Beyond a Misty Shore (11 page)

‘Of course, and I’ll show you the bits of furniture too, but will Lizzie object to me calling over so often?’

Sophie frowned. ‘Seeing as you are doing her a great favour I don’t think she has any right to object and I certainly won’t. If I had my way, Frank, you’d be most welcome.’

Frank felt his heart skip a beat. ‘Do you really mean that, Sophie?’

‘I do. I can’t understand either Aunty Lizzie or your mam’s attitude. You haven’t done anything wrong, Frank. You’re not some sort of criminal. You made a mistake, that’s all, and it’s about time they put that behind them. You’d never bring Nora or her family over to their houses and they know that, but why they stop you visiting I don’t know, especially your mam.’

‘She . . . she’s ashamed of me,’ Frank said bitterly.

‘She shouldn’t be. You fought in the war. You have a good job, you work hard, and you don’t spend your money on drink or the horses or . . . other things. She’s ashamed of Nora but she shouldn’t tar you with the same brush.’

He sighed heavily. He just wished his mam took the same attitude as Sophie but he didn’t hold out much hope of her changing her mind at this stage. Where Nora was concerned she was pretty implacable.

‘What will you do on Christmas Day?’ Sophie asked.

‘Probably what I did last year. Walk down to the Pier Head and watch the shipping, that kills a good few hours, then call in somewhere on the way back for a pint or two. You’d be hard put to get any kind of a Christmas dinner out of Nellie. They all spend most of the day in the pub – Nora included.’

Sophie’s heart went out to him. What a miserable way to spend Christmas Day – a day when families all tried to spend time together. Surely Martha could show some Christian spirit on that one day in the year and have her eldest son for dinner? It wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe she’d mention it to Lizzie, who seemed to have a bit of influence with Martha. But she would say nothing to Frank, she thought, in case his mam refused to relent. That would only make matters worse.

A
S CHRISTMAS DREW NEARER
the more excited both Billy and Bella became. They wrote more notes to Santa Claus and tried their best to improve their behaviour, which seemed infinitely harder for Billy than Bella, but Sophie had said firmly that Santa could see everything they did and made a note of it.

‘I’m beginning to think these little letters are a good idea, Sophie. That lad isn’t half the handful he usually is, he’s even polished his own boots,’ Lizzie had remarked after Frank had carried across the fort which was almost complete. You couldn’t have got anything better in the shops and it hadn’t cost her a penny so far, she’d thought. Jim had also admired it and had said later that he’d take Frank out for a drink as a sort of payment for he was flatly refusing to take any money
for his time and work. It was a pleasure to do it, he’d said and she could see that he meant it.

When he’d brought over the dolls’ house, in the first stages of its construction, Sophie had been delighted with it. ‘It’s going to be perfect, Frank. The size is just right; it will fit easily on top of the table so she can play with it to her heart’s content after meals.’ She’d examined the miniature table and chairs he’d made closely. ‘You really are very clever with wood, Frank. Look, Aunty Lizzie, the chairs even have little stretchers holding the legs together.’

Frank had smiled, basking in the unaccustomed attention and the praise being heaped upon him. ‘I can sit and do the little pieces in my break at work.’

‘Sophie’s found some lovely material for curtains and things and she’s going to decorate them with bits of lace and ribbon. She should have been a proper seamstress, she’s so good at sewing,’ Lizzie had impressed upon him, not wishing her niece’s talents to be ignored.

Martha had just tutted and raised her eyes when she’d first heard how Sophie had asked him to help out with the toys but now Lizzie gave her a running commentary on their progress. The fact that her son seemed to be welcome in Lizzie’s house and was refusing any form of payment had initially annoyed Martha but lately she’d begun to take more notice of her friend when she said that it really was such a terrible shame that a pleasant, well-mannered, generous fellow like Frank should have to put up with the likes of the Richardses, working away in that kitchen until all hours and
then having to keep the half-finished toys in the back yard and pray that Bertie wouldn’t fall on them and smash them as he staggered to and from the privy. Lizzie had shuddered when she’d uttered the word. ‘I just dread to think what
that place
is like!’

