by Annie Groves
‘We’ll be lucky,’ George assured her.
Chapter Seventeen
‘You did say that Ted’s sisters are going to be at this Christmas Party, didn’t you?’ Drew asked Tilly as they walked arm in arm down Oxford Street, avoiding the busy press of Christmas shoppers.
‘Yes,’ Tilly confirmed. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘No reason,’ Drew assured her, grinning when Tilly stopped walked and disengaged her arm from his to turn and confront him with a mock look of disapproval.
‘You’re fibbing. I know that there’s something you aren’t telling me,’ she said.
‘I can’t say any more yet. It’s a secret,’ Drew insisted.
‘There shouldn’t be secrets between couples,’ Tilly told him sternly.
‘Oh, very well then,’ Drew gave in. ‘I wrote and asked my mom and sisters if they could send over that dolly and the pram that Agnes said Ted’s sisters wanted and that he couldn’t find, and enough stuff to give all the other kids something now that I’m to be playing Father Christmas at the party.’
‘Oh, Drew.’ Tilly’s eyes sparkled with love and delight. ‘How kind you are. They’ll all be thrilled. Now I understand why you insisted on us going to Harrods toy department, and why you asked me all those questions about the dolls and the prams. Oh, Drew,’ she repeated happily, ‘you are wonderful. Agnes was saying only the other night that the only second-hand pram Ted had been able to find was in a very poor state, and the owner wanted far too much for it.’ A thought struck her. ‘Will they arrive in time, though?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Your mother sounds so kind. I wish I could meet your family, Drew. Have you told them yet – about us?’
‘I’ve told them all about you and your mom,’ Drew assured her. He looked and sounded slightly tense and Tilly lovingly guessed that he was thinking how very far away his family were.
‘It can’t be easy for you, being so far away from them,’ she sympathised. ‘I know how much I’d miss my mum and number thirteen if I was the one who was living somewhere else, in another country.’ Her heart gave a small hurried thump, and, as though he understood exactly what she was thinking, Drew reached for her hand and squeezed in gently.
‘If I’m going to write that book about Fleet Street one day when this war is over then that means that I’m gonna have to make my home over here,’ he reassured her.
‘You’d do that?’ Tilly asked him, her emotions too tenderly touched for her to keep what she was feeling hidden from him. ‘You’d stay here?’
When Drew nodded his head and took her hand within his into the pocket of his Burberry raincoat, removing her glove so that he could stroke her fingers within its private intimacy, Tilly couldn’t hold back what she was feeling.
‘But your family is in America, Drew and—’
‘You are here, Tilly.’
‘Oh, Drew.’
‘If you keep on looking at me like that I’m gonna have to kiss you,’ he warned her.
Tilly giggled and blushed, reminding him, ‘We’re on Oxford Street and it’s broad daylight.’
‘You’re right,’ Drew agreed immediately and, as far as Tilly was concerned, rather disappointingly. ‘I can’t kiss you the way I want to kiss you here in public.’
Tilly’s heart soared. ‘I can’t wait for New Year’s Eve,’ she told Drew in a half-whisper. Her mother had agreed that Drew could take her to Hammersmith Palais on New Year’s Eve, to the big New Year’s Eve dance there – a dance at which, late in the evening, there were bound to be dimmed lights and slow music so that lovers could get closer to one another.
Despite the war, or maybe because of it, Oxford Street’s shops were all making a brave effort to send out a message of Christmas cheer. Their windows were filled with decorative Christmas scenes: Father Christmases on sleighs, reindeer, their antlers adorned with silver bells, merry-faced elves and gnomes; and, of course, in several windows, glittering shiny Christmas fairies, even if a closer look showed that these figures and their costumes were beginning to look a little worse for wear.
They might also be looking slightly worse for wear, but the spirit of the British people still shone strongly as they shopped, determined to give those they loved the happiest Christmas they could. Of course, when you looked closely, there were faces shadowed by loss and fear, but the general atmosphere was one of general busyness and good cheer.
