A Christmas Gift

by Ruby Jackson

  ‘O, what a noble mind is here o’er-thrown!’ Sally read Ophelia’s speech over and over again before standing in front of the bedroom mirror and, after convincing herself that she was Ophelia, reading the speech aloud several times, trying to convey the rejected girl’s heartbreak for herself and for Hamlet, whom she loved. She was quite pleased with what she heard but was not so conceited that she thought it was perfect.

  ‘I’ll ask Sebastian to hear it and maybe he’ll coach me, just in case, but not tonight,’ she told herself, and so when Millie crept into the shared bedroom half an hour or so later, Sally was sound asleep.

  Next morning they were reduced to drinking Camp Coffee, which only Millie really enjoyed, because their rations of tea had run out.

  ‘I could have sworn we had a few ounces left,’ complained Sebastian, who was looking in totally ridiculous places for the lost tea leaves.

  ‘Oh, golly, it’s my fault,’ said Milly. ‘I meant to ask you two but forgot.’

  ‘Ask us what, Millie? A third of the tea is yours; you can do what you like with it.’

  ‘I gave a few ounces to Sylvia. Tea seems to be the only thing she can drink in the mornings – that stays down anyway – and they’d run out. I’m sorry, I should have asked.’

  ‘Couldn’t go to a better cause. Let’s not worry about a few cups of tea. It’s my turn for the queues this week and I’ll try to catch our grocer on a good day. We are out of almost everything. Either of you got any soap?’ Sebastian had found himself in the bath tub with only a brush.

  ‘Yes, I can give you a bar, Seb, but it’s perfumed.’

  ‘Thanks, Millie, but I’ll see what I can find.’

  Sally was feverishly calculating just exactly what she had left from the small but important packages that had been in her Christmas stocking. ‘Saved, Sebastian. I have a bar of Palmolive.’

  ‘Which shall I choose? Palmolive or perfumed?’

  They were still talking nonsense when they reached Drury Lane.

  Sylvia, although three months pregnant and still suffering badly from morning sickness, was determined to remain with the company as long as she could.

  Fate intervened, for that very morning when they had expected an early rehearsal, Max called a meeting.

  ‘All I want is to hear that this damned war is over,’ said Humph. ‘I’ve a notion to slow down, go fishing, maybe grow sweet peas.’

  ‘That’ll be the day,’ teased one of the band members. ‘You’ll be carried out, feet first, before you get round to slowing down.’

  They were seated at the front of the auditorium and Max, casually dressed as always, walked in from a side entrance and looked at them.

  ‘Well, it’s come, my children …’

  He was not allowed to finish as the bandsman who had been teasing Humph burst out, ‘No, you’re having us on, Max. The war, it’s not over, is it?’

  ‘Not so far as I know. The summons has come. We’re off to the battlefields of La Belle France.’

  Some excited chattering broke out and soon the noise was so deafening that no one could hear anyone speak. Max hauled himself up onto the stage and bellowed, ‘Quiet,’ at the top of his voice, and startled, the company obeyed him.

  ‘We will be gone for at least three months, possibly a great deal longer. At the moment there is some doubt about exactly where we will be but wherever it is, this is not a summer holiday. There is a war on and there is fighting on French soil. Since no expense is being spared sending us to France, the Government wants value and so, if it gets too hot in France, we may find ourselves in Belgium, Italy or even Egypt. No one will be ostracised for not wishing to go and so I would like you to think carefully before committing yourselves. Please remember, you won’t be able to change your minds and fly home after a week. I’ll be given all the information we’ll need and will make sure that everyone has a copy.’

  ‘Passports? Inoculations, that sort of thing?’ asked the leader of the Balladeers.

  ‘I said I would pass on all the information about our travel as soon as it comes through to me. Everyone must think carefully, discuss it with family – if you haven’t already done so. No one will think the worse of anyone who chooses to remain at home; there’s still plenty of work to do in Blighty.’

  ‘What happens if we find ourselves in the middle of a running battle?’ That question came from several directions.

  ‘We’ll be evacuated as soon as possible. Now, can’t do better than that, can we?’

