Jennifer and Michael thought the whole thing was hilarious. There was plenty of time. The look on her mother’s face every time she went to visit was a huge joke to the pair of them. There would be questioning glances, and Michael and Jennifer would laugh all the way home. It seemed, however, that their prayers had been answered when in November, just five months after they had been married, Jennifer began to feel unwell. ‘Can’t put my finger on,’ it she told her friend Julia.
‘Oh, Jennifer, you silly girl, you must be pregnant.’
‘Definitely not,’ she had replied. ‘I haven’t been sick and, anyway, I would know.’ After two weeks she eventually went to the doctor. She was indeed pregnant. ‘Honestly,’ she complained to the family, ‘you’d think I was the first woman ever to be in the family way, the fuss you’re all making.’
It had been a whirlwind year: Christmas proposal, wedding in June, and now a baby on the way. They would spend their first Christmas as a married couple with everyone at Michael’s parents’ house. Jennifer was now feeling better and getting carried away with all the excitement. They were surrounded by a constant clicking of knitting needles, arguments as to who would buy the christening robe, and so it went on.
Jennifer and Michael let them get on with it. Some days she could hardly believe that this was her life now. She had met Michael, fallen in love and got married. They had a little house to live in, which the whole family had helped decorate. Now she was to be a mother. Oh, what a beautiful word that was. Mother. She wondered what her child would look like. Somehow she felt it was a boy. He would be a proper little smiler, ruined by the grandparents if she wasn’t very careful, but, oh, how loved he would be. What did I do to deserve such happiness? she often wondered.
On Christmas Day 1952, Michael’s parents were up early. William was at a loss to understand why as Michael was at work – the railways were running as usual even though it was Christmas – and dinner wasn’t until four. The table had to be extra special this year, and far too much money had been spent on it, as far as William was concerned. When he saw the amount of food for the two families, he asked if the whole street had been invited. Judith smiled. ‘It’s special this year.’ William shook his head but he was just as excited as everyone else about the new baby.
In the early hours of Christmas morning, Jennifer woke when she heard Michael get up for work. She tried to stand up but couldn’t. Her legs were shaky. ‘Something isn’t right,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry, it’ll be all those mince pies we got through last night,’ Michael said, laughing.
Unfortunately, it was more than mince pies. Much more. Jennifer had miscarried and lost the child that had been so wanted. Christmas Day wasn’t celebrated in Judith and William’s house that year, after all. The table remained half decorated, the food uncooked. Jennifer had lost a lot of blood and had been taken into hospital, where Michael sat in the corridor alone, wondering how life could change so rapidly.
In Jesmond, as Christmas evening approached, families slept in chairs around their fires, full of food, sherry and far too much chocolate. Except in two particular households.
Jennifer’s parents, Peggy and Alfie, sat in front of their fire drinking tea. Neither had eaten. They sat in the dark staring at the flames. ‘Today should have been so different,’ Peggy whispered, and began to cry.
Judith had decided to go for a walk along Sandyford Road, just to blow away the cobwebs. She couldn’t cry in front of William. That wouldn’t help at all. She’d known how things could go wrong. She herself had waited so long for a baby, and given up hope and then out of the blue Michael had come along. That was the way of it, thought Judith. Something had gone wrong for Jennifer and the next time would be fine. She had wrapped up warmly, and her feet took her past the local orphanage. She heard the chapel bell from the other side of the wall.
As it rang out, the children of Nazareth House Orphanage raised their voices in song, and the sweet sound carried all the way to Sandyford Road. Judith paused, then leaned against the wall and began to cry.
