A Child's Voice Calling (13 page)

Mabel succumbed. ‘Thank yer, Harry, that’d be lovely. An’ thanks, Alice, it’s good o’ yer.’

Harry beamed. ‘Yes, thank yer, Alice. Oh, and Mabel, I got a little present for yer.’ He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a small box.

So he
had
brought her a present!

‘Just a minute, I got one for you as well.’ And off she flew upstairs to fetch the pair of socks she had knitted and wrapped in red paper.

Daisy came running to the door, followed by George. ‘Ooh, i’n’t it cold out here? D’ye think the pond in the park’ll be froze over tomorrow, so’s we can skate?’ Daisy jumped up and down as she spoke, while George, who had become interested in astronomy, looked up at the twinkling stars and offered to show Harry the Plough.

Mabel returned with her gift, flushed and self-conscious. ‘I made ’em meself,’ she said shyly. ‘I hope they fit all right.’

‘Oh, Mabel.’ Words failed him as he turned the wrapped packet over in his hands and gazed up with frankly adoring eyes at the most beautiful girl in the world. Dumbly he handed over his own gift.

‘Shut that door!’ cried Annie sharply from inside the house. ‘You’re letting in all the cold air.’

So regretfully Mabel had to close the door on her young man and brace herself to tell her mother of the change of plan.

Annie was so disappointed that Mabel felt she had been very selfish, but could not deny herself the joy of going to the park with Harry. In the end it was arranged that Annie and Mabel would attend the Holy Communion service at eight o’clock, then Annie would stay at home to cook the dinner while Alice took George and Daisy to church. Albert would
be working until one and Jack said he was visiting his mother overnight but would join them for dinner.

Mabel always blamed herself for what happened.

Christmas morning was cold and frosty, and Daisy was awake when Annie and Mabel slipped out to the early service, having first lit the fire in the range oven.

‘Go back to bed, dear, and we’ll have breakfast together when Mummy and I get back,’ Mabel told the excited little girl. Albert had already left for work on the early shift.

‘Merry Christmas, Mummy! Merry Christmas, Mabel!’ Daisy’s shouts greeted them on their return. ‘Can I make toast in front o’ the range?’ she begged, wielding the three-pronged fork.

Annie was still shivering after the coldness of the church, and she and Mabel kept their coats on until the kitchen had warmed, by which time Alice and George had joined them for breakfast.

Daisy was clamouring to open some presents.

‘We’re not supposed to have them until after dinner,’ Mabel told her. ‘But all right, then, just one each.’

Mabel had already opened her gift from Harry and drew in a breath of sheer surprise when she saw the little silver cross on a chain. She had kissed it and held it to her heart. And to think she had only given him a pair of socks! How she wished that she had bought the book she’d seen, a collection of spiritual addresses to young men, published by the London Tract Society.

Daisy picked out a present for each of them from the pile around the tree and watched eagerly as each one was opened. Alice was delighted with the
woolly hat, scarf and gloves she got from her parents, and so was George with his book from Mabel,
The Night Sky Illustrated
. Annie had a cameo brooch from Mabel and Daisy got a set of dainty handkerchiefs from Alice with a ‘D’ embroidered in the corner of each. Mabel could not resist opening her present from Albert and gave a cry of delight at finding a bottle of eau-de-Cologne. She passed it round for all of them to have a sniff and dabbed a little behind her ears to smell nice for Harry. Reproaching herself for opening it while Albert was at work, she rewrapped it so as to be surprised all over again when he came home. Daisy promised not to say anything if she could open just one more present and was allowed to unwrap the glass necklace that Mabel had chosen for her. The beads sparkled with the colours of the rainbow and Daisy’s delight was more than enough reward for the shilling it had cost her sister.

‘No more now,’ said Mabel firmly, getting up to clear the table. ‘Mummy and I must get the dinner ready and
you
must all get ready for church – come on, Alice, get moving!’

As she prepared the vegetables she smiled to herself in delicious anticipation of Harry’s knock at the door, and could hardly wait to thank him for his present and hear what he thought about hers. By the time he called the leg of pork was in the oven, and Alice was ready to leave with George and Daisy.

‘Oh, Mabel, those beautiful socks,’ murmured Harry in a low voice. ‘I’ll always treasure ’em because
you
made ’em for me.’ He had slept with them under his pillow and clearly had no intention of doing anything so gross as putting them on his feet.

For answer Mabel pointed to the cross and chain she was wearing, and they briefly clasped hands in wordless joy.