  Questions and answers went on for some time, and Sally and Sebastian sat and listened intently to both. Millie, on the other hand, was no longer listening but was aglow with pleasure. Her friends could see her excitement in her eyes and both knew just what this opportunity meant to her. They made a tacit agreement to watch her very carefully. She was so driven by her need to find Patrick’s grave that it would be quite easy for her to get herself into a scrape.

  It was only as the three of them were walking home that evening that Sally actually realised what working in France might mean to her.

  She stopped in the street. ‘I can’t go; it’s impossible. I can’t leave Jon for three months, and besides there’s the film.’

  ‘You have dates for neither, Sally, in fact for none of the three. We have no date for France. Government wheels, et cetera, et cetera.’

  ‘Sally, Jon may well be leaving you. Didn’t you say he is trying to return to active duty? You won’t be the first working couple separated by duty.’

  They were still arguing – or discussing, as Millie preferred to say – all the options when they reached Hays Mews and the building that housed Sebastian’s flat. ‘Let’s have something quick like beans on toast for supper,’ suggested Sally as they climbed the stairs, ‘and then we can make some kind of plan.’

  ‘First, guess who queued for exactly sixty-three minutes to collect this week’s bacon ration?’ said Millie. ‘Looking at it, there doesn’t seem to be as much as last time but I’m sure you two will still find it super tasty with the beans.’

  ‘Well done,’ chorused her flatmates.

  ‘I hope you went through an entire exercise routine while you waited,’ said Sebastian. ‘What joy you must have brought to the exhausted masses. I do wish you’d been with me at Robinson’s. Exhausted mothers and lots of children running around like little dervishes. A ballerina pointing her dainty little toes might have stunned them into silence.’

  ‘Very funny. I actually spent the time going over and over Max’s announcement. The date for France can’t come soon enough for me.’

  Sally tried to be cheerful. After all, she had dreamed of going abroad and the lovely news of her colleague’s interesting condition had not slipped her mind. So far Sylvia had made no announcements or promises, and Sally tried not to hope that the actress and her husband were unlikely to be prepared to have her go off to a war zone. If she decides to go I’ll help her as much as I can but in the meantime, surely it’s sensible for me to study her lines? ‘Why is it that human beings wait months, years, for something to happen and then everything happens at once?’ Sally knew, despite her intentions, she sounded glum.

  Sebastian said, ‘I think there’s a rather rude word for that, Sally, but—’

  ‘Grandmamma would not approve of your telling us,’ the girls said for him.

  They had moved into the kitchen to prepare their evening meal.

  ‘I’m sure there’s nothing left to ration,’ complained Millie as Sebastian separated the bacon slices.

  ‘Sausages,’ he said. ‘To make us all miserable, they’ll ration chocolate and sausages.’

  ‘You are a hypocrite, Sebastian Brady. You nip down to the Savoy or the Cumberland when you fancy a treat.’

  Sally stood up. ‘I’ll just find that soap, Sebastian,’ she said, and quickly left the kitchen.

  Sebastian looked stunned. It was obvious that Millie’s remark was the last thing he had expected but he spoke calmly. ‘Not fair, Millicent. I nip down, a
s you put it, quite rarely these days and, if I remember rightly, when I do nip down, I tend to take a chum or two with me.’

  ‘Sorry, appalling idea of a joke, Seb. I was trying to get Sally’s mind off all her problems. Poor kid. If life was perfect all three of her treats would fall one by one into her lap.’

  ‘But life isn’t perfect, Millie, as you know better than any of us. Now how about supper – in the Savoy or in the kitchen?’

  Sally had returned with the large bar of green soap and so two female voices chorused, ‘Kitchen.’

  Having seen that Sally seemed free of her worries for the time being, Sebastian served the simple but delicious meal, the bacon slices for Sally and himself, not with the beans, which they had decided to save, but with some left-over macaroni cheese, one of Millie’s particular favourites. Since there seemed to be a tacit agreement not to speak about the proposed trip, and no suitable subject of conversation presented itself, he switched on the wireless. It was the first time the three of them had felt even slightly ill at ease with one another and they listened to a news broadcast without the slightest interest.

