The Emerald Valley (42 page)

Hurt surprise suffused the blubbery features.

‘Hey – what d'you want to do that for?'

‘How
dare
you!' The words were clear and concise this time, though her voice shook like the rest of her.

He took a step back, rubbing at his stinging cheek. ‘Don't be like that, love! You know you enjoy it.'

‘How dare you!' Had every other word been erased from her vocabulary? She was repeating the phrase now like a parrot. ‘Get out of here, you oaf!'

‘Now, wait a minute! Who are you calling an oaf?'

‘You! Do you make a habit of this sort of thing?'

Ollie grinned unpleasantly. ‘Just give me half a chance.'

‘That, Ollie Griffin, is something you will certainly not get from me. What makes you think you can come in here and take liberties with me – Christmas or not?'

‘Aw, come on – a pretty woman like you – all this time without a man … Let Ollie remind you what a good time can be …' He was coming towards her again, wheedling, but the menace beneath the insulting sentiments was clear to Amy and she felt a moment's panic.

They were alone in the yard – there was no one within shouting distance – and Herbie would not be back for another hour or so. Fleetingly Amy thought of Ralph Porter's warning that she had ignored so blithely.

‘Come on now, love, don't be scared …'

Amy moved swiftly, putting the desk between them again. ‘Get out of here, Ollie Griffin!'

‘Well, put up a bit of a fight if you like, love. I don't mind. Adds spice …'

‘I'm
not
playing games!'

‘No?' he sneered, following her round the desk.

She was trapped and she knew it. Glancing round in panic, her eye fell on a heavy glass paperweight on the desktop and she grabbed it and held it up threateningly.

‘One step closer and you'll get this between the eyes!' she warned him.

He stopped, his expression changing from half-playful desire to slow anger.

‘All right, missus. If it's like that …'

‘It is!'

‘All right. But if the goods aren't for sale, you shouldn't put them in the window.'

‘You ignorant pig! Get out!'

‘I'm going – I'm going …'

As he turned to lumber towards the door, she snatched up the wage packet from the desk and flung it after him. It hit him on the shoulder and fell to the floor, the coins jangling.

‘And don't come back. You're fired!'

He didn't answer but simply bent to pick up the wage packet, looking at her with so much dislike in his eyes that it turned her cold.

The door was open; a blast of icy air whipped in, banging it to and fro, and then he was gone. She stood trembling. The oaf! The lecherous, filthy-minded oaf! Ralph Porter had warned her about him, of course. But all the same …
did
people think she was easy game? A woman alone in a man's world? Was that what the town thought of her?

As she crossed to close the door, her knees felt weak. Well,
he
wouldn't be bothering her again. But would there be others? And what was she going to do about the other lorry now that she had sacked Ollie? Oh, why had this happened now, just when things had seemed to be working out so well … ?

The sound of a lorry engine again made her stop, holding the door open to look across the yard into the gathering dusk. Herbie. Thank goodness he hadn't come back in time to witness the little scene that had just been played out. If he had, she would have died of shame! The lorry stopped, Herbie climbed down and after him, Huw. She ran out towards them.

‘Huw! Where have you been?'

‘Picking mistletoe, like you said. I've got a lovely lot …'

‘I found him up the lane. The mistletoe's in the back of the lorry,' Herbie put in. ‘And that's not all we've got, is it, young Huw?'

Huw shook his head. Even in the half-light Amy could see the excitement in his face and could not bring herself to shout at him any more.

‘What
have
you got?'

‘In the back of the lorry – come and see!'

She followed him and there, in the empty bed of the lorry, she saw a fine tall Christmas tree.

‘Where did you get this?' she asked.

‘Ralph Porter sent it for you,' Herbie supplied. ‘Said he thought you might not have one this year. Did you want me to take it up home for you?'

‘Oh yes, please, Herbie!'

‘Kind thought, wasn't it? There's a lot of people go on about him, but I reckon he's a fair bloke,' Herbie said.