Wagging Tails and Big Brown Eyes
Jennifer sat staring into the fire. There was so much to be done, yet she was sitting there thinking back over things that couldn’t be changed. At least nobody mentioned babies in her presence now. A whole year later, another Christmas Day and still no baby. Michael had thrown himself into his job, and Jennifer worked hard to make their home a happy, comfortable place. Only when she was on her own would she allow her thoughts to wander. Would she ever be a mother and hold a baby in her arms? They had so much to give a child. She couldn’t help but work out how old her child would have been now. She must stop doing that because it was pointless. A new baby would have taken her mind off it …
Why? she wondered, over and over again. It must be her fault and that was the worst of it. She was the one who didn’t carry her baby to full term. What was wrong with her? There were people she could ask, of course, and tests that could be done. Appointments had been made, but Jennifer had always made excuses to cancel them. At least if she didn’t know it was impossible to have a child there was hope. Without hope …
Michael deserved better. He deserved to be a father.
He would be home from work soon and they were going to his parents for Christmas dinner. Her mum and dad would be here soon to drink a glass of sherry before they made their way to William and Judith’s house together.
Time to stop being miserable and move on, she thought. Michael was very excited about something this year, which had made Jennifer laugh. ‘What are you up to?’ she asked, before he left for work. ‘I know that look, Michael Harrison, and you know I don’t like surprises. Best tell me what’s going on.’
Michael had picked her up swung her round and kissed her. ‘You’re a lucky girl, Mrs Harrison. Christmas dinner cooked for you, presents under the tree and a very special gift later on.’
‘Tell me now,’ Jennifer had insisted.
‘You, young lady, will just have to wait and see what it is.’ He ran out of the door and hurried down the street, waving and laughing.
Jennifer’s heart was warmed. I love him so very much, she thought.
It had been a bittersweet Christmas Day. Michael had arrived from work just as the turkey was being taken out of the oven. They had all enjoyed themselves quietly yet there was an undercurrent of what should have been. It should have been Michael and Jennifer’s child’s first Christmas. It was impossible not to imagine what the day would have been like if their little one had been with them. How could people not understand? It wasn’t just something that went wrong. Someone had even commented that it hadn’t even been a baby at that early stage of pregnancy when Jennifer had miscarried. Well, it was, she thought angrily. From the very first moment she’d known she was pregnant, it had been her baby and she was a mother.
Christmas had brought it all back to her, yet Judith and William had tried so hard to make it lovely for them all, and Jennifer was grateful. There was only that one time, just after tea, when she’d had to make an excuse to leave the room: a children’s choir had come on the wireless. Everyone had begun talking at once to cover the embarrassment.
Later that evening Michael and Jennifer walked home. Michael knew exactly what was on her mind because he was thinking exactly the same thing. He hoped so much that she would like the special surprise present he had for her. It would cheer her up no end, he was sure. He was moving up the promotion ladder at work and the shifts were getting longer. He loved his job and it was secure. They wouldn’t be rich but they could pay their bills and manage nicely, and he was happy with that. No matter what the shift pattern was, he would work it. He never let them down and he was well thought of.
When they arrived home, Jennifer hurried to light the fire. Tonight they would sit in front of it and listen to the wireless. A whole night together, no night shift, and Jennifer was looking forward to it very much indeed.
The fire was just taking hold when Michael announced he
was popping next door and winked, which still made her heart flip.
She was kneeling in front of the hearth when Michael walked in with a big box. ‘Goodness me! Whatever is that?’ she asked, but got no further. There was no need for explanations. Jennifer stared at the box which was now rocking from side to side in Michael’s arms and … barking.
Jennifer leaped to her feet and opened the lid. Her heart melted. A gorgeous little yellow Labrador puppy, with the biggest brown eyes Jennifer had ever seen, was peering up at her. His little tail was wagging furiously, banging against the end of the box. Michael watched as Jennifer picked up the puppy, laughing as it began to lick her and bark at the same time. ‘Well?’ said Michael, hopefully.
‘Oh, he’s absolutely perfect. I love him.’ She put him down and immediately he was barking to be back in her arms, jumping up and down, and gazing at her with those adoring eyes. Jennifer gathered him up and began dancing round the room. Michael watched as the sparkle returned to his wife’s eyes. ‘Thank God,’ he whispered.
