Christmas Wishes (28 page)

Joy could hear her voice trembling and hoped that he would think it was with annoyance rather than fear. She opened the book again, her fingers clammy, and held it defensively before her face, not attempting to read.

‘In a moment, my dear young lady,’ the doctor said, his voice deepening to an even warmer and more intimate note. ‘But first, this question of faith. Has it never struck you that miracle cures have been granted to those who have faith? Have you never heard of faith healers? I am one myself, and have seen many instances where faith alone has caused the blind to see, the lame to walk …’

‘Ah, then you don’t have to convert me, Dr Slocombe,’ Joy said with all the firmness she could muster. ‘I am perfectly certain that I shall regain my sight one day; it’s just a matter of when, not if. And now if you don’t mind, I’m going to read my book.’

‘No, no, of course I don’t mind; reading is a great comfort, and I’m delighted to have come across a convert to my way of thinking,’ the doctor said. ‘Would you like me to describe the passing scene? I can tell you have a vivid imagination; probably you are making pictures behind your lids all the time. Have you ever practised thought transference?’

Quite without her own volition, Joy found herself on her feet, staring in the man’s direction. ‘I said I wanted to read my book but you seem determined to prevent me,’ she said, and her voice came out with scarcely a quiver. ‘I think it will be best if I change compartments.’

Her companion laughed in a self-satisfied sort of way. ‘There’s no need to rush off just because you don’t understand how faith can heal,’ he began.

Joy was still on her feet, ready to reach up for her case and coat, her heart beating wildly. She could not – would not – stay in this horrible man’s company, no matter how rude it might look to walk out on him. She reached for her coat, which fell to the floor, and Dr Slocombe laughed gently and stood up too. He put both hands on her shoulders, pressing her back into her seat. ‘Now settle down, my dear. Don’t be afraid of faith healing; if I have magic it is the white sort, not the black, and you and I really should talk. I honour your belief that one day you will see again – I’m sure you are perfectly right – but I think you may need my assistance. I have premises on Rodney Street in Liverpool …’

But Joy had heard enough. She tried to get to her feet once more, but the man’s hands descended again, pinioning her shoulders just as the compartment door slid open and a voice she guessed was the guard’s said: ‘I’m just checkin’ my passengers …’ His voice sharpened. ‘Is somethin’ amiss? Oi, what d’you think you’re doin’? Take your hands off of that young lady’s shoulders!’

By now, Joy would have done almost anything to escape from the doctor, so she burst into hurried speech. ‘I – I want to change my seat for one in another compartment, if I may. I want to read my book, and—’

‘There’s nothing amiss, my good man,’ the doctor said loudly, almost drowning Joy’s voice, though his tone was now more honeyed than ever. ‘The young lady is confused; I’ve offered to see her safely off the train when it reaches her destination, and hand her over to the care of her family. I assure you—’

Desperate to get away from her unwelcome companion, Joy interrupted. ‘Don’t listen to him! He has nothing to do with me. I’d prefer to travel with lady passengers, please.’

The doctor began to reiterate that his only intention had been to befriend her, but the guard cut across him ruthlessly. ‘Hasn’t the young lady made it clear that she don’t need your help? A grown man should know better than to intrude on a young girl like this ‘un. Good day to you. Foller me, miss.’

Joy heard the guard pick up her coat and shake it – the carriage floor was probably dusty. He placed the garment round her shoulders, collected her stick, and then picked up her case and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. ‘There’s a compartment a bit further along the train wi’ a couple of lady schoolteachers in it,’ her rescuer said. He shut the compartment door firmly, ignoring the fact that the doctor was still speaking, and began to lead Joy towards the front of the train, patting her hand gently as he did so. ‘Sorry, miss, not to ’uv come along afore, but I’ve had a bit of trouble with a dog; animals are supposed to be muzzled and restrained before enterin’ the guard’s van, and this one weren’t, so I thought I’d best deal wi’ it before checkin’ on you. I’m rare distressed that you were havin’ a bit of trouble and I’ll be along to help you off the train when we reaches Lime Street.’

