A Christmas Carol 2: The Wedding of Ebenezer Scrooge

by Anne Moore

  'Well, summer's better than winter, that's for sure. I can earn more in the summer.'

  Scrooge picked up this cue. ‘How do you earn, Billy?'

  'Well, mostly I helps collect the pure.'

  Scrooge didn't understand. ‘The pure? What's that?'

  'Dog muck....'

  'Dog muck?'

  Then, seeing that Scrooge had stood still for a moment because he still didn't follow, Billy continued: ‘That's what they call it, Mr Scrooge. The dog muck, picked up off the street, where the dogs leave it—they calls it the pure, see.'

  'Why do they call it that?'

  'Because they use it to pure the leather.'

  'What leather?'

  'In tanneries. Where they makes leather from cows’ skin.'

  Scrooge could hardly believe what he was being told. ‘And you collect this stuff? In the street?'

  'Most days. It's good trade, Mr Scrooge, you can get a shilling a bucket.’ Billy was enthusiastic now, realizing that Scrooge knew nothing of this arcane commerce. ‘Most of the collectors is men, see, and they don't want the likes of me stealing their muck. They kick us up the arse if they find us, and some of ‘em kicks werry hard. But there's some old women as can't move as fast as what they used to, and I helps them, see. Between us we get a bucket a day, and they sells it for a shilling, sometimes more, to the tannery. Then they gives me tuppence or so, for helping.'

  'I see.’ Scrooge suddenly felt deeply depressed. ‘And that's how you manage to live, is it? By picking up dog dirt in the street?'

  'Mostly, yes. But it's a better trade in the summer than winter. Days is longer, like you say. And your feet don't get so cold.'

  'Yes indeed,’ said Scrooge sadly. ‘I can well believe it.'

  They arrived at St Andrew's just as the service was about to start. The church was fairly full, and Scrooge chose an empty pew in one of the aisles, near the back. He guided Billy in first, so that no late-arriving but otherwise respectable parishioner would have to sit next to him.

  Their arrival caused a bit of a stir. The parish was home to some very wealthy and well-connected people. Most of the men held a responsible position in one of the City of London's financial institutions, which were all close by, and their womenfolk lived and dressed accordingly; they were not used to seeing the likes of Billy in their midst. Scrooge noticed people turning round to see who had arrived (they had probably been alerted by the smell); then they raised eyebrows at each other, and one woman muttered, ‘Well, really!', not quite under her breath. But Scrooge didn't care. In fact it made him smile.

  Once seated, Scrooge and Billy waited patiently for the service to begin. Scrooge took the opportunity to have a look round, and he was impressed by what he saw. He was by no means a regular attender at the church, but he could see that for Christmas Day an attempt had been made to put on a special show. No absurd amounts of money had been spent (Scrooge was particularly pleased to note that), but there was plenty of ivy, holly and rosemary about. Two large brass candelabra had been placed before the altar, which itself boasted a white embroidered frontal. In the chancel there were red hangings on the wall, and there were flowers on the altar screen. Throughout, the church was filled with light.

  Scrooge was impressed with all this, and he could see that Billy was too: the boy's mouth hung open in astonishment. Billy also needed to use the handkerchief again, and Scrooge nudged him and mimed what had to be done.

  Billy's interest in the church decorations soon lapsed, however, to the extent that he fell asleep during the sermon. To Scrooge, on the other hand, the sermon was tolerably interesting.

  Scrooge knew the Vicar by sight: he was a tall, strongly built man, in his mid-thirties, and had been in office for just over a year. On the rare occasions when Scrooge had heard the Vicar preach he had found him well-meaning but dull. Today, however, what the Vicar had to say seemed to coincide with the way Scrooge's own thoughts were turning. Was that pure coincidence, Scrooge wondered, or had the Vicar noticed that Scrooge had brought into the church a member of that social class who had seldom been seen there before?

  'Christmas,’ said the Vicar, ‘is traditionally a time of goodwill to all men. And the new year is a time when we review our lives and make resolutions to change. We should all take stock once a year, in our lives as in our businesses. We should consider our hopes and plans for the future.'

