‘It would that,’ Aggie agreed. ‘An’ I ’appen to know that most o’ the women these are intended for can turn their ’ands to a bit o’ sewin’ – they ’ave to be able to. Things get passed down an’ reworked, see, as their families grow.’
By the end of the week quite a few more donations had arrived and Emmy was delighted.
‘Look at this,’ she said to Aggie as she held up a wide cotton underskirt trimmed with broderie anglaise. ‘Just think how many babies’ nightgowns could be made out of this one item of clothing alone. At the rate it’s all arriving Jake will have to make two trips to the surgery on Sunday to get everything there.’
Her good mood improved further the following day when a letter from her mother arrived and she sat at the side of her aunt’s bed to read it to her.
‘Oh, Aunt Imogen.’ Her face was radiant as she waved the letter at her. ‘Father is home! He’s at the cottage with Mama and they’re back together! Oh, it’s such a relief to know that he’s safe.’
‘About time too!’ Imogen sniffed. ‘I always did like your father; he’s a good man. Let’s hope your mother has learnt a lesson now and won’t be so demanding.’
Emmy grinned. ‘I think she’s changed quite a lot over the last few months. And now they can have Christmas together. Talking of which I must go and check that Cook has everything she needs for the Christmas dinner. It’s just days away and knowing that Father and Abi are safe I shall be able to enjoy it now, although I do have a favour to ask of you. Would you mind very much if Jake joined us? He isn’t going home and I’d hate to think of him spending Christmas Day alone.’
‘The more the merrier,’ Imogen answered, her eyes becoming dreamy as she thought back to Christmases past. ‘When my Marcel was alive this house would ring with laughter and be full from morning till night. He was such a generous man and he hated to think of anyone he knew being alone.’
‘Thank you, I’ll tell him.’ Emmy rose and made for the door, smiling happily. ‘Meantime, you just stay there and rest. I want you to build your strength up so that you can enjoy Christmas Day.’ She bustled off leaving Imogen with a thoughtful expression on her face.
In Imogen’s other house in Lytham St Anne’s, the Christmas preparations were also well under way and Mrs M was rolling pastry for yet another batch of mince pies while Abi sat at the table watching her.
‘I reckon I’ll hide this batch,’ she chuckled. ‘Our Bertie has been scoffing them as fast as I can bake them. I can’t even say it’s because he’s a growing boy now because if he grows any taller his head will be in the clouds. Still, I shouldn’t complain. I like a man with a good appetite; his dad was just the same. I used to tell him he’d got hollow legs because I could never seem to fill him up.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Abi offered.
Mrs M wagged a floury finger at her. ‘You’ll sit right where you are, young lady,’ she told her sternly.
Abi sighed. ‘I feel so fat and useless,’ she complained. ‘I’ve forgotten what my feet look like now.’ As she spoke the baby began to kick again and her hand self-consciously rested on her bump.
‘Well, according to the doctor it shouldn’t be too much longer now. He reckons somewhere early in March and it will be all over. You could get on with that little nightgown I’m sewing for it if you’re bored.’
Abi scowled. Mrs M had spent every night for weeks sewing tiny clothes in readiness for the baby’s arrival. Abi had argued saying that there wasn’t any point seeing as she had no intention of keeping the child but Mrs M had carried on regardless. ‘It will need clothes even if you don’t keep it!’ she’d insisted and so Abi had given up objecting and left her to it.
At that moment the door banged open and Bertie appeared bearing the largest goose Abi had ever seen.
‘Here you are, Ma. Is that big enough for you?’ He laughed as he swung the poor bird on to the table. ‘The boss let me finish early seeing as it’s the last day before the holidays and I thought I’d pick it up on me way home. I can start to pluck it for you if you like. Do you fancy helping, Abi?’
Horrified, she shook her head as she pushed her chair back. She was sure the poor thing was watching her from its glassy dead eyes.
‘No, I certainly do not. The only way I like to see geese is running about the farmyard or ready cooked on a plate,’ she said in disgust and with that she sailed from the room with Bertie and Mrs M’s laughter following her.
Later that afternoon, she and Bertie took a gentle stroll to the nearby park where Abi cut some bunches of holly with bright-red berries to decorate the mantelpiece in the dining room. It had temporarily stopped snowing and in the fading light everywhere looked clean and bright. The sea was as still as a mill pond as they made their way home, with Bertie insisting that she hook her arm through his.
‘We don’t want you falling and hurting you or the baby,’ he told her and she couldn’t help but be touched. He was such a caring young chap. She couldn’t understand why some girl hadn’t snapped him up ages ago and she told him so.
He grinned. ‘I’ve had me chances,’ he admitted. ‘But there’s no one ever really caught me attention until .?.?.’ He stopped speaking abruptly and even in the dim light she saw that his cheeks were glowing. ‘Anyway, let’s concentrate on getting you in out of the cold. We don’t want your ankles swelling again, do we?’
Abi shook her head as she stared thoughtfully ahead. It had been a very strange year one way or another but now, despite everything, she found that she was actually looking forward to Christmas Day.
The church bells woke her on Christmas morning and after washing quickly and struggling into her clothes she waddled down the stairs to join Mrs M and Bertie in the warm kitchen.
The smell of bacon sizzling in the pan met her when she entered the room and they both turned towards her with broad smiles on their faces, ‘Merry Christmas,’ they said in unison and she smiled back.
‘And the very same to you.’
Bertie hurried over to the table and returned carrying a small parcel wrapped in pretty paper. ‘It’s nothing much,’ he muttered, looking embarrassed. ‘But I hope you like it.’
Abi flushed as she stared at it in horror. ‘But .?.?. but I haven’t bought you anything,’ she garbled. ‘I-I don’t like to go out as you know and—’
‘Shush!’ He held a hand up to silence her. ‘I didn’t want or expect anything. Now just open it, will you?’
