There'll Be Blue Skies (23 page)

It was going to be all right, she kept telling herself, as she hung the navy sweater over her shoulders just like Anne did. The rain had stopped, the sun had come out, she’d wrapped all her Christmas presents – and John Hicks would be here soon.

She gasped in horror as she looked at the clock. He’d be here any minute, and she hadn’t done a thing to help Peggy with the tea. Ramming on the sturdy shoes which spoilt the whole effect, she ran downstairs to the kitchen.

‘You look lovely,’ said Peggy.

‘Yes, you do, and I have the perfect earrings you can borrow.’ Anne hurried away as Peggy checked on the steaming Christmas pudding and finished dusting the cake with the last of the icing sugar.

‘That looks delicious,’ said Sally, her mouth watering.

‘It’s only sponge,’ she said ruefully. ‘I couldn’t find any dried fruit for love nor money, so there won’t be a proper Christmas cake this year. Thank goodness I have a store of plum puddings.’

She turned from the cake and dug into a box that was sitting on the kitchen chair. ‘I hope these will fit, Sally, but I thought you’d like something a bit more glamorous than those you’re always wearing.’

Sally gasped as she pulled out a stylish pair of navy and white shoes. They were of the softest leather, with an elegant heel, and a bow just above the peep-toe. ‘Oh, Peggy,’ she breathed. ‘Are you sure? They look brand new.’

‘They were a gift from my sister Doris, last Christmas,’ she said, ‘but as I don’t go anywhere to wear them, they sit in the cupboard untouched. You may keep them if you like.’

Sally couldn’t stop grinning. It seemed Christmas had already arrived. Carefully easing her bare feet into the shoes, she discovered they fitted perfectly. ‘I feel like Cinderella,’ she said, and laughed as she tottered on the heels and had to steady herself.

‘As long as that doesn’t make me one of the ugly sisters,’ laughed Anne, returning to the kitchen. She handed Sally a pair of clip-on earrings. ‘They aren’t real pearls,’ she said, ‘and they might pinch a bit after a while. But they’re the finishing touch you need for that outfit.’

Sally put on the earrings and studied the effect in the glassed portrait of the King and Queen that hung above the range mantelpiece. ‘I look very grown-up,’ she breathed.

‘You look like a very pretty sixteen-year-old girl who’s having a bit of fun for a change,’ said Peggy. ‘Now, perhaps we can get on and finish putting out the tea.’

Sally rushed to help, carefully balancing on the unfamiliar high-heeled shoes that forced her to move more slowly – and, she hoped, as elegantly as Anne and Cissy. Carrying the plates of sandwiches into the dining room, she thought she’d never seen it look so lovely.

The heavy curtains had been drawn and in the bay window stood a fir tree decorated with shiny baubles and tinsel, its clean, winter-pine smell mingling with the sweet burning apple-wood in the hearth. There was more tinsel draped over the picture frames, and long, colourful paper chains festooned the ceiling. The boys had been busy making them over the past three days.

The mantelpiece had been decorated with holly, candles and trailing ivy – and with three red felt stockings, each embellished by Sally with ribbon that spelled out each boy’s name. The sewing machine had been tucked into a corner to make room for two more comfortable chairs, and Ernie’s wheelchair was festooned with balloons and yet more silver tinsel.

The six small tables had been firmly wedged together, and were now covered with a crisp white cloth that had crocheted lace at the hem. In the centre was a bowl of artfully arranged holly, mistletoe and ivy. The best china was set out, and there were white paper napkins with pictures of holly on them on each side-plate.

Sally gazed in awe at everything. This would be a real Christmas, with a real family, so very far removed from the ones at home when Dad wasn’t around. No wonder Ernie was so excited. ‘You’ve been ever so busy, Peggy. It all looks wonderful, and I’m sorry I haven’t been much use today.’

‘I didn’t expect you to be,’ she replied, putting down a plate of scones and rearranging the pots of jam. ‘Anyway, I had Anne and Cissy to help, and that was quite enough, what with Jim and Ron getting under my feet.’

She moved the central floral display half an inch to the left. ‘Put the cake there, Anne,’ she ordered, ‘and mind you keep room for the teapot. I’ll just go and get the sausage rolls.’

‘Sausage rolls?’ said Anne. ‘How did you get hold of sausage meat, and enough fat for pastry, when you used the last for the cake?’

