘Oh, Tom. I can just imagine their faces when we arrive at our Lucy’s.’
‘How do you know they’ll be in? They might be at Jane’s or Mary’s, or even Ben’s.’
‘They won’t. Lucy’s is the family home. It wouldn’t be the same anywhere but at Top Row.’
‘Ah, but Lucy might be tired, what with her being pregnant again. And with Rosie and Bernard maybe they won’t be entertaining this year.’
Nellie was adamant that Lucy would be at home. ‘If we’re to be up early we’d better get some shut eye.’ She snuggled down again into her husband’s arms. ‘Although I’m not sure I’m sleepy just yet.’ Her hand moved down and she undid Tom’s pyjama cord, slipping the bottoms down out of the way. His erection proved that Tom wasn’t sleepy either and Nellie lifted the satin of her nightdress and moved astride her husband. ‘A happy Christmas, Tom,’ she said.
‘Oh it’s certainly that,’ he moaned as they moved together towards another exquisite climax.
It was still not quite light and already the sugar mouse and the rosy red apple had been devoured. If Bernard could have peeled the orange, no doubt that would have been eaten too. Now he was riding round the bedroom on the fairy cycle, ringing the bell which had woken the whole house and set Rosie off screaming at the unfamiliar sound.
‘You stay there.’ John tucked the eiderdown beneath Lucy’s chin. ‘It’s early and cold and the fire’ll need making up.’ He lifted Rosie from her cot and examined the toys from Father Christmas, exclaiming in wonder of them, much to Bernard’s delight. ‘Shall we see what he’s brought for Rosie?’
The little boy took the toys from Rosie’s pillow case, throwing them aside after a quick glance and returning to his travels on the red bike. Rosie, having been woken too soon, was heavy-eyed and by the time John had placed her back in her cot was already asleep. ‘Come on, let’s take all these downstairs and play in front of the fire, then when Mam gets up she can see what Father Christmas has brought.’
‘I want to carry my bike.’ Bernard had no intention of letting go of the tricycle; Father Christmas might come back and take it away again. He struggled downstairs with John walking in front in case he should stumble or drop the precious toy. John built up the fire and placed the drawtin in front. Soon it was roaring away and the kitchen was warm enough for Lucy to come down to a breakfast of toast spread with dripping. The toys had to be enthused over once again and then twice later by Will and Robbie. Lucy looked round at her family with satisfaction and placed a hand on her belly, where it felt as if her unborn child was dancing a jig and joining in the excitement of it all.
After breakfast Will brought out the bag of vegetables he had brought home and began to prepare a mound of parsnips, brussels sprouts and potatoes, enough to feed a regiment. Robbie placed the fowls in the oven, making sure they were covered in goose grease – just as he remembered his mother doing – and then proceeded to set the table in the front room in the manner of Louisa Goodman, with candles and holly for decoration. Lucy was ordered to lie back on the sofa and rest her feet ready for when her company arrived. John, who realised how lost Louisa and Herbert must be feeling, decided to take the children on a visit, which was slow going as Bernard wouldn’t be parted from his pedal cycle. The welcome from the vicar and his wife was well worth the drawn-out back-aching walk, especially when Jane and James turned up too, all of them knowing how much the couple must be missing their only daughter.
At twelve Ben and Emma arrived with Mrs Scott in tow. Then James and Jane. Jane filled the house with expensive perfume sent by Nellie. At one she poured the vegetable stock into the fat and made the gravy, its delicious aroma even overpowering her scent. Then she made the sauce for the pudding and all was ready. Jane actually felt quite proud of herself. Lucy was just serving the brown crispy roast potatoes when Jacob and Mary walked in.
‘Oh! You’ve just come right.’ Lucy went to kiss her sister, so relieved she had decided to come, even if it was only for Jacob’s sake.
‘We shan’t stay long,’ Mary muttered. ‘Only we’ve brought one or two things for our nephew and niece.’
