Christmas Wishes (5 page)

‘I’ll find it,’ Alex had promised. ‘I’ve not seen it for years, but I’ll find it before the girls come home.’

A knock on the door brought Alex back to the present and, with another quick glance at the table, he crossed the room and opened the door. The young daughter of another member of his Watch, Fred Finnigan, stood there, holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums, tawny, dark red and gold. As he opened the door, she pushed the flowers into his arms, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink as she did so. ‘Hello, Mr Lawrence,’ she said breathlessly. ‘The flowers are from Dad’s allotment. He thought as how you might like ’em to give a bit of colour …’ She glanced sideways and saw the table and her eyes widened. ‘Gosh, that looks just wonderful, but I see you’ve already got flowers.’

Alex took the chrysanthemums from her and laid them carefully on the Welsh dresser. ‘Mine came from one of the stalls on Great Homer, and I’m afraid they’re already looking rather sad,’ he said untruthfully. ‘I’ll put them in the parlour window and use the ones your dad grew as a table centre. My, they’re magnificent! Tell your father I’m most grateful and I’m sure the twins will be as well.’ He hesitated, looking at the laden table, as was his uninvited guest. Knowing that she must seldom see such delicacies as those spread before her, he picked up a plate of tiny brightly coloured cakes and held it out. ‘Help yourself to a couple,’ he said.

‘Gosh, thanks, Mr Lawrence,’ the girl said, choosing with care. ‘Where on earth did Mrs Clarke find crystallised lemon rind? Our mam was only sayin’ yesterday that she’d not seen an orange or a lemon since 1939.’

Alex laughed and returned the plate to the table. ‘I believe she used to make candy peel herself and store it in large sweetie jars,’ he explained. ‘She’s a marvellous cook and no one could have a better neighbour.’ He had closed the door when the girl entered, but now he opened it again and held it politely. ‘Thank you for bringing the flowers, dear, and don’t forget to tell your dad how grateful I am.’ He looked at the chrysanthemums, their great heavy heads almost as big as household mops. ‘I’m sure they’re prizewinners, every one.’

The girl flushed brightly. ‘They’re grand, ain’t they, Mr Lawrence?’ she said shyly. ‘And … me name’s Irene.’

‘That’s a very pretty name, and you’re a very sweet girl,’ Alex said gravely and patted her cheek, noticing with some amusement how the touch of his fingers made her blush. ‘Goodbye now, Irene, and thanks again.’

After he had closed the door, he wondered whether it had been wise to pat her cheek, even though it had only been the sort of fatherly caress one gives one’s daughters; she was only a couple of years older than Gillian and Joy, but he scarcely knew her, even though her father was his second in command and a good friend. But there could be no harm in it, after all. Sighing, Alex dismissed the matter from his mind, picked up the chrysanthemums and gazed rather helplessly down at them. He knew he had no vase big enough to hold them, knew that if he did put them on the table they would look absurdly out of place. Now that he could look at them closely he realised that there were only four flowers, but they were so large that the best home for them would be on the parlour windowsill, where they could be admired by passers-by. He would have to put them in the largest jam jar he could find, though, which would look rather odd.

He was still pondering the problem when the clock above the cooker struck two. Cursing his forgetfulness, he headed for the stairs, for he had promised himself that he would be at the station promptly at two, though the children’s train was not due until nearly four. But how dreadful if the train were early and he missed his girls!

He grabbed the chrysanthemums and ran water into the sink, plunging the stalks into it. Then he gave one last, proud look at the table, left the kitchen, locking the door firmly behind him, and set off towards Lime Street station.

Irene crossed the yard and went into the jigger, where her friend Lucy Biggins awaited her. As soon as they set eyes on one another they both began to giggle until Lucy, sobering up first, demanded to know what had happened.

‘Oh, Lucy, I love him more than ever,’ Irene said, linking her arm with her friend’s. ‘I give him the chrysanths – my, wouldn’t our dad be livid if he knew it were me that took ’em – and Mr Lawrence were real pleased. He give me a couple o’ little cakes with curls of candied peel on top.’ She plunged a hand into the pocket of her skirt and produced them. ‘I were goin’ to keep ’em for ever, on me bedroom windowsill, so’s when we’re married I could show him the first gift he ever gave me, only …’

‘… only they’d be green wi’ mould and stinkin’ after a week,’ her friend said cruelly. ‘Shall we eat ’em now or later?’