‘Thank you so much; you are good,’ Joy said gratefully. ‘But don’t worry about me when we reach the station because my family will be waiting. Oh, I forgot my stick and my book!’ She turned to the guard as a compartment door – presumably the one containing the two schoolteachers – slid open. ‘Could you possibly go back and fetch them? Only I can’t face that fellow again, honest to God I can’t; I think he must be a little mad!’

‘I’ve go your stick here, and I’ll pick your book up on me way past,’ the man assured her, settling her into a seat and putting the stick into her hand. He took the coat from her shoulders and laid it beside her, then heaved her suitcase on to the rack above her head, telling her as he did so that she was not to try to take it down, or to put on her coat. Then he addressed the schoolteachers. ‘This young lady is in my care; I’m leavin’ her wi’ you but I’ll be back in plenty of time to see her safely off the train with all her belongings.’ He cleared his throat. ‘One of our other passengers was tryin’ to get a bit too friendly.’

The schoolteachers voiced their shock and distress and promised the guard to take good care of their new travelling companion. They offered to help her off the train and find her family for her, but the guard assured them this would not be necessary. ‘No, no, she’s best to remain officially in my charge,’ he assured them. He turned to Joy. ‘Whass the book called? I don’t want to pick up the wrong one; that feller’s so cross he’d doubtless accuse me of stealin’.’

Joy laughed. ‘It’s
Lorna Doone
, but since it’s in Braille you can’t mistake it for anything else,’ she said. She was already beginning to recover from her fright, but when she remembered the man grabbing her hand, his hold so tight that she could not at first break it, she felt quite sick. She had planned to run away from him, but would she have actually done so when it came to the point? She doubted it. He could see to foil any such attempt; she could not. And besides, innate good manners are not always a help in a difficult situation.

But the guard was telling the schoolteachers that he would be obliged if they would remain in the compartment until he returned, and they were assuring him that they would, so Joy sank back in her seat and smiled at her new companions. ‘Thank you so much,’ she murmured. ‘Do you know, I’ve travelled home by train – oh, a heap of times – and never had trouble before. I’m so grateful to you for staying with me.’

Alex was thinking that the train would never come in, that something must have happened to delay it. Yet when it did steam alongside the platform, a glance at the clock told him that it was a mere five minutes later than scheduled.

He grinned ruefully; he had arrived at the station a whole hour before the train was due and had seethed with impatience for no good reason. Others who had been waiting to meet it pressed forward, but Alex knew better than to try to do so. Joy would have been told to remain in her seat, and no matter how anxious she might be to join her father he knew she was too experienced a traveller to ignore the instructions which must by now, he thought humorously, be engraved on her heart. He remembered the frightened little girl of three years ago, who had clung to his hand when they had first entered the LSB, and the almost equally frightened child who had sat glued to her corner seat when she had returned twelve weeks later to her home city. It had been her first journey alone and Alex had watched her through the window as the train had drawn to a halt, had seen her cringe back in her seat, clutching her white stick, her head swinging from side to side as though her ears might tell her what her eyes could not: that the train had arrived at her destination.

Alex had longed to push past the descending passengers, make his way to his daughter’s side and give her a great big hug, but had known better than to do so. The instructions from the LSB had been plain: the guard would come along with a porter in close attendance. They would see Joy off the train; the porter would carry her luggage and would remain with her until she was claimed by a friend or relative.

It was safest and best to follow the rules, even though Alex knew that now he would be meeting a slender young lady of seventeen, with smooth golden-brown hair cut into a pageboy bob, for the years at the LSB had turned that frightened child into a delightful and self-confident young woman.

Walking along the length of the train and peering into the windows, he saw Joy and instinctively raised a hand to wave, then dropped it again, cursing himself for a fool. Apart from the white stick and the tinted glasses, she looked no different from any other seventeen-year-old. In fact, as he watched, she stood up, felt along the rack and began to ease her suitcase down on to the seat. She had been reading a very large book, which he guessed must be in Braille, and now she opened the suitcase, slid the book inside, then picked up her coat and glanced towards the compartment door.

After five minutes or so, most of the passengers had alighted and Alex was just beginning to wonder what had gone wrong when he saw the guard and a porter come along the corridor and slide back the door of Joy’s compartment, talking and smiling. The porter seized Joy’s suitcase whilst the guard helped her on with her coat, and then the two men came out into the corridor again and descended from the train. The next moment Alex was lifting Joy down and twirling her round, whilst she kissed him and reminded him that she was a grown-up and could have managed to descend the steps without help from anyone.

