A Mistletoe Kiss (17 page)

His knowledge of engines, however, was not sufficient to allow him to do all that was necessary, so Hetty had found herself spending far more time in the engine room than she had anticipated. The great flywheel took the combined strength of herself and Benny to get it moving, which left her grandfather in charge of the starting handle and the compression lever. It was hard work getting the flywheel into action, but when the engine began to cough and thud she knew they were well on the way to starting.

However, when her grandfather had emerged from the engine room she had not been able to help noticing how very white and tired he looked, so it was no surprise, when they moored up one evening and he had sent Benny to the village for supplies, when he had turned to her and given her an affectionate hug. ‘You're a grand girl, Hetty Gilbert, and I know you'll understand that what I'm going to tell you is as sad for me and your gran as it will be for you. I've arranged for a pal who's been down on his luck to take over the
Sprite
and the
Beetle
before winter comes. Your gran and myself will move into old Uncle Matthew's place, because he's
happy to let us live with him rent free until Luke can afford to pay me a hire fee. I'm pretty sure you've realised that we're getting too old for this game. In the past it's been my job to keep the boats moving when we're moored and the canal ices up, else the ice would crack'em like walnuts, but young Benny doesn't have the strength, and I need my sleep; old folk do.' He had grinned at her, then reached over and rumpled her hair. ‘I know you love the
Sprite
and the
Beetle
, but I dare say, what with your studies and so on, you wouldn't have had many more holidays aboard. And Luke's a grand chap. He's in his forties and strong as an ox, so he's happy to keep young Benny on too. He used to work for the Company, but the barge was old, so they withdrew it from service and of course Luke lost his job and his home.'

‘Poor chap,' Hetty had murmured. ‘Do I know him, Gramps?'

‘Bound to,' her grandfather had said after some thought. ‘He's got twin sons, they're around twelve, and two small girls; I'd say eight and ten. His wife's Bessie; a big, yellow-headed woman, always smiling, only this latest bit of bad luck has wiped the smile off her face.' Her grandfather had grinned at Hetty. ‘It broke out again when she heard our offer.'

‘Is he a very tall chap with blond hair?' Hetty had asked.

‘Yes, that's Luke; I thought you'd know him.'

‘And what exactly did you offer? If you don't mind telling me, that is,' Hetty had added hastily. ‘I don't mean to be nosy, Gramps, but I can't help wondering.'

‘I said that if they could cope with the pair over the winter then we'd settle a definite sum and they could take over the barge and the butty for good,' Gramps said. He had looked wistful. ‘If I'd had a son of my own … if Bill or Tom had been interested in taking over … but I'm telling you, queen, Luke's the next best thing.'

‘Good. So long as you won't be struggling to manage,' Hetty said. ‘And I'll be able to visit you often, because Uncle Matthew lives in Burscough, doesn't he?'

‘That's right,' Gramps said. He looked relieved. ‘I've been dreading telling you, Hetty my love. But you've taken it well … I knew you would. And now you must make the most of the next couple of weeks, because I'm afraid this will be your last holiday aboard the dear old
Sprite.
'

Now, wending her way through the busy streets, Hetty thought that she had never worked as hard as she had on this last trip; but she also realised that she had learned a lot. If she ever had to help aboard a barge, she would be almost as well qualified as her grandparents. Not that she meant to undertake such work; she was going to be a librarian!

‘Agatha! What a dream you are, girl. I've just told you that I've spent most of
the day whilst you were in the garden finishing off the trifle. Hetty loves trifle. Shall I put it on the table, or leave it where it is?'

‘Oh, leave it where it is by all means,' Miss Preece said, hiding a smile. She had seen the trifle earlier in the day and knew that her mother had put hot custard on to the set jelly so that now it would have to be poured into the dishes. But Hetty was a tactful creature and Miss Preece knew she would eat – or rather drink – her share of the treat without once mentioning its liquid state.

‘What are you smirking for?' old Mrs Preece said sharply now. ‘I put it in the fridge after I'd added the custard; it should have set by this time.'

