A movement outside the window caught my eye and I looked round sharply, but it was just a pigeon swooping past. Goodness, I really was jumpy.
‘You’re worried about him, aren’t you?’ Mrs Gold said.
‘I just know he’ll come back.’
‘Want me to get Albert to warn him off?’
I thought of quiet Mr Gold with his tweed jackets and dark-rimmed spectacles and shook my head. ‘Jackson means no harm,’I said though whether I was trying to convince Mrs Gold or myself, I didn’t know.
Mrs Gold looked like she was going to say something else but she didn’t. She looked round at the holly on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s looking delightfully Christmassy in here.’
‘Nelly loves Christmas,’ I said. ‘She’s getting ready even though it’ll be different this year, and we’re both working on Christmas Day anyway.’
‘Do you remember last year, how people kept saying the war would be over by Christmas?’ Mrs Gold said, rolling her eyes. ‘And here’s another year come and gone and things are worse than ever.’
‘I think that’s why Nelly’s so determined to make the most of celebrating,’ I said.
‘She’s got the right idea,’ Mrs Gold said, digging into the paper bag she held on her lap. ‘Ta-da.’
She pulled out a large box tied with a ribbon. It was very pretty, like a present in a shop window.
‘This is for you.’
I was so pleased that for a moment I couldn’t speak. ‘For me?’ I said eventually. ‘Really?’
‘An early Christmas gift.’
She handed me the box and I gazed at it in wonder. ‘It’s too pretty to open.’
‘No it isn’t. Untie the ribbon.’
I pulled the ends of the knot and it came undone. Then I eased off the lid and looked inside. It was a big scrapbook and some pencils.
‘I thought you could use it for your patients,’ Mrs Gold said.
‘This is wonderful,’ I breathed. ‘You’re so kind.’
She waved her hand as if it was nothing. ‘I think it’s a good idea and I wanted you to be able to get on and do it.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I think it’s a good idea too. I think if the patients write about what happened to them it might help themrecover better. Because sometimes writing things down helps make sense of it in your head. Like writing a diary.’
‘And it’s history isn’t it? It’s very important to record everything.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Though at work we spend a lot of time destroying papers.’ She turned her attention back to the book. ‘The pages are blank because I thought some of them might prefer to draw than write.’
‘Yes, that’s perfect. I can just give the book to the patients and let them do what they want.’ I studied the book on my lap. It was large with sturdy covers, and the pages were thick. It would withstand a lot of being passed around. Mrs Gold was very thoughtful.
‘And if they want to write a message to someone to read if the worst happens, to a loved one perhaps …’
‘Or a sworn enemy,’ I said, and Mrs Gold laughed.
‘Yes, either or. If they write a message, you could deliver it. If you have to.’
‘This isn’t just a Christmas present for me,’ I said. ‘It’s a present for every patient in the hospital.’
Mrs Gold’s cheeks went a bit red and she gave me her most dazzling smile.
*
Later, when I was leaving to go to the hospital, Mr Gold pulled up outside in a motor car. I’d never seen him driving before – he and Mrs Gold always took the train to work – and now petrol was rationed lots of people had stopped driving. He got out of the car, looking rather pleased with himself, and gave me a cheery wave.
