When We Danced at the End of the Pier

by Sandy Taylor

  ‘OK, you can open them now.’

  There in front of us, taking up nearly all the room, was the biggest Christmas tree that I had ever seen in my life. It was nearly as big as the one in Woolworths. There were Senior Service fag packets covered in silver paper hanging from the branches. It was perfect.

  Brenda burst into tears. Daddy gathered her up into his arms. ‘This isn’t a time for crying, my darling girl.’

  Brenda gulped. ‘But it’s so… It’s so…’

  ‘Big?’ said Mum, coming into the room.

  ‘Beautiful,’ said Brenda.

  ‘Where did you get it, Daddy?’ I said.

  ‘Your Uncle John brought it round last night. They were giving it away down the market, nobody wanted it.’

  ‘I wonder why?’ said Mum, making a face.

  ‘Are you cross because it takes up most of the bloody room?’ I said.

  ‘Mouth, Maureen.’

  ‘Sorry, Mum, but I do love that word.’

  ‘I know you do, love.’

  ‘It is bloody lovely though, isn’t it?’ said Brenda.

  We all fell about laughing.

  Brenda held up the sock. ‘Look what the fat bloke brought, Mummy.’

  ‘Are you going to look at it all day? Or are you going to open it?’

  We sat in front of the big roaring fire and we plunged our hands into the socks. We had an apple and an orange and five marbles each and a colouring-in book and a yo-yo and a bag of Pontefract sweets.

  Brenda’s eyes were shining and her cheeks were pink from the fire. ‘I am too happy for my body,’ she said.

  ‘Where does she get it from?’ said Mum, shaking her head.

  ‘She gets it from you, my beautiful Kate,’ said Dad.

  ‘Get on with you,’ said Mum, going all red.

  Daddy went out of the room and came back with a big parcel covered in newspaper.

  ‘This is for both of you,’ he said. ‘Happy Christmas, my angels.’

  We tore off the paper. Inside was a dolls’ house. It had windows and a little door and it smelled of apples.

  ‘Oh, Daddy,’ I said. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘It’s spectacular,’ said Brenda.

  ‘Your daddy made it himself,’ said Mummy, sitting down on the floor beside us.

  ‘I made it out of one of your Uncle John’s fruit boxes.’

  ‘It’s the best dolls’ house in the world,’ said Brenda, hugging him.

  ‘Upstairs now,’ said Daddy. ‘It’s time you got ready for church.’

  I ran upstairs and put on some warm clothes.

  ‘I need to see Jack, I want to give him his present,’ I said when I came down.

  ‘Can’t you see him when we get back?’

  ‘No, Daddy, he’s going to his granny’s house today. He’ll be gone by the time we come back.’

  ‘Don’t be long then.’

  I knocked on Jack’s door and his dad answered.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Maureen. Do you want to see Jack?’

  ‘Yes please, Mr Forrest.’

  ‘Come in out of the cold then.’

  I stood in the hallway. I’d never been inside Jack’s house before – it was the same as ours only the other way round.

  ‘Jack!’ shouted his dad. ‘You have a visitor.’

  Jack came running down the stairs. He smiled at me. ‘I’m going to my gran’s today.’

  ‘I know.’ I held the present out to him. ‘Happy Christmas, Jack.’

  ‘For me?’ he said.

  I nodded.

  Jack ran back up the stairs and came down again with a parcel wrapped in red paper. He held it out towards me.

  ‘I was going to give it to you before we went to Gran’s.’

  ‘We’re going to church now.’

  ‘Oh, I’d forgotten.’

  ‘Jack?’ I said.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Will Nelson have a lovely Christmas?’

  Jack looked sad. ‘I don’t know, Maureen.’

  ‘His dad wouldn’t hurt him on Christmas Day, would he?’

  Jack chewed at his nail.

  ‘Jack?’

  ‘He hasn’t got a dad, Maureen,’ he said quietly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nelson hasn’t got a dad.’

  ‘Well then, who?’

  Jack’s mum came out of the kitchen. ‘Happy Christmas, Maureen,’ she said. I could see her mouth moving but I was so shocked at what Jack had just told me that I couldn’t take in what she was saying.

  ‘I said, “Happy Christmas, Maureen”.’