Miss Preece was about to say that the trifle would round off the meal nicely when there was a tap on the back door. She hurried across to open it and there was Hetty, tanned, bright-eyed and smiling. The two greeted one another, then Hetty came right into the kitchen and, whilst Agatha took the pie from the oven, went over to Mrs Preece and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She didn't kiss me, Miss Preece thought rather ruefully, but then I'm not a sweet, white-haired old lady who needs to know she's loved, or if not actually loved, at least well liked. At that moment, however, Hetty, having exclaimed that the pie looked absolutely delicious, took Miss Preece's hand and gave it a squeeze and all the librarian's envious thoughts disappeared. She and Hetty were good friends and trusted one another; who could ask for more?

‘Sit down, Hetty, my dear,' old Mrs Preece commanded as soon as their greetings were over. ‘I expect you've a great deal of news to tell us. How are your good grandparents?'

‘They're quite well, thank you, Mrs Preece,' Hetty said politely. ‘But as I'd been expecting, things on the
Water Sprite
have changed since last year. I'll tell you all about it just as soon as we've eaten that pie, because I know it's rude to speak with a full mouth.'

At last Hetty finished her meal and heaved a satisfied sigh. ‘That was delicious. Thank you very much,' she said. She looked from Miss Preece's face to that of the older woman and began her story. ‘As I must have told you several times, my grandparents have been thinking of retiring for some time …'

‘Well, I'm very sorry for your grandparents, of course, but I think they're doing the right thing,' Mrs Preece said as Hetty finished her story. ‘But I suppose you'll miss your voyages?'

‘Yes, I shall, but as Gramps pointed out, once I'm in college – if I get there, that is – I'll have to work so that I can earn money to buy books and so on, and that would have put an end to my trips on the canal anyway.'

‘True; even I had to do that whilst I was at college,' Miss Preece remembered. ‘I was fortunate, though; I got a job helping to catalogue a new library section. And of course there was my legacy …'

Hetty pricked up her ears, but Mrs Preece cleared her throat loudly and began to talk of what she had been doing during her young friend's absence, and the subject of Miss Preece's legacy was allowed to drop.

It was not, in fact, until the two of them set off for a walk in the cool of the evening that the subject of the legacy was raised once more. ‘You must have wondered why my mother changed the subject when I mentioned my legacy,' Miss Preece said. ‘I've never
mentioned it before, but the house was left to me, not to my mother, by my great-aunt Agatha. She had married a rich businessman who owned several properties in the better parts of the city; our house was one of them. Great-aunt Agatha was not able to have children, but when I was born she said that if I were named for her, then she would leave me some of her property. By then she was a widow, you understand, and known to be what they called in those days “a warm woman”. She died when I was ten and left me the house on Everton Terrace, where we now live, and a sum of money sufficient to see me through my schooling and through the university of my choice, and to keep us very comfortably now.'

‘Golly,' Hetty said, awestruck. ‘But why doesn't your mother like you to mention it?'

Miss Preece chuckled. ‘For one thing, she's a little resentful that I own the house she lives in, which is understandable. And for another, and this is even more understandable, she does not want our neighbours thinking we are any different from themselves, and I do agree with her that this would be a mistake. Only Mrs Simpson comes and goes freely in our house, and she is a good woman and very grateful for the money we pay her, so she says nothing, even if she's guessed that we have a private income. But neither she nor our neighbours know that we are property owners, and even if Mrs Simpson has guessed, she knows better than to spread such news abroad.'

Hetty nodded. ‘Yes, of course she would say nothing. She often speaks of her invalid husband and
though she says his pension is adequate, it's the money she earns from looking after your mother which allows her to command what she calls “the little luxuries of life”. And I know you're very good to her; she told me it was you who bought Mr Simpson's wheelchair …'

‘Oh, never mind that; Mrs Simpson is very good to us,' the librarian interrupted hurriedly. ‘And now I have a favour to ask of you, Hetty dear. It seems rather hard when you're only just back and no doubt longing to get on with your studies, and I wouldn't ask if it weren't important …'

‘Oh, Miss Preece, you know very well I'll be happy to help in any way I can,' Hetty cut in at once. ‘Only tell me what the problem is.'