The Lost Puppy
‘I’ve got other things,’ Michael said later, and hurried out. He brought back a basket and dog food the neighbours had kept for him. ‘I don’t know a thing about dogs,’ he said, ‘but I expect we’ll learn as we go along.’
‘We’ll love him and take care of him. That’s all that matters, I expect,’ Jennifer replied. The rest of the evening was spent trying to calm down the noisy, excitable puppy. The water bowl was knocked over more than once, and at one point the dog food ended up all over the kitchen floor. Jennifer didn’t care: she hadn’t been so happy in ages. ‘Let’s take him for a walk,’ she pleaded.
Michael looked outside. ‘It’s beginning to snow – it could turn nasty,’ he said, but Jennifer was already putting on her coat, boots, scarf and hat, ready to face the elements.
‘Come on, Michael,’ she said. ‘Hurry now.’
He was glad to see her so happy – and who was he to spoil it? They made their way through Jesmond and along Sandyford Road. The little puppy was thoroughly enjoying himself. When they passed the gates of the Nazareth House Orphanage, his tail was wagging fast, and he pulled on the lead when he saw all the trees inside the gates that led to the main house. ‘For one so small he’s mighty strong.’ Jennifer giggled.
They enjoyed their walk until the puppy was tired. Jennifer picked him up and tucked him into her coat, his little face sticking out. ‘Oh, Michael, just look at those eyes,’ she said, but it was her eyes that Michael was looking at. Shining, sparkling and happy. It had indeed been the perfect present.
Michael sat in front of the fire, feeling wonderfully relaxed, while Jennifer prepared supper. In the background he could hear the clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen but the heat of the fire had made him drowsy. There was barking and the sound of voices. Michael’s head nodded and he dozed. In his dream someone was screaming. It woke him up. It was Jennifer. He ran to the kitchen where he saw Jennifer outside, standing in the snow, shouting, ‘Come back! Come back.’
Michael’s heart froze. There in the darkness, just ahead, the puppy was racing down the street. It took him a moment or two to grab his boots, and then he was outside in the freezing cold to chase the puppy. But it was no good – the puppy was too fast. Michael tried to follow his tracks but the snow was falling heavily now. He carried on looking and calling for more than an hour, to no avail.
When he returned he was hoping against hope that the puppy was back at home. He walked into the kitchen and listened, but heard no sound at all. He kicked off his wellingtons and went into the living room to see Jennifer kneeling in front of the fire. She looked up, and Michael shook his head.
‘It’s my fault,’ she whispered. ‘I opened the door to put the milk bottle out and he just ran past me. I didn’t even give him a name. I couldn’t call his name. It might have helped. Where is he, Michael?’
Michael had no idea. He knelt beside her, shivering. Jennifer continued to stare into the fire.
Just half a mile away on Sandyford Road, for the first time in the history of Nazareth House, it wasn’t a young child who stood at the gates, wondering what life held in store for them. The puppy looked around, wagging his tail. This looked good, with all those trees.
He thoroughly enjoyed himself scampering through the wood and around the trees, but then he shivered. The nice lady who had cuddled him was gone. He gave a weak bark. It wasn’t so much fun now. There were lots and lots of trees and some of the smells around the wood were good, but it was cold and he yelped.
His ears pricked when he heard a door opening somewhere behind him.
Light came from the caretaker’s cottage where smoke was billowing out from the chimney. Old Mr Bell shone a torch into the woods and spotted the puppy shivering in the cold. ‘Where have you come from?’ he said. The puppy ran to him and jumped up, whimpering.
Mr Bell stepped out into the cold and shone his torch around, calling, ‘Is anyone there?’ The puppy must be with somebody, surely. He hurried back to the cottage but the puppy was gone. Mr Bell shivered and closed the door. Must have gone home, he thought, as he walked into his living room to put more coal on the fire.