The guard, meanwhile, stood waiting and grinning and Alex hastily put his daughter down and turned to press a shilling into his hand and a sixpence into the porter’s. ‘Thank you very much …’ he began, but was interrupted by a beaming Joy.

‘Oh, Dad, I had a bit of trouble on the train. It was nothing to worry about, just a silly old man trying to make conversation, but the guard told the man off and moved me to another compartment. He was so kind.’

‘It’s all part of the job, miss,’ the guard said formally. He smiled at Alex. ‘Your daughter could probably have managed wi’out me; she’s a very independent young lady, and I reckon she were just about to leave her seat anyway. It were just luck that I came along in time to carry her traps.’

‘Well, we’re both very grateful,’ Alex began, but was once more interrupted. Joy turned and faced the direction from which the guard’s voice had come. ‘You were marvellous, but there’s one more thing you can do for me,’ she said. ‘What did he look like, that fellow? Was he old or young? If I met him again I’d know his voice, of course, but I’d like to know a bit more about him, just in case.’

The guard made a doubtful noise. ‘I don’t know as I remember him much,’ he said, then brightened. ‘He were wearin’ a sports jacket an’ flannels, an’ so far as I recall, he were dark-haired. Truth to tell, he looked respectable; should ’uv knowed better than to annoy a young lady.’

Alex watched a very sweet smile spread over his daughter’s face as she thanked the guard again, and reflected that she was more like her sister than ever. She was holding out her hand to be shaken, and the guard took it gingerly, bade her farewell, and walked away in the direction of the station offices.

Alex took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. ‘We’ll get a taxi since your suitcase looks pretty heavy and there are always queues for buses at this time of day,’ he said, picking up the case and heading for Lime Street. ‘Come along, darling! I’m sorry there wasn’t a reception committee to meet you, but Irene’s working, Mrs Clarke is cooking, bless her, and Gillian is—’

‘Right here,’ Joy said triumphantly. ‘Where’s she been, Dad? She must have bought a platform ticket or the ticket collector wouldn’t have let her come this far, even.’

‘No, love, she’s not here,’ Alex said. ‘Her friend Keith has a holiday job down on the coast and he’s off later today, so she said she’d see us back home in time for tea. What made you think—’

Joy frowned, opening her mouth to speak just as a familiar voice said: ‘There you are! I tried to catch you up so that we could be a little reception committee, but I had to queue for a platform ticket with what seemed like a hundred schoolchildren ahead of me, and by the time I came through the barrier you’d disappeared.’ Gillian clutched her twin in a warm embrace and Alex smiled to himself. He had hoped that Gillian might ignore his hasty words and come to the station anyway, which was precisely what she had done.

‘I’m glad you managed to make it, queen,’ he said happily. ‘And now take Joy’s other hand and we’ll be home in two ticks.’

When they arrived at No. 77 Gillian helped Joy out of the taxi and on to the pavement whilst Alex paid the driver and hefted Joy’s case. ‘Mrs Clarke must have been watching for us,’ Gillian whispered, ‘because she’s got the door open and is standing on the front step smiling like mad.’ She chuckled. ‘Dilly’s standing beside her, grinning and dribbling, so mind how you go … oh, it’s all right, Mrs Clarke couldn’t have realised she’d followed her out of the kitchen; she’s picked her up and is shutting her into the parlour.’

Joy laughed. ‘If that horrible animal was grinning and dribbling it was probably in anticipation of a nice chunk of leg,’ she said. She climbed the three steps, not bothering with her white stick, and gave Mrs Clarke a kiss, then sniffed. ‘I smell something delicious,’ she said happily. ‘I had sandwiches on the train and a drink, but it seems hours since food last passed my lips. What time are we having tea?’

‘As soon as you like,’ Mrs Clarke said, leading the way into the kitchen. ‘But I reckon you’ll want to clean up first; trains are mucky things in my experience and though it ill becomes me to remark on it, you’ve a smut on your nose and a smear across your forehead, so you’ll be all the better for a visit to the bathroom.’