‘Pam, am I seeing things?’ she asked her friend, ‘or is that Charlie over there?’
‘It’s Charlie all right.’ Pam laughed. ‘Didn’t Alan tell you? He never misses a dance these days. It’s completely transformed his life since Alan and his mates took him under their wing.’
Suddenly Charlie spotted Jacqueline and started across the floor towards her, elbowing everybody out of the way in an effort to reach his long-lost friend. With a grin as big as a teacup he grabbed her, gesticulating wildly as he attempted to make himself understood. Although it was more than a year since she had last seen him, she had no difficulty gathering he was trying to ask her to dance.
‘Oh, no.’ Pam winced. ‘You’ll be black and blue. If ever anyone had two left feet it’s Charlie. Do the same as everyone else and ignore him. He’s quite happy jigging about on his own.’
But Jacqueline was so delighted to see her childhood friend enjoying a normal lifestyle that she was oblivious of Pam’s warning. Besides, the gin had given her extra confidence, enough to make a spectacle of herself without caring. So she said, ‘OK, Charlie, come on,’ and pulled him on to the dance floor.
Charlie was wearing a gaudily checked sports jacket, but then he always had been one for bright colours, and he had now apparently found a new love in his life: dance music. The band suddenly hushed as the drummer began a solo, and the dancers paused to listen and to watch the manoeuvres of the musician. But Charlie had no intention of standing still, and continued his clumsy gyrations. Jacqueline tried to calm him, but for once he realised he was being watched, and so twisted and turned even more violently, lifting his partner off her feet and spinning her round until she began to feel quite giddy. As the beat of the drums reached its finale, he threw himself onto the floor, kicking his legs in the air, and Jacqueline slunk away in the direction of her friends. Then, as the music finished and the crowd applauded and screamed for more, Charlie, believing the applause was for him alone, stood up and bowed, grinning widely, without a doubt the proudest man in the room.
‘You can’t say I didn’t warn you.’ Pam laughed.
‘I know.’ Jacqueline chuckled. ‘Come on, let’s escape to the refreshment room before he comes over again.’
Alan turned up just as they were finishing their tea and biscuits.
‘Well, you might have come a bit sooner and rescued me from Charlie,’ Jacqueline said.
Alan chuckled. ‘Why? I’ve just been told how much you enjoyed yourself.’
‘Oh, Lord, they’re talking about me already. Anyway, how long has Charlie been part of the human race?’
‘Oh, it began when I cadged a potato picking job for Freddie Cartwright up at Barker’s. Freddie might be a tough nut but he’s a soft streak about him when it comes to helping the underdog. He became quite upset when he found out what a lonely life Charlie was leading.’
‘Oh! How is Freddie? Is he here tonight? I do write to him sometimes but he never replies.’
‘Too busy courting.’ Alan laughed. ‘Anyway, Freddie thought we should get Charlie to come out with us. Mind you, I think he had a notion that Charlie might make a good goalie, but that didn’t work out.’ Alan laughed. ‘Charlie kept wandering off and we couldn’t make him understand he was supposed to stop the ball going into the net. Anyway, with Freddie and the gang for protection Charlie followed us about like a shadow. It was then we found out how much he liked music. When we told his father he went out and bought him a record player. Since then Charlie’s never looked back. The only sufferers are his poor old parents. He’s driving them mad playing “Sweet Nothings” over and over again. Seems he’s fallen for Brenda Lee.’ Alan laughed and then looked serious. ‘It is puzzling, though.’ He hesitated thoughtfully.
‘What is?’ Pam asked.
‘Well, we all know Charlie can’t read, but yet he can pick out his favourite record from all the rest.’
‘It’s probably the colour of the label,’ volunteered Avril.
‘Not so. We’ve tried mixing it up with a whole lot of other Brunswick labels, but he still picks it out with no trouble at all.’ He looked in Avril’s teacup. ‘If you’ve finished, would you like to dance?’ As Avril rose to her feet Alan said to Jacqueline, ‘Oh, I almost forgot, Doug asked me if I’d seen you. He’s over by the stage.’