  (Hear, hear, thought Scrooge.)

  'Are our plans sensible and wise? Are they appropriate to our means and station? Are we living in the best possible way? Most of us, of course, cannot be saints, but we can all help each other just a fraction more than we have in the past. Even if we do it just once a day. The beggar on the street corner, perhaps. We can spare him a penny, surely. And we can smile at those who are sick at heart. We can provide advice when asked, and keep our opinions to ourselves when we might cause offense by voicing them. Let us all resolve, therefore, to do a little more good each day than we have achieved in the past.'

  For the final hymn Billy awoke and rose to his feet. He even seemed to remember some of the words, though he held the hymn book upside down. The hymn was ‘God rest ye merry, gentlemen', and the large congregation, no doubt looking forward eagerly to an enormous lunch, gave it full voice.

  It was during this hymn that the collection plate came round, and once again Scrooge found the bile rising in his throat. He rubbed his forehead and tried to work out why it was that requests for money angered him so much, especially in view of what the Vicar had just said. And he agreed with the man too! During the sermon he had sat there nodding his head, and yet now he was conscious of a wild, irrational rage burning within him. Scrooge just couldn't understand himself at all. He had plenty of money in his pocket, and a mountain more in the bank, so why did the sight of a man with a plate in his hand produce such resentment?

  Scrooge wasn't sure, but he put a sovereign in the plate anyway.

  The service over, Scrooge made Billy wait until everyone else had left the church. Then they made their way out too, at the end of the line.

  The Vicar and his wife were standing at the west door, bidding farewell to everyone and shaking their hand. To give them credit, neither of them so much as blinked when Scrooge pushed Billy forward in front of himself. They both shook hands with him and wished him a happy Christmas.

  'Good morning, Mr Scrooge,’ said the Vicar's wife courteously, when it came to Scrooge's turn.

  'Er, good morning, er, ma'am.’ To his chagrin, Scrooge did not know the lady's surname, and he was puzzled as to how she knew his. She was a handsome, well-built woman with striking blue eyes.

  'I trust you gave most generously to the collection,’ the lady continued. ‘It will be used, as always at this time of year, to assist the poor of parish. And so it was, I hope, a note that you proffered, rather than coin?’ And she smiled at him without a trace of artifice.

  Scrooge was stunned, and for a moment he was speechless. Had this woman asked the same question of everyone who left the church? And if not, how had she touched upon the one point which was causing him so much anguish? Was it written on his forehead?

  'I, er, I...’ he stammered. ‘The truth is, ma'am, I was taken by surprise when the plate arrived and had no time to get at me wallet. Allow me to rectify that omission now.'

  He fumbled in the breast pocket of his jacket and eventually managed to hand over yet another five-pound note.

  The Vicar's wife nodded her approval and pocketed the note with a practiced air. ‘Very kind of you, Mr Scrooge. You should never forget that, whatever you do, good or ill, it is returned to you threefold.'

  'Er, yes, quite....’ Scrooge was embarrassed. ‘Well.... Mustn't detain you.'

  'I hope we shall see you here again before long,’ said the Vicar. ‘And bring your young friend with you too, if you wish.'

  'Er, thank you, sir, but I'm afraid I am a most irregular attender. You will not set eyes on me often.'

  The Vicar looked at his wife, a
nd then they each smiled at the other. ‘Oh,’ said the wife cheerfully, ‘I think our paths may cross rather sooner than you think, Mr Scrooge!'

  CHAPTER 4

  Scrooge gave a small gasp of relief as the Vicar and his wife moved off. ‘Phew!'

  And then he thought, what in the world was he gasping about? He had anticipated this sort of thing, had he not? Had he not been to the bank specially, to equip himself for giving to charity over the Christmas period? Yes he had, and yet, when it came to the point, he still found himself not wanting to part with the cash.

  He paused at the church gate and made a note of the Vicar's name on the noticeboard: The Reverend Mr H. Bannister. Hmm. Well, whatever might be said of Mr Bannister, his wife would certainly take some watching—of that Scrooge was quite sure.