Irene looked regretfully at the pretty little cakes, but her mouth watered as she handed one to her pal. There would be other keepsakes, she told herself, licking a dusting of sugar from her lips. She meant to befriend the twins when they came home, for though she had left school the previous June – she was fifteen and working in a small grocery shop not far from St Hilda’s – she was sure she would find opportunities to ingratiate herself with the younger girls.

Irene watched as Lucy devoured her own little cake in a couple of hungry bites, then seized her by the arm. ‘He axed me in. The table were just splendid, Lu, all laid out on a fancy cloth with flowers an’ everything. Why don’t we go up to Lime Street station and see if we can meet the kids’ train? Then we could walk home with ’em, and …’ here wishful thinking took over, ‘they might invite us in to share their grub, seein’ as we’d provided them prize chrysanths.’

‘And they might not,’ Lucy said severely. ‘Don’t you go lettin’ your imagination run away wi’ you, Reenie Finnigan! It’s awright to have a crush on a feller, even if he’s old enough to be your father, but …’

‘He is not! And I ain’t, either,’ Irene said, flushing hotly. ‘Still, mebbe you’re right. We could stroll up to the fire station, though. We might see Chalky; you’re keen on him, ain’t you?’

Lucy tossed her head. ‘Chalky’s okay,’ she said with feigned indifference. ‘But he won’t be at the fire station, not if Mr Lawrence isn’t on duty. They’re in the same Watch, ain’t they? I reckon we’d best walk up to your dad’s allotment and think up some story of how we see’d someone nickin’ his prize blooms.’

Reluctantly, Irene agreed, and the two girls, heads close and arms linked, made their way up the road in the direction of the allotments.

‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Hoi, Gillian, I won’t bleedin’ well carry the suitcase
and
all the perishin’ bags! Oh, Miss Jensen, I weren’t swearin’, I never swear … Daddy, this is Miss Jensen, what’s been our teacher …’

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ Alex said, staggering under the sudden weight as the twins hurled themselves into his arms, ignoring their luggage even when a fat old man walked into it and narrowly escaped a nasty fall. ‘Why on earth are you trying to introduce me to your teacher, when I’ve known her for as long as you have, though of course not so well!’

‘Sorry, forgot,’ Joy muttered against Alex’s coat. ‘Oh, Daddy, it were the longest journey in the world, so it were, we thought we’d never arrive … Miss Jensen bought us railway cakes and cups o’ tea when we’d ate our carry-out …’

‘It were lovely sweet tea, wi’ two saccharin tablets each,’ Gillian added, swinging on Alex’s arm. She turned to beam at the teacher. ‘Thanks ever so much, Miss. Do you want to talk to our dad about school?’

Alex picked up the suitcase and the biggest of the bags, pretending to stagger under the weight, ordered the twins to follow him out to the taxi rank, then turned to Miss Jensen. ‘Your headmistress wants me to come up to the school as soon as I’ve a spare moment,’ he said. ‘I’m off duty for the next three days … would tomorrow do?’

Miss Jensen said graciously that tomorrow would do very well, especially if he could manage to be at St Hilda’s for ten o’clock or so, and they parted, Miss Jensen to see her remaining pupils to their homes and the Lawrence family to make for the taxi rank.

‘Why do you have to go up to the school when we’ve only just arrived home, Daddy?’ Joy said, rather reproachfully, as they settled into the taxi cab. ‘I thought we’d do something nice, as you’re not on Watch.’

Alex sighed. He had not wanted to raise the subject so soon; trust his daughters to home unerringly on to the one thing he wanted kept for later. ‘Look, girls,’ he said hopefully, ‘I’ve got a surprise for you when we reach home …’

‘I know why Miss wants to see our dad,’ Gillian squeaked, clutching Alex’s arm. ‘Miss wants me to take the scholarship examination, and I can do that one day this week because St Hilda’s has a whole week for half term, and not just a day like the other schools. She’s sure I’ll pass with flying colours – and she said Joy might as well try too, even though she’s thick as porridge.’

‘I am not!’

‘You are!’

‘Not!’

‘Are!’

‘Not!’

‘Are!’