There was a pink flush to Peggy’s face as she avoided her daughter’s eyes. ‘I swapped a tin of fruit salad for the extra marg with one of the neighbours. Your dad brought the sausage meat home last night along with a nice fat capon. As I needed all of it for the next couple of days, I didn’t ask where he got them.’

‘Someone mention my name?’ Jim strolled into the dining room with Mrs Finch clinging to his arm. He carefully helped her into the armchair by the tree, and handed her the bag of knitting.

‘You’ve been at it again, haven’t you, Dad?’ hissed Anne. ‘If you get caught, you’ll have all of us in trouble.’

‘Now, then, Annie me darling, don’t you be fretting your pretty head about a bit of sausage and an old chicken. To be sure the butcher was glad to give them in exchange for a couple of hares.’

‘If you believe that, you’ll believe anything,’ muttered Peggy. ‘Ron hasn’t been out for at least three days, so where those hares were supposed to come from, I don’t know.’

‘Can I bring these boys in now?’ said Cissy plaintively from the doorway. ‘Only I’m sick of being stuck down in the basement with them, and they refuse to listen to a word I say.’

Without waiting for permission, Bob and Charlie dashed into the room. Cissy put Ernie carefully on his feet, and gave him his walking stick.

He eyed it with loathing and dropped it to the floor before hobbling over to the tree. His eyes shone as he stared at it in wonderment. ‘Cor,’ he breathed. ‘I ain’t never seen one that big before.’

Then he caught sight of the stocking with his name on it over the fireplace, and almost tripped over the rug in his eagerness to reach it. ‘Will Santa really come?’

‘Of course he will,’ said Sally. ‘Come on, Ernie, you promised you’d sit still and be good.’ She carried him to the wheelchair and plonked him down before handing him a comic.

He eyed her solemnly. ‘You look different,’ he said. ‘And them shoes ain’t yours.’

Sally was saved from having to reply by an urgent chorus from the other two boys. ‘Can’t we have tea yet? Why do we have to wait?’

The demands fell on deaf ears as Peggy made them sit on the floor with their books. ‘You’ll stay there and mind your manners,’ she said sternly, ‘otherwise there will be no cake.’

‘You look very glamorous, Sally,’ murmured Cissy, taking in the shoes and clothes. ‘But you could do with a bit of make-up to bring out your eyes. I can do it for you if you like?’

‘Oh, I dunno,’ replied Sally. ‘D’you think I should? Only I feel a bit overdone as it is, and I only got a bit of one of Mum’s old lipsticks.’

‘Quite right, Sal,’ said Jim. ‘You’ve the looks of a film star about you today. You’ll not be needing powder and paint.’ He shot his youngest daughter a glance, taking in the mascara, rouge and lipstick.

Cissy didn’t seem at all put out as she sank gracefully into the other armchair and proceeded to arrange her pleated skirt and pale pink cardigan to her satisfaction. With a cautious pat to her bright blonde head, she turned her attention to the latest
Picturegoer
magazine.

Ron sauntered into the room with a very muddy Harvey. He was still dressed in his poacher’s coat and cloth cap, but at least he’d taken off his boots. ‘Is the tea ready, Peggy? Sure, and I’m spitting feathers.’

She eyed him in horror. ‘Not until you’ve taken the dog downstairs, got rid of that coat and cap and had a wash,’ she said, and sighed with exasperation. ‘Honestly, Ron, we’ve got a visitor coming, and just look at you.’

‘I thought it was young John coming, not the blooming King,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve known that boy since he was in nappies. He’ll not be minding a bit of honest dirt.’

‘Well I do,’ she retorted. ‘Out – the pair of you.’ She advanced on them, and Harvey was the first to beat a hasty retreat, Ron hard at his heels.

Sally hurried to fetch the dustpan and brush, and was sweeping up the muddy paw-prints from the rug when the doorbell rang. She scurried back to the kitchen. ‘Oh, Gawd,’ she muttered, stowing them in the cupboard under the sink. ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’

Ron’s face and hair were wet from his vigorous ablutions at the sink. He reached for the kitchen towel and rubbed himself dry. ‘Last-minute nerves, eh?’ He chuckled. ‘I remember the first time I went over the top. Nerves were jumping so bad I thought I’d pee in me pants, so I did. Did I ever tell you how I got me shrapnel?’