Both women were desperately trying to get together enough food to put a decent dinner on the table on Christmas Day but it was far from easy. Nearly all the ingredients for both the pudding and the mince pies were unobtainable for rationing hadn’t been relaxed, let alone abolished.

‘I’ll be lucky if I can get a bit of meat – any kind of meat at all for the dinner,’ Martha had complained after they’d stood for hours in the queue at the butcher’s, only to learn there would be not the slightest chance of a turkey, goose, duck or even a very small chicken, unless you knew someone who lived in the country and kept them, the butcher had stated morosely. He was having to bear the brunt of his disgruntled customers’ outraged disappointment.

‘I ask you, Lizzie, who around here knows anyone who lives in the country? The man’s a fool! You’ll see, we’ll finish up with a few pathetic sausages if we’re lucky.’

‘We’ll have potatoes and veg, we’ll manage, Martha. We always do,’ Lizzie had replied, but without much conviction. They were both very disappointed; they’d thought now that the war was over this Christmas would be a big improvement on the last six.

She was bemoaning the fact later that evening to Jim and the girls, wondering if they could manage between them to
save their rations of flour, margarine, sugar and eggs to make a plain Victoria sponge which could take the place of the traditional pudding. There would be no jam to go in it, of course.

Sophie had been hemming a pair of tiny red and white gingham curtains for the kitchen of the dolls’ house but she pondered the dilemma as she rethreaded her needle. ‘I wonder if we wrote to Mrs Sayle – she’s the wife of the farmer Maria worked for when she was a Land Girl – and sent her the money, would she let us have a goose? They’ve always kept chickens and geese. If she parcelled it up well in straw and cardboard she could send it across on the steam packet and one of us could go down and pick it up,’ she suggested.

Lizzie looked at her with astonishment before her face became wreathed in smiles. ‘A goose! A whole goose! Lord above! We haven’t had one for years and years. That would be the best Christmas present ever, Sophie! Do you think she would let us have one?’

‘Who would let us have what?’ Maria asked, catching the end of the conversation. She was going out to the cinema in town with Ben Seddon and looked very smart in her black and white tweed coat and the small green hat with the black feather that she’d saved up her coupons to purchase at Heaton’s (although she’d added the black feather herself ).

‘Will you write to Mrs Sayle and beg her to let us have a goose for the Christmas dinner? We’ll send her the money.
You know you always got on well with her and Aunty Lizzie is having a terrible time trying to get
anything
to make some sort of a festival meal.’

‘Oh, please, Maria? It would be such a
treat
,’ Lizzie pleaded.

Maria smiled. ‘I’ll write when I get in later tonight and then you can post it in the morning, Aunty Lizzie. We’ll need something festive to cheer us up; it’s our first Christmas away from the island. That will be Ben now, see you later.’ Maria picked up her bag and went into the lobby. She liked Ben Seddon but that was all. She often went out with him, mainly to the cinema or a dance, but there was no romance in the offing. Not on her part anyway. She’d realised weeks ago that this Christmas would bring back very painful memories. It would be the first one away from the island and her mam, and without Hans, and writing to Maude Sayle would only make her think of the times she’d spent working beside him in the fields.

Sophie carried on with her tasks while Lizzie made a pot of tea and Jim was engrossed in his newspaper but an idea was taking shape in her mind. When Lizzie placed a mug of tea beside her, she put down the sewing.

‘Aunty Lizzie, if she sends us a good size bird do you think we should share it with Mrs Ryan and her family? It seems a bit sort of selfish for us to keep it all for ourselves when things are so scarce.’

Lizzie frowned. ‘You mean cut it in half?’

‘No. What if we shared everything and had our Christmas
dinner together? Maria and I would be glad to help out with all the preparations and the washing up.’

This hadn’t occurred to Lizzie. ‘You mean ask Martha and Pat to come in here?’

Sophie nodded eagerly. ‘And young Robbie and . . . Frank too, of course. And we can’t leave Mr Chatsworth out either, not when it’s going to be such a great meal.’