‘Yes.' Amy turned to Huw. ‘Do you want to ride home in the lorry with Herbie and show him where to put the tree?'

Huw nodded. His face was aglow, as if a Christmas tree was something that had been beyond his wildest dreams.

When they had gone Amy went back into the office, packing things together with hands that still shook slightly. What an afternoon! And she wished now that she had not been so rude to Ralph Porter when he had come to the yard warning her about Ollie Griffin.

Her face burned a little as she remembered the way she had turned on him. Well, too bad. He had such a high-handed manner that it was all too easy to get annoyed. But she was glad, all the same, that he need never know just how accurate his warning had turned out to be. If she could find another driver fairly quickly, perhaps he need not know until long after the event that she had had to fire Ollie.

I have the whole of the Christmas break to find someone else, she thought. When Herbie comes back, I'll ask if he knows of anyone.

And in the meantime, I'm going to put it all behind me and we'll try to have a really good Christmas!

In spite of James's failing health, Charlotte had insisted that No. 11 Greenslade Terrace should be the hub of the family's Christmas Day, as it always had been.

‘It wouldn't be right, not to have Christmas at home,' she said, and none of her children with the exception of Jack would have dared – or wanted – to argue with her.

Jack and Stella were going north to stay with Stella's parents – big Hal O'Halloran, who had been general manager of the Hillsbridge group of pits until his retirement – and this decision had caused such a stir that the others had all known that to refuse their invitation to Greenslade Terrace would completely spoil Mam's Christmas.

It was true that Sarah insisted on cooking Christmas dinner in her own home – ‘We'd be just too many to all sit down round one table,' she pointed out – but it had been planned that she, Jim and the children should come across as soon as the washing-up was done to join Dolly, Amy and their families, and Ted, who had arrived on Christmas Eve with a caseful of presents and enough yarns to keep them all up to the small hours laughing and exclaiming over his exploits. Only one thing marred Charlotte's enjoyment in his homecoming – virtually the first thing he did was to invite Rosa from next door to join them, and the sight of her sitting across the kitchen was a thorn in Charlotte's side, try as she might to put it out of her mind.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. In spite of their late bedtime the night before Charlotte was awake early, her mind buzzing with all she had to do, and she was allowing herself a short lie-in while planning her timetable to dinner when a loud knocking at the back door brought her sitting bolt upright.

‘What on earth … ?'

She got out of bed, pulled on her flannel dressing-gown that had been a present from the boys on another, long-ago Christmas morning and padded down the stairs.

Before she had the stairs door open, the knocking came again. Even James, usually bleary this early, was sitting up in bed and calling, ‘What be going on?'

‘I don't know. I'm just going to find out.'

Charlotte hurried through the scullery and opened the door to see Victor standing there with Bob and Fred, their faces rosy from the early morning cold.

‘Victor! What's wrong?' she asked.

‘It's Dolly, she's started,' Victor said, his loud voice adding drama to the statement.

‘Oh, my Lord!' Charlotte stood aside for them to come in, noticing as she did so that both Bob and Fred were carrying their Christmas stockings, still bulging and tied tightly round the tops. ‘When did she start?'

‘In, the night. I got the midwife to her about an hour ago,' Victor explained, ushering the boys into the scullery. ‘We left it as long as we could, but you know how it is and Dolly thought that if you could have the boys …'

‘Yes, of course I can. She doesn't want me, does she?' Charlotte felt completely flummoxed. She had managed to be in attendance for both of Dolly's previous deliveries.

‘No, it's all right. The midwife's there now. But I'll get back if you don't mind. You know how poorly she's been.'

‘Of course, Victor. What about some breakfast before you go? No? Well, this is a tidy kettle of fish, I must say! Fancy choosing Christmas Day!'

She ushered the boys in, repeating, ‘Christmas Day! Well, well!'

‘It could have been worse,' James said philosophically. ‘At least Victor hasn't got to lose a day's work today.'

‘I know that, but now it's going to upset everything! Have you had anything to eat, boys? No? Well, I'll get you some breakfast.'

