by Martin Bryce
Saturday.’
‘Oh, but I’m intrigued by Harry’s little den of iniquity now. Please, for me.’ She pouted and took hold of my hand over the counter.
‘If that’s what you really want,’ I said. ‘I won’t say anything to Harry, keep it a surprise, like you said.’
She blew me a kiss.
The first visit to the Grotto that morning was by the Office Manager. He thrust the letter that I had typed the previous day at me.
‘You left this on the photocopier,’ he said ominously.
‘Thank you,’ was all I was prepared to say.
‘I gather you were the last to use it,’ he said, folding his arms.
‘I really couldn’t say. I made a few copies, but whether anyone used it after…’
‘I tried to.’
I nodded, knowing what was coming.
‘And what did I find?’
I shook my head in a last ditch effort to absolve myself.
‘I found your letter lying on a photocopier that the engineer has just told me is going to be cheaper to replace than repair. D’you know what this is going to do to my annual budget?’
‘I’m sorry, but it really wasn’t my fault.’ I pleaded. ‘I just put the thing on automatic and went for a cup of tea.’
‘And you didn’t see the notice which says, Do not use on automatic?’
‘Ah. Is there one?’
He nodded gravely. ‘About three feet high. Five years we’ve had that machine and never a moment’s trouble!’
‘Except automatic doesn’t work,’ I pointed out.
‘I shall be reporting this deliberate piece of vandalism to the Directors’ meeting this afternoon.’ With that he left.
I looked at Brian and shrugged my shoulders. Fine start to the day.
Just then, who should come round the corner but my sister, with the twins. She was being followed at a discrete distance by the chauffer and handyman from the estate in Hampshire where she lived with her husband, the Hon Godfrey Pippin-Mountebank.
‘Sam!’ I exclaimed.
‘Did you here something, Goosepipe?’ she asked of the chauffer.
Goosepipe had either x-ray vision, or ESP because there was no way he could have seen through the pile of gift-wrapped boxes he was carrying and yet he walked without bumping into anything.
‘It sounded like someone trying to attract your attention, mum,’ he replied.
‘Yes, that’s what I thought,’ Sam said.
‘Sam, it’s me,’ I called, waving.
‘Good heavens, Goosepipe, it’s coming from Father Christmas!’
‘Mum.’
Sam looked into my face closely. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, sounding just like mummy. I raised my beard.
‘Miffy!’ She always called me that. ‘It’s you! I’d recognise that chin, or lack of it, anywhere, Goosepipe.’
‘Mum. Will we be here for a while, mum? Only I thought I might put these boxes down for a…’
‘Oh no, five minutes at the most, Goosepipe,’ she replied offhandedly.
‘Five minutes was all I was thinking of, if it please, mum.’
‘But Miffy, what are you doing here and dressed in that ridiculous costume? Mummy said you were doing something with an old man in a perfume factory.’
I explained the situation. ‘D’you know, it’s funny, but I was thinking of Nanny only this morning. How is she?’ She had gone to work for Sam when the twins were born. ‘Still downing the gripe water, is she?’
‘I’ve given her an hour off to do some of her own Christmas shopping. We get up to London so infrequently these days and Nanny so loves London, as you well know, Miffy.’
‘Yes her family were from the East End, hop pickers, weren’t they?’ I said, reaching out to pick up the nearest of the twins from the double buggy. They were a year old now. ‘Which one is this?’
‘Anthony, I think,’ Sam replied dismissively. ‘I can never tell. Nanny can though. I think it’s absolutely marvellous to be able to do that, don’t you?’
I sat Anthony on my knee and he stared at me for a few seconds. Then he went red in the face, grunted and over a period of several seconds looked distinctly boss-eyed.
‘Is he alright?’ I enquired, trying to conceal the concern in my voice.
‘Nanny says he’s teething,’ Sam replied confidently.
He might have been, but not just then.
‘Really, Anthony! All over your Uncle Miffy’s clothes!’ Sam scolded. ‘Goosepipe!’ she shrilled.
‘Yes’m,’ Goosepipe groaned, sagging under the weight of the parcels.
‘You’ll have to take that one to the mothers’ room and clean it up while I do some more shopping.’
‘Yes’m.’
‘And Goosepipe.’
‘Yes’m?’
‘Do try to make a more secure seal with the nappy this time.’
‘Yes’m, sorry, mum.’
‘You can leave the parcels with Miffy here and collect them later.’
‘Thank you, mum,’ Goosepipe replied, staggering to the wall where he lowered his burden gently to the ground. He picked up Anthony and carried him away at arms’ length, gripping the nursery bag between his teeth.
‘I’d better go and sponge this off,’ I said, indicating the unpleasantness on the fur trim round the hem of my jacket.
‘He’s a bachelor, of course,’ Sam remarked by way of explanation. ‘This is his first Christmas shopping trip to London.’
‘Is he enjoying it?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘Of course!’ Sam replied with a note of surprise. ‘Everyone enjoys London.’
We arranged to meet in the restaurant for lunch so that I could catch up with Nanny. I hadn’t seen her since I’d left for Dartmouth and was very excited by the prospect. Sam kissed me on the cheek and I patted Nicholas, or was it Nigel, on the head. I noticed Harry was watching from the goods’ lift. Mrs J closed the Grotto while I went to clean up the jacket. It’s amazing what goes through the digestive system without actually being digested.
Later that morning the canteen manager came to see me.
