‘Don’t you want to feel festive?’
No, thought Rose, but instead she said, ‘I don’t have the time. The shop can get rather busy and it’s only me now.’ They reached her door and it was time to part. ‘Thank you for walking me home, Nicholas.’
‘May I walk you home again tomorrow?’
She nodded, shyly, as she opened the door and slipped in through the crack. She peeped out so only her face showed.
Nicholas touched his cap in farewell. ‘Until tomorrow.’
Rose nodded again and quietly shut the door, smiling.
* * *
Nicholas lifted his collar, thrust his hands in his pockets and began to retrace his steps. Sam had been right. Rose was painfully shy, but at least he finally knew how to bring her the Christmas she had always wanted. As they watched the lights of the town glinting and flickering like festive candles, the first verse of her poem had sprung to mind. He had almost recited it out loud, but realised he hadn’t told her he knew Sam. And, more surprisingly, he realised he didn’t want to. If he was going to make her Christmas a joyful one, he wanted to do it alone.
Bring me the colours of Christmas,
Needle sharp holly and scarlet wrapped seed.
Sparkling threads of tinsel and ribbon,
Weaving between branches of a festive tree.
He could almost hear Rose’s voice say the words and the heartfelt longing behind them. It was a daunting task, but at least they were on friendlier terms now and he could start in earnest. Each verse of the poem would be his inspiration. He immediately felt more confident as he followed the same path they had just walked along. She was a sweet girl and he was not surprised that Sam had wanted to marry her. It would have beena great comfort to him to know that his sweetheart was waiting for him at home.
Nicholas began to whistle. It had been a long time since he felt like whistling. The tune was merry and put a spring in his step, but he could not recall where he had heard it before. It was only when he crossed the bridge that he remembered. On the day of his arrival a small gathering of children were singing it in the street as they skipped out the beat. He had paused to watch their ropes twirl in the air as he searched for Rose’s tea shop. How did the rhyme go now?
I had a little bird,
Its name was Enza.
I opened the window,
And in flu-enza.
The merry tune had taken on a sinister air and Nicholas fell silent. The children’s rhyme was about the influenza outbreak the year before. He had enjoyed his walk with Rose. He didn’t want the memories of the pandemic, which killed a few of his fellow soldiers on their journey back to Blighty, to spoil it now.
Chapter Four
Tuesday, 9th December, 1919
Nicholas parked his car outside Rose’s shop and began untying the fir tree from the roof. He had almost completed the task when Rose came rushing out.
‘Nicholas? Is that you?’
He turned round to greet her. ‘It is. I’ve brought you a tree.’ Her shocked expression made him want to laugh. Instead he concentrated on the job in hand and slit the ropes holding the tree in place with his pocketknife. He reached for the tree and it immediately tumbled off the roof and into his arms. He attempted to dodge its branches, but one caught his head and tipped his cap at a jaunty angle. He hurriedly straightened it as he righted the tree.
‘For me?’ She looked utterly bewildered.
‘I thought you might like it in your shop.’
‘But I don’t have anything to decorate it with.’
‘Ahhh . . . I thought of that too.’ He balanced the tree against the car and opened the door. ‘I brought you some decorations. I thought we could decorate it together.’
Rose looked at the boxes, then back at him. She didn’t look as enthusiastic as he had hoped. He carried the tree into her shop before she told him to take it all away. He returned to find her staring at his car. She had not moved one inch, so he unloaded the back seat and placed a box in her hands.
‘Come on, Rose. I’m not doing all the work myself.’
