Christmas Wishes (24 page)

Gillian smiled to herself and slowed down to look into the shop windows as she passed. Despite the fact that the war had been over for more than a year, rationing was still in force and unrationed food was scarce, though the spivs and wide boys who ran the black market seemed able to get you most things if you had sufficient money. The Lawrences, however, could not possibly have afforded black market goods, even though Alex still worked at the market on his days off, Gillian reminded herself. And anyway, she, Irene and Mrs Clarke had managed to get hold of most things they needed both for Christmas Day itself and for Joy’s homecoming.

Gillian slowed in front of a particularly enticing window. She had envied Irene the frilly pink blouse which the girl had splashed out on a few weeks before. ‘It’s going to be my gift to myself,’ she had said, grinning at Gillian. ‘Actually, my mam paid half. I’ve been invited to a party on Christmas Eve and I wanted to wear it then, but Mam put her foot down, so it’ll get its first airing on Christmas Day. What’s Alex buying you?’

‘Dunno,’ Gillian had replied truthfully. She had hesitated, glancing under her lashes at the older girl. How much did Irene know? Despite the fact that their father didn’t have to pay for his daghters’ education, she knew he was frequently worried about money; he still paid Mrs Clarke to do a bake for him once or twice a week but otherwise he and Gillian ate as cheaply as they could. Even so, there were always expenses cropping up which their budget had not taken into account, but when she had said she really ought to leave school and get a full-time job he had pulled a face and forbidden her to do any such thing.

‘Being hard up is part of life,’ he had told her. ‘Everyone’s in the same boat; even the country itself. I find it hard to accept that we’re having to pay back huge amounts to America from that lend-lease thing which was in force during the war, whereas the Yanks are rebuilding Germany for free. But don’t you understand? More than anything else, I want you to go to university; you’ll be the first member of our family to do so.’

So Gillian had taken a temporary Saturday job as a counter assistant at Bunneys, ‘just for the Christmas rush’, she had told her friends. The money she earned had helped; she knew that. Alex had grinned at her and said her twin would be envious, but they both knew that this was just a joke. Joy had told them that she saved most of the allowance Alex paid her and would not need any extra for Christmas presents.

‘I’ve only bought little, useful things,’ she had said, the last time she and Gillian had talked on the telephone. ‘And there’s nothing I want, honest to God there isn’t.’

Gillian knew, however, that Alex had already bought her twin thick woollen gloves and a matching scarf, and suspected that she would find an identical set parcelled up beneath the tree with her name on it when they opened their presents on Christmas Day.

Turning regretfully away from her contemplation of the beautiful clothes in the window of the small drapery shop, she jumped when a hand descended on her shoulder and a voice spoke in her ear. ‘Well I never did; when did
you
get home? I went into the fire station last week to have a word with your dad. He wasn’t there, but one of the fellers in Red Watch said you wouldn’t be back till tomorrow.’

Gillian swung round and stared up into the face of the young man whose hand still gripped her shoulder. He was tall and not conventionally good-looking, with a Roman nose and a determined chin. He was wearing a long striped scarf but no hat, and his eyes were very bright. But he was looking down at her, his expression suddenly wary. ‘Joy? Don’t you recognise my voice?’ He let go of Gillian’s shoulder abruptly, and she saw a flush stain his cheekbones. ‘My God, I’m so sorry; what a fool I am! You must be Joy’s twin; Gillian, isn’t it? Of course I should have realised it might be you, but I was so surprised to see Joy – or someone I thought was Joy – home a whole day early that her having a twin went right out of my head.’ He smiled suddenly and Gillian saw that though she had not thought him handsome, he became rather attractive when he smiled. ‘Will you ever forgive me?’

Gillian had been too surprised to comment, but now she said accusingly: ‘How can I forgive you? I don’t have the faintest idea who you are or how you know my twin. I suppose everyone knows that Dad’s a fireman, but …’

The young man smote his forehead. ‘Of course, we’ve never actually met, though we were at Bold Street school at the same time last year. I’m Edward Williams. My father is a member of Blue Watch, Billy Williams.’

Gillian gasped. ‘Now I know who you are; you’re the lad who used to take my sister to and from school. I
do
remember you from Bold Street …’ She hesitated, and Edward laughed.

