A Family Christmas (4 page)

Jane frowned. ‘Oh I don’t think we should let
our
mam make ’em. She’ll only spoil the material by changing the styles to suit her. She won’t be satisfied unless they’re old-fashioned as Methuselah. You know what she’s like.’

‘Yes, you’re right. I’m sure our Mary’ll make them up for us.’ The two girls wrapped the material up carefully and went downstairs, pausing to listen as their mother’s voice rose. ‘Yer can’t leave home. It’s indecent living there with all those men.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, I shan’t be living with them. I shall have my own room, next to Mrs Cooper, the housekeeper.’

‘No! I won’t allow it.’

Nellie began to laugh. ‘I’m afraid I’m not going to let you stop me. You’ve ruled my life long enough. Besides, it isn’t my reputation you’re concerned about, it’s the money you’ll be losing, isn’t it?’

‘It’s nowt to do with the money,’ Annie snapped. ‘Though a proper daughter would be considering that, with a widowed mother.’

‘I shan’t abandon you. I’ll still be coming home and paying a bit towards our William’s keep.’

Ben decided to put a spoke in. ‘No Nellie, yer don’t need to do that. It’s time you were putting a bit away for when yer decide to wed.’

‘It’s nowt to do with you.’ Annie glared at her son.

‘Well, I’m taking the job whether you like it or not. I’ve been working hard for it and I’m lucky to
be
offered a job like that. I shall never be offered a chance like this again.’

‘I’m not against the job; it’s the living in I object to.’

‘But that’s one of the conditions of the job. I need to be there early in the morning to see to the breakfasts. Besides, it’s a long way in winter when it’s dark and the weather’s bad. I should have thought you’d be pleased that I shan’t be walking all that way on my own.’

‘If yer go yer needn’t come back.’

‘What?’ Nellie couldn’t believe she wouldn’t be welcome in the family home.

‘You ’eard.’ Annie’s face was as hard as granite as she turned her head away from her daughter.

‘Right, if that’s what you want.’

‘No.’ Jane ran and threw her arms round her sister. ‘You can’t turn our Nellie out.’

‘I’m not turning her out. She’s decided she wants to go, not me.’

‘But you’ve got to let her come home to see us.’

‘Don’t tell me what I’ve got to do. This is my house.’

‘Is it now?’ Ben went to the cupboard and brought out a folded sheet of paper. ‘What’s this then? The house is in my name now. Go on, read it, woman; the contract says that only employees of the colliery are allowed these houses. Well, I say our Nellie can come home whenever she likes.’

Nellie’s face was as white as the sheet of paper.
‘No
, Ben, I won’t be coming home again. I know where I’m not welcome. I’ll go get my things.’

Lucy began to cry. ‘Don’t go, Nellie.’

‘I have to, Lucy. I’m sorry.’ Nellie went upstairs and found her few items of clothing, wrapping them all in her winter coat, then she unwrapped the new material Lucy had bought and used the brown paper to wrap her boots in. Then she went sadly downstairs to where her sisters were consoling each other.

‘Come and see me sometimes on a Sunday. I’m sure Mrs Cooper won’t mind.’ Jane nodded her head. The two girls were too upset to respond.

‘I’ll carry those.’ Ben took the bundle from Nellie as she prepared to leave. He turned to his mother. ‘It won’t end here. Our Jane’ll be next, then our Lucy, and I’ll tell yer this, I’ll not stand for yer vindictiveness for much longer and what will yer do if I leave? Eh? You silly, stupid woman, ’ave yer thought about that?’

Nellie couldn’t stop the tears as she made her way back to the manor. She loved her brothers and sisters and not being able to see them didn’t bear thinking about. But she also loved her job. She would find a way to see her family somehow. Her feet were hurting as she climbed the last mile and her arms were aching with the weight of her belongings. She began to feel better as she breathed in the air from the moors and caught sight of the cherry trees, which were heavy with blossom. Besides,
Mrs
Cooper would make her feel better. The housekeeper was like a mother to Nellie. Like the mother Nellie could remember from when she was a little girl. But that was a long time ago, and things had changed.

Chapter Three

‘ARE WE NEARLY
there?’ Young Robert Grey stopped and leaned on the dry stone wall. ‘Is that it?’

John looked towards the circle of smoke in the distance. ‘It could well be. What do you think, James?’

‘We can’t be far away. We’ll see more when we reach the top of the hill.’

‘I don’t know if I can.’ Fifteen-year-old Robert sat down on the grassy bank and examined his feet. His boot soles had worn through and his feet were thick with blood and dirt from the road. James took off the muffler from round his neck and tied it round his brother’s foot. ‘Give us yer scarf, John.’ John took off the length of dirty material and bound up his brother’s other foot. ‘We won’t be long now, then we’ll get yer feet seen to.’

The journey from Lincoln to the West Riding of Yorkshire had been long and torturous, but the promise of a home and job had kept the brothers going. They had taken shelter in a barn at West Markham but had been fired at by a farmer in the early morning. Another night they had asked permission to take shelter in an outbuilding somewhere near Worksop, but the man had tricked Robert into
going
to the house for drinking water only to try luring him into his bed. Twice they had taken a wrong turning and gone miles in the wrong direction. Now they were nearing the end of their journey a feeling of dread was replacing the exhaustion, a fear that the promised home would not materialise.

John took out the hard bread and stale cheese. ‘Well,’ he said, trying to keep up their spirits. ‘This is it. Once this has been eaten we should be there. That’s if we calculated properly.’ He hoped to God they would be; the money they had allocated for food on the journey had gone and he didn’t want to dip into the rest of it. ‘So come on, let’s eat and be merry. Then it’s off we go to Millington.’

‘There’s a hell of a lot of hills round ’ere.’ Robert moaned.

‘The Pennine hills,’ James said. ‘It’s supposed to be a beautiful part of the country.’

‘They’re more like mountains. Give me Lincolnshire any day. I don’t know why we had to leave,’ Robert grumbled for the umpteenth time.

‘Because we’d nowhere to live – you know that.’ The Greys had lived in a small, rundown cottage on a large private estate. Jonas Grey, their father, had been in the owner’s employ as a gamekeeper. The two elder brothers had both found work in a corn mill, not very highly paid, but constant. Then tragedy had struck the family in the form of a particularly virulant type of influenza. Young Robert had recovered, but Jonas and his dear wife Maria had both
died
. Of course they had been evicted from the cottage despite pleas from the minister of the church to the affluent but miserly owner. The brothers had been given temporary shelter by the minister, who had passed word amongst his friends and acquaintances about the boys’ plight. Amazingly, the vicar of Millington had heard the story and he and his wife had offered a home to the desperate brothers. The vicar, also chaplain of the steelworks in the town, had sought employment there for James, wheedled a job in the mine for John, and been given a chance for young Robert to further his education as apprentice to a local joiner.

‘Well, the sooner we get going the sooner we arrive.’ James rose wearily to his feet. At twenty James felt responsible for his youngest brother Robert and John, the middle one.

‘I don’t think I can walk with these on me feet.’ Robert hobbled as best he could. He could feel the scarves already unwinding and his feet hurt more than ever.

‘Try and put up with it. We won’t be long before we’re there.’ Neither of the elder brothers mentioned the festering blisters on their own heels. The smoke was nearer now as they entered the field that led over the brow of the hill.

‘Would yer just look at that?’ John was the first to see the view. ‘You can see for miles.’

The distant hill spread in both directions for as far as the eye could see. A reservoir shimmered in
the
evening glow, reflecting the trees of Sheepdip Wood and beyond that the stark, beautiful Pennine moors stretched upwards to meet the sky. Beneath them the steelworks sprawled alongside the river and what looked like the main street.

‘That must be the church we’re heading for,’ John decided, ‘so it looks like downhill all the way from here.’

‘Well I’m glad about that.’ Robert brightened up a bit. ‘It looks like a big place.’ He began to feel excited.

‘Well compared to our village it definitely is.’

‘Will that be the vicarage where we’re going to live? Next to the church.’

‘I don’t know, but we shall soon see.’

‘I don’t like all these hills though,’ Robert moaned.

‘I do. It’s far more interesting than flat country.’

James agreed. ‘Aye and look how far we can see; it’s beautiful.’

They were going at a faster pace now – in fact the hill was so steep it was hard to hold back. A herd of cattle came to meet them, mooing a welcome so loud a farmer’s wife came to see what all the fuss was about.

‘Good evening, is that Millington down there?’ James enquired.

‘It is that, and the place in the distance beyond the dam is Cragstone, though yer can only see’t smoke from chimneys, it being several miles away.’

‘Eight.’ A girl about Robert’s age corrected the woman, who glared at the girl. ‘Aye well, we won’t split hairs,’ the woman said, and turning her attention back to James she pointed in the opposite direction. ‘And if yer followed the main road in that direction you’d come to Sheffield after ten miles.’

‘Eleven.’

The woman gave the girl a clout round the head with a cloth she was carrying. ‘’Ave yer come far?’ she enquired. ‘Yer look fair done in to me.’

‘About forty miles to my way of reckoning.’ John glanced at the girl, half expecting her to add a few miles to his estimate.

‘Forty miles? All on foot? Why, no wonder you look jiggered. ‘Dot, go put kettle on and mek ’em some tea.’ The girl hurried indoors and the woman offered her hand to James. ‘Boadacea Greenwood and her theer’s me daughter Dot.’

‘Boadacea? That’s a right grand name.’

‘It’s a bloody daft name if you ask me. That’s why I gave her a little name and yer can’t get much smaller than Dot, can yer now? I wasn’t ’aving her laughed at every time the school register was called, no, I told my little Arthur we’d call her summat sensible, and she’s not a bad lass really, even though she’s a cheeky young whippersnapper sometimes. Anyway, bring yerselves in. Chuck yer bundles down theer, nobody’ll touch ’em. Dot. Is that tea mashed yet?’

‘Yes, Mam.’

‘Well, cut three doorsteps while we’re waiting for it to brew and smother ’em with pork dripping.’

Robert felt his mouth watering at the thought of bread and dripping. Oh but they didn’t half speak funny, the people of Millington. Boadacea led them into a farm kitchen with a flagged floor and a huge square table in the centre with a bench at each side of it. A huge black fireplace took up one wall and on another was a low stone sink, which reminded Robert of a horse trough, with a pump at one end of it for the water.

‘Sit yerselves down,’ Boadacea ordered them. ‘We might not be posh but everybody’s welcome.’

‘I can see that,’ James said, ‘And we really appreciate your hospitality.’

‘Oh it’s nowt, just a pot of tea and a bite. I’m sorry my little Arthur isn’t ’ere to meet yer. Ee’s gone to fetch bull to put to’t cows.’

‘So, is he a little man, your husband?’ John asked.

Boadacea let out a laugh that set the old sheepdog howling as if in pain. ‘Aye, no more than five feet tall, but that don’t matter, theer’s many a good thing wrapped in a small parcel.’ She laughed again as her guests gobbled the bread and dripping, which tasted better than any feast to the young men. When they had finished John rose from the table. ‘Well, lads, we mustn’t keep Mrs Greentree any longer.’

‘Greenwood,’ Dot corrected, then she turned to Robert. ‘Do yer want to stay till me dad comes back
and
watch bull with cows? Yer can come up to my room; it’s a good view from up there.’

‘What?’ Boadacea puffed. ‘Why you cheeky young rascal, you’ll do no such thing.’ She turned to John. ‘She doesn’t mean any harm but I can remember how exciting it can seem at her age, watching’t bull on’t job and we don’t want to go putting ideas into their heads now, do we?’

By now the elder brothers could hardly keep their faces straight and young Robert’s face had turned the same colour as young Dot’s cheeks.

‘It’s all right, Mrs Greenwood; we were brought up in a village and we’re quite used to farming ways.’

‘Oh well, that’s all right then. I say do yer want a few hours’ work? We could always do with an extra hand.’

‘Well, we hope there are jobs waiting for us, but we’ll certainly keep your offer in mind. Now we really must be off. Reverend Goodman will be expecting us.’

‘Oh if you’re visiting ’im, he won’t mind if yer late. Yer’ll be as welcome there as you are ’ere.’

Dot had sidled up to Robert. ‘I’ll see yer at church then on Sunday.’

Robert nodded as he moved to the door, ‘I expect so,’ he answered grudgingly. He hoped she wasn’t going to be pestering him all the time. Then he admitted to himself that she wasn’t bad-looking – not bad-looking at all. It would have been all right staying to watch the bull with her.

‘If yer come back tomorrer I’ll make yer feet better with spirits and some candle wax,’ Dot’s voice rang out as they closed the gate.

‘Looks like yer’ve got yourself an admirer, Robert.’

Robert blushed even redder as they descended the hill into Millington.

‘Will you stop fussing, Louisa? You’re like a moth round a candle flame.’ Reverend Goodman admonished his wife good-naturedly as she moved the cruet yet again and shifted the sugar basin a little to the left. ‘They won’t be bothered about the state of the table; it’ll be what you serve that counts. Besides, they might not arrive until tomorrow.’