Two Penn'orth of Sky (16 page)

Naturally Diana had agreed, and now she delved eagerly into the old woollen seaman’s sock which her mother had filled with small gifts every year. She knew it wouldn’t be quite as good as it had been in other years because Daddy had usually contributed a number of small but interesting things he had picked up from abroad. One year, there had been a beautiful iridescent shell; another, a tiny porcelain baby doll with arms and legs that moved. Last year, it had been a beautiful necklace, made of polished nuts. So she must have no great expectations, though she knew Emmy would have done her best.

The stocking contained a blue hair ribbon and a red one, two pairs of white socks, rolled into a ball, a small book –
The Adventures of a Golliwog
– which
Diana thought somewhat childish for a person rising six, a bag of toffees, and an orange. Diana was pleased with everything – except the socks, which she felt were not really a Christmas present at all – but could not prevent a stab of disappointment because there was no toy. However, she had unwisely mentioned Christmas stockings at school and had speedily realised that such things were a phenomenon known only to a few members of her class. Other children were lucky to get one small gift, though most looked forward to a special dinner and perhaps even a fruit cake at teatime.

Diana carefully replaced everything in her stocking, trying to get the presents back in the right order, then snuggled down the bed again, but not to sleep. She was far too excited. She knew that Emmy had bought her a new winter coat and was looking forward to wearing it for the first time when they went to church. Mam had told her, apologetically, that it was not a brand new coat, but she had said it was clean and bright and the best they could afford. Diana had stared at her mam with surprise. Everyone in the court bought at Paddy’s Market, rejoicing over bargains and boasting of how they had beaten the stallholders down from the original asking price. Now that they lived in the court, why should they be any different? She herself had gone with Charlie to the market and had pointed out the pretty pale blue scarf, made of some fine, silky material, which would exactly match her mam’s best skirt. ‘Only the lady said she wanted sixpence, and I’ve only managed to save four pennies,’ she had hissed in Charlie’s ear. ‘So if I can’t have that, can you ask her if there’s anything else which we can buy for fourpence? There’s a lovely pink rose which Mam
could pin on her shoulder, or a string of blue beads . . . only she’s got quite a lot of beads . . .’

It had been her intention to ask Wendy to go with her but she had decided against it because one of Wendy’s more embarrassing habits was that of shoplifting. Diana appreciated that her friend almost never had any money, but she disapproved strongly of stealing and had no wish to find herself in possession of an article which had not been paid for. ‘Be sure your sins will find you out,’ her grandmother had been fond of saying, and Diana had horrid visions of waking on Christmas morning and finding a large policeman at the foot of her bed, having discovered by some means that she was the receiver of stolen goods. Worse, Mam might be wearing the present and be hauled off to prison by a scuffer who had noticed the item on a list of missing property.

So she and Charlie had ventured forth and he had purchased the silky blue scarf after knocking the price down to fourpence ha’penny, saying in a large-minded fashion that she might pay him back the odd ha’penny when she was in funds again.

Diana, gazing at him adoringly, had thought that there was no one like Charlie. She often accompanied him when he was doing messages for his mother or for hers, and since she was an extra pair of hands he usually let her tag along, but on this occasion he had come with her because she had asked him to, and because he had presents of his own to buy in Paddy’s Market.

So now, cuddling down beneath her blankets, Diana anticipated the day ahead with real pleasure. First, when Mam got up, they would have a boiled egg each for breakfast, and then she would be given her new coat and in her turn she would give Mam
the scarf, wrapped in pretty paper and accompanied by a home-made card announcing that the gift within was to Mammy from her loving Diana. Diana hugged herself. After that, they would go to church, where she would sing carols and exchange greetings with the rest of the congregation. And then, best of all, they would go round to the Fishers’ and have their dinner all together at the big kitchen table. There would be the turkey, roast potatoes, bread sauce . . .

Diana sat up in bed with a small shriek. Her mam was supposed to be roasting the turkey, and instead she was still asleep. Halfway across the room, however, on tiptoe to save her heels from coming into contact with the cold lino, she saw the door creak open. Emmy stood there, smiling, with a mug of tea in each hand. ‘Get back to bed, little goose,’ she said when Diana explained her errand. ‘I half cooked the bird yesterday, and since I woke at half past six, as usual, and couldn’t get back to sleep, I’ve been preparing the potatoes and heating up the oven for a while already. Now if you’ll snuggle down, you can open your stocking whilst I watch and we can both enjoy our tea.’