‘And you thought I was a bit of a weed, a swot who seldom played games and certainly never excelled at anything but schoolwork,’ the young man finished for her. He grinned reminiscently. ‘And so I was. I was afraid the other fellers in my class would rag me for walking to and from school with a girl, but I soon stopped caring what anyone thought; your sister’s real brave and good fun as well. I couldn’t see her over the summer holidays because I got a job on a farm near Denbigh, but to tell you the truth it was Joy, talking about what fun she’d had when you and she were evacuated to Devonshire, who decided me to take the job. The farm is owned by my uncle Meirion; he was knocked over by a charging heifer and broke his leg, and whilst he was in plaster he wanted someone to help out. He insisted on paying me, but you don’t want to know about that. The outcome of it all was that I was away from Liverpool for seven weeks, and when I got back I heard that your sister was already at the London School for the Blind. You could have knocked me down with a feather, because she had been so set against leaving home. To tell you the truth I was quite peeved that she’d not consulted me; I was jealous of Colin, I do believe. I thought about writing to her, but I was afraid she might not like it, since she would have to get someone else to read my letters to her … but I meant to call on her the moment she arrived back so that we could catch up on each other’s lives.’

‘Oh yes, I remember Joy saying that you’d got a place at the new grammar school. What’s it like? Is the work terribly hard? But I seem to remember Joy saying that you’d matriculated a year early, so you must be pretty bright.’

Edward grimaced. ‘I don’t believe I’m particularly clever, but I work very hard,’ he said. ‘I wanted to join the fire service before I went to the new school, but I changed my mind when a pal began to extol the advantages of a university education.’

‘I’m the same,’ Gillian said. ‘Not that I wanted to be a fireman, though Joy always swore she did. She used to say that by the time she was in her twenties, the rules would have changed and female firefighters would be perfectly acceptable. But of course the accident changed everything. As for me, hearing the senior girls talking about the marvellous life led by undergraduates convinced me that I’d love it, so that’s what I’m aiming for.’

‘Then we’re both in for a great deal of work in the next few years,’ Edward said, falling into step beside her as Gillian moved away from the draper’s window. ‘But what am I thinking of, discussing my own future – and past – when it was Joy I wanted to know about! How is she getting on at this special school? Is she happy? How long will she be there? And what are your plans for the rest of the school holidays? Will it be all right if I come round the day after tomorrow? That will give you a whole day to exchange news; would it be an intrusion if I popped in at about two o’clock?’

‘I’m sure it would be all right, but if you want to be certain, you could ring up at about twelve,’ Gillian suggested, blinking at the rush of questions. ‘I dare say Joy will have some last-minute shopping and I can’t accompany her because I’ll be working at Bunneys – I’m a Saturday girl – so you could be useful …’ she laughed, ‘as well as decorative.’

Edward laughed too. ‘Oh, you’ve got a telephone, have you? How did your dad wangle that? They’re as rare as hens’ teeth amongst the common herd. But give me your number and I’ll ring before I call. Gosh, it’ll be grand to see young Joy again and hear all her news.’

Joy awoke early, as she had done for almost all of the past twelve weeks, roused not by the school bell which was rung vigorously by a member of staff at seven thirty each morning, but by the clock of an ancient church about half a mile from the LSB. Lying there, she wondered for a moment why she could feel faint stirrings of excitement, and then remembered that today was the last day of term and there was to be a Christmas treat for all pupils aged between fourteen and eighteen. They were to go in a coach to an ice rink – imagine that, Joy thought, awed – where sighted volunteers would take them out on the ice. Joy hugged herself; she would be assigned to a partner who would teach her – or try to do so – how to swoop gracefully across the ice, enjoying the experience without actually coming a cropper.

