A Family Christmas (44 page)

A FEW DAYS
before Christmas a court order was made allowing the adoption of Bernard Smithson by John and Lucy Grey. The adoption, regulated by the Adoption of Children Act, 1926, meant a Christmas free from wondering if it would be the last one for Bernard in the Greys’ home.

They decided to tell Bernard they had chosen him to be their little boy and he would now be staying with them for ever. Bernard said he had better write and tell Father Christmas his new name or he might be looking for Bernard Smithson when there wasn’t one anymore. The letter was written in large, uneven letters, signed Bernard Grey and sent up the chimney by Lucy. That seemed to be the end of the matter and to Lucy’s knowledge was never mentioned again.

Christmas was all the more joyful now that Andrew was two and able to understand and open his presents. Once again the family arrived at teatime, this time with two new members, Betty and Dot. Only Nellie failed to make it this year; after all she had her all-the-year-round boarders to keep happy. With Cyril and Sydney extending their
stay
in order to play the ugly sisters in panto, and the retired sergeant major there for good, the festivities were planned around them and included Margaret and Henry in the party. An awkward moment arrived when Cyril began ‘Cutchy cooing’ to little Henry and the sergeant major said to him, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Trying to turn him into a cissy? Give him here.’ When Henry was comfortably seated on the man’s knee he began to bounce the little boy up and down, singing in a voice loud enough to waken the dead, ‘Oh the grand old Duke of York.’

Henry gurgled up at the sergeant major, who carried on with the song. Then he glared at Cyril and announced, ‘Leave the boy to me and I’ll make a man of him. Won’t I, my little man? We’ve enough of the other kind in the house with their pantomime frocks and their stage make-up.’ Then he astounded everyone with a request to Sydney: ‘Any chance of tickets for us all for tomorrow’s performance? My treat.’

Nellie choked on her tea and Sydney said he would do his best.

‘Nothing like a good pantomime on Boxing Day. Haven’t been for years. Haven’t had any friends to go with, not the same on yer own. Now I’ve all of you, not only Cyril and Sydney but dear Mrs Cooper and Lily. And I hope I’m not being presumptuous if I class you, Mr and Mrs Johnson, as my friends.’

‘Of course we’re friends, but I think it’s time we
began
using our Christian names if you intend staying here indefinitely, so please call us Tom and Nellie. And you are?’

The sergeant major turned crimson and muttered, ‘Marmaduke.’

Lily spluttered and hid her chuckle with a coughing fit. ‘Marmaduke? Goodness, I thought Cyril was bad enough.’

‘No, Lily, Marmaduke’s err, quite unusual,’ Nellie offered.

‘It’s bloody awful.’ The sergeant major began to guffaw and the rest of the company joined in. Then Lily recovered from her outburst and kindly as ever said, ‘I think we should cut out the marmalade and call you Duke.’

‘Now that’s a champion idea, young Lily. Duke! Aye, I quite like that.’ Then he began again, bouncing Henry until Nellie thought he might be sick. ‘And when they were only halfway up they were neither up nor down.’

Mr Grundy noticed the change in Robbie immediately he returned to work. He had missed the lad, but it was worth it to see Robbie smiling again. Instead of finding excuses to stay over at work he was now eager to be on his way home and meet Dot. Mrs Grundy, on hearing about the forthcoming wedding, had what she called a sideation and presented Robbie with a pile of bedding and table linen, most of them completely unused. Dot was
thrilled
with the gift and insisted on paying a visit one Sunday afternoon to thank the lady personally. When Dot casually mentioned that they were now the proud owners of the beautiful lace-trimmed linen but had no bed to put it on, Mr Grundy said he would buy them a bed for a wedding present. He then set about working on a bed head to go with the spring mattress he ordered from Lewis’s Department Store. ‘Nowt but the best for that lad,’ he told his wife when she remarked on the quality of the wood. ‘Like a son to me he is.’

‘And to me,’ Mrs Grundy agreed, ‘and that young lass is just as sensible.’

‘It’s a poor time to be starting off together, though. They’ll not be together long before they’re parted again.’

‘Will ee be forced to go? Won’t ee be exempt? I mean there’ll be a lot of building work needed if there’s any bombing, and there’s always coffins needed.’

‘Nay, lass, Robbie’s not the type to be finding excuses. I doubt he’d shirk his duty even if he had chance.’

‘Just like you then.’

‘Aye, but I pray he won’t see the same horrors that I saw, lass.’

‘But you got through it, and Robbie will too. You’ll see.’

‘I hope so, lass. Because I ’ave a mind to mek ’im a partner in a few years. Not ’aving a son, like.
It’d
be a relief knowing’t business won’t come to an end when owt ’appens to us.’

‘Aye it would; we’ll look into it then. In’t meantime will you be able to manage on yer own if ee has to go?’

‘Well, I managed before, lass, and with most of the men away there’ll not be much woodworking done. Oh aye, I reckon I shall manage until ee comes back.’

‘And he will come back. I’ve got a feeling in me bones.’

‘I’ve got a feeling in mine an’ all, but mine’s bloody rheumatics.’

Mrs Grundy smiled at the husband she idolised. If Robbie and Dot were half as happy as the Grundys they wouldn’t have much to grumble about.

Though the wedding arrangements were going well, the news in February that air-raid shelters were to be provided to thousands of homes put a slight damper on the proceedings. Dot dismissed thoughts of Robbie having to go to war, determined to enjoy the time they had left. The wedding was planned for Saturday the twenty-fifth of March. An awkward moment came when the couple went to ask Herbert about blessing their marriage after the register office wedding, but Herbert wished them well and said he would be delighted. At first Dot had been angry at the heartache Reverend Goodman had caused, but she never stayed angry for long and now felt
immense
pity for the family. Louisa felt the rift had finally been mended when Boadacea sent them an invitation to the reception, which was to be held in the huge front room of the farm. The room was rarely used, but was beautifully furnished with a dresser filled with blue and white porcelain and a highly polished mahogany table. ‘This table’s been known to seat eighteen, twenty at a pinch,’ Boadacea said. ‘But on this occasion it’ll be a help-yerself do. Everything home-made though, and home-grown, think on.’

Little Arthur got out his best suit, the one he had been married in and hadn’t worn since. ‘If yer can give it a good airing to get rid of the smell of moth balls, all it’ll need is a bit of a press wi’ brown paper; nobody’ll be any the wiser.’

‘What? Yer never intending wearing yer own wedding suit for our daughter’s wedding. Well I never heard owt like it. Yer’ll get yerself down to’t Co-op and be measured for a new one, if I’ve to drag yer there on our Bob’s lead.’

Little Arthur hummed and hawed a bit, but did as he was told, as usual.

John had also bought new clothes for all the children, though Lucy proudly announced that she could fit into her best clothes for the first time in years and there was no reason to waste money on new ones. John’s own wedding suit was indeed pressed with brown paper and being of a more fashionable style than Little Arthur’s, nobody would be any the wiser.

Because both Robbie and Dot hoped to avoid attracting much attention Boady had limited the number of guests to the immediate families and the Slaters. Mable had been chosen to be a bridesmaid along with Rosie and Violet, and her boyfriend Harry was of course invited. Lucy wondered if Mable’s might be the next wedding to take place.

After the meal, Little Arthur was delighted to escape and take all the children on a tour of the farm. Bernard was curious to know if any of the animals had babies in their tummies and Rosie laughed at the idea. ‘Babies don’t come from tummies; they come in Dr Sellars’s black bag.’

‘No they don’t.’

‘Yes they do. Anyway, they would smothercate inside a tummy.’

‘They would not. Baby chicks don’t suffocate and they’re inside eggshells. Anyway there’s no such word as smothercate.’

‘Ooh, Bernard Grey, you think you’re so clever just because you’re dopted.’

‘I don’t. They do grow in tummies, don’t they? Mester.’ Bernard did wonder though, why mothers bothered to eat their babies in the first place when they knew they had to come out again.

Little Arthur didn’t want to become involved in the argument but told Bernard that if Uncle Robbie brought him to the farm in a couple of months he could see the new lambs.

‘And me?’ Rosie enquired. ‘And Violet and Peter and Andrew?’

‘And Joyce?’ Bernard insisted. He liked everything to be fair.

‘But not Henry, because he lives too far away,’ Rosie explained to Little Arthur, who had no idea who all those children were. ‘Oh just bring ’em all,’ he said, hoping he didn’t have to wait too long for a grandchild of his own.

‘Dad. We’re ready for going.’ Dot told the children to go and get some lemonade. She wanted some time with her father.

‘Eeh, lass. Yer look a sight for sore eyes.’ His daughter had changed into a suit of kingfisher blue and a pink blouse.

‘I just wanted to say thanks, Dad.’

‘What for?’

‘For the wedding, but not only that: for being there for me and for having faith in Robbie.’

‘I know a good lad when I see one.’

‘I know that, but I ’aven’t been easy to live with at times.’

Little Arthur nudged her with his elbow as they leaned on the wall. ‘Yer never ’ave been. A right mouthy little madam you were at times.’ He grinned. ‘Just like yer mother. That’s why I love yer so much.’

‘Oh, Dad. Yer making me cry now, then I shall set off on my honeymoon looking a mess.’

‘Tha couldn’t look a mess if tha jumped into’t
cesspit
. It’s always stumped me how I ever produced a beauty like thee, love.’

‘Well, yer did get me, and I couldn’t have had a nicer dad if I’d chosen one meself. I’d better go; Tom and Nellie are needing to be off, what with the little one.’

‘Aye, it were good of ’em to come all this way and take yer back with ’em.’

Dot couldn’t remember the last time she had kissed her father, or her mother, but she kissed him now. And the loving smile he gave her was worth all the embarrassment of it. They walked through the yard with the familiar sounds and smells. Dot loved this place and didn’t think she could have borne to leave it for good.

‘Dad?’

‘Aye, love?’

‘I’m not really as mouthy as me mam, am I?’

Little Arthur chuckled. ‘Not now, yer not. I think it’s young Robbie who’s tamed yer. I should ’ave tamed yer mother but I suppose I loved her just the way she is. Don’t tell ’er though; she’ll be mouthier than ever if she knows that.’

Dot kissed her mother, who was trying not to cry. ‘Oh go on, yer sloppy thing.’ Boadacea pushed her daughter towards the car but Dot knew she was pleased at the loving gesture. They had never been a kissing family, not needed to be really, but Dot vowed that if she and Robbie were fortunate enough to have children they would bring them up to demonstrate their
feelings
, like Lucy and John. She waved to Lucy, who she knew would miss Robbie almost as much as Boadacea would miss her. Then they were on their way to Blackpool, and married life.

Lucy did miss Robbie. Even five children in the house couldn’t make up for Robbie, or Will. It was the grown-up conversation she missed most. The laughter Will used to cause with his stories about the markets. With Robbie it was the local gossip from the customers using the workshop. The twins kept asking when Uncle Robbie was coming back and after a few days without her dog-walker Baby went into a sulk.

A bit of good news came a few days after the wedding when the Spanish war came to an end, with Franco taking Madrid, but news on the home front was not so good. The mutual assistance pact signed by Britain, France and Poland in case of attack only seemed to make the war seem more threatening, especially at the end of May when a further pact was signed by Hitler and Mussolini.

Chapter Thirty

MRS COOPER HAD
never been more content. Her days were full now and interesting. She had pushed all her aches and pains out of her mind until one fine May morning as she was having a tussle with a deckchair on the promenade. She usually managed to get the contraption up after a few attempts but on this occasion a pain in her chest caused her to double up in agony and abandon her attempt.

‘Eeh, what’s wrong? Jessie?’ Edith watched the colour drain from her friend’s face. She put up the deckchair without any bother and helped her friend down onto the canvas.

‘I don’t know, Edith. I’ve had it before but nowt as bad as this.’

‘Look, you keep yer eye on the bairns and I’ll nip and fetch a jug of tea off the pier.’ Edith set off as fast as her swollen legs would carry her. When she returned she was carrying two cups and young Jim was following with a jug of hot, milky tea.

‘Shall I fetch a doctor, Mrs Cooper? Or Lily or somebody?’

‘Shall yer heck. I shall be right as rain when I get
this
down me. And don’t tell Lily either, about me pain. Yer know what that lass is for worrying.’

‘I know, but she thinks a lot of you; I ought to tell her.’

‘Don’t you dare. I expect it wor a bit of indigestion. I’ll tek some bicarb in a drop of milk when I get ’ome.’

‘So we won’t be going to’t tower then?’ Edith asked.

‘Course we will. I’m all right now.’

Edith was uncertain. She’d become fond of her friend and thought maybe she ought to take things easy for a while.

‘Look ’ere Edith,’ Mrs Cooper said. ‘I’ve waited all these years to go to’t tower ballroom and yer promised you would go with me. Well it wouldn’t be much fun going on me own, would it?’