Diana took the mug with only moderate eagerness, though she was thirsty. A couple of weeks ago, Emmy had given up the unequal struggle to provide her child with fresh milk. At first, Diana had felt resentful because she enjoyed milk and considered tea in much the same light as her mother considered porter, or ale – as a drink for adults only. But Emmy put plenty of conny-onny into her daughter’s cup and made the tea as weak as she could, and now Diana quite enjoyed it, though she had thought that Christmas Day might herald a return to fresh milk, albeit briefly.

‘Put my dressing gown round your shoulders, Mammy . . . I mean Mam,’ Diana said eagerly, beginning to pull the hair ribbons out of her stocking. ‘Oh, Mam, beautiful satin ribbons! Can I wear one today, to church?’

‘Of course you can,’ Emmy said indulgently, but Diana saw, when she looked at her mother’s face, that there were tears in her large blue eyes. ‘I want you to have a lovely day, darling, and to be happy, although this is rather a sad day for me.’

‘I know, Mam. It’s our first Christmas without Daddy,’ Diana said. ‘I’m sad, too, deep inside, and I wish and wish that he were here, but he wouldn’t want us crying, not on Christmas Day, would he, Mam?’

‘No, he wouldn’t,’ Emmy said. Diana saw her turn her head away and pretended to be very busy with her presents and not to notice her mother delicately drying her eyes with a small white handkerchief.

‘But Daddy wasn’t always at home on Christmas Day, was he?’ Diana said, when she could tell that her mother was in control of herself once more. ‘Last year, we had two Christmas Days, didn’t we? One exactly a year ago today, and one on the eleventh of January, when the old
Queen
docked.’

‘That’s right, darling. But last year we could afford . . . oh, don’t let’s think about last year, let’s concentrate on this year. After all, we shan’t be celebrating alone, which we would have been in Lancaster Avenue. We shall be with the Fishers, and Aunty Beryl and Uncle Wally will make sure we have a grand Christmas.’

‘And Charlie,’ Diana said eagerly. ‘Charlie will make sure we have a grand Christmas, too.’ She stood her empty mug down on the floor and jumped out
of bed. ‘I’m going to get dressed right now, this minute, because I can’t wait to see my new coat and I’m dying to see if you like the present I’ve bought you.’

Charlie got slowly out of bed, sniffing at the wonderful smell of bacon which came floating up the stairs. He began to dress, hauling his shirt over his head without so much as a glance at the washstand. It was Christmas Day and a fellow was entitled to skip washing on such an auspicious occasion. Besides, Lenny’s bed was already empty. Bobby still slumbered in his cot, so he might as well follow his younger brother’s example and get down to the kitchen pronto. His mother always insisted that they had breakfast before unwrapping their presents, so the sooner he was downstairs the better.

He had greeted the news that Diana and her mother were to share their Christmas dinner with some dismay. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Diana, she was a nice enough kid in her way, but she would follow him around and his pals disapproved of all girls, as indeed he did himself. He had been desperately hoping to receive a pair of roller skates this year, and if he got them, he meant to be out on the pavements as soon as breakfast was over. Well, perhaps he would have to wait until after church, but then he meant to show off to his pals and it wouldn’t do to have Diana tagging along. What was more, she was friendly with that awful Wendy Telford, and if there was one girl Charlie couldn’t stand, it was she. Wendy was a year older than him, bossy and tough. He and she had once had a fight over a grand rubber ball. He had found the ball in the gutter just outside Mr Worrall’s shop on the corner
of Vesock Street and he and Wendy had pounced on it at the same moment, both shrieking, untruthfully: ‘That’s mine, hands orff!’ Charlie’s hand had been the quicker, so he had seized the ball first, but it had been no good. As he straightened up, Wendy had punched him hard on the nose, causing tears to bolt from his eyes. He had not let go of the ball then, but had been forced to do so when the fight had ended with Wendy sitting astride his prostrate body, grabbing him by the ears and banging his head on the cobbles until his grip on the ball weakened. Then she had grabbed it and run away, shrieking: ‘Cry baby, cry baby!’ as he rose, shakily, to his feet.

It had been the unfairness of that last remark which had crystallised Charlie’s vague dislike of the girl into positive loathing. He had not cried – he never cried – but no one could prevent their eyes from watering when punched on the nose, or when one’s head was being hammered on the cobbles. Naturally, he had retaliated in kind, and for some time had referred to her as ‘Stinkin’ Wendy no knickers’, but it seemed that even this insult did not penetrate her armour, for she simply ignored him and went on her way.

Now, Charlie shoved his feet into his scuffed black plimsolls, pushed his hairbrush vaguely around his head and made for the stairs. At least Diana would not be bringing Wendy to share their dinner, and if she was tempted to follow him when he set off on his roller skates – if he’s got roller skates – then he would beg a bit of cake, or a bun, or something from his mam, give it to Diana, and suggest that she might like to share it with her pal. He thought that there was little chance that the Telfords would have any sort of Christmas dinner, and though he felt no pity for Wendy – he could not forget her jeering cry, nor
how his head had bounced on the cobbles – he was willing to sacrifice a bit of cake in order to bribe Diana to play with Wendy instead of himself.

He thudded down the stairs and burst into the kitchen, shouting ‘Merry Christmas’ at the top of his voice as he entered the room. His father looked up and grinned, revealing the fact that he was two front teeth short. ‘Smell o’ bacon must ha’ drawn you down them stairs like a pin to a magnet,’ he observed genially. ‘C’mon, gerroutside o’ this lot, then you can have your present.’ Charlie grinned and slid on to the wooden bench next to Lenny, who was already devouring a bacon sandwich at great speed. His mother’s arm reached over his shoulder and deposited a big, bulging sandwich before him. Charlie seized it and took a bite, then let his eyes wander to where the presents stood. There was a bulky-looking parcel, tied up with rather grimy string, which could easily be a pair of roller skates. O God, Charlie prayed, cramming more sandwich into his mouth and helping it down with a gulp of tea. O God, lerrit be skates!

Sitting quietly in her own kitchen, with Diana dreamily curled up in the other fireside chair, Emmy was able to go over Christmas Day in her mind.

She had really enjoyed it, despite a feeling of guilt because, though she missed Peter terribly, she had managed to forget her loss for most of the time. It had been so different from the Christmases she had shared with Peter. He had liked a quiet day, a day for just the two of them – three, once Diana was born – and had not wanted to play games or behave in the riotous fashion which the Fishers took for granted.

In the Fisher household, when dinner was finished,
old Mrs Pritchard, wrapped in blankets and beaming with excitement, had been ensconced in the best fireside chair and friends had come in to join in the merriment: Beryl’s married cousin Ella and her kids, and a widow and her son, who were the Fishers’ other next door neighbours. Consequences was succeeded by Chinese Whispers which was followed by charades and then Postman’s Knock and Musical Chairs, though due to a lack of chairs it should have been called
Musical Cushions
. Wally played the mouth organ for Musical Chairs and Emmy was delighted to see how eagerly Diana joined in the fun, especially when Charlie returned from an outing with his skates. He had two skinned knees and grazes on the palms of his hands, but no one seemed worried by this, Charlie least of all, and Diana clearly admired her hero more than ever when speckled with blood and nursing a bruised elbow.

They had had a wonderful high tea, helping themselves from a table laden with good things, which Beryl had set up in the hallway, and then Emmy had thanked the Fishers with true gratitude for a grand day and brought Diana home.

A knock on the door brought Emmy’s mind abruptly back to the present. It must be one of the Fishers, of course, come over to tell them they had left something behind. She looked round the kitchen and saw the crocheted collars and cuffs which had been Beryl’s gift to her, and the scarlet woollen gloves which had been the Fishers’ present to Diana. There was her big baking tin, but Beryl could scarcely return that with the turkey carcass still in place. Emmy glanced at Diana, who usually rushed to the door as soon as a knock sounded, and saw that the child was asleep. Never mind; whoever was knocking would
be wanting her, and not her daughter. Emmy opened the kitchen door and shivered a little. The hallway was cold after the cosy kitchen, and dark, too. She was about to turn back into the room to fetch a candle when the knock sounded again. Emmy hurried along the short hallway and pulled open the door. It was full dark outside and she could see very little, apart from the shape of a man’s head, dark against the dim light of the one and only street lamp in the court.