‘Of course you must stay.’ John indicated for them to take off their coats. ‘There’s enough grub to feed an army.’ Then he whispered in Mary’s ear, ‘Thanks for coming; you’ll have made Lucy’s day. And thanks for these. We’ve already fed the kids, so if you give them to them now we might get our dinners in peace.’
Bernard’s eyes lit up at the sight of the wooden ark, complete with animals and even the fairy cycle was cast temporarily aside as he set out the elephants and lions two by two on the rug. Even Rosie was kept engrossed throughout the meal with the beautifully illustrated nursery rhyme book. Lucy considered it rather too old for her and prayed Rosie wouldn’t rip it up or try to eat it until after Mary had gone home, but amazingly she seemed fascinated with turning the pages so everyone managed to enjoy the festive dinner in peace, with Will and Robbie acting as waiters. Will kept them entertained and almost in stitches with a stream of jokes and stories about his Cragstone ladies. The party was only slightly spoiled when Mary nudged a jovial Jacob in the ribs and told him, ‘Jacob, stop laughing like that. You’ll do yerself an injury.’
Uncharacteristically, Jacob – who had been fortified with a bottle of brown ale – had an answer for his wife. ‘Mary,’ he said, ‘I can’t think of a better way to go than to die of laughing.’
Lucy couldn’t help but smile at Jacob’s response as she piled all the uneaten vegetables into one tureen. Jane placed the large, fruity pudding on the table as Lucy surveyed the leftovers. There was still a whole breast and a leg on one of the fowls.
‘There’s enough left there for tomorrow’s dinner,’ Mary said.
‘Yes, there is.’ Lucy looked thoughtful. ‘But I’ve a better idea,’ she said. Lucy knew Mrs Murphy had had a hard time this Christmas making ends meet and would probably be feeding her family with a pan of stew or some other everyday fare. Mr Murphy’s chest complaint had worsened in the past year and he had been off work now for months. ‘I’m going to take this to the Murphys; the vegetables’ll fill them up and the poultry’ll seem like a feast to them, even if it’s only a mouthful each.’
Jane was just about to dish out the pudding. ‘Here, you can take them my portion of pudding.’ She patted her fla
t tummy. ‘I couldn’t eat another mouthful.’
‘Aye,’ Mary said, ‘take them mine too. I bet the poor little mites have never even seen a pudding, let alone tasted it.’ Lucy smiled gratefully at her sisters.
‘Well I’m full up to ’ere.’ James placed a hand on his chin.
‘All right, all right,’ John grinned. ‘Who wants any pudding?’ Nobody answered.
Then Will asked, ‘Who wants a mince pie instead?’ Everybody answered at once so Will plucked a twig of holly from the mirror and stuck it in the middle of the pudding. So with John carrying the meat, Lucy the vegetables and Will the pudding, off they went to the Murphys. ‘I feel like we’re the three kings bearing gifts,’ Will quipped.
The Murphys were just saying grace. A hot pot stood in the middle of the table – which for once was covered by a cloth. At the sight of the food, tears filled Mr Murphy’s eyes and trickled down to land on his whiskers. ‘Praise be,’ he said. ‘The Holy Mother has answered my prayers and helped to feed my family.’
One of the younger boys, his eyes round at the sight of the first Christmas pudding he had ever seen, answered his father. ‘No, Dad. It’s not the Holy Mary, it’s Mrs Grey.’
‘Aye, lad. It might be Mrs Grey, but she’s a blooming angel all the same.’
The skinniest of the little girls giggled. ‘No, she isn’t, she ’asn’t got any wings.’
‘Wings don’t grow until you die,’ her brother answered knowingly. ‘And then they sprout and carry you to heaven.’
‘Is that a real Christmas pie? Like in my nursery rhyme book?’
The book was one of the gifts bought by the eldest of the Murphy girls, who was the only breadwinner in the family at present. She had made sure each of her brothers and sisters had received a present from Father Christmas. The nursery rhyme book – although second-hand – was so precious to the little girl it had remained on her lap throughout the morning. She opened it now and compared the real Christmas pudding to the one in the book.