‘They want to open their stockings,' James said and Charlotte brightened. It was a long time since she had had children opening stockings.

‘Come on then, boys, let's see what you've got! And just think of it – before the day's out you'll have a new brother or sister too! Well, well!'

Bob and Fred dived eagerly into their stockings, pulling out oranges, apples, nuts and some small toys. Their excited shouts filled the house, waking Harry who came downstairs to see what was going on, and Ted who elected to stay in bed for a lie-in.

They were still squealing and laughing when Amy arrived with Huw, Barbara and Maureen, and there was further hubbub while they showed off their presents – rag dolls for the girls and a penknife and shiny new football which Huw was clutching proudly.

‘Want me to give you a game, Huw?' Harry asked and the little boy's face was a picture.

‘Oh yes, please!'

‘He's thrilled to bits, isn't he, Amy?' Charlotte said when they had gone outside.

‘I don't think he's ever had a real family Christmas before,' Amy replied. She was looking wan, Charlotte thought, but putting a brave face on it all the same, and her heart went out to her daughter, struggling through her first Christmas without her husband.

But the fact that Dolly was in labour was overriding all else, making it difficult to concentrate on anything, and Charlotte was glad to have Amy's help with the dinner.

‘Perhaps we ought to send some up for Victor,' she suggested anxiously as they peeled potatoes. ‘Harry could take it – or Ted.'

‘But it would be cold long before they got there,' Amy pointed out. ‘Anyway, if the baby arrives soon, may be Victor will be here after all.'

‘If he is, one of us ought to go up to be with Dolly,' Charlotte said. ‘Oh dear, it's such an upset, Amy!'

But dinner-time came and went with no sign of Victor and no news. Although they observed all the usual traditions, down to the ceremonial entry of the pudding, flaming in a drop of brandy with a sprig of holly sticking out of the top, they were all preoccupied and it was the children whose voices were raised the loudest in the chorus of ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas'.

Washing up, Charlotte voiced what they were all thinking; ‘Oh, I shall be glad to know it's all over! Our Dolly's been worrying me, being so poorly.'

Dinner over, Ted announced that he was going next door to see Rosa, while Harry took the opportunity to ask if it was all right for him to pop up and take Margaret her Christmas present.

‘I suppose so – as long as you're both here when Jim and Sarah come,' Charlotte said. ‘Remember you haven't seen your brother for a long time now, Ted.'

‘I'll be back, don't worry,' Ted said, but by the time Harry was ready to go Jim and his family had arrived and Charlotte was nagging him: ‘I don't think you ought to go out yet, Harry. It looks as if nobody's bothered with them. And our Alex does like to see you; you're the only one near his age.'

The afternoon wore on and Ted came back, bringing Rosa with him. She looked as lovely as ever, slim as a wand in a bright red dress that Charlotte privately thought was much too short, and made both Amy and Sarah feel positively plump by comparison. Her oval face was flushed and her dark eyes sparkled, but there was an air about her that Charlotte could not quite fathom – a kind of fervent determination, as if her diamond brightness covered some serious purpose. But Charlotte was too worried about Dolly to let Rosa occupy her thoughts for long.

‘Harry, I wish you'd run up and find out what's going on,' she said as teatime approached.

He pulled a face; he knew Margaret would be wondering why he had not put in an appearance, but he also knew that anxiety was spoiling Charlotte's Christmas and it seemed selfish to put his own interests first at such a time.

‘All right,' he agreed.

‘And take some ham up. Poor Victor can't be having much of a time of it either,' Charlotte suggested, getting out the big traditional ham she'd scrimped and saved for, cutting thick slices and wrapping them in greaseproof paper.

‘Be you staying for tea, Rosa?' James asked.

‘Of course she is!' Ted replied for her, and Charlotte could have crowned them both. She wanted only the family around at Christmas and at a time like this, worried as she was, the feeling was intensified a thousandfold.

It seemed to Charlotte that Harry was never going to come back, and when he did his anxious face did nothing to allay her fears.

‘What's the news?' she demanded.