Jacqueline’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Are you ready, Pam? Shall we go back in? I think it’s almost time for the cabaret.’
Pam followed her friend into the crowded hall, just as a velvety male voice began to sing ‘It’s Now Or Never’. She hoped Doug Downing wasn’t about to steal Jacqueline away. She saw little enough of her friend as it was, and they had so much news to catch up on and so little time.
Pam had achieved a lot considering she had left school at sixteen, unable to face striving for more exams. She had taken a job on a switchboard at a wholesalers in town and had worked hard, been noticed by the manager and landed promotion. Luck had been with her when his private secretary had married and moved away, and Pam had been given the job. Though it was a demanding position she seemed to thrive on the challenge, and would have been ecstatic if only Jacqueline was living at home. The pair had never needed to be part of a crowd and since her friend had left for London Pam had found it difficult to make new friends. Now Jacqueline seemed to be close to Avril, and though she was nice Pam couldn’t quite control a feeling of jealousy.
She watched as her friend circled the floor with Doug Downing. His dark head was bent towards Jacqueline’s and they were smiling and chatting. He was holding her close, his hand slipping every so often from her waist down to her bottom, and though she took his hand and returned it to where it should be Jacqueline didn’t look the least bit offended. In fact, Pam couldn’t help thinking how right they looked together, he in his dark well-cut suit, and she in a pencil slim cocktail dress of kingfisher blue jersey wool. Oh well, it looked as if her friend was lost to her even though she was at home.
‘Want to dance, Pam?’ The voice startled her and she smiled up at the ginger-haired foreman. He had fancied her for a while, and frankly she quite fancied him too. Perhaps it was time to stop playing hard to get.
‘OK.’ They walked with his arm circling her waist until they found an empty space on the floor, and then he drew her towards him.
‘I’d been looking for you, then I spotted your hair,’ he said.
Pam’s hair, once held back with slides, now hung sleek and shimmering to her waist. She laughed. ‘Well, with hair the colour of ours, we should stand out a mile. Funny – when I was little I hated it, and now it seems everyone is dying theirs auburn, so we’re in fashion at last, just when I was thinking of changing the colour.’
‘Don’t you dare. I like you just the way you are.’ He hugged her closer, and the cabaret singer, who sounded remarkably like Connie Francis, broke into her thoughts. ‘Hey, that’s Una Bacon.’
‘Hmm. I think she’s for the big time, that girl. She’s certainly talented.’
‘And lovely.’
‘So are you,’ he whispered, and Pam snuggled closer. Una sang on, her voice ideally suited to romantic numbers.
Jacqueline and Doug made their way across the room towards them. ‘Are you going to introduce us?’ Jacqueline asked, still a little tipsy from the earlier gins.
‘Sure.’ Her friend stopped dancing. ‘This is Brian. He works at Congleton’s too. Brian, this is my best friend Jacqueline, and Doug Downing.’
‘Happy Christmas.’ Brian grinned.
‘And the same to you, Brian.’ Doug shook Brian’s hand warmly.
‘Happy Christmas, Pam.’ Jacqueline hugged her friend to her and planted a kiss on her cheek.
Pam blinked away the tears that sprang to her eyes. No matter what happened, nobody would spoil their friendship. It was the kind which would survive anything, though she had a feeling it was about to come up against some strong competition, in the forms of Brian and Doug Downing.
Una began to sing ‘Silent Night’
and the dancing couples swayed together, as the spirit of Christmas filled the room. Doug Downing kissed Jacqueline for the first time, a kiss which lasted through two whole verses of the carol, and then he whispered, ‘I love you, Jacqueline Holmes.’
‘I know,’ Jacqueline murmured. ‘And I love you too.’
Avril caught a glimpse of her friend across the smoke-hazed room and smiled. Jacqueline’s hurt was certainly healed. She snuggled closer to Alan. It was going to be an absolutely fabulous Christmas.