‘Aye, it is that.’ Mr Murphy had shared out the poultry, and his wife the vegetables. With a helping of thick gravy from the hot pot there was sufficient for them all.
The Greys had departed with a cheerful ‘Merry Christmas’ from Will to the family.
‘Aye, and the same to you and yours. And may God bless you all. Well then, let’s send into this ’ere feast before it gets cold.’
Mr Murphy took a bite of the succulent chicken and gazed round at the children of whom he was so proud, then at his wife, who was so worn down by childbearing and worry about how to make ends meet and had never been known to utter a word of complaint. He hoped things would be easier in a year or two when some of the older ones started work. And maybe God would see fit to give him back his health and strength, so that he could return to the pit. Today however, they would enjoy this meal and afterwards with full bellies they might even enjoy a few carols and a game or two. In fact, this was beginning to seem like a real family Christmas, and it was all down to that lass, Lucy Grey.
Nellie and Tom arrived at the manor in time for lunch, intending to cadge a bite to eat off Mrs Cooper. However, the sound of the car drawing into the yard drew the attention of Mr Smith, who came hurrying down to greet the visitors. He was supposed to be enjoying a relaxing day but was bored, lonely and miserable. In the kitchen he found his housekeeper in tears at the arrival of her beloved Nellie. Mrs Cooper had cooked a brace of pheasants, made succulent by the bacon rashers enfolding them.
‘You must join me for lunch.’ Mr Smith turned to Mrs Cooper. ‘That’s if there will be enough for us all?’
‘Plenty. Though it’s just simple fare, seeing as I’ve given Cook the day off. I knew I could cope it just being the two of us, like. All there is to do is mek the sauce; that’ll tek but two minutes.’
‘Well, we weren’t expecting lunch, but if you’re sure?’ Nellie took off her coat and began to make the sauce. ‘If you don’t mind I’d like to eat here with Mrs Cooper.’ She looked at Tom. ‘But you go to the dining room and catch up on the news.’
‘I have a better idea if my housekeeper has no objections,’ said Mr Smith. ‘Why don’t we all eat here in the kitchen? It’s much warmer than upstairs.’
Mrs Cooper blushed the colour of the berries on the holly in the window. ‘Nay, it’s not up to me to object. You’re the boss; choose how.’
‘Not today, I’m not. We’re four friends about to enjoy Christmas dinner together, on what might have been the loneliest day of the year for me. So when you’re ready give us a call. Now, whilst we’re waiting, Tom, why don’t I take a look at that magnificent motor of yours?’
‘Ooh, Nellie, thank goodness ee’s gone. Fancy ’im wanting to eat in ’ere with me present. I shall be all fingers and thumbs, a nervous wreck.’
‘Don’t be daft. Let’s all enjoy ourselves; after all it is Christmas. Now is everything ready?’
‘Oh, Nellie, it is grand to see yer. I miss yer all’t time. Though the new lass is shaping up all right, I must admit.’
‘I’m glad. I miss you too, you know. It will be nice to have Lily though. And you are to come and stay when the weather picks up, for as long as you like.’
‘Eeh, that’ll be right grand, though I shall ’ave to wait until young Molly’s got the run of things.’
‘Whenever, you’ll always be welcome.’ Nellie opened the black shiny oven door and released the delicious aroma of pheasant. ‘Right, shall I serve?’
‘Aye, lass, get it dished up. And don’t expect me to join in any conversation; I shall be too busy watching me manners.’
Nellie laughed. ‘We shall all be too busy enjoying your cooking to bother conversing. Right, I’ll go drag them away from the car if I can. By the way, take off those shoes and put these on.’ Nellie undid the laces of the black leather shoes and slipped on the lovely soft carpet slippers. ‘Happy Christmas.’ She gave Mrs Cooper a kiss and hurried out to find her husband, leaving the housekeeper feeling the most cherished woman in the world. It was a long time since she’d had a pair of new slippers and even longer since she’d had a kiss. Mrs Cooper didn’t join in the conversation during the meal, but she had a smile on her face all the same.