But no sooner were the children out of doors in their mufflers and mittens than they begged to go to the park instead of church. Alice wanted to show off her new tam-o’-shanter and scarf, and so they trailed along close behind the young couple, eagerly chattering about the dinner they would have and the games they would play afterwards. Once at the park they all dispersed, and Harry had to go to take up his place in the band. There were a fair number of people strolling around and some came to join in the singing of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ and ‘Christians Awake’.

Soon after midday Mabel rounded them all up. ‘Come on, everybody, we’ll be late for dinner,’ she said, becoming uneasy at the thought of her mother finding out that the children had not been to church as arranged.

Harry walked back with them to Sorrel Street, happy just to be at Mabel’s side.

As soon as Mabel walked through the front door she knew there was something wrong. Very wrong. A smell of roast pork filled the house; she ran straight to the kitchen.

No saucepans on the range. No pudding simmering.

Annie lay stretched out on the floor, her eyes closed, her mouth open.

‘Oh, my God.’ Mabel knelt down beside her mother, smelt her breath. Saw the empty jam jar and quickly pushed it behind the bread bin, out of sight. Oh, no, not today of all days. ‘George, get Daisy out o’ the way, take her out again. Alice, give me a hand
to get Mum up on her feet. Wake up, Mum, come on, get yerself up off the floor, for pity’s sake.’

Her voice was unusually sharp as she pulled Annie up into a sitting position while Alice stared in horror. ‘Harry’s still at the door, Mabel,’ she said. ‘He’s asking if there’s anything he can do.’

‘
No!
’ Mabel almost shouted. ‘No, no, tell him to go, Alice, get rid o’ him – send him away, for God’s sake, and then come and help me.’

Annie gave a groan. ‘Sorry, Mabel – sorry, Alice, please, I’m sorry, little girls,’ she muttered thickly.

‘Thank heaven, she’s coming round,’ panted Mabel. ‘Come on, let’s get her on her feet and sit her at the table.’

Somehow the two girls managed to heave Annie up on to a chair, where she sat with drooping head. ‘Sorry, little girls, sorry, little girls,’ she repeated stupidly, though with an underlying anguish that cut Mabel to the heart.

‘Is it serious? Ought I to go for the doctor?’ faltered Alice.

‘No, no, make a pot o’ tea for her, and make it strong,’ Mabel ordered. ‘I’ll get the sprouts on, but there’s no time to boil the pudding. Oh, Mum, I shouldn’t’ve left yer to do it all on yer own!’

‘She’s not ill, she’s
drunk
, isn’t she?’ gasped Alice.

‘Hush, Alice, she didn’t mean to be,’ muttered Mabel with a note of pleading. ‘Come on, talk to her, help her, this is my fault, not hers – let’s hope Dad’ll be late.’

But he wasn’t, not on that occasion. He arrived a few minutes afterwards, shortly before Albert and unsteady on his feet, having taken on board enough brandy to put him in a good humour for dinner with his family on Christmas Day. Until he saw his wife
slumped in a chair with her head on the table between her knife and fork. Her face was flushed and her hair dishevelled, and she was moaning something about being sorry. Jack swayed slightly as he surveyed the scene. ‘What the devil’s goin’ on ’ere? Christ! This is a fine sight f’r a man to come ’ome to!’

‘She fainted, Dad, and it’s all my fault,’ pleaded Mabel. ‘I left her all on her own to do the dinner, an’ we came in an’ found her – give me half an hour an’ I’ll have dinner on the table an’ we can all sit down to eat it,’ she gabbled, breathless in her agitation.

But Jack had decided that he was hard done by. ‘Christ Almighty!’ He brought his fist down on the table with a force that set the knives and forks dancing, and caused Annie to lift her head painfully.

She turned unfocused eyes on Jack. ‘Sorry, Jack. Sorry, Mabel, sorry little—’

‘Shut up!’ Jack roared at her. ‘Shut up, yer silly, stupid woman! I work me bloody balls off to keep this lot goin’, an’ what do I find when—’ He lurched towards her.

In an instant Mabel lunged forward, throwing herself between them. ‘Don’t yer touch ’er! Don’t yer
dare
!’ she cried, lifting her hands to fend off any blow that might be about to descend.

The next thing that she and Alice knew was that Albert charged in like an enraged bull, still in his dirty working clothes, and grabbed his father by his coat collar. ‘Bastard.’ The single word was accompanied by a punch between Jack’s eyes that sent him reeling across the table. He pulled on the cloth as he fell to the floor in a clatter of cutlery and Annie was dragged sideways as the cloth slid from under her head.

In the hallway Daisy screamed in terror and George tried to drag her outside. Alice burst into tears.

‘Stop it – stop it
at once
,’ ordered Mabel. ‘Don’t yer dare fight in front o’ the children, I won’t have it, d’ye hear?’