  ‘What on earth possessed me to make that stupid remark to Seb, the world’s most decent, generous human being?’

  They had washed and changed into nightwear and were laying out clean uniforms for the morning when the question burst from Millie.

  ‘Tension, Millie, I suppose, but he knows you didn’t mean anything.’

  ‘It’s still unforgivable.’

  ‘We’re going to France, Millie.’

  ‘Please, please, let us be in the right region.’

  ‘You won’t do anything foolish if we’re not? I’ve seen maps of France; it’s a huge country.’

  Millie, who had danced in France for several seasons, chose not to remind Sally of this. ‘If you mean, will I wrap my undies in a handkerchief and start walking, no, I won’t, Sally. If it’s to happen, it will. What about you, leaving Jon?’

  ‘As you said he’s possibly going to leave me, but he’s alive, Millie, and I will be grateful for that.’

  SEVENTEEN

  The next few weeks were frenetically busy for the company. Not only were they preparing for a three-month foreign tour but they were rehearsing and making appearances. They travelled to Liverpool and to Portsmouth and visited several military hospitals, sometimes trying out new routines, new songs, and even new performers. With mixed feelings, Sylvia Stone had resigned and the company gave her a little party and collected money for gifts for the expected baby.

  ‘A gas mask – for a baby? You have to be pulling my leg.’

  Several of the older members of the company asked that their donation be used for anything besides the gas mask but most of the younger ones decided that since a gas mask, no matter how awkward or uncomfortable, might keep a precious tiny person safe or at least safer, it was well worth buying.

  Lalita and Sybil managed to find exquisite hand-embroidered baby nighties in a small shop on the King’s Road and together, the nighties and the gas mask lay on a table, the beautiful and the ugly, side by side.

  ‘Rather like life,’ said Max as he looked at them. ‘Must have taken all your coupons,’ but the two friends merely smiled.

  The other gifts were practical: nappies, feeding bottles and safety pins. The young parents were absolutely de-lighted.

  Jon had not returned to a ship but had come up to work in London at a desk job at the Admiralty. He stayed in a little flat he owned not far from Sebastian’s. He and Sally spoke to each other or met as often as possible. One Saturday afternoon when Sally had no commitments she invited Maude to come up to town to join them for a walk in Hyde Park, but to Maude it was not a success. She no longer recognised London and seemed to feel every blow inflicted on her beloved capital city. When Sally and Jon took her to her train she hugged both of them warmly but said that she would not return unless to see Jon once more before he went to sea.

  ‘Have you no time to visit Dartford, Jon, my dear? Surely you want to see the house?’

  ‘Too many unhappy memories crowding out the good ones, Maudie. I’ve offered the old place to the Admiralty. They’re going to turn it into a rehabilitation centre. They’ll fill it with hope and courage, you’ll see.’

  The elderly lady stopped dead in the middle of the platform. ‘Oh, Jon, what would you father say?’

  ‘“Damned sensible”, Maudie, is what he’d say; you know he would. The war can’t last much longer and when it’s all over we’ll set it to rights together, the three of us.’

  He was looking at Sally as he spoke and her heart filled with excitement. Perhaps because their meetings were of necessity so short and so precious, there had been no talk of the future. They were living in the moment and this was the first time Jon had said or written anything that had hinted at togetherness.

  He took her hand and, side by side, they saw Maude onto her train.

  ‘Damn it, but I hate saying goodbye to her these days, Sally.’

  ‘Dartford has lived through its poundings, Jon. We must be positive.’

  Suddenly he snatched her into his arms and swung her around. ‘Yes, we must. Let’s go to …’ he thought for a moment, ‘the Ritz. It’s closest. We can have dinner and we can dance, and everyone will recognise you and all the men will envy me and I’ll feel like King Cockerel. That’s the name of a cockerel I had when I was about seven. How that fellow strutted around, sticking his chest out and yelling his triumph.’

  Sally laughed at him but glanced down at her clothes doubtfully.

  Jon smiled. ‘You’re absolutely lovely, Sally. The Ritz will be honoured to have you.’