Amy had never been to the ice rink, since she had only joined the school the previous January, but she had heard ecstatic reports from others and passed these on to Joy. ‘They say it’s the
atmosphere
which is so lovely,’ she had enthused. ‘Even if you’re no good on the ice, it’s the greatest fun. Of course most of us can’t see anything at all, but they say the rink is lit by coloured fairy lights, and there are special treats for the kids from Blinkers. Lovely hot drinks which you can suck through a straw; savouries, like cheese puffs and sausage rolls, and dear little iced cakes with glacé cherries on top. They let us stay on the ice for a good hour, then we take off our skates and go to a special room where the food and drink is set out, and after that we return to the rink – that’s when they let members of the public in – and take our seats for what they call community singing. It’s mostly carols and Christmas songs, and instead of gramophone records there’s a real band. When that’s over, we line up for the coach and come home.’

Joy, who was beginning to know Amy well, had guessed that she would be clasping her hands with delight and beaming from ear to ear. ‘Gosh!’ she had said, beginning to smile at the prospect of such a treat. ‘Who pays for it, though? There are an awful lot of us in Derby House alone …’

‘It’s only for us Derbyites,’ Amy had assured her friend. ‘The kids in Franklyn are much too young and the boys have an outing of their own. And as to who pays, Bella Mills says it was started by some rich old feller whose daughter was born blind, but now I think they’ve set up some sort of fund.’ She had sighed impatiently and dug Joy in the ribs. ‘What does it matter who pays? Oh, Joy, I’m that excited!’

Naturally enough, Joy had clamoured for more information; what clothes she should wear, who provided the skates, and how long would they remain at the rink? But Bella Mills, who had gone on the Christmas treat twice, had told Joy that Miss Hawkins would keep them back after their last class and explain everything far better than she could herself.

This had proved to be the case and by the time the girls were helped up the three rather steep steps into the coach, they knew just what awaited them. Joy had imagined that the skates would be fastened somehow to her sensible brogues, but Miss Hawkins had told them that the skates were part of a special boot which laced up to the knee. When they arrived the girls would be lined up on benches and a member of staff would come along, check their shoe size and help them to change into the skating boots. ‘Then your partner will come along and help you on to the ice. And from that moment you will be in his charge.’

Amy cleared her throat. ‘Are all the volunteers men?’ she had asked rather nervously. ‘Why aren’t they ladies?’

Somebody laughed and Joy could hear a smile in the teacher’s voice as she replied. ‘Because it needs a fair amount of strength to take a beginner round the rink when she can see nothing, and may find the simplest movement difficult,’ she had said. ‘But don’t worry about it; the volunteers are all extremely experienced and if, like me, you’ve got wobbly ankles and no sense of balance, they’ll just take you back to one of the rinkside seats and give you a running commentary on what’s happening on the ice, so please, girls, don’t
worry
. I and three other members of staff will be present, so if you’re not happy, ask your helper to find one of us.’

Now, clambering down from the coach, the girls formed into a crocodile and were led by Miss Hawkins into the rink. The teachers helped them to find the long wooden changing bench and told them to take off their shoes and put them in the sacking bags which had their names in relief upon them. There was a good deal of noise: people shouting, laughing and instructing. It sounded as though half the world was present, but Joy knew that the rink was temporarily closed to everyone but the pupils and staff of the LSB and guessed that the noises she could hear were echoes caused by the ice and the great domed ceiling she had been told was above. She was relieved of her drawstring bag and helped into her skating boots by a cheerful young woman who sounded not very much older than Joy herself. Apparently she had several different sizes of boot but was sufficiently experienced to guess Joy’s size correctly at the first attempt. Once the boots were laced, she took Joy’s hands and pulled her to her feet. ‘I bet you feel really odd, don’t you?’ the woman said, laughing. ‘You’re on rubber matting, not ice yet, so don’t try to slide your feet. Ah, here’s Ralph. He’s your partner for the evening, so I’ll leave you in his capable hands … I take it you are Amy Freud?’

Joy would have corrected her but the woman had already gone back to the few pupils still sitting on the bench; she heard her cheery voice saying: ‘Jennifer Bates? You look like a size six to me, so we’ll try that first.’

Then Joy felt her hand taken in a much larger one and a deep and pleasant voice said: ‘Amy Freud? I’m Ralph, your partner for this evening.’ He was still holding her hand and now he shook it, saying laughingly: ‘Now we’ve been introduced, we might as well get on to the ice and see whether you’re comfortable there. Don’t forget, the moment you feel uneasy or suspect that you’re about to fall, you must let me know.’