‘I was only stoppin’ ’im from lammin’ into you an’ Mum, Mabel,’ Albert protested, but she rounded on him and told him to help her get their mother upstairs. ‘An’ stop blubberin’, Alice, and make yerself useful. Get the dustpan and brush and a cloth, and start clearin’ up this mess.’ The authority in her voice reassured them that their world had not entirely fallen apart and they obeyed her immediately. Apart from Daisy’s sobs there was no more noise or violence.

Jack got himself up and sat on a chair, his nose bleeding and his head reeling, though he mumbled under his breath that he had never once hit his wife or any of his children.

Nobody paid him any attention. Mabel and Albert half dragged, half carried their mother upstairs and laid her on her bed.

‘She can sleep it off this afternoon,’ said Mabel, ‘but you an’ me’ve got to save somethin’ o’ Christmas for the children, Albert – for George an’ little Daisy.’

Breathing heavily from the exertion, the boy muttered, ‘Whatever yer say,’ adding something less polite under his breath as they went downstairs.

Slices of overdone pork were set out on plates, with potatoes roasted to rock hardness, plus quickly cooked sprouts and freshly made gravy.

‘There’s fruit in the bowl an’ we’ve got a cake with icing on,’ said Mabel. ‘I can cut it now if yer like, an’
have it for pudding – or we can keep it for teatime. We’ll have a proper dinner tomorrow with Christmas pudding, that’s a promise.’

To everyone’s relief Jack did not join them at the table, but got himself out of the house with tears of self-pity at the treatment he had received. ‘Never laid me ’ands on any of ’em in me life – an’ me own son raises ’is ’and against me.’ Only after his departure did Albert sit down at the table with his brother and sisters.

After the meal Mabel told Albert and Alice to clear away and wash up while she played ludo and snakes and ladders with George and Daisy, though she had to blink away tears at intervals. She kept thinking of her mother sleeping upstairs in the cold, darkening room and the impact of Albert’s fist in his father’s face. Could that ever be forgotten, let alone forgiven? From the past she heard again Maudie Ling’s words as a child, saying that she was glad when Christmas was over, because both her parents got drunk, mother as well as father . . . And she hardly dared think of how poor Harry must be feeling, sent away without a word: she could only hope that he hadn’t heard any of the uproar. What a disastrous Christmas, after all their happy expectations . . .

But as always, she had to hide her own wretchedness and put on a brave face for the others. ‘Ooh, look, Daisy, yer counter’s home – ye’ve won again!’ she exclaimed, forcing herself to smile. ‘Let’s have a nice cup o’ tea – and then we’ve got more presents to open, haven’t we?’

Daisy looked up at her with mournful eyes. ‘Yes, but Mummy’s ill, an’ Daddy’s not here, an’ it’s not like Christmas any more,’ she said tremulously.

Mabel enfolded her in a warm hug. ‘Oh, Daisy, my
little darling, Mummy’ll be better tomorrow, an’ Daddy’ll be back again soon – sooner or later – and ye’ve got Albert an’ George an’ Alice an’ me, haven’t yer?’ And she clasped her little sister tightly against her, while smiling at the others over Daisy’s dark head, willing them to respond. Albert and George exchanged a look and did their best; only Alice’s face remained hard and unforgiving.

Harry Drover, helping to serve soup and bread to the remnants of humanity at the Salvation Army homeless shelter, also had to force a smile to hide a heavy heart. The Christmas message of peace and goodwill sounded hollow in the grim reality of a fallen world. All his thoughts were with Mabel Court who had not wanted his help.
Get rid o’ him, Alice, send him away, for God’s sake
. That was what she said. He had heard her with his own ears: wounding words from the girl he had loved at first sight.

Yet that same love gave Harry an insight that another young admirer might not have had. He knew from Mabel’s softly shining eyes that she cared for him and had knitted him the socks that he kept under his pillow after kneeling beside the bed to pray for the sweet girl whose nimble fingers had fashioned them, just for him. If she had wanted him out of the way, he reasoned that it must have been because of something she did not want him to see: perhaps something she was ashamed for him to know about. Was it her father? Not on this occasion, because he had seen Jack Court coming home, somewhat mellowed by drink but not in a belligerent mood. Mabel! She would always be the best and dearest of girls in his eyes, whatever trouble her family was in. Harry’s heart ached at the thought of
her being unhappy and he vowed that he would wait patiently, not intruding if she did not wish to share her secret burden with him. At nineteen, Harry Drover had had little experience of the opposite sex, but he loved Mabel Court with all his heart. For her he would do anything – and his dearest wish was that one day she would be his wife.