Lizzie of Langley Street (13 page)

Seeming satisfied with his appearance he turned to Lizzie. ‘Ain’t you never seen a decent suit before, gel?’

‘You look very nice,Vinnie.’

He nodded. ‘If I say so meself, I do.’

‘Vinnie, old Symons called and I paid him the rent. We’ve got nothing left in the tin.’

‘You’ve got Bert’s extra money, ain’t you?’

‘Bert’s money bought the baccy and the groceries,’ she tried to explain. ‘We didn’t have anything left over.’

‘Look ’ere, I give you a fair whack, don’t I? You got to admit it’s me that keeps a roof over our heads.’

‘I know that, Vin. And I’m grateful. Ma couldn’t have managed without what you gave her and neither can I. It’s just that it’s Christmas. And with me not taking Pa
up the market there ain’t enough money to buy presents.’

‘Presents?’ His thin eyebrows shot up. ‘Now presents ain’t nothin’ to do with me, gel, and you know it. If you want presents then it’s up to you to buy
’em.’

‘I would if I had the money.’ She knew she was pushing her luck.

Vinnie looked at her coldly. ‘You’re a fine one to talk. Blimey, you’d have thought we was royalty the way we entertained half the bloody street after the funeral and
that’s a fact.’

She was about to remind him that it had been Dr Tapper’s money that had paid for the funeral and the wake when he pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes, signalling the end of the
conversation.

‘Anyway, can’t stop,’ he told her as he opened the front door. ‘Mik and me are doing some business tonight. Gonna see a man about a dog.’

The only dogs that Vinnie ever saw, Lizzie reflected, were ones with numbers on their backs. She wondered what had happened to the brother whom she had grown up with, the brother who, before the
war, had been a happy go lucky eleven-year-old. The Vinnie who hadn’t acted the villain in order to gain people’s respect. Even his narrow escape from the fire hadn’t made him
change his ways. Though he and Bert were now on speaking terms, they no longer went to the pub together. Bert had learned his lesson over Mik Ferreter. Vinnie hadn’t.

He didn’t look back to say goodbye. So much for her grand plan, Lizzie thought, as she closed the door. Vinnie wasn’t going to help her. She glanced at Pa’s door. If only she
could talk to him. But she knew he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to bury himself away and ignore the world.

Lizzie looked up the stairs. Flo stood at the top in her nightgown. ‘Flo, what are you doing up?’

‘Listenin’ to you rowing with Vin.’

‘We wasn’t rowing. We was just talking.’

‘Is Babs at that party?’

‘No. She’s gone next door to give Lil her Christmas card.’

‘What about Pa? Has he still got the hump?’

‘No, and it ain’t the hump he’s got. He’s just getting over Ma in his own way.’ They both knew he was probably sitting in his chair and staring out of the
window.

Flo came down the stairs. ‘I brought ’ome some coloured paper from school.’

‘You mean you pinched it?’

Flo went red. ‘We could make some decorations.’

Lizzie smiled. She didn’t have the heart to send her back to bed. It was Christmas after all. ‘Come in the kitchen then, where it’s warm.’

They sat at the kitchen table and cut out shapes from the crêpe paper. ‘I dunno if we was really allowed to take the paper,’ Flo confessed, her brown eyes twinkling, ‘but
I knew we didn’t have nothing at home.’ Flo held out her blue and red paper chain. ‘Pretty, ain’t it?’

‘I’ll hang it up here.’ Lizzie took down two saucepans. She stretched the paper chain between the nails. ‘There. What do you think?’

‘I’m hungry.’ Flo looked at the larder door. ‘Seein’ as it’s Christmas, could we have a bit of Lil’s cake?’

Lizzie grinned. ‘Give you an inch and you take a mile.’

But five minutes later Flo was smacking her lips. ‘Don’t suppose I could ’ave another bit, could I?’

‘You supposed right.’ Lizzie shut the larder door firmly.

‘Can we play actors and actresses, then?’

‘Just for ten minutes.’

Flo jumped on to the chair. ‘I’ll do me Charlie Chaplin. You watch me and I’ll make you laugh.’

Lizzie sat down as Flo swung her imaginary cane and doffed her bowler hat. She was Charlie Chaplin to a T. Trust Flo to bring tears to me eyes, she thought, laughing and crying at the same
time.

‘Pretend I’m on a real stage,’ Flo shouted, climbing on the table.

Lizzie thought of Danny. They had never gone to the Queens or the Lyric. Suddenly her longing to see him was a physical pain.

‘Now it’s your turn, Lizzie.’ Flo collapsed into a chair. ‘Sing a carol or something.’