As usual the arrival of the car on Top Row sent all the youngsters out into the street. Fortunately most of them had already finished their special dinner, otherwise the mothers would have given Tom Johnson what for. Lucy wouldn’t have noticed; all she cared about was that with the arrival of Nellie her family was now complete. ‘Oh, Nellie, why didn’t you come in time for dinner?’
‘It’s all right, we’ve eaten at the manor. But I’d love a cup of tea.’ Jane rushed to make one and John handed Tom a glass and a bottle of stout. The kitchen was almost bursting at the seams as the men abandoned their cards on the front room table and left their game of Crib unfinished to greet the unexpected guests.
It wasn’t until Robbie took Bernard to feed the flock of recently acquired hens that Nellie asked ‘Where’s Prudence?’
‘Oh!’ Lucy realised that nobody had thought to tell Nellie what had happened and a hasty explanation was given. It wasn’t until later that John gave Tom all the details and told Tom how worried they all were about the situation his brother now found himself in. ‘He needs to divorce her, but how to go about it is beyond me. Actually none of us know anyone who’s ever been divorced.’
‘If you wish I’ll have a word with a friend of mine who’s a lawyer.’
‘Paul Tomlinson?’
Tom was surprised. ‘Yes.’
‘I met him at your wedding; he gave me his card. I’d forgotten all about it.’
‘Would you like me to seek his advice?’
‘I would if you don’t mind. Our Robbie can’t go on like this for ever.’
Young Bernard was still fascinated with the egg he had brought back from the allotments. ‘Look what I’ve got; it came out of Mrs Hen’s bottom.’
Tom laughed and turned to John. ‘Leave it with me.
I’ll do my best.’ He took a notebook from his pocket and made a few notes. At that point Ben struck up on the melodion and the party began in earnest. Only Mary refused to join in the singing, but no one took much notice of her, not even Jacob.
Chapter Nineteen
ENID SLATER WAS worried about Lucy. She had never known anyone so big at only seven months gone. She begged the lass to pay Dr Sellars a visit, but Lucy was adamant she was perfectly well. Mrs Cadman was keeping an eye on Bernard and Rosie – who was so placid she hardly needed any looking after at all. Oh well, there wasn’t much she could do if Lucy refused to seek medical advice, except give her a hand with the washing and cleaning. The washing was the biggest problem, with three strapping men and two little ones to be washing and ironing for. Not so much the washing but the drying, which usually had to be done indoors in the month of January.
Today for a change had begun as a good drying day, bright and cold with a light wind. But now storm clouds were rolling across the sky from the direction of Cragstone and the wind had risen so that it was wrapping the washing around the clothes line and tangling a sheet round the clothes prop. Enid thought it could blow in some rain later or even some snow, but by then the washing would no doubt be dry. She noticed little Bernard playing on Mrs Cadman’s doorstep. If only Evelyn could see him now with his rosy cheeks and ready smile. Enid felt at the washing and unknotted the driest garments off the line. She would get them ironed before taking them in to Lucy’s. Like her old mother used to say, a little help’s worth a lot of pity. It was a pity Mary Gabbitas – as was – didn’t think that way. A right sister that one had turned out to be.
She had finished the pillow cases and started on the shirts when she heard Mrs Cadman calling out, ‘Bernard, where are you, lovey?’ Enid got to the door in time to see her neighbour hurry into Lucy’s and rush out again with Lucy following. ‘He was here not a minute since, riding ’is bike,’ Enid called. ‘Perhaps he’s gone into the Murphys’.’ All the children liked Mrs Murphy – the house was so untidy she never bothered what they got up to, but Bernard wasn’t there. By this time other neighbours had come out onto the street, Mr Marshall, pulling his cap down over his ears waiting to go on afternoon shift, followed by Lewis.
A Family Christmas Page 24