It had been a hectic Christmas Day, with Grandma Holmes revelling in being surrounded by sons, daughters and grandchildren, the two youngest – Harry’s son Barry and Margaret’s Anthony – being at the boisterous stage, when to sit still for more than five minutes proved an impossibility. Balloons, crackers and chocolates were soon disposed of, and organised games swiftly turned into wrestling matches with fathers and uncles joining in. Only when the large fairy-lit tree was in danger of being overturned did Mary put a stop to the mayhem. Gladys had felt rather sad at one point to think their nephew had not even bothered to send a card this year. Oh, well – this was her family now.
Nevertheless, everyone had a wonderful time and it was early next morning when the guests began to disperse. Despite the festivities, though, Jacqueline couldn’t help wondering if something was worrying her father. Since she had arrived home he had seemed to be unusually preoccupied, though making a heroic effort to hide the fact, using Tittle Harry as an excuse.
‘I’m afraid it’s time the poor old thing was put out of his misery,’ he said when Jacqueline questioned him as to what was on his mind. It was true that Tittle Harry was only just managing to soldier on, crippled according to the vet by rheumatism. The poor old dog had all on now to drag his tired old body across the room, and though he usually completed the shuffle to where Jacqueline happened to be sitting, it was proving more and more of an effort before he finally collapsed with his head on her feet, and a sad tired expression on his face. Once or twice, too, Mary had found a pool when he had been unable to reach the door in time to be let out. This distressed the old dog and they all knew it would be kinder to let Tittle Harry go. Yet Jacqueline thought there was something more on her father’s mind, and wondered why nobody else seemed to notice.
Una had also been rather quiet, anticipating the opening of the pantomime on the following day. After rehearsing a part in the chorus for many weeks she had suddenly been promoted to a more prominent role, and had spent Christmas Day suffering from last minute nerves. No one else doubted her ability, and she knew she was fortunate not only to have landed the part, but to have been given leave of absence by her employers. Though Una planned to attend an audition soon in Scarborough for one of the summer shows, she realised how lucky she was to have her receptionist’s job kept open for her should she need to return to it.
On Boxing Day the calm and beauty of Moorland House was a soothing balm to Mary’s nerves, and Jacqueline almost ran from the car in her eagerness, feeling somewhat guilty at feeling more at home here than she did at the shop.
Avril couldn’t decide which was the more beautiful, the exterior view of the house surrounded by evergreens, and slightly shrouded by a storm-laden wintry sky, or the warm welcoming interior, heavily garlanded with holly and ivy from the garden.
Oh, what a house! She had sometimes wished Jacqueline would stop harping on about the place, but now she understood completely. It was not only the house, but the atmosphere within it which seemed to cushion one in a cloak of welcome. Not for the first time she felt a pang of envy at the thought of her friend’s good fortune at being surrounded by such a large and loving family. Then she reminded herself that she too was lucky, to be here sharing their hospitality. She glanced to where Alan was arranging chairs round the large, exquisitely dressed table. He caught and held her glance for rather longer than necessary, sending a blush rising embarrassingly to her face. She hoped she hadn’t encouraged him, she couldn’t remember doing so, but when he had suddenly kissed her outside the dance hall it had seemed natural and right, and the sensation he had caused in her body had been reciprocated; she had sensed his arousal and drawn away. He was a year her junior, and it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage, not after all the hospitality the family had shown her.
She told herself it would be a casual flirtation, nothing more than a fleeting holiday friendship to be forgotten on her return to London, and what could be the harm in that? But she knew it couldn’t be dismissed so easily, and she would not wish it to be. Besides, he didn’t seem young. He had a maturity about him, a sense of responsibility, despite his air of merriment.
‘A penny for your thoughts, dear.’ Grandad Roberts caught her eye. She blushed, and he smiled, knowing without her answering in which direction the wind was blowing. He had noticed yesterday that when Alan had held a twig of mistletoe over each of the ladies in turn, joking that this was the best part of Christmas, it was this young friend of Jacqueline’s who had received the longest kiss. He sighed. He had always been a romantic at heart, and he had done well for himself in that respect, Gladys being just as warm and affectionate as himself. Come to think of it he had been lucky in other ways too. A career he loved, though sometimes he wondered if he should consider retirement, make way for a younger doctor. He supposed it would have to happen some time in the near future, possibly within the next year, what with his darned blood pressure, and the angina. If Gladys knew about that, he would be pensioned off here and now, and he couldn’t hide the symptoms from her for ever.