  They took the underground and eventually climbed out at Green Park from where it was a short stroll to the Ritz Hotel. Sally noted the crowds of people with rolled-up blankets, flasks, and other assorted luggage, including a violin and at least two accordions. ‘Those poor people must sleep here every night, Jon.’

  ‘I expect they do, Sally, brave souls, but they’ll make music before they go to sleep.’

  They walked to the hotel where they dined and danced in surroundings so different from the ones they had just left and then, because neither wanted the evening to end, they walked to Sebastian’s flat. ‘Come in and meet them, Jon.’

  ‘I’d love to, my darling, but it’s much too late; an-other time.’

  Sally took out her key and Jon took it and inserted it, and then he pulled Sally into his arms. ‘Sally, you do know what I feel about you? I love you, and tonight I wanted nothing more than … to love you.’ He kissed her then and they stood like couples in love all over London and they kissed and touched and murmured fevered promises. ‘I love you, Sally, with all my heart.’

  ‘I love you too, Jon, dearest Just Jon.’

  He pushed the door open and handed her the key. ‘Good night, Sally, my lovely Sally.’

  She went in and closed the door as slowly as she could, watching his beloved face until she had to close it completely. ‘Good night, Just Jon.’

  She tiptoed in but the kitchen light was on faintly and she could smell cocoa.

  ‘Well, we thought you were never coming in. Didn’t you invite him in, Sally?’

  ‘How did you know we were there?’

  ‘Because you went for an afternoon walk in the park and never came home. We’ve been sitting in the window, peering through the blackout curtains for hours,’ explained Sebastian.

  ‘Quite dishy, our Jon,’ said Millie.

  ‘Yes, he is, isn’t he?’ agreed Sally. ‘Good night. I’ll see you both in the morning.’

  ‘Oh, no you don’t, madame. You tell us everything.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ scolded Millie. ‘We want to know everything. It’s your duty to tell us.’

  ‘All right. We went for a walk, put Maudie on a train, went to the Ritz – yes, the Ritz – and had a lovely dinner …’

  ‘We had beans on toast,’ Sebastian interrupted her.
‘Quite delicious.’

  ‘And then we walked here but Jon thought it was too late to come in. And that’s all. Good night.’

  And by the time Millie had had a turn in the bathroom and had climbed into her bed, Sally was – or pretended to be – sound asleep.

  The next morning Cedric Arnold telephoned the theatre to announce that dates had been made for filming Sally’s part in the propaganda film. ‘Most of it has been shot already,’ he informed Max. ‘Mr Coward is an absolute wonder, unbelievably busy. He’s here, there, and everywhere, but always has time to chat. What a wonderful opportunity for my little ingénue. This could be the beginning of her career. I have such plans for her.’

  ‘So too has ENSA, Cedric,’ said Max, ‘and actually I can’t say anything yet but I have a feeling someone else is determined to help her plan her future.’

  And no matter how Cedric coaxed, Max, who possibly felt just a little guilty at his slight indiscretion, could not be drawn.

  When Sally and her friends arrived at the theatre Max called Sally into the office and gave her the news. ‘I haven’t actually got three free days this month, Sally – he should have given us more warning – but I did promise and you will be given leave to take part. After all, it’s good for the organisation as a whole. We’re proud of you; you’ve worked really hard and who knows where this may lead – for your future. Well done, Sally, now off to rehearsal, if you can calm down sufficiently.’

  Sally, who was quite sure that she was perfectly calm, smiled weakly and left the room.

  The rest of the day flew past in an exhausting mixture of new songs, new dance routines, a costume fitting – and learning lines for several sketches. In the evening the company put on a show in a hostel that housed refugees and, for the first time, several cast members found themselves performing for an audience many of whom understood not one word of English. The performers in the skits and the comedians, used to laughter, clapping and stamping feet, were stunned to find themselves facing a mainly polite but unappreciative audience. The musicians, the dancers and Sally all earned grateful applause.

  Lalita was invaluable, going around the audience chatting in French or Flemish, Dutch, even Polish.