‘Quiet!’ Alex bellowed as he saw the taxi driver wince at the shrill voices so close to his ear. ‘Yes, Miss Jensen wants you to sit the exam for a scholarship, which would mean your fees would be paid. Only she was afraid that if only one of you passed you’d not want to be separated –
no
, Gillian, let me finish – so you’d both have to go to the local school. So if that’s how you feel …’

‘No it isn’t,’ Gillian squeaked, tugging at Alex’s coat sleeve. ‘I’d love to go to a different school from Joy, so people wouldn’t always be sayin’ stupid things about us.’ She lowered her voice, slipping easily into the broadest of Liverpool accents so that she sounded just like the woman who ran the corner shop. ‘Can’t tell one from t’other, can yer, chuck? Like as two …’ She tailed off as the taxi drew up outside No. 77. ‘Oh, Daddy, it looks so
small
! I thought it was quite a big house.’

‘It looks small because when you last lived in it you were only seven and pretty small yourselves,’ Alex pointed out. He paid the taxi driver whilst the twins heaved their luggage out on to the pavement, then unlocked the front door. The girls went inside, each clutching a variety of carrier bags, whilst Alex himself took the suitcase from the driver, thanked him again, and entered the house behind them.

The twins immediately rushed up the stairs and into their room, exclaiming with delight at the patchwork quilts, the pretty watercolours on the walls and the curtained-off alcove where they would presently hang their clothes. Then they bounded into the bathroom and Alex, who had followed them up with the suitcase, smiled with pleasure. He had expected enthusiasm over the bathroom, but had not realised how appreciatively his efforts in their bedroom would be greeted. He had bought the quilts from one of the stalls in Paddy’s market, and the watercolours were the work of one of his colleagues at the fire station. He had hoped his girls would be pleased with their room and was delighted that they were clearly thrilled, as they were with the bathroom.

Like most firemen, Alex had a part-time job when his team was not on Watch. He worked as a porter at the fruit and vegetable market on Great Nelson Street, lugging heavy sacks of potatoes and so on from the delivery bays to the stalls. He wanted to keep both his jobs, because fire bobbies, as Liverpudlians called them, were not well paid. Now that the twins were home, he just hoped that they would be able to cope with his frequent absences from the house; time alone would tell. Nights might be difficult if the girls were nervous, but he thought it likelier that they would sleep soundly and only wake when the alarm clock shrilled.

‘I’m going to put the kettle on,’ he called over his shoulder as he descended the stairs. ‘I know you used to drink milk, but now that you’re thirteen I expect you’d like a cup of tea, so I’ll get things ready whilst you wash your hands.’ He opened the kitchen door, and when the twins appeared they stared open-mouthed, exclaiming over the wonderful spread on the table. ‘Gosh,’ Gillian breathed. ‘Aren’t you clever! It’s like a wedding feast, isn’t it, Joy? Oh, Daddy, did you make those lovely cakes and things yourself? But what are those chrysanths doing in the sink?’

‘I got a neighbour to do some baking for me,’ Alex said. He put his arms round his children’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. ‘As for the flowers, I didn’t have time to decide what to do with them before I had to leave to meet your train. I know, though – we’ll put them on the windowsill in your room.’

Once they were seated and beginning to eat, Alex apologised to his daughters for agreeing to visit St Hilda’s on their first full day home. ‘But the school has the week off, so Miss McCullough and myself will be able to get down to brass tacks without interruptions. I’m afraid the visit won’t be very exciting for the pair of you, though. You’ll have to hang about until I’m ready to leave.’

‘We think just being with you is exciting enough,’ Gillian said at once. ‘And oughtn’t we to go to the secondary school on the corner to register Joy, as well? That’s where she’ll probably end up.’ She dodged her twin’s swipe, grinning from ear to ear.

‘It depends on what sort of agreement I come to with Miss McCullough,’ Alex said. ‘In fact, rather than coming to St Hilda’s with me, wouldn’t you prefer to look up some of your old friends? I remember you used to go around with a girl called Fanny and another called Isabel – they were evacuated, but I’m sure they’re back in the city by now …’

‘And there was Johnny, and his brother Luke,’ Joy broke in excitedly. ‘And that awful boy with spiky hair and spots …’

‘Oh, and the school on the corner’s a mixed school, so boys go there as well as girls,’ Gillian interrupted. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Joy? When we were evacuated and you found that Jacky Evans was being sent somewhere different, you cried for a week.’

‘I did not!’

‘You did, ’cos you said he were your best pal!’

‘Didn’t!’

‘Did!’

‘Didn’t!’

Alex drew in a deep breath. ‘Quiet, the pair of you! I will not have quarrelling, arguing or disagreeing making my home hideous. If you want to fight, then go up to your room and stay there until your tempers have cooled. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make your homecoming a happy one; can’t you reward me by behaving like nice young ladies instead of hooligans?’