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She said, "Watch it I Watch it 1' just like Tivvy on the I.T.V. said, "

Watch it, pigeons 1 Watch it! " Oh, her grannie was wonderful.

"Sit up and don't be silly." Her mother's voice, coming at her from behind, brought her upwards in her seat.

"And make yourself useful;

serve the potatoes. "

As Gail went round the table with the vegetable dish Mary O'Toole looked at her grandson and said, "It's a terrible night; I hope you're not going out again. "

"I'll have to, worse luck," Harry replied as he set about ladling the stew out of a casserole dish.

"I've got to relieve Peter Thompson at eight o'clock."

"What! you're going to do Father Christmas?" It was Terry speaking now, his voice cracking on a laugh. Terry was short and promised to have the build of his father, but his colouring was that of his mother and his brother, John, and what he- liked above all else was to raise a laugh. His father, looking at him, said heavily.

"Why can't you keep your tongue quiet I' " You're not going to play Father Christmas on a night like this 1' Mrs. O'Toole's thin body was erect in her chair.

"Are you mad? Standing around for hours like Johnny-cum-canny; you want your head lookin' ... Why don't you do something about it, Esther?

He'll get his death, sitting in an office all day, then going and standing in the Market till God knows what hour ..."

"Gran 1' The word fell deep, admonishing, and Mary O'Toole to her own inward one saying, "In the name of God will I ever get used to it." Five years she had been under this roof now and it had been pleasant enough, oh, she had to admit that. Esther tried her very best, her Christian best--aye, that was the word, her Christian best--but she only had to hear God, damn or blast used and then she came all over starchy. She had the power to make you feel like a child who had wet its knickers, and her at seventy-five, it wasn't right.

One of these day's she'd let fly and she'd swear for ten minutes and not use the same word twice. Begod! if she didn't.

Janet Dunn, putting the last dish on the table, said to Esther, "I'll be off then'; and Esther, smiling up at her, said, " All right, Janet.

And thanks. Elsie should be back in the morning. If I don't see you again before the holidays, a Merry Christmas, Janet. "

"Yes, yes, a Merry Christmas, Janet." They were nodding all round the table, all seemingly oblivious that Janet did not keep Christmas, but she answered, "The same to you. The same to you," before going out.

"That was daft," said Terry.

"What was?" asked Gail from across the table.

"Wishing Janet a Merry Christmas."

"I can't see what's daft about it," said his mother; 'we always do.

"

"That doesn't make it any the less daft." Terry had an impish grin on his face now and he turned it towards Gran O'Toole, saying, "Does it.

Gran? "

"I suppose not," said Mrs. O'Toole.

"But it's courtesy like, and she's a nice woman is Janet Dunn, sensible. And have you noticed'--she swept her glance around the table--'she's got a presence about her, a dignity."

"Some dignity I' They all looked at John now, and he finished putting some food in his mouth before ending, " Working at an all-night cafe.

Some dignity. "

"There's never anything undignified about honest work, John." There was a strong reprimand in his father's voice.

"Honest 1 The Dunns? Huh I' John jerked his bead backwards.

"That sharp-shooting little squirt, honest."

JOHN!

" ..

"Well, he is. How's he come by a car so soon?"

"By hard work." His father was leaning towards him over the edge of the table.

"He's turned his hands to all kinds to make a living and worked from early dawn until late at night. You don't know you're born, so I don't want to hear any more of it."

They were all looking at Harry now. It was rarely they heard him talk like this, rarely saw his face set as it was at the moment, and his manner aggressive.

"Oh, I should have known better than say a word against him." John's voice was a mumble now.

"Better to keep your mouth shut altogether about the Dunns."

"You needn't keep your mouth shut about the Dunns. Talk as much as you like about them, only be fair. Robbie never had your chance but by the time he finishes ..."

"Yes, yes, go on, say it," John's head was up, his chin out.

"He'll get farther than me, that's what you mean isn't it? ... The dirty little Jew boy." His chair scraped back on the polished floor, and as he rose to his feet to leave the table Esther said, "Sit down, John, and have your meal and no more of it."