  ‘Sorry, Mrs, Forrest. Happy Christmas.’

  ‘Right, Jack, say goodbye to your little friend. We have to get going.’

  Jack walked outside with me.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

  ‘I know you don’t. Look, I promise that we will talk about it after Christmas, OK?’

  I could feel my eyes filling with tears. ‘He’s not going to have a nice Christmas is he, Jack?’

  We stood staring at each other, both of us worried for our good friend Nelson.

  ‘Light a candle for him this morning.’

  ‘I always do.’

  ‘He knows he’s got us.’

  ‘Always.’

  Then Jack did the most surprising thing. He leaned across and kissed my cheek.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Maureen,’ he said.

  I walked back home in a dream. Jack had said that Nelson didn’t have a dad and he had kissed my cheek. How could you be confused and worried and happy all at the same time? But I was.

  People were calling out ‘Happy Christmas’ as we walked through the estate.

  I wanted to call out ‘Happy Christmas’ as well but I just couldn’t. Daddy stopped walking and looked down at me. ‘What’s wrong, my love?’

  ‘I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

  ‘Can you tell your daddy what is worrying you?’

  ‘Not right now.’

  ‘When you’re ready.’

  Brenda slipped her hand into mine and squeezed it. ‘I’d give the dead dog a miss this morning and have a word with the baby Jesus about your worries.’

  ‘Good idea, Brenda,’ said Daddy.

  ‘Ask him to do that inter… inter… What’s that word again?’

  ‘Intercede,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, well, ask him to do that. It’s his birthday so he’ll be in a good mood.’

  ‘Great thinking!’

  I loved going to church on Christmas morning. As we walked down the centre aisle I could feel the warmth from a million candles. The Blessed Sacrament was on show. We genuflected in front of it and made the sign of the cross, then we went over to the side altar where the stable was. The Blessed Virgin Mary was gazing down at the baby Jesus, all swaddled in the manger. Joseph was standing behind her and the Wise Men and shepherds were grouped around. It was lovely. I lit a candle and prayed for Nelson and then, as it was Christmas, I prayed for the dead dog, too. I wandered if he was still squashed flat or whether one of the saints plumped him up once he got to Heaven. Were dogs allowed in Heaven?

  We sang ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ and ‘Away in a Manger’. Then we knelt at the altar and stuck out our tongues so that the priest could put the wafer in our mouths. My tummy was rumbling as usual. ‘Corpus Christi,’ said the priest, which means ‘Body of Christ’. We had to let the wafer melt because Sister Aquinas said that if we chewed it, it would be like putting a knife in God’s heart. Personally I thought that was a bit over the top. I mean, as long as you got it down your throat, I shouldn’t think it mattered how it got there.

  When we came out of church it was raining. Not ordinary rain but the icy stuff that stings your face and makes your nose run.

  ‘Have you got a hankie?’ said Brenda.

  ‘Wipe it on your sleeve,’ I said.

  We hurried up the road. All we wanted was to be at home in front of the fire and I wanted to see what Jack had bought me.


  Then I saw him; he was sitting on Jack’s front door step. He had his arms wrapped around his body and his head was down. I ran over and knelt in front of him. He was shaking with the cold and he was soaking wet. ‘Nelson?’ I said softly. He looked up at me with such sadness that I wanted to bawl my eyes out. Suddenly Daddy was beside us. ‘Come on, old chap,’ he said and he gently lifted Nelson into his arms as if he was a baby.

  ‘Kate!’ he yelled urgently as we came in the front door.

  Mum ran towards us. ‘Oh dear God!’ she said. ‘Maureen, get blankets off the bed. Brenda, get a towel.’

  I ran upstairs, shaking and crying. Then I pulled the blanket from the bed. I nearly died when I went into the front room: Nelson was stark naked and Mum was rubbing his body, trying to get some warmth into it. She was gently murmuring, ‘There’s a good boy, soon get you warm. There now, there now. Brenda, hand me the towel.’ Mum dried Nelson’s poor thin little body so tenderly, tears running down her face as she saw the bruises that covered his back. She wrapped him in the blanket and Daddy picked him up and laid him on the couch.