‘We must go and look at Liberty’s windows on Great Marlborough Street,’ Tilly told Drew eagerly. ‘It’s always so lovely, especially the window dresses with fabrics.’ She gave a small reminiscent sigh. ‘I remember one year they had a window filled with small fairies wearing pink silk dresses trimmed with marabou. I couldn’t believe it when I found one waiting for me under the Christmas tree. Mum had asked the dressmaker to go and have a look at them and make me one. She was always doing lovely things like that for me.’
‘She’s one of the best,’ Drew agreed warmly.
Up ahead of them a street vendor was selling roasted chestnuts, people crowding round his cart waiting to be served, their breath vaporising on the cold air.
A group of burly-looking men in elf costumes were moving amongst the crowd, obviously collecting for a charity. Immediately Tilly opened her handbag, unable to stop herself laughing at the sight of such large men wearing such childish costumes.
‘Fire brigade, miss,’ one of them announced, waving a hat under her nose. ‘We’re collecting for a party for bombed-out kids.’
‘Here, take this,’ Drew insisted, producing two half-crowns, the sight of them making the other man’s eyes widen as he gave an appreciative nod when Drew dropped them into his waiting hat.
‘That was far too much,’ Tilly protested, her heart melting on a fresh wave of love when Drew told her, ‘Poor little tykes, I wish I’d given more.’
There might not be any fairy lights adorning buildings and lampposts this year because of the blackout, but the Christmas spirit was still very much in evidence.
Tilly thought happily of the knitted socks she had bought at Leather Lane Market. Dulcie had derided her for buying them then, but now even she had expressed a grudging admission that filling them ‘for the boys’ to give them on Christmas Day would be fun.
It might be an apple rather than a tangerine they would find in the toe of their stocking, but it was the spirit of Christmas that mattered more than its content,Tilly assured herself, her eyes widening as she spotted a street-seller with a tray of playing cards.
‘What is it?’ Drew asked when she stopped walking.
‘Nothing. You aren’t to look,’ Tilly told him firmly. ‘You have to turn your back and no peeping, otherwise Father Christmas won’t come.’
‘No Santa . . .’ Drew teased her, and then laughed good-naturedly, doing as she asked so that Tilly could hurry over to examine the packs of cards on the tray supported by a string round the street-seller’s neck.
‘Good stuff, this is,’ he told Tilly, seeing her interest.
‘Why are they are in packs of twos?’ Tilly asked him. The cards did indeed look as though they were good quality, at least from what she could see of them in their boxes, the lids removed to reveal the contents.
‘That’s ’cos they’re bridge cards,’ the man told her. ‘Proper posh they are, an’ all, and only tenpence a pack. Bomb-damaged stock, see.’
Remembering Dulcie’s warnings when they had shopped together, Tilly told him firmly, ‘I’ll have to have a proper look at them to make sure they are full packs.’
At first she thought he was going to refuse, but other people were starting to gather round, curious to see what was going on, and with the hope of other customers he gave in and allowed Tilly to remove the packs from the box and inspect them.
The salesman was right, they were good quality, Tilly recognised, and when she looked inside, the lid of the box was stamped with the sign of a royal warrant.
That was enough to have her saying recklessly, ‘I’ll tak
e two boxes.’ It seemed mean to buy only one, which, split in two, meant that two of the boys could have a pack of cards, when the other girls might also want a pack for their stockings. No doubt Dulcie would have called her a fool for not haggling a bit but Tilly didn’t care.
By the time she rejoined Drew, waiting patiently on the pavement with his back turned toward the salesman, the cards were stowed away safely in her handbag. It had been a comment by Dulcie that had inspired her when she’d seen the salesman. Dulcie had read out a line from her brother’s letter, saying that they were having to play cards with half a pack because they’d lost so many of their cards.
Her mind now fully engaged with the fun of Christmas, Tilly thought happily of the Monopoly and snakes-and-ladders boards her mother had kept from Tilly’s childhood, and which came out every Christmas. It would be such fun playing her favourite childhood board games with Drew.
Drew . . . Tilly moved closer to him, her face rosy and alight with Christmas happiness.