‘It’s traditional,’ he began a little pompously, ‘for the store’s Father Christmas to play Santa at the staff party.
‘No,’ I replied blowing my nose enthusiastically.
‘He hands out the Christmas bonuses, you see.’
‘Who does?’
‘Santa, at the Christmas party.’
‘No.’
‘It’s planned for next Wednesday.’
‘No.’
‘Mr Wilkinson from accounts always agreed to do it,’ he told me peevishly.
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ I pointed out.
‘Poor Mr Wilkinson. D’you know it was the only time he ever had a drink, at the Christmas party.’ A vision of the derelict Professor returned to haunt me.
‘No.’
‘But the staff…’
‘It’s time for my lunch,’ I told him as I stood up and walked away. He followed me pleading, appealing to my better nature, inducing, wheedling, coaxing.
‘You can’t go in there!’ he informed me as we reached the restaurant.
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not allowed,’ he offered as explanation.
‘Why not?’ I repeated impatiently.
‘Staff are not allowed in the restaurant, it’s for customers only.’
‘I resign,’ I said flatly, pushing open the door.
‘But you can’t! What about the staff party?’
I turned and looked at him for a moment. ‘If I offer to play Father Christmas?’ I suggested. He thought for a moment.
‘No. It’s quite unthinkable to have staff eating in a room designed for, well… the better classes.’
‘I double resign,’ I said with a flourish and entered the restaurant feeling much as Spartacus must have done as he entered the Gates of Rome.
‘I shall be reporting your obstinacy to the
Directors’ meeting this afternoon,’ he shouted after me petulantly. I had a ludicrous vision of Santa standing against a wall, bound and blindfolded, a white patch over his heart and smoking a final cigarette as the store’s firing squad, under the Bull’s orders, took aim at me. I chuckled.
…the severity of penalties is only a vain resource, invented by little minds in order to substitute terror for that respect which they have no means of obtaining.
Sam and Nanny were sitting at a table with the twins, all bright and shiny, between them. Goosepipe sat apart from them at another table quite hidden from view behind the cargo of gifts that had doubled in size since our earlier meeting. Nanny was as usual, stern faced.
‘Nanny!’ I said. ‘It’s so lovely to see you again.’ I kissed her on the forehead.
‘The pleasure is all yours, I assure you,’ she responded aloofly. ‘Well, what have you got to say for yourself?’
I was taken aback by this reception from someone as dear to me as mummy herself.
‘What’s wrong, Nanny?’ I asked.
‘You, that’s what’s wrong. Deserting the Navy like that!’
‘I didn’t desert, Nanny,’ I gently corrected her. ‘I bought myself out.’
‘Same thing. And anyway, your father paid. It was an heroic act for a man like that.’ She hiccoughed. ‘You’ll never know how bitterly disappointed we both are in you. Desertion indeed!’
‘But I’d have been no good in the Navy, you know that, Nanny. Can’t tie a knot to save my life,’ I laughed trying to lighten the situation. Should have known better.
‘One of the greatest Naval families in England and their eldest son is a recidivist! A traitor!’
The twins had begun to squabble over a rattle. Nanny snatched it away and gave them both a slap on the wrist. After that they sat quietly, hardly moving a muscle.
‘Nanny, don’t you think you’re being a little harsh…’ Samantha ventured.
‘Be quiet, Samantha! I shall say what I have to say and then we shall eat lunch. It was an act of cowardice. Your brother is a shameful ingrate. Look at him dressed in that ridiculous costume and with a cold. Probably a direct result of the disgusting life he’s leading. O yes, don’t worry, young man, your father’s told me all about it.’ She hiccoughed again.
Lunch arrived. Nanny had ordered the roast beef for me. We ate in silence as we always had in the nursery all those years ago. Sam and I exchanged glances every now and then as Nanny fed the twins. I could see Sam wanted to giggle, but I didn’t dare encourage her for fear of a clip round the ear from Nanny. That was what always happened when Sam giggled at the table. Besides, I was too ashamed of myself for the anguish I had caused Nanny.
‘Well?’ Nanny began when we finished eating. ‘What precisely are you doing with yourself these days? And you can leave out the distasteful parts.’
I wondered, in that case, what there was to tell. “I’m going outside for a cigarette,’ I said with a mixture of fear and defiance.
‘It’s a filthy habit.’
‘I learned it in the Navy,’ I said, staring her straight in the eye..
‘Well you’re not in the Navy now. And you’re setting a dreadful example for the twins.
‘But Nanny,’ Sam interceded, ‘Godfrey smokes all the time.’
‘That’s different, Samantha,’ she replied authoritatively, ‘he’s a man, under a lot of pressure with the farm and his businesses. Besides, he’s master of the house and he smokes quality cigars.’
‘It’s been nice seeing you again, Nanny,’ I said as I rose from the table. I kissed her on the forehead again, aware that it may may have been our last meeting. ‘Look after yourself, won’t you?’ I croaked. She made no reply. I walked away disconsolately.
‘Come down and see us at Christmas, won’t you, Miffy?’ Sam invited. I turned, smiled weakly and shook my head. A lump was rising in my throat.
I returned to my throne with heavy heart. The loss of Nanny’s affection had been a bitter blow. If only I had known it would come to this before I had left the Navy, I would never have done it.
My feeling of intense melancholy was deepened by the final visitors of the day, a most self-assured youth and his sister. Both were fashionably and expensively dressed and sported deep suntans.
‘Hi,’ they said in unison. ‘We’ve been through