  'Where to now?’ said Billy. He didn't actually mention the phrase ‘free lunch', with which Scrooge had enticed him into the church, but his eyes were large and round.

  Scrooge dragged his attention back to more mundane matters. ‘We have to walk a little way,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Towards Moorgate. Turn left.'

  Together he and Billy resumed trudging through the snow; fortunately it was no longer as deep as when it had first fallen, because the passage of numerous feet on the pavement had trampled it down, but it was slippery, and care was needed. The sun, which had formerly been shining, had now taken to sulking behind a curtain of low gray cloud. Scrooge wondered idly if it had taken offense because not enough praise had been heaped upon it during the church service.

  The streets were thronged with pedestrians, despite the fact that it was Christmas Day. Some were on their way home from church or chapel, and some were in search of last-minute supplies; happily for them, many of the shops were still open, though preparing to close.

  Billy paid particular attention to the shops selling food. His nose twitched as they approached one, and he peered through the half-closed shutters at the piles of pears and apples, glowing oranges and yellow lemons, shiny black bunches of grapes and dark-brown nuts. Every so often something especially impressed him, and he nudged Scrooge with his elbow and said: ‘Cor, look at that!'

  They were heading north, in the general direction of the home of Scrooge's nephew Fred, and the shortest route led them up streets which housed some of the poorer members of the community. At one point they came across a small crowd outside a baker's shop.

  The baker was forbidden by law from carrying out his usual trade on Christmas Day, and instead he did good business by using his ovens to cook the meals of the poor. They brought along their pie, or a goose, or whatever, and the baker did the rest.

  Outside the shop, Scrooge and Billy were passed by one proud woman bearing home a steaming, freshly-roasted chicken which sat stark naked upon a plate (she had only a few doors’ journey). It was as much as Billy could do to refrain from stealing a leg of it.

  'Cor, did you see that, Mr Scrooge?’ he inquired. ‘I reckon there won't be much left of that by teatime.'

  Scrooge decided that he had better issue a word of caution. ‘Perhaps,’ he said slowly, ‘I ought not to build up your hopes too high, Billy. I did indeed mention a free lunch, and lunch of a sort there will certainly be. But I ought to warn you that although I have been invited to my nephew's house, I was confoundedly rude to him yesterday. He may not be altogether pleased to see me.’ (Or you either, Billy, he thought, but didn't mention it.) ‘And so I shall have to apologize to him first. And his wife. It is no more than their due, but even after I have made my apologies I may still have to make a tactical withdrawal. So we shall just have to play it by ear, my dear chap.'

  Billy professed to be unconcerned. “S all right, Mr Scrooge. We'll manage.'

  'It wouldn't be the first time that I've had me Christmas dinner in a tavern,’ said Scrooge. ‘Often with no more than a book for company, and felt I was better off for it. But this year, somehow, I feel different.'

  After a moment Billy had a thought. “Ere—we're going to Moorgate, ain't we?'

  'We are indeed.'

  'Let's dive through here then. Short cut.'

  Billy led the way down an alley. Halfway along it he indicated the doorway to a public lavatory.

  'Gents in there,’ he said.

  'Thank you, but I don't need one at the moment.'

  'I picks up some good business there when I'm stuck,’ volunteered Billy.

  He was a step or two ahead of Scrooge when he said this, and Scrooge could not see his face.

  Scrooge walked five further steps before he could bring himself to speak. ‘What do you mean, good business?'

  Billy turned. ‘Well, there's always blokes hanging around in there that want a bit of a rub. You know? Pay you to toss ‘em off.'

  Scrooge shuddered, despite his overcoat. He put a hand on Billy's shoulder to bring him to a halt. Then he turned the boy to face him.

  'Now, Billy,’ he said. ‘I'm sure you know that you should not be doing any such thing. Don't you?'

  Billy looked just a little abashed. ‘Well, yer. But if you're stuck for a meal, Mr Scrooge....'

  Scrooge prodded Billy's shoulder with his forefinger. ‘If you're stuck for a meal, Billy, you come and see me. At my office. You know where it is, don't you?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Good. So now you know what to do in the future.'

  'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'

  'That's all right,’ Scrooge managed to say. ‘Carry on now.'