‘It's not exactly a problem … the truth is, I've been invited to attend the opening of a new exhibition hall at the museum. They've managed to get the loan of some very rare and valuable manuscripts from the British Library, so as you can imagine I'm very keen to accept the invitation.'

‘Yes. It's an honour to be invited, I'm sure,' Hetty said, and was rewarded by her friend's delighted smile.

‘Well, it is really. I worked there when I was at university and in fact my special subject was old, hand-decorated manuscripts. So you see …'

‘But what's it got to do with me?' Hetty asked, genuinely bewildered. ‘I know nothing of such things; I don't believe I've ever so much as set eyes on an – an illuminated manuscript. Isn't that what they call them?'

‘That's right. And of course I realise that you probably have no particular interest in such things – and it's by invitation only, anyway. They're serving a buffet luncheon, and in the afternoon a panel of experts will answer questions put by the audience. After that, they will be serving tea and biscuits, so it will be an all day affair. But the opening is next Saturday …'

‘So?' asked Hetty, still more bewildered. She could not imagine why such an event should concern herself. However, it would be impolite to say so. ‘How can I help?' She was suddenly struck by inspiration. ‘If you want me to come over and get Mrs Preece her lunch, spend some time with her …'

Miss Preece smiled. ‘Well, it's a little more than that, Hetty. Once a year my mother goes by coach to a seaside resort on the North Wales coast. She meets an old friend who lives there and they compete in a whist drive – as partners, you understand. It's one of the highlights of Mother's year; a last fling before winter sets in and she might find herself confined to the house for days or weeks on end. So I'm sure you understand it is rather important to her.'

‘I see,' Hetty said slowly, still not seeing at all. ‘But if you're out all day and she is too, what is the problem?'

‘Well, in previous years I've always accompanied her, sat next to her on the coach and so on. Oh, I won't pretend I spend the whole day with her, because I'd be bored to tears and besides, my mother wouldn't like it. No, I spend the day pleasantly enough, joining them for luncheon and high tea, and accompanying Mother
on the journey home. On this occasion the difficulty would arise when the coach returns to the Pier Head, because we never know at what hour it will decant its passengers …'

‘Oh, I
see,
' Hetty said, enlightened at last. ‘Then if I go with your mother, and come back with her too, I'll be on the spot and able to see her safely home. It's a fair walk, but there are always taxi cabs waiting for passengers at the Pier Head …'

‘That's it,' Miss Preece said, sounding relieved. ‘Dear Hetty, if you truly wouldn't mind going, I should be so grateful. I have already paid for my ticket, which I shall give you. It's divided into four sections, one for the journey there, one for the journey back, one for your luncheon and one for high tea.' Miss Preece produced a stout-looking piece of pink card from her pocket, perforated into four sections, and handed it to Hetty. ‘I shall give you some spending money … no, no, don't object, you will be doing me a great favour … and tomorrow you and Mother can discuss the details. Did I mention that you'll be going to Llandudno? Have you been there before? It's my favourite of all the seaside resorts.'

Hetty, admitting that she had never visited Llandudno, in fact had never even been to New Brighton, felt excitement bubbling up within her. She asked, rather shyly, whether Mrs Preece had been consulted and was delighted when the librarian assured her that all was arranged, save for her own agreement. Hetty hugged herself. She was going to the real seaside! ‘Oh, Miss Preece, I can hardly wait for
Saturday,' she breathed as they turned back towards Everton Terrace.

Hetty had set her alarm clock – a present from her uncle and aunt for passing the scholarship examination – for an early hour, but was already awake when its little bell began to tinkle. She lay for a moment, staring at its small face and wondering why it had gone off an hour before its usual time. She glanced at the window, saw the sky beginning to flush with sunrise and all of a sudden remembered. Saturday had come at last! She was going to Llandudno with old Mrs Preece. They would travel in a large cream-coloured coach, have their lunch in a posh restaurant and generally enjoy a wonderful day out. Miss Preece had impressed upon her that she must be sure to visit the Great Orme, riding to its summit in one of the specially constructed trams that catered for visitors. The librarian had said that the view from the top was incredible, especially if one ascended at sunset.