‘I don’t want to wake Pa.’ Lizzie didn’t feel like singing. She felt sad and lonely.

‘Sing it quietly then.’

‘When we’re upstairs.’

‘Will you sit with me till I get to sleep?’ Flo asked, coming to sit beside Lizzie.

Lizzie took Flo’s hand. ‘You ain’t a baby anymore.’

‘Wish I was,’ giggled Flo, leaning her head on Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘Then I wouldn’t have to go to school.’

That night Lizzie tucked Flo in the big double bed and sat on the covers beside her. She sang ‘Silent Night’ and by the time she had finished Flo was fast asleep. Lizzie tucked the
blanket around her little face and bent to kiss her. She smelled of Christmas cake.

The house was very still.

Now there really was the breathless hush of Christmas at number eighty-two Langley Street.

C
hristmas morning 1920 and the bells of Christ Church pealed merrily across the island. Lizzie woke early, pulling her coat over her nightgown.
Babs and Flo slept soundly, curled together for warmth. Babs still had a ribbon in her hair from the party.

There was no time to waste. Lizzie had to lay the table and prepare dinner. At seven in the morning the house was silent. She peeped into the boys’ bedroom. Only Bert lay there, fully
dressed, sprawled over the bed.

‘Merry Christmas one and all,’ Lizzie murmured, smiling at the sight. Well, at least Bert had managed to find his way home. It wouldn’t do to wonder what Vinnie had got up to
last night or where he was. With or without Vinnie, it was Christmas Day.

Lizzie washed and dressed in the blue frock Lil had given her. Next she placed the scrag end into a saucepan and boiled it. Straining the meat and saving the stock she added the peas and pearl
barley that had been soaking overnight. The kitchen was warm and cosy. It was beginning to feel like Christmas.

Making herself a cup of tea, she decorated the table. First she laid down a red curtain, placing Lil’s cake in the middle and hiding Flo’s nibbling with a holly leaf. There was a
small gift for each of the family. A pair of braces each for the boys, pink and white coconut squares for Flo and two shiny green hair ribbons for Babs. Last but not least was a handkerchief for
her father, the initials T.A. embroidered in red. Each gift was wrapped in brown paper, a name written over it. With a few sprigs of holly that Bert had brought home from the shop, the kitchen
looked festive.

Outside, the sun was shining in a clear blue sky. The shed glistened, its roof spangled with frost. All the chimney pots billowed smoke. A ginger cat leaped from the hedge, leaving tiny paw
prints on the white ground. A sense of wonder filled her. Kate had always made Christmas special and somehow she would find a way to make the day special too.

‘You coming out for dinner, Pa?’ Lizzie stood outside his door at one o’clock.

‘No. I told you I wasn’t.’

‘Well, we ain’t going to eat without you. It’s Christmas Day.’

Tom Allen finally opened the door. ‘You lot are better off eating by youselves.’

‘We ain’t starting,’ Lizzie said grabbing hold of the Bath chair, ‘till you sit down with us.’

He made no protest as she pushed him into the kitchen. Soon she had everyone gathered at the table. Boiled potatoes, carrots and dumplings filled each plate to the brim. There were more potatoes
than meat but Lizzie knew they’d satisfy the gap in six hungry stomachs.

‘Can we open them brown parcels now?’ Flo wanted know.

‘After dinner,’ said Lizzie. All eyes regarded the small, neat objects lying by their forks. She wanted to make sure there was a surprise to end with. She pushed back her dark hair
from her face, her cheeks flushed and her green eyes sparkling.

Everyone ate rapidly except Tom. Lizzie knew he was thinking of Kate. His pale gaze lingered on the space she once filled.

They all missed her.

‘You should ’ave been down the Quarry last night,’ blustered Bert in an effort to cheer everyone. ‘The landlord’s old mother drank everyone under the table.
Eighty-two and she was still on ’er feet when time was called and it didn’t look like she was gonna stop, neither.’

Flo, as usual, had bolted her dinner. ‘Can we open our presents now?’

‘After the cake.’ Lizzie winked at Flo as she cut it. No one had noticed the missing bit. ‘It’s lucky to make a wish on Christmas Day, so make sure your wishes are ones
you want to come true.’

‘I’ll wish for a doll like Rosie Ryde ’ad for her birthday,’ Flo announced. ‘Only I want one with yellow ’air, not black.’

Lizzie put her fingers to her lips. ‘Shh. You mustn’t tell your wish.’

‘Why not? It might ’elp.’

‘No it won’t. It’ll take away the magic’

‘You ain’t never gonna get a doll like Rosie Ryde’s in a small parcel like that,’ declared Babs.