Lizzie stared at her hard. ‘Martha hasn’t had him for a meal – any meal – since he married
that
one.’

‘I know, but he told me that last year he spent the day walking to and from the river, just stopping off for a pint on the way back. They were all in the pub so I don’t think he even got any kind of dinner. Aunty Lizzie, that’s a terrible way to have to spend Christmas Day and he’s been so kind making the toys for us and not taking a penny for them. Surely it’s the least we can do to include him? It will be a chance for us all to have a really great day,’ she pleaded.

Put like that Lizzie could find no reason to refuse but she wondered how Martha would take it. Still, Sophie was right. If they managed to get a goose, with potatoes and vegetables, and if she and Martha scraped together enough ingredients for a cake, and if Jim could get something for them to drink, it would be a meal to remember. She smiled at her niece. ‘You’ve got a kind heart, Sophie. You’re right, it’s no way for anyone to spend Christmas. We’ll have a great day. The kids can make paper chains to decorate the kitchen, that will keep them quiet, and we should be able to get holly and a small
tree. Yes, luv, we’ll have the best Christmas we’ve had in years.’

Lizzie had worked out what she was going to say to her friend before she went to see her, after she’d posted the letter Maria had written. Martha was so taken with the thought of a communal Christmas dinner with the Quines, and with the possibility of a whole
goose
no less, that when Lizzie informed her that Sophie was insisting they invite Frank too, considering he’d made the toys, she felt she really couldn’t object.

‘Under normal circumstances, Lizzie, I wouldn’t have him over the doorstep, but . . .’

‘It’s not your doorstep, Martha,’ Lizzie succinctly reminded her.

‘Oh, you know what I mean. But . . . but these are exceptional circumstances. Does she think this woman will actually send a goose over?’

‘Maria said she told her in her letter how bad things still are over here, about how the city is still in ruins and there’s hardly anything in the shops – the ones that are still standing – and that it’s their first Christmas away . . .’

Martha nodded. ‘It will seem like a miracle, Lizzie. We’ll be the envy of the entire street!’

Lizzie beamed with satisfaction. ‘We’ll be the envy of the entire
neighbourhood
, Martha. Now, let’s sit down and see about getting together the rest of the stuff and you can send your Robbie in after school and we’ll get the kids started making the paper chains. The few I had were years old and all fell to bits when I took them down last year.’

To Lizzie’s delight and Sophie’s relief, Maude Sayle agreed to send the bird over, ready plucked and wrapped in straw and cardboard. One of the captains employed by the Steam Packet Company was a cousin and would see that the parcel arrived safely and Jim would collect it. Billy, Robbie and Bella spent hours making paper chains from newspaper which they’d painted red and green, and with the sprigs of holly and a small tree, festooned with some rather tarnished and tatty tinsel plus a variety of homemade decorations, Lizzie declared that she’d not seen the kitchen looking so bright and cheerful for years.

On Christmas Eve it took all Sophie’s patience to get the two over-excited children to bed while Lizzie, whose patience had worn thin, warned them both vociferously that if there was any more nonsense out of them then they’d find that Santa hadn’t left them anything at all when they woke in the morning.

‘They’ll settle down eventually, Aunty Lizzie,’ Maria laughed. ‘We used to be so excited that every little sound we heard, we thought Santa had arrived, didn’t we, Sophie?’

‘We were in and out of bed by the minutes, we drove Mam mad,’ Sophie replied. She wished her mother could be with them for Christmas, but they’d sent gifts to her and she was going to spend the day with friends.

‘Well, the last thing we want is for them still to be up when Frank brings the toys over to us, there’s not enough room in this kitchen to hide them. He’ll just have to put them in the yard. Martha will be in later with her dishes and things
and Pat’s going to bring their chairs in tomorrow morning. I did ask Mr Chatsworth if he would join us but he refused – something about not wanting to intrude – so I said I’d pass a plate in to him. It’s just as well as it’s going to be a terrible squeeze, but—’