  Billy turned and continued up the alley. It was narrow, and there was insufficient space for them to walk side by side, which was just as well, for Scrooge would not have cared to have Billy to see his stricken face just at that moment. Nor would have cared to have been caught wiping a tear from his cheek. It was, of course, just the cutting wind in the alley, swirling up the drifted snow, which had made his eye water.

  They emerged from the far end of the alley and to Scrooge's relief were then able to resume their walk in a more open street.

  Now they were back in a more prosperous area, and they attracted a few curious glances from passers-by. Scrooge was self-evidently a gentleman, while Billy had obviously never held any post in a gentleman's household, not even the most menial. Scrooge ignored all the inquiring glances, except of course to raise his hat at those who stared longest and wish them a cheery ‘Happy Christmas!’ Not all such good wishes were returned.

  As they neared Fred's house, Scrooge suddenly caught sight of two familiar figures walking towards him. At first his spirits sank, for the two men approaching were people he would have preferred not to meet again, especially on Christmas morning. They were the two portly and smartly-dressed gentlemen who had called on him the previous afternoon, at his office.

  On that occasion they had been out collecting funds for the poor, but in Scrooge's premises they had met with a pronounced lack of success: he had sent them away without so much as a penny. Now, when they noticed Scrooge walking towards them, the two gentlemen naturally regarded him with something less than wholehearted joy.

  Initially, Scrooge was inclined to cross the street to avoid them, but after a moment's reflection he realized that this fortuitous meeting gave him an opportunity to retrieve the situation.

  The two gentlemen might well have walked past him without even a glance, but Scrooge stopped them with a hand on the arm of one.

  'Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘There are many people in this world to whom I owe an apology, and you two are perhaps foremost among them.'

  The portly gentlemen looked at each other, but neither made any attempt to deny this.

  'On the morning of Christmas Eve I drew out a largish sum from the bank, for I knew in my heart that this year I should make a particular effort to contribute to worthy causes. And yet, when you called at my office yesterday afternoon, with a most reasonable request, I refused to help you. I was not only unhelpful but rude, and I can only say that you caught me at a bad moment. That is no excuse, of course, and I was quite wrong to treat you the
way I did.'

  'Well, Mr Scrooge,’ said the shorter and bolder of the two men, ‘you do have some reputation for being careful with your money.'

  'No doubt. But I am conscious that those of us who have the good fortune to be in good health and possessed of adequate means must do something to relieve the plight of those who are less fortunate. Particularly at this time of year. Perhaps, even at this late stage, you might allow me to make some amends?'

  The gentlemen looked at each other with some astonishment, while Scrooge groped for his wallet yet again. Eventually he located two more five-pound notes, which he pressed into the palm of the man nearest him.

  'There,’ he said. ‘And perhaps, if you would like to call on me a second time, at your convenience, I think I can promise that I shall be more forthcoming than on the first occasion.'

  'Well, thank you very much, sir,’ said the first of the two to find his tongue.

  'Yes, indeed, sir. Thank you,’ said the other.

  'Please do remember to call on me,’ Scrooge emphasized.

  'We will, sir, we will!’ responded the taller man. ‘We shall be veritable bulldogs in our persistence.'

  'That's the stuff!’ said Scrooge. After which, with much doffing of hats, both parties went on their way.

  As he and Billy resumed their progress down the street, Scrooge examined his feelings. He discovered, contrary to his expectations, that he felt quite jaunty.

  'There, that wasn't so bad, either, was it?’ he remarked to Billy. ‘I've handed over ... oh, at least twenty pounds this morning, and me ears haven't dropped off, have they, Billy? No, nor me nose either.'

  Billy giggled. Then he said, ‘Twenty quid, did you say? Cor!'

  'Oh, I have plenty more,’ said Scrooge. ‘Plenty more. Tell me I can afford it, Billy.'

  'You can afford it, Mr Scrooge!’ said Billy. And they both laughed.

  CHAPTER 5

  Scrooge's steps began to slow as they turned into the street where his nephew Fred resided. Billy noticed, and turned to see what was troubling him.