‘Might,’ disagreed Flo. ‘’Ow would you know what I’ve got?’

Babs tossed her red head. ‘Anyway, who’d want a doll? They’re soppy.’

‘They ain’t!’ Flo was indignant.

Bert belched. ‘Ain’t any seconds is there, gel?’

To the sounds of Babs and Flo arguing, Tom Allen pushed himself away from the table. Lizzie didn’t try to persuade him to stay. It was Christmas, but that made no difference to the Allen
family. A good row was on the menu even if turkey wasn’t.

It was four o’clock and beginning to get dark.

Lizzie answered a knock at the front door. ‘Merry Christmas.’ Danny carried a large box of fruit in his arms. Apples and oranges were balanced on top of one another in a pyramid,
grapes and bananas sticking out at odd angles. At the top was a sprig of mistletoe. ‘Are you goin’ to ask me in, then?’ His fair hair fell over his face in a thick wave as he
walked into the passage. ‘There’s more to come,’ he called over his shoulder as she followed him to the kitchen and he lowered the box to the table.

‘Danny, this ain’t all for us, is it?’

‘This is yer Christmas present. Now I’m going to collect mine.’

‘How do you know I’ve got you one?’

He laughed as he drew her against him. ‘Let’s say there’s something I’ve wanted to do that’ll count as me present.’ He picked up the mistletoe and held it
above their heads. ‘Now close yer eyes and don’t peep.’

Her heart beat fast as she closed her eyes and her lips tingled in anticipation. He kissed her, sending little shivers across her skin.

‘You look lovely,’ he whispered. ‘A sight for sore eyes.’

‘You were the last person I expected to see today.’

‘Then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did. Didn’t think I’d let Christmas pass without giving you that kiss, did you? Now, here’s what we’re going
to do. Have you got any plans for the rest of the day?’

She laughed. ‘Chance’d be a fine thing, Danny Flowers.’

‘Good. ’Cos I’m invitin’ you all to a party.’

She stared at him, moving back a step, her eyes wide. ‘A party? Where?’

‘Don’t look so surprised. I’d say we were well overdue for a bit of fun. If we can’t have a bit of a knees-up on Christmas Day, when can we ’ave it?’

‘You’re not joking?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘You really mean it?’

‘Course I mean it. Now go and get them girls ready.’

‘But where are we going?’

‘You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you? Tell Bert to wake himself up. Him and me will lift yer Pa and his chair on the back of the cart.’

‘But I don’t have anything to wear for a party.’

‘Lizzie Allen, you’re a stubborn woman, that’s for sure. But you won’t get the better of me today.’ He grabbed hold of her hand and pushed her gently to one side.
Lifting the box of fruit from the table he lowered it to the long wooden bench. Sweeping the red curtain from the table, he placed it round her shoulders and tied the corners under her chin. Taking
the sprig of mistletoe he tucked it in her dark hair. ‘Why, with a cape like this you could be a princess.’ He lifted her chin with his hand. ‘You are my princess.’

Suddenly she was laughing. ‘I suppose next thing is you’ll take the lace down for the girls.’

‘Why not? That’s exactly what we’ll do.’

He pulled her along the passage and tugged her up the stairs as the girls came running out of the bedroom. ‘What’s going on?’ cried Babs.

‘I’m taking you all to a party,’ Danny informed her. ‘A Christmas party.’

‘A party? A party!’ Flo cried. ‘Lizzie, ’e ain’t ’avin’ us on, is ’e?’

‘Take all the lace curtains down,’ laughed Danny. ‘You’ll all look like snowflakes.’

‘We’re gonna dress up, we’re gonna dress up!’ cried Flo dancing round the landing.

‘I’ll put a nosebag on Benji. Don’t be too long, because me guts is grumbling something awful and there’s plenty to eat where we’re going. So get on with you, fast
as you can.’

Lizzie couldn’t believe it. Christmas was going to be special after all.

Langley Street had never seen such a sight as the late afternoon parade on Christmas Day 1920. A sweating grey horse towed the Allen family, laughing and singing, across the
length of the island. The girls sitting in the cart were dressed in white lace, bunches of holly and long tails of ivy threaded through hats and scarves.

With her cape round her shoulders, Lizzie sat beside Danny on the driver’s seat. Bert sat in the back with his sisters, his hair flattened by cold water, a parting neatly scraped in the
middle. He roared out every carol under the sun. Babs and Flo joined in, every now and then clouting their brother for singing off key. Their white lace smocks gleamed in the late light, like busy
candles lighting up the dusk. People emerged from their houses to investigate the racket. Some waved from their doors, and Violet Catcher nearly fell out of hers.