  ‘Maureen,’ said Mum. ‘I want you to run round to Aunty Vera and ask her to let us borrow some of Malcolm’s clothes.’

  The last thing that I wanted was to see Aunty Vera on Christmas Day but I did as I was told and went back out into the freezing rain. I was drenched by the time I got to the house.

  Malcolm opened the door and smirked.

  ‘What are you after?’ he said, blocking the hallway.

  ‘Let me in, you idiot, I’m bloody soaked!’

  ‘Who is it, darling?’ called Aunty Vera.

  ‘It’s Maureen.’

  Aunty Vera came to the door but she didn’t ask me in. ‘What do you want, Maureen? We’re just about to sit down for our dinner.’

  ‘Some of Malcolm’s clothes.’

  ‘What are you talking about, child?’

  ‘They’re for Nelson. His clothes are soaking wet.’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, you’d better come in and stand on the mat! I don’t want you dripping water all over the place.’

  I stepped into the hall as Uncle Fred came out of the front room.

  ‘What’s all this about, Maureen? We’re just about to have our dinner.’

  Well, you’re just going to have to bloody wait, aren’t you? I thought.

  ‘She wants some of Malcolm’s clothes.’

  ‘Is this one of your jokes?’ said Uncle Fred, glaring at me.

  ‘It’s not a joke, Uncle Fred. My friend Nelson has been hurt and he needs some dry clothes.’

  ‘You want me to give my Malcolm’s clothes to some strange child?’

  ‘Nelson’s not strange. Anyway, Mum says it’s just for a borrow.’

  Malcolm was making faces at me. ‘I don’t want you to give my clothes to this boy, Mummy,’ he simpered.

  ‘I know you don’t, darling,’ said Aunty Vera, putting her arms around him. ‘We’ll just give him some of your old stuff.’

  I felt like telling her where she could stick Malcolm’s bloody clothes. I’d rather give Nelson one of my dresses.

  Aunty Vera went upstairs and Uncle Fred and the horrible Malcolm left me in the hallway on my own but not before Malcolm stuck his tongue out.

  ‘Grow up,’ I mouthed at him.

  Eventually Aunty Vera came back downstairs. 'Tell your mother that I don't want them back,' she said glaring at me.

  I nearly had to prise the bundle of clothes out of her arms. I stuffed them under my coat so that they wouldn’t get wet and ran home.

  When I got in, Nelson was fast asleep on the couch. It was the quietest Christmas that we had ever had but that was OK, because Nelson was OK. He shared our Christmas dinner, dressed in horrible Malcolm’s clothes but he didn’t seem to mind that they were miles too big for him on account of the fact that Malcolm stuffed his face for a living.

  ‘Don’t let your mum chuck my jumper out, will you?’ he said when we were on our own.

  ‘Of course I won’t.’

  Nelson’s jumper reminded me of something. I ran upstairs and came down with his present. He opened the bag and took out a pair of brown gloves. I’d given Aunty Marge the wool and she’d knitted them for me.

  ‘This is the best present I’ve ever had,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Nelson.’

  ‘Happy Christmas, Maureen.’

  He hadn’t told us what had happened and no one asked. Mum said that he would tell us when he was ready but for now he was safe and that was all that mattered.

  ‘You won’t send him back home, will you, Daddy?’ I said.

  ‘No, my love, he won’t be going home.’

  ‘Will he live here, then?’

  ‘I don’t know what will happen but I’m going to see to it that from now on that little boy will be properly looked after.’

  ‘You promise, Daddy?’

  ‘I promise.’

  That night Nelson slept in Brenda’s room.

  ‘Is he going to live here forever?’ said Brenda, snuggling into me.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Jesus didn’t put himself out much, did he?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes he did,’ I said. ‘He brought Nelson home to us on Christmas Day so that he would be safe and no one would hurt him.’

  Seventeen

  Jack, Brenda and me were sitting on the wall watching Nelson get into a black police car. He was wearing his brown jumper again. He looked across at us and gave a sad little smile. Daddy got into the car and sat beside him. I was glad that Nelson wasn’t on his own – I knew my daddy would look after him.

  ‘Where are they taking him, Maureen?’ said Brenda.

  I put my arm around her shoulder. ‘I don’t know, love.’