‘Well I never!’ he exclaimed. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
The puppy had settled himself in front of the fire.
Mr Bell looked at him. ‘One night,’ he said. ‘You go home tomorrow, do you hear?’ Off he went to see what he could find to feed him.
The puppy closed his eyes and basked in the heat of the fire. Think I’m going to like it here, he thought.
The Dog with No Name
Boxing Day was always a let-down after the excitement of Christmas Day. This year Nancy was glad that all the fuss was over and she could expect a more peaceful day. The day after tomorrow the children would perform their nativity play for the lady mayor but today, thankfully, should be quiet enough. They had their breakfast and were sent to play with their new toys and everything seemed to have returned to normal. Nancy watched them for a while, and was happy that Billy seemed to be joining in the games, even though he still didn’t talk much. She had hoped after last night he might be a bit chattier but he seemed to have gone back into himself. Time will help him heal, she thought. All we can do is wait.
Before lunch the children were asking to go outside and play in the snow and Nancy agreed, thinking a run-around would do them all good. It seemed to take for ever to get them into their coats, hats, gloves and wellingtons. Eventually, they were all ready and went outside to play with the helpers, who always came on Boxing Day to give Nancy a break.
She stood and watched them out of the window as they ran into the garden and listened to their squeals of delight as they threw snowballs. She made her way downstairs and went into the kitchen. ‘Got the kettle on, Cook?’ she called.
‘Nancy Harmer, what a question!’ came the reply. Together they sat on either side of the large range and drank tea with a very large slice of cake. ‘It is Christmas, after all,’ Cook said.
Nancy couldn’t have agreed more and they sat in silence as they munched through Cook’s wonderful Christmas cake.
Outside, Billy was feeling sad. The train had been wonderful, and Nancy was kind. Yet deep inside him there was a hurt that would not go away. Every time he wanted to talk, it resurfaced and he would stay silent. He wanted his mummy’s arms around him, then he wanted to be swung high into the air and sit on his daddy’s shoulders. He didn’t want to play trains any more – it wasn’t a real train anyway. Billy closed his eyes and remembered how the real trains sounded, the hissing they made, and the smell of the smoke. Daddy had taken him on the trolley bus to the station to see the trains and then they had gone into the café opposite to have a cup of cocoa. Billy could almost taste it now.
He wandered away from the other children until he was standing at the bottom of the wooded area to the side of the driveway. Head bent, he kicked at the snow, then stopped suddenly when he heard a noise. He s
tood very still and waited. There it was again. In the wood something was moving about. Billy thought it was very strange that he wasn’t frightened. He stepped into the wood. He saw movement behind a clump of trees and moved slowly forward. He heard a bark, and a little puppy ran out from behind a tree. Billy jumped into the air. ‘Hello,’ he said, and waited.
The puppy began barking and running in circles around him. ‘Come here,’ Billy said, and the puppy jumped into his arms, licking him and wagging his tail so furiously that Billy lost his balance and landed flat on his back in the snow. The puppy jumped on top of him and Billy laughed as they rolled around in the snow together. ‘Where have you come from?’ he said. ‘You can’t stay here, you know. We could play for a little while, though. Would you like that?’
Billy had forgotten he couldn’t talk.
‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘Race you to the top of the wood.’ He sped off through the trees, the puppy bounding after him until they were both worn out. Billy cleared the snow off a big rock in the middle of the wood and sat down. The puppy immediately jumped up and settled on his knee.
‘Did you get lost? Have you got no mummy and daddy like me?’ Billy knew some dogs had names around their necks, but although the puppy had a collar there was no name. ‘Tell you what, I’ll give you a name. How about Bob?’ The big brown eyes continued to gaze at him. ‘Scamp?’ Still nothing. ‘I know! Daddy read me a book called Oliver Twist and he was an orphan just like you and me. How about I call you Oliver?’
The Puppy and the Orphan Page 6