‘I’m getting something really special for Mum,’ she confided to Drew. ‘Dulcie got me a pair of proper leather gloves from a delivery that Selfridges have had in. Whoops!’ She laughed as a determined shopper carrying several large boxes, piled so high it was almost impossible for her to see over them, almost bumped into her. Not that Tilly minded when it gave her the opportunity to move closer to Drew.
The sound of carols being sung emerged from almost every shop they passed, further lifting the spirits.
‘I love Christmas,’ she said to Drew, happily.
‘And I love you,’ he told her back.
Tilly and Drew weren’t the only ones out enjoying the Christmassy atmosphere of London’s shops and the relief from air raids that the city was enjoying.
Agnes felt as though her heart was going to burst with pride as she snatched a quick glance at her Ted, looking so smart in his best Sunday clothes, his face so clean and polished that it positively shone, a determined look in his eyes.
Today was the day that Ted was going to buy Agnes an engagement ring. He had been saving up to do so all year, and now finally the time had come. Agnes was wearing her lovely coat that Tilly’s mother had had made for her the previous autumn, its soft colour highlighting Agnes’s delicate features and colouring, its velvet collar reflecting up the bright winter light around her face, flushed prettily today with the excitement of what lay ahead.
After they had bought the ring they were going to go meet up with Ted’s mother and his sisters, for a celebration tea at Joe Lyons. Just thinking about it all made Agnes feel giddy with happiness and excitement.
‘How did you get on with that woman who had the doll’s pram for sale? The one you told me about the other day? You said you were going round to see her,’ Agnes asked, knowing how much Ted was hoping to get his sisters the pram and doll they had set their hearts on.
Ted shook his head and looked glum. ‘It was no-go. I thought we’d settled on a price but when I got there she told me that she’d had someone else interested in it and that they’d offered her more. I reckon she wanted to get a bit of a Dutch auction between me and this other person, so I told her that I’d give her three and sixpence for it, like we’d agreed. She said she wasn’t going to part with it for three and six, when she knew she could get five bob, so that was that. To be honest, it wasn’t even worth half a crown, it was that shabby.’
‘Oh, Ted, I am sorry.’ Agnes gave his arm a loving squeeze. ‘At least you’ve got the girls a doll, though I know she hasn’t got real hair, or eyes that close, like they wanted.’
Ted exhaled and Agnes gave his arm another comforting squeeze. ‘The doll looks ever so nice in the clothes that Tilly’s mum has helped me to knit. Of course there were only some scraps of wool, on account of the war, so we couldn’t make everything to match.’
‘You’ve done your best, Aggie, I know that. Just like I’ve done mine. Not that I don’t feel that that woman has let me down, not selling that pram to me after she as good as promised it to me. I’m not going to let it spoil today, though. Not when you and I have got an important bit of business of our own to conduct.’
When he smiled at her Agnes’s heart lifted in a fresh surge of pride and gratitude. She was so lucky to have someone as special as Ted to love her. Sometimes she felt as though her chest would burst, just thinking about how lucky she was and how much she loved him.
‘Here’s a jeweller’s,’ Ted pointed out, nudging her. ‘Let’s go and take a gander.’
They weren’t the only couple staring eagerly at the rings on display. In fact, there was quite a crowd of young couples pressing round the window, many of the men in uniform, and some of the women as well. Because of the war many of the rings on display were second-hand, but Agnes, with her starry-eyed gaze, didn’t care how worn they were.
The rings were displayed on trays marked with a price, and Agnes automatically positioned herself so that she could look at the trays with the lowest price. She didn’t care how little her engagement ring cost. what she cared about was being engaged to her Ted. But then she saw it – the ring, her ring – and her heart lifted on a surge of protective love.
‘That one looks nice,’ she told Ted, fighting to keep the tremor of desire out of her voice as she pointed to ‘the’ ring.
Ted stared at the narrow band of gold set with a tiny single stone.
‘That one?’ he questioned. ‘But the diamond is so small you can hardly see it.’ He’d saved very hard for this moment and he wanted his Agnes to have a ring that showed how much hard work he had put into that saving, a ring that showed how much he loved her.