Now also on his feet, Harry silenced her with a wave of his hand and, confronting his son, he said harshly, "You use that term ever again, my boy, and I don't care how old you are I'll give you a hiding. You understand?"

John stared for a moment longer at his father, then swung round and dashed out of the room.

As Harry resumed his seat a door banged overhead and they all started eating again, Harry and Esther, Gail and Terry slowly, but Gran O'Toole, munching rapidly, one mouthful hardly swallowed before she took on another, threw into the embarrassed quiet one of what Gail called "Gran's tactless bombs'. " If he had half the brains of Robbie," she said, 'and with the advantages he's had he wouldn't be going to the Technical School next year, he'd be working for one of those big Universities ..."

As Harry stopped eating and bowed his head deeply on to his chest, Esther's knife and fork clattered to her plate at the same time as she exclaimed in hurt indignant tones, "There's

one thing we can always rely on you tort-rran, and that's your loyalty to the family. " And on this she, too, left the table.

"What have I said? What have I said?" Gran O'Toole looked from.

Harry to Terry, and then to Gail, and Gail, as truthful as her great-grandmother answered, "The wrong thing as usual, Gran, the wrong thing, and at the wrong time."

"I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."

"Shut up! Shut up, boyl' Harry now barked at his younger son.

"There's a time and place for everything."

Terry applied himself again to his food. Gran was already applying herself, but Gail looked at her father, where he sat with his head resting on his hand staring down at his plate, and she thought, "He likes Robbie. He likes him better than he does John, I'm sure he does, and it isn't fair really."

It was quarter-past eleven that same evening when Harry returned to the house. He felt frozen to the marrow in spite of the double whisky he'd had. He and Tom Vosey had paraded round the town centre for two and a half hours and collected the almighty sum of one pound, eight and threepence. Was it worth it? He could have put the one pound, eight and threepence into the fund and had the benefit of a night at home, and without the prospect of flu looming up before him.

On the kitchen table there was a tray set, and on the stove a pan with some milk in it. He didn't want to be bothered making coffee--he would have welcomed it if it had been ready--all he wanted was to climb into bed and get warm, but he reminded himself he'd had whisky and it would be on his breath even though a half-hour had elapsed since he had drunk it, so he'd better make the coffee.

The coffee made, he had just sat down by the side of the table when the kitchen door opened softly and Gail came tiptoeing in.

"I heard the car," she whispered.

"You're late. Did you get much?"

"One pound, eight and threepence."

"Oh, the mean beasts. You took over five pounds last Christmas Eve."

"It was a fine night and people were out. Only mad dogs and tools would be out tonight. "

"You're not a fool." She came close to him and rubbed her face against his cheek, and he put his arm around her and hugged her to his side, and when she sat on his knee her shortie nightdress and dressing gown rode almost up to her thighs. But she didn't pull them down, her mother wasn't here to chastise her. Looking at her father's weary face, she said, "It's been a rotten night."

"I'm sorry; I'm to blame I suppose."

"Half and half," she said candidly.

"Thanks."

"Wel, you said it. And, you know, you did go for John."

"He shouldn't have used that term about Robbie."

"But Robbie is a Jew, Dad."

"There's nobody disputing that fact, but would you like to be called the dirty little Englisher. And what's more, when people like John use terms like that, what can you expect from other boys? It's about time that kind of thing was quashed, good and proper. People don't seem to learn ever." He shook his head slowly; then went on, "Robbie's a good boy. What he does he does for his mother. I think his one aim is to make enough so that she won't have to work."

"But Janet likes work, she told me she does. I asked her only yesterday wasn't she tired after getting up at half-past five in the morning to get to the cafe, and she said no, she was used to it. I asked her wouldn't she like another job and she still said no; she said the hours had always been convenient, half-past six till half-past eleven. They were convenient when Robbie was at school so she could make his dinner. He would never stay for his dinner she said. She said the job gave her a lot of time to herself and she doesn't mind coming and helping mother when Elsie's off. So you see, she doesn't mind work."

