Christmas Past (4 page)

‘It’s only Prince Charming come to escort Cinders to the ball,’ he joked, trying hard not to stare at her.

Mary laughed and blushed, her eyes shining. She would have liked to tell him how handsome he looked in his dark blue suit and stiff-collared white shirt, but it wouldn’t be right. She
suddenly realised he might not be here for much longer. He had confided to her a few days before that he would soon be joining up, and it was only then that she had realised how fond of him she had
become.

‘Come on then,’ he said, ‘the coach awaits yer.’

She looked at Gladys and the doctor. ‘I shan’t be late,’ she said, then suddenly she gave them both a quick hug. ‘Thanks for everything,’ she whispered and hurried
out, before they could notice the tears in her eyes.

‘Well,’ said the doctor, ‘let’s hope they enjoy themselves. I almost wish we were going with them.’

Tom parked the car outside the school. The music reached them as he opened the car door, and Mary began to wish she hadn’t come. Everybody would stare when she walked in.
What if she couldn’t dance and made a fool of herself in front of everyone? She had found the steps easy in the scullery. Mrs Roberts had brought down the gramophone from the spare room, a
lovely polished cabinet affair with two doors at the front and a picture of a little dog inside. Dr Roberts had taught her the waltz, the foxtrot and the veleta, and had told her about the Paul
Jones, when everyone swapped partners – she would sit that one out. That was if anyone asked her to dance in the first place. Mrs Roberts had changed the records and kept the gramophone wound
up, and they’d all laughed when he had bowed and thanked her at the end of each dance. Mary had been touched when he had asked his wife for the last waltz, and had made herself scarce,
leaving the couple alone.

In the schoolroom a four-piece band was playing but no one was dancing. Mary almost fainted when she realised she had to cross the large expanse of wooden floor to reach the
cloakroom, but Tom’s sisters Bessie and Lucy linked arms with her and marched her across. Every eye in the room followed the trio and Bessie giggled as they heard two old dears mutter to each
other about how disgraceful her backless dress was. They patted their hair into place and Lucy lent Mary a lipstick.

‘Remind me to wipe it off before we go home,’ Bessie said. ‘Me dad’ll have a fit if he sees us caked up in lipstick.’

Mary grinned and relaxed now she knew Bessie and Lucy were just as friendly as their brother. She just wished her own sisters weren’t so far away.

Satisfied with their appearance at last, they marched out of the cloakroom to join the other dancers, finding seats amongst the rows of chairs lining three sides of the room. The band was on a
raised platform taking up nearly the whole of the other wall, and in the corner stood a trestle table filled with cups and saucers, and a tea urn larger than anything Mary had seen before. Also on
the table were plates already containing two sandwiches and a bun. Every so often someone would trundle a pram across the floor, sometimes containing two babies who couldn’t have been born
more than nine months apart.

The two old dears got up to dance. The band was playing ‘Daisy Daisy’ with a few wrong notes, and soon several couples had taken to the floor, most of them women dancing together, or
little girls dragging boy cousins or playmates, much to their chagrin.

Mary asked her friends where all the men were.

‘They’ll be here when the pub closes at ten,’ said Lucy. ‘You won’t get the lads dancing until they’ve had a pint or two.’ ‘Then they’ll
expect to walk us home.’ Bessie laughed. ‘They’re in for a disappointment tonight, though. We’ll be riding home in style.’

‘Just depends who asks us,’ said Lucy. ‘I quite fancy Harry Holmes from Millington.’

‘Yer’d better not let me dad know,’ Bessie said. ‘The Millington gang have quite a reputation.’

Tom had not come in with them, disappearing in the direction of the pub, but now he walked in and came over to them.

‘Well, Cinders, how about a dance with Prince Charming?’

‘What’s up wi’ you then, coming in before closing time? Wonders’ll never cease.’

Tom took no notice of Lucy. After one pint he had for some reason become rather bored with the same old jokes, and decided Mary would make better company.

She wished he hadn’t asked her to dance yet. The floor was still rather empty and everybody would see if she stumbled. Luckily her long dress covered her ankles and as Tom swept her into a
foxtrot she was surprised how easy he was to dance with. Still, she suspected he had had plenty of experience; she could see the envy in some of the girls’ eyes as they twirled past.

The next two dances he had with Bessie and Lucy but after that he never left Mary’s side. The floor became crowded as the men and youths filed in when the pub closed, red-faced, jovial and
laughing far too loudly. When the band struck up the Paul Jones, Tom persuaded her on to the floor despite her protests, and she wondered nervously which of them would be her next partner.

Jack Holmes couldn’t believe his luck when he found himself with Mary in his arms. He could feel the swell of her breasts through his shirt and pressed his body a little closer into hers.
Mary blushed and tried to loosen his grasp. She could feel his manliness and even though she was embarrassed it excited her too, to be held like this.

‘I shall have to come here more often,’ Jack said. ‘I never knew Longfield possessed such beautiful partners.’

Mary smiled nervously, keeping quiet instead of saying something stupid.

‘I’m Jack Holmes,’ he offered. Mary still said nothing. ‘Well, what should I call you? I can’t just say hey you all the time.’

Mary smiled. ‘Mary O’Connor,’ she said.

‘I might have known it. The only girl in the room to steal my heart and she turns out to be a foreigner, a real Irish colleen.’

‘I’m not Irish. My grandparents were, but my parents were born in Newcastle, and so was I.’

‘Well, at least we have one thing in common – we were both brought up amongst the coal dust.’

Mary noticed everyone had changed partners again but Jack had kept a tight hold on her.

‘My da works in the pit,’ Mary volunteered.

‘So do I.’

The music finished with a roll of drums. Jack bowed slightly, surprising Mary, and thanked her before leading her back to her chair.

‘Trust you to get the pick of the bunch,’ said Bessie. ‘Every girl in the room fancies Jack Holmes.’

‘’Cept me,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s his brother I fancy.’

‘You just keep away from that one,’ said Tom. ‘I’ll guarantee there’ll be a fight before the night is out. He’s been making up to young Saunders’s wife
all night, and Saunders’ll not put up with that. He always gets a bit nasty after a drink or two.’

Tom queued for refreshments in the interval and claimed every dance afterwards. Suddenly Mary realised it was time to leave.

Lucy had at last been asked to dance by Harry Holmes. She began to sulk at having to leave, but as no one had offered to walk her home she had no option but to go with them.

Mary was on cloud seven. Not only had she been to her first dance, but she’d enjoyed every moment, hadn’t made a fool of herself, and had danced with the two best-looking men in the
room.

As they drove down the hill along the side of the reservoir and up the other side, Tom held her hand in between changing gears. He considered his feelings carefully. He believed he had fallen
in love tonight. Well, not just tonight – he supposed it had happened the day he first set eyes on her at the station. There wasn’t much he could do about it, though. Mary was too young
to be tied down, especially to a soldier, and that’s what he’d be in a few weeks’ time. Still, she was worth waiting for, and if she felt the same as he did when he came back he
would marry her. In the meantime he didn’t know how he was going to live without seeing her, touching her, just being near her. God, it was going to be slow torture.

Mary gazed up at the moon. It seemed to be smiling down at her through the dark looming tree branches, hanging like a balloon, as though she could catch it by its string before it floated away.
She returned its smile. She too felt as if she was in love, but the trouble was she didn’t know whether it was with Tom or Jack Holmes. She hadn’t thought about loving anyone until
tonight. Tom had started it by looking so handsome, by caring for her and looking after her. But then the feeling she’d experienced with Jack had been different altogether: more exciting,
more sinful somehow.

Maybe she loved both of them. Anyway, tonight she had enough love for everybody. She was overflowing with it, and she had never been so happy in her life.

It was one of those days when nothing went right. Tom had called his employer a bloody idiot, and although he had apologised immediately Rowland Roberts had stormed out of the
car and slammed the door, leaving Tom to assess the damage. Tom, who was trying to teach the doctor to drive in the few days left before his departure, couldn’t understand the man’s
inability to turn left. He had almost demolished the gatepost at the bottom of the drive, and Tom, who had tended the motor as though it was a baby, had become incensed at the sight of the dented
mudguard.

The doctor slammed every door in the house, shouted at Mary and ignored his wife. The truth was he actually felt a bloody idiot; Tom had taken to the wheel like a duck to water
and the older man had expected to do the same. After cooling down he realised he would either have to get back in the driving seat or employ another driver, though where he could hope to find one
with all the young men joining up God only knew. In any case, now Mary had taken over most of the outside work he doubted if he really needed another handyman. The lass was worth her weight in
gold. Amazingly, she never seemed to run out of energy, and actually appeared to enjoy all the work.

Mary was feeling hot and miserable, even before the doctor snapped at her. She had just finished pegging out three lines of washing when the heavens opened and it poured with rain, so she had
brought the whole lot in again and heaved it up on to the rack over the fire. Now the kitchen was filled with steam, not only from the damp washing but also from the plum puddings boiling away over
the fire in readiness for Christmas. The condensation ran down the windows, dulled the brassware, and moistened Mary’s hair so that it curled up the wrong way over her forehead, just when she
wanted to look nice for Tom tonight.

On Mondays she usually paid an evening visit to Tom’s family, enjoying the chattering of Bessie and Lucy, and playing a game of Shop Missis with his young brothers Cyril and Douglas, but
tonight she was staying in to keep an eye on the Christmas cakes in the oven. Dr Roberts had a choir practice in the schoolroom and he was taking his wife with him to do the refreshments, so Tom
would more than likely be coming to the house to keep her company. It had been taken for granted since the dance that Tom and Mary were courting. Everybody seemed delighted, but a cloud hung over
the couple as the day of Tom’s departure drew near. Although Tom hadn’t discussed the war with Mary, she had started listening to the wireless and knew he would probably be sent to
France, and France to Mary sounded like the other side of the world.

Over the past few weeks Mary had changed. She had always liked Tom, but now when he kissed her he awakened feelings in her she hadn’t known she possessed. She knew now that it was Tom she
loved and she couldn’t bear the thought of his going, worse still the possibility of his never coming back. Yet he had to go, along with all the other young men who had received their call-up
papers.

The doctor was in a more amiable frame of mind when he came in for tea. He seemed to be getting the hang of steering at last and he always felt happier on practice night, especially when they
were rehearsing carols. Dr Roberts loved carols and looked forward to leading the choir not only at the charity concert in the school, but also in the run-up to Christmas when they visited the
local pubs and collected donations for the orphanage. Gladys used the money to buy a present for each child and a few luxuries so that the nuns could organise a party. Dr Roberts guessed the young
novices gained as much pleasure out of the event as the children.

Mary chopped vigorously at the dried chives, then beat them into the bowl of eggs and cheese ready to make omelettes. She always did a light meal on rehearsal nights so as not to upset the
doctor’s digestion. She had made a junket to follow, so she wouldn’t need to open the oven door and spoil the dark rich Christmas cakes.

The table was already set, and Mary marvelled as usual that she should be sharing the meal with her employers. The fact was she was treated almost like a daughter, and she never failed to be
grateful. She wondered what to wear tonight and couldn’t wait to soak herself in the long bathtub. At least with the fire roaring away to keep the oven hot there would be no shortage of hot
water.

She decided on her brown dress. Fashioned in lovely soft shantung, it was supposed to be worn at Christmas, but as Tom wouldn’t be here then she would wear it tonight. She wanted him to
remember her looking her best. She slipped into the satin panties and brassiere she had bought on her last trip to Sheffield. It was the first time Mary had ever spent anything on herself apart
from essentials. She had spent the rest of her accumulated wages on presents: warm stockings for her ma, Norah and Kathleen, socks for her da, a dictionary for Bill – the only studious one
– a book about animals for Jimmy and for little Michael a brightly illustrated nursery rhyme book. A handkerchief for Father Flynn, and a pretty lace one for Joyce Bailey, which she sent
direct to Lil’s house in case her ma refused to deliver it on her behalf.

Dr Roberts had offered to pay for Mary to travel home for Christmas, and longing to see her family she had almost accepted his offer. Then, realising how much the Robertses would miss her help
in the house over the busy period, she had decided to stay here. Besides, although she loved and missed her family, Moorland House had worked its magic on Mary so that she now felt as much at home
here as she had in Newcastle.