‘What about this one?’ he suggested, pointing to ring on the next tray at a higher price.
Agnes looked at the much larger diamond, wanting to please Ted, but at the same time unable to find anything that appealed to her in the flat yellowy coloured stone.
‘It’s very nice,’ she told him, ‘but I really like the other one.’ As she looked at it again it seemed to Agnes that the ring twinkled shyly back at her as though it wanted to be hers.
The ring had caught her eye because it looked so delicate and somehow in need of someone to love and cherish it, just as she felt that Ted loved and cherished her. Because of that, to Agnes it seemed that the ring would be a true symbol of their love, but she didn’t have the words to articulate any of that to Ted.
‘Come on then. Let’s go inside,’ Ted told her.
They entered the shop on the heels of another couple, the man in an army uniform with sergeant’s flashes on his jacket, the young woman on his arm very made up, her hat worn at a very dashing angle, and her checked coat belted tightly round her small waist. She was the kind of woman who immediately attracted attention, a bit like Dulcie, but nowhere near as pretty as Dulcie, Agnes thought loyally. The single tinkle of the shop’s doorbell, as they walked in caused one of the three assistants in the shop to look up from the couple he was already serving, whilst at the same time virtually ignoring Ted and Agnes.
Agnes didn’t mind. She liked to take her time getting used to things, and the shop overawed her a little, with its overhead lights shining down on the trays of rings, nestling against their black-velvet-covered tray, the diamonds in the rings glittering and shining.
Counters ran round three sides of the shop, the fourth side was taken up by the window. The interior of the shop had that damp, slightly bad-drains smell of older buildings. Couples were standing at each of the three sides, studying rings on the trays laid out in front of them. One of the couples, a young man in naval uniform and a pretty girl with a mass of fair curls, were both looking down at the ring the salesman had just shown to them. ‘Is this the one?’ the young man asked the girl. When she nodded and the young man slid it onto her hand, Agnes’s breath caught in her throat in an emotional response to their obvious happiness.
The ring chosen, they were handed over to another assistant, who conducted them to a screened-off area of the shop, where Agnes presumed they
would make their payment. This left a space at the counter free, but just as she and Ted moved towards it, the female half of the couple who had entered the shop ahead of them, and who had been standing at one of the other counters, suddenly pushed past them.
Agnes saw Ted frown, but she was glad that he didn’t say anything or make a fuss. Agnes didn’t like arguments or unpleasantness. Besides, they weren’t in any real rush. No one else had as yet asked to look at the tray on which she’d seen her ring whilst they had been standing outside.
The counter where the other couple had been waiting had now become free. Ted urged Agnes forward, telling the salesman, ‘We’d like to see some rings, please. Some engagement rings.’ He puffed out his chest with pride. Today was, after all, the culmination of a year’s worth of hard work and hard saving, his chance to show Agnes how much she meant to him via the purchase of the engagement ring that would link them together officially in the eyes of the world. Ted loved Agnes; there was nothing he would not do for her. He wanted the world to see that she was spoken for and ‘his’. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had had to step into his dad’s shoes and become the family’s main breadwinner Agnes would have had her ring months ago. Ted, though, had a strong sense of duty and responsibility.
The salesman, dressed in a black suit, a starched shirt and collar, and with a dark coloured tie, his thinning hair slicked back with Brylcreem, inclined his head.
‘Would that be a diamond engagement ring, sir?’
‘Yes,’ Ted answered him firmly, ‘a diamond engagement ring.’
‘And has madam seen anything she particularly likes?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Agnes breathed happily, quickly explaining to the salesman which ring she had liked.
When the salesman went to the window to unlock it and remove the tray with ‘her’ ring on it, Agnes watched him, her attention momentarily distracted by the other couple. They seemed to be quarrelling about something, the woman pushing away the tray of rings in front of her.
Agnes’s attention switched back to the tray being carried towards them, her heart in her mouth and unable to speak for excitement as Ted nodded his head to her to point out to the salesman the ring she wanted.