  ‘Do you know where they’re taking him, Jack?’ she asked.

  Jack looked angry and fierce. ‘I don’t know, but I’m jolly well going to find out.’

  Jack wasn’t like a kid. You just knew that he’d find out where Nelson was and that we’d see him again soon. I believed in Jack; I loved Jack.

  We watched as the car disappeared down the road, a crowd of kids running after it. Bloody idiots.

  ‘Perhaps they just want to talk to him, then they’ll bring him back,’ I said hopefully.

  ‘Shouldn’t think so,’ said Jack. ‘I reckon he’s for the children’s home.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Brenda.

  ‘It’s where they take the orphans,’ I said.

  ‘Is Nelson an orphan, then?’

  ‘He might as well be,’ said Jack.

  ‘What about his mum?’ I said.

  ‘Nelson’s mum lives in the bottom of a bottle, Maureen.’

  Just at that moment Mrs Forrest came out of her front door. Her hair was still in rags and she looked cross. ‘Come in, Jack!’ she shouted.

  ‘Blimey, what’s her problem?’ I said.

  ‘Who knows,’ said Jack, rolling his eyes. ‘Look, I’ll see you later, OK? We might know a bit more by then.’

  ‘Jack?’

  He turned around. ‘Yes?’

  ‘We will find him, won’t we?’

  He stared at me for a moment then said, ‘Of course we will.’

  ‘See you later then.’

  ‘See ya, Maureen.’

  Me and Brenda sat on the wall, waiting for Daddy to come back.

  ‘I’m cold,’ said Brenda.

  I was cold as well but my eyes were fixed on the road, waiting to see Daddy coming round the corner.

  ‘Shall we go indoors, then?’ said Brenda.

  I didn’t want to get off the wall but I didn’t want Brenda to be cold. ‘OK then, we can watch for Daddy out the window.’

  We jumped down off the wall and went indoors. There was a lovely fire burning in the grate and it was warm in the room. I looked at the tree that I had once thought so wonderful and I didn’t much like it any more. The fag packets looked silly, the silver paper had started to pe
el off, and you could see the words ‘Senior Service’ underneath. I thought about the rich little girl who had gone into Wade’s and I was pretty sure that she wouldn’t have empty fag packets hanging off her tree. Rich children got dolls dressed in pink satin and bikes, not bloody fag packets. Then I felt bad inside because I loved my life and I wouldn’t swap it for hers, not for anything, and certainly not for a load of glass baubles and candles.

  ‘We’ve got a lovely tree, haven’t we, Maureen?’ said Brenda, gazing up at it.

  ‘We’ve got the best tree in See Saw Lane,’ I said, smiling at her.

  We waited by the window for a long time and then we saw Daddy walking down the road. He looked upset and worried as he came through the gate. The stubble on his chin looked very dark against his pale face and he didn’t have any margarine on his hair so it was sticking up all over the place. I was worried that he’d shut himself in the bedroom but he didn’t. ‘Would you let me and your mammy have a little chat on our own, girls?’ he said, coming into the hall.

  Me and Brenda nodded and went and sat on the stairs.

  ‘Is Nelson dead, Maureen?’

  ‘Of course he’s not bloody dead, why would you think he’s dead?’

  ‘Our old tallyman went in a car like that and then he was dead and they had a funeral.’

  ‘Our old tallyman was in a box! Nelson wasn’t in a box, was he?’

  Brenda didn’t look convinced. ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘So he’s not dead then, is he?’

  ‘Well, our old tallyman was.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Brenda! Daddy was in that car as well and he’s back and he’s not dead.’

  ‘I never thought of that.’

  ‘Nelson’s not dead,’ I said gently. ‘Jack is going to find him and then you’ll see for yourself. OK?’

  We were sat on the stairs for ages. I tried hard to hear what they were saying but I couldn’t. Eventually Daddy opened the door and came out. ‘You can come in now, girls.’

  We went into the front room and sat side by side on the couch. Daddy looked very serious and Mum looked like she’d been crying. I felt Brenda edge closer to me until we were touching. ‘Is Nelson dead, Dadda?’ she said.

  ‘I keep telling her he’s not but I don’t think she believes me. You don’t believe me, do you, Brenda?’