‘I see nothing’s changed, Ron.’ The amused voice came from the doorway. ‘Still going on about that war you won single-handedly, eh?’ John Hicks stepped into the kitchen, his dark hair glistening with raindrops, the heavy raincoat soaked at the shoulders.

‘You’re looking well, John, so you are. It’s been a while, me boy.’ Ron pumped his hand enthusiastically as he grinned up at him.

John’s gaze drifted beyond the older man and settled on Sally with dark blue intensity for a moment before he returned his attention to Ron. ‘I’ve got something for you, Ron,’ he said, digging into the deep pocket of his raincoat. ‘I hope you’re still smoking this rough old stuff.’

‘Well, I’ll be …’ Ron took the roll of tobacco and set about filling his pipe. ‘I always said you were a good boy, John. God bless your soul.’

Sally saw Peggy scuttle back into the dining room, and watched the scene nervously, waiting for the moment when John could give her his full attention. She didn’t have to wait long.

‘Hello Sally Turner,’ he said, that long-lashed blue gaze settling on her again. ‘I brought you something too. Call it an early Christmas present.’

‘Oh,’ she said nervously. ‘You shouldn’t ’ave done that. I ain’t … haven’t got nothing for you.’

He dug in another pocket and handed her a square parcel neatly wrapped in Christmas paper. ‘I didn’t expect you to,’ he said lightly, ‘but you’re not to unwrap that until tomorrow.’ He gazed down at her. ‘You look lovely,’ he murmured.

Sally blushed and couldn’t think straight with him looking at her like that. She clasped his gift, longing to open it – but full of remorse that she had nothing to give in return. After a moment of agonising silence, she finally remembered her manners. ‘Your coat’s soaked through,’ she managed. ‘Let me hang it up.’

He untied the belt on the navy gabardine mackintosh and undid the buttons before dragging it off. ‘It’s a heavy old thing when it gets wet,’ he said, draping it over the chair by the range, and rooting about once more in the pockets.

He pulled out a bottle of rum, three candy-striped paper bags, and four small wrapped parcels. ‘I feel like Father Christmas,’ he said. ‘I hope I’ve remembered everyone.’

‘If those are what I think they are,’ she said, eyeing the paper bags, ‘then the boys will be thrilled. You are kind,’ she finished softly.

‘I like Christmas,’ he replied, ‘and I especially like the way your eyes light up with gold flecks when you’re smiling.’

Sally heard Ron snort and didn’t know where to look. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ she stammered.

‘I have to do something to get you to notice me,’ he murmured.

She looked up at him and grinned. ‘Oh, I think you’ve already done enough,’ she replied, ‘what with pulling me under benches and tripping me up on rubble.’

‘Sorry about that, but if you will keep getting into dangerous situations, what’s a man to do?’

She had no answer to this and was quite relieved when the moment was broken by Jim’s hearty voice.

‘Well, John, and it’s good to see you.’ They shook hands, and Jim’s eyes widened as he was handed the rum. He gave a low whistle. ‘You obviously have better contacts than me, son. I haven’t seen this much rum for months.’

‘It was a gift from a grateful householder who had a chimney fire.’

Jim patted the bottle and grinned. ‘To be sure and we’ll have a good tot of this before the night’s out. Come away in and set you down. The others are waiting.’

John glanced over his shoulder and gave Sally a wink as Jim steered him forcefully across the hall and into the dining room. Sally clutched her present and followed them, Ron’s clumping footsteps close behind her.

Peggy kissed John’s cheek in thanks as he handed her one of the little parcels, and asked after his parents. Cissy and Anne thanked him prettily, and Mrs Finch blushed like a young girl as John handed her the small gift and wished her a Happy Christmas. Bob and Charlie were getting overexcited and demanded to be allowed to eat their sweets immediately.

‘All the presents are going under the tree until tomorrow,’ said Peggy, gathering them back again and trying to be stern. ‘And that goes for yours as well, Sally.’

She realised she’d been clutching the parcel to her chest, and hastily placed the precious gift beneath the sweet-smelling branches as John approached Ernie.

‘Hello, Ernie,’ he said quietly, hunkering down so they were on the same level. ‘You don’t know me, but my name’s John. And these are for you – but you’d better do what Peggy says, or I’ll be in a whole heap of trouble. And we don’t want that at Christmas, do we?’