Oh, yes, Rowland was a fortunate man. Who would have dreamed he would be surrounded with family like this? Well, not actual family, but as good as. He blessed the day he had offered Mary O’Connor a home; these were his family all right. He frowned. Far more so than actual blood relatives. How long was it now since Ruth and Richard had been in touch? Rowland tried to remember and was shocked when he realised the number of years that had passed since their last visit.
It had been different when his nephew had been younger; the boy had almost lived here then. Rowland had paid for his education, bought him his first car and given him numerous other expensive gifts. Now, when a visit from the family would have so delighted Gladys, they were always too busy. He sighed, then cheered up again as he looked towards his wife and Jacqueline admiring a table decoration, or something or other, the girl’s dark curls falling over her face. Such an alive, animated face it was, so like her father in looks, yet with the same vibrant energy Mary had possessed when she first arrived at Moorland House, despite the TB glands. Oh, yes, he was a fortunate man. Perhaps, he had not been blessed with a family of his own, but this family sitting down at the table today meant more to him than his blood relatives ever could.
‘Are you coming to the table or are you going to carry on musing until the soup’s gone cold?’ Gladys broke into his thoughts.
In the afternoon Jacqueline decided to take Avril for a walk along the lane and down by the reservoir, and no one was surprised when Alan decided to tag along, leaving the house quiet except for the gentle snores of Jack and the doctor. Nor was it any surprise to Alan and Avril when Jacqueline suggested calling in at the Downings’, knowing the elderly couple were always delighted to receive visitors. On this occasion, however, it was Douglas who welcomed them with the greatest enthusiasm, keen to show them the many improvements he had made to the farm.
The yard was uncluttered and clean and one of the outbuildings had been turned into a huge greenhouse with a sign on the door inviting walkers and other passers-by to go in and look round. As Doug opened the door the scent of hyacinths greeted them, their heady perfume causing Avril to sneeze. On long wooden tables seed boxes of pansies and pots of crocus and daffodil bulbs were spread in rows, each one labelled with a name and a colour. Hanging from the ceiling artistic arrangements of holly and greenery tied with red ribbons added a festive air.
‘You should have seen it a month ago,’ Doug said. ‘The place looked a picture. I didn�
�t know if I was doing the right thing venturing into the gardening side, but as you can see we’ve nearly been cleared out for Christmas.’
Jacqueline wanted to hug Doug. She had had no idea he had turned his talents in this direction, but it shouldn’t really have surprised her. After all, he had always taken a great interest in the garden at Moorland House.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I’ll show you the trees.’ He laughed. ‘What’s left of them that is.’
They walked out and round the corner in the direction of the five acre field, where Mr Downing had opened the gate for the cattle to amble through, heavy and ready for milking. At the top of the second field rows of fir trees stood to attention, graded in size, the little ones at the front. The back row and half the next were missing.
‘It’s unbelievable how many I’ve sold.’ Doug grinned. ‘And the man from the market’s already placed an order for next year.’
‘I can’t believe it.’ Jacqueline gazed around her. ‘It all looks so organised.’
Doug began to laugh. ‘Go on, say what you’re thinking, that it all used to be such a mess. I know, and I can’t say my dad’s quite used to the idea, but I think he’s gradually coming round to my way of thinking. As I told him, there’s no fortune to be made in just working the fields any more, not enough to keep two men in wages, any road.’
‘But Cyril wants to carry on farming,’ Jacqueline pointed out.
‘Aye, but he has his heart set on a larger outfit. Otherwise he should have had this place by rights, him being the eldest like. But don’t worry about our Cyril. He’ll be back on the land before long – that’s all he’s slaving for over at the works. I’m telling you, he’ll end up one of those gentlemen farmers before he’s done.’ His eyes travelled over the fields. ‘Like the rest of us Downings, it’s in the blood.’ He laughed. ‘And the rate I’m going I’ll not be far behind.’
Christmas Past Page 24