"That isn't the point, at least how Robbie sees it. Anyway, it's a pity it happened. And at Christmas too. It's bound to mar the atmosphere. Did he go out?"

"Yes, he went to the club. But he was in before ten, and he wouldn't have any supper, not even a drink. Mother was worried, but Gran went in to him."

"Gran?" Harry raised his eyebrows and jerked his head quickly 29 / as he said under his breath, "Gran should stay out of this; she's caused enough trouble. Trust Gran."

"She didn't mean it; it just comes out. And you know, it's funny, she can manage John. He takes things from her that he wouldn't from anybody else and she tells him the truth to his face. If I was to say half the things to him that Gran does he'd scalp me."

He said to her now, "How long has your mother been up?" and she answered, "Not long. She looked tired. Grandfather came in. He's not coming for Christmas after all, he's going to his friend in York. He said he's ill and wants to see him. It's the one he was in the Army with, I think. Mother was disappointed about that and all. He brought a lot of parcels. They're up in the attic." She hunched her shoulders and smiled at him.

"Come on," he said, tapping her leg.

"To bed."

She walked to the end of the table, then turning and looking at him where he was putting the tray on the draining board she asked, "What are you going to do about John? If it isn't cleared up he'll sulk all over the holidays and it'll be frightful. He can you know, I mean sulk for a long time."

"You leave John to me. Go on, get yourself up."

She made four tripping steps and came back to him and Singing her arms round his neck, she hugged and kissed him. Then in a manner that was individually hers she drooped her head to one side and smiled gently into his face and whispered, "You're nice, Mr. Blenheim. As a certain Gran O'Toole would say, you're a nice bloke."

"Go on with you." He rapped her buttocks smartly once and she ran towards the door her hands on her bottom. Then again hunching her shoulders, she adopted a stealthy attitude and crept out into the hall.

Esther was sitting up in bed reading when he entered the bedroom. She didn't put down her book but looked over the top of it as she said,

"You're late."

"Yes."

Dutifully she now asked, "How did it go?"

"One pound, eight and threepence."

"One pound, eight and threepence!" She clicked her tongue "Yes." He began to undress, and she said nothing more until he was in his pyjamas and standing by the side of his bed. She laid down her book then and asked, almost in the same words as Gail had done, "What are you going to do about John?"

He had a sudden and unusual desire to turn on her and cry, "I'm going to let him get cold in the grease he got hot in," but that would mean that her face would tighten, then her eyes would take on that hurt look, and when she spoke there'd be that slight tremor at the end of her words, which indicated the effort she was making to remain calm.

Esther laid great stock on remaining calm. All the books she read, especially last thing at night, were to aid calmness. Waldo Trine's

"In Tune with the Infinite* was her second Bible. Daily she imbibed its philosophy. He had once said to her, jokingly, " I bet you could repeat that book backwards," and she had taken his remark as censure.

His thoughts darting off at a resentful tangent now, he said to himself, 'she even took the damn book on her honeymoon, and the second night she sat up reading it. " He shook his head at himself. He was tired, weary. That business with John had upset him, together with the lack of Christmas spirit emanating from the citizens of Fellburn. It was ludicrous, but if he hadn't stood outside each of the three pubs that lined the Market Square it would have been three and threepence he would have collected, not one pound eight and threepence. So much for Christian charity. God The felt tired and irritable, all at cross purposes with everything. It wasn't only the business of John, he had felt off colour lately. Some of the joy had gone out of life; there was a sameness about it. Why? Oh well, it was his age he supposed. They all said it happened to you as you neared forty.

Looking at it squarely he'd had a long run for his money. He'd known contentment for years, and that was taking into account the frustrations of the bedroom too. He glanced now at Esther. She was looking at him. Her fair hair was smooth' and shining. She hadn't a wrinkle on her skin. She didn't look thirty-seven, she didn't look the mother of three children. She was wearing a pink brushed-nylon nightdress; on someone else, like Gail, it would have looked cosy, cuddly